Thursday, October 22, 2009

A "Fun" Theory About a Mind-Boggling Contraption.

My roommate introduced me to the recent theory concerning the Large Hardron Collider that's located in the countryside near Geneva, Switzerland. Instead of trying to explain the device and its purpose (I'd inevitably botch the description), I'm going to refer to a June 2007 article from Popular Mechanics:

"Inside the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), massive, powerful magnets chilled to a few degrees above absolute zero — colder than outer space — will zip beams of superenergetic protons and lead nuclei in a loop at speeds within a hairsbreadth of the speed of light, then collide them head-on. The energy released will be so vast that the impacts will recreate conditions in the universe as they existed just a fraction of a second after the big bang. If the LHC performs as expected, it could at last nail down that holy grail of contemporary physics, the Higgs boson — known as the “God particle” because it is thought to lend mass to matter. It may even finally unveil the secret of dark matter, the mysterious entity that makes up 85 percent of the universe — thereby shedding light on as-yet-unexplainable motions of galaxies."

Daunting shit, right? Regardless, the brains of the world have had a hell of a getting this thing to operate properly and are becoming rather frustrated with repeated disappointments. The initial startup date (November 2007) was delayed when a "cryogenic magnet support broke during a pressure test." Operation was again delayed in 2008 due to a "faulty electrical connection between two magnets." In July of this year, leaks were identified, once again delaying what is being deemed as the "start of operations."

Doesn't it seem a little wacky that the world's preeminent physicists and scientists can't get this terrifying monstrosity cooking? Well, others agree. Because of the prolonged difficulties, rational theories are beginning to be tossed by the wayside. The newest and best theory is that the Collider is being sabotaged by forces/humans from the future who are traveling back in time to halt operations and avoid an imminent disaster that would disrupt the future's equilibrium and possibly suck the Earth into a black hole.

This is some Terminator 2: Judgment Day kind of mind-melter shit. It's being compared a lot more to Back to the Future, but that's too PG-rated and campy for me. I tend to envision the scene when Arnold, Eddie Furlong, and Linda Hamilton go after (basically attempt to murder) Dr. Miles Dyson of Cyberdene Systems Corporation to prevent the future self-awareness of Skynet, a catastrophe that would result in the "rise of the machines," mass destruction, and a couple of subpar sequels.

To be honest, I'm not even poking fun at the free thinking theorists. I just find it humorous and entertaining when all rational thought has been expended and the next logical explanation is time travel. Fucking brilliant.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Good Work, Levi's.

Seeing that I haven't blogged in over a month, I'm going to keep this one simple and in list format (kind of). My recent trend of hooded sweatshirt wearing and pumpkin beer hunting means it's probably about time for my annual Fall blog, consisting of the best and worst parts of the standout season (although we all know that summer will always dominate the head-to-head battle). Because I'm neglecting to look back at last year's blog, there's no doubt I'm going to tread over some old thoughts. I don't mind being repetitive, though, and there will always be unavoidable holdovers from year to year. Also, I'm aware that Simmons recently wrote a "Why October Is Great" article; however, I had the idea first, so I'm calling dibs. Justin's probably the only one that would raise a fuss anyway. You know, because he's a crybaby. So, without further ado . . .

Fall means new jeans. I beat the hell out of my jeans from bike riding, mountain climbing, tomato gardening, hang gliding, buck hunting, moped fixing, and bare-knuckle street-fighting, among my other typical Summer activities. Anyway, it appeared as if Levi's had dropped the ball and fucked their 511s fit way up. One size was too small, the next size up was too big. This pair had four pockets, this pair had twelve. It was a disaster. I've been wearing Levi's for the past decade and had both my size and fit down. So, I panicked and bought some Marc Jacobs jeans. That's right, you heard me. I'm a fancy fuck now (not really because they cost like 80 bucks). I am happy to say, though, that Levi's recently came out with a Fall collection and got their shit straight and returned to form. I can only assume this was a result of me bitching about the altered fit every time I went into a Levi's store. So, those of you who are hopelessly devoted to the 511 skinny jean, you're welcome.

Fall means a sports orgasm. October is simultaneously overloaded with the baseball playoffs and football. The two best sports in bed together in the same month. It's like late Saturday night Cinemax programming. *I did go further (much further) with this analogy, but then opted to delete it. Probably the wise move.*

Fall means pumpkin beer. Already mentioned in the introduction, pumpkin beer has become a fixation (maybe a vice) of mine over the last few years. If I see a variety I've never had before, I always buy it. When Winter porters begin usurping shelf space, I hoard the shit like a hobo hoards pop cans. It's my elixir and makes me invincible.

Fall means empty bike lanes. I get some sort of sick enjoyment out of riding my bike through the blistering Chicago cold. In the summer, the Milwaukee Avenue bike lanes are teeming with shorts and tanktops perched upon fixed gears, but once sub-50 degree weather hits, the lanes thin out and the hardcore cyclists are the only ones left. Nothing better than pulling up next to a fellow insane person in ten-degree weather, nodding your head, and saying, "Fuck, it's cold."

Fall means bonfires. Is there anything better than sitting in a camping chair, drinking Budweiser out of a can, and flicking finished cigarettes into a raging bonfire? If I could bottle the scent of bonfires, I'd call it "Autumn," sell it to suckers like Kenny and Russ, and make a bajillion dollars. I can't wait for my late October camping trip with the posse (minus a couple), so that I can drench my hooded sweatshirts in the bonfire smell and purposely not wash them for the rest of the season.

Fall means darkness at 4:30 PM. One thing I miss about Cincinnati is that it's on the edge of the eastern time zone, resulting in a later sundown time. Here in Chicago, though, the sun gives us the middle finger around 4:15 or 4:30 PM. Given, that's during the heart of winter, but there's nothing worse (or more depressing) than when fall starts hitting and you notice the day shrinking. Ugh. I hate walking out of work and into the dark.

Fall means Halloween. Chock-full of haunted houses, dressed up buffoons, and copious amounts of candy shoved in your face, Halloween is the best holiday of the year. Plus, I've become obsessed with tracking down the guerrilla Halloween costume outlets that pop up in vacant storefronts around the city. It's the perfect business model. Fill a store with a bunch of campy, hideous holiday shit and when it's gone, it's fucking gone. No restocking and practically no cleaning up. Have you ever been in one of those places on October 30? It's the damn apocalypse. A delightful disaster of desperate vagabonds running around in a bleak, desolate wasteland of clown wigs, vampire teeth, and fake blood. Absolutely terrifying.

Fall means more blogs from yours truly. I've been massively disappointed with my general lack of recent blog production. To be completely honest, I haven't been able to find any time. I'm a busy bee during the warm weather seasons because I gotsta to keep up my appearances and shit (not really). Anyway, with fall comes the security of fearing the cold, wind, and premature darkness and just packing it in for the evening. The results? I'll spend a shit ton less money and be able to post up one of these gems on a weekly basis, regardless of length. That's my new goal, and I sure as fuck plan on following through. I wouldn't dare deprive the public (or Justin) any longer from my words of wisdom.