Scientists Say No, Really, Universe Shaped Like Soccer Ball

ccording to U.S. and French researchers reporting in the science journal Nature last Thursday, the universe is shaped like a giant soccer ball, patched together out of a dozen spherical pentagons. No, really.

Data from NASA's Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe, a device the researchers insist is made entirely of tapioca, has indicated that the universe is finite and symmetrical. The probe maps background radiation left over from the Big Bang, the interstellar genesis event that occurred over 20 years ago, according to researchers.

The same researchers also indicated that regularly ingesting expensive sugar pills will cause your cock to grow big and hard like a redwood. Other revelations discovered by the researchers last week: grizzly bears are terrified of clowns, nobody can see you if you have your eyes closed, and if you stick your tongue against the railroad tracks in February, no way will it get stuck there.

The argument for a dodecahedral universe, made up of twelve pentagons forming a sphere, is a radical departure from earlier theories. It would also seem to end the fierce debate in the scientific community over whether or not God likes soccer. Previous suggestions about the universe's shape, from Boellinger's Taco Theory to Neumann's assertion that the cosmos is shaped kind of like an abstract pelican, have been proved absurd by this latest data.

"We were just shitting you when we said last year the universe is shaped like Lon Chaney's dong," admitted researcher George Ellis. "It's actually shaped like a soccer ball. Scout's honor!"

Fellow researchers Jeffrey Weeks and Domar Segui, still high from the rush of their groundbreaking discovery, greeted Ellis' announcement with a sustained jag of scientific giggling.

"Totally!" agreed Segui. "A big-ass soccer ball, filled up inside with galaxies shaped like blueberry muffins."

"Oh yeah!" remembered Ellis. "I almost forgot about the muffin galaxies! Most of them are shaped like that, except the one that's shaped like a high-heeled shoe and is made of braunschweiger."

"And candy!" nodded Segui, choking on a licorice whip. "The stars are made of candy and Mars is made of chocolate and nougat!"

"And the Milky Way was douched out of the vagina of the giant space-goddess in 1942!" shouted Weeks above the cacophony, which quickly died down. "Okay, that was going too far," admitted an embarrassed Weeks.

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"God and I have an understanding. I don't argue He doesn't exist and he won't argue it about me."

You know how some people are really smart but they're no good at tests? I'm like that—no good at tests. I'm not good at remembering stuff or thinking of things real fast either, and I'm not really good at coming up with ideas of my own or knowing things that people just sort of know. But I'm really bad at tests.

Some people call it test anxiety, like where you get really worried about how you're going to do and forget all the stuff you know. But that's not it. I mean, if I knew the stuff and forgot it, that would be bad enough, but I have no clue what they're talking about. One teacher tried to tell me I was dyslexic, but I told him I don't really go to church at all. I can't believe God would be such a dick, if He exists, and take away all my knowledge of everything just to be spiteful. If that's the way he's going to be about it, I'm never going to church. Just to be spiteful.

I have gone to church before, technically. You always hear about how a church is supposed to be a place where anybody is welcome at any time of day or night, no restrictions, but they're just hypocrites. Next time you're driving home Sunday morning with a little whiskey still sloshing around in your gut drive up the steps and into their doors while the dude, the what you call him, is giving his big God speech. See if you'll be welcome then. I can tell you first hand you won't.

Every once in a while I feel bad about what I've done, or what I am, or the box of Cracker Jacks I got that didn't have no surprise in it, but it's not like I need someone to tell me it's God's plan or something dumb to make me feel better. It doesn't make any more sense to me that God thinks it's funny there's no prize in my snacks exactly when I'm in the mood for a lick-on tattoo.

Just for laughs I went to a church once and the church guy there told me they were full. It didn't sound full, that's what I told him. He said it wasn't full, but they were closed for the holidays, and he didn't want to hurt my feelings. Then he pushed me off the steps and ran back inside. I could hear him locking the doors and him and his friends were laughing. What do you call them? Monks?

I guess I could take better tests if I read books and such. I tried reading the Bible but all that "begat" stuff really pissed me off. They introduce like a hundred and something characters in the first few pages. I'm not much of a reader, but I can tell you that's the kind of bad writing that can keep your screenplay from being produced. I still read about five pages of it, two columns on each, and then nobody ever tested me on it. So you can see why I don't ever want to read a book again just because they say there's going to be a test on it. You never know, they're probably lying.

Nine out of ten times they aren't, yeah. Maybe even ninety-nine out of 100. But reading, you know… it's boring.

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"Fight, men! Like you've never fought before! — Try winning this time."

I was just in my first fight yesterday. Well, the first fight I ever won. It was closer to a draw, maybe, but I didn't get the shit beat out of me. Unless you saw it. In that case, it was the first fight I started on purpose, but I fought the good fight, like the saying goes.

After you fight it takes a long while to "come down." You walk around on edge, ready to jump on everybody. It's like all your senses are heightened and shit. You're some kind of kung fu maniac just waiting for an excuse to tear someone a new ass. This five year old kid set off a firecracker and I spun on him with the hands of death ready to kill. That was the second fight I ever started. I felt better about that one, I think I'm getting close to a win with every punch.

There are some people who don't fight, no matter what happens. Like Gandhi. He wore a toga everywhere because he was a real party animal. People would get drunk at parties and always want to start shit with him, but he would tell them to settle down, he wasn't going to fight them. They would kick his ass and he still wouldn't fight back. Eventually it paid off because he got a free Indian. They made a show about it, you may have heard of it… Kung Fu? Of course, in the show he had to fight because they don't do TV shows about pussies.

When I first heard of Gandhi, I thought it sounded real familiar. Then I remembered Kenny Rogers did that "Coward of the County" song about him. Kenny Rogers must have been a big fan of Gandhi's. And I love that song, when they keep calling the guy a pussy and eventually he starts to leave but he finds the door's locked, so he has to fight his way out. That's like the story of my life, except I haven't gotten to the last verse yet.

When someone fights when he doesn't want to, he's called a pacifist. That's what he calls himself anyway. There's good reasons to not fight, like you could get killed. There was a famous saying some teacher told me once, about not fighting: "It takes more muscles not to fight than it does to fight." I'm not sure what muscles she was talking about, she asked me to leave the class before I got to that part.

As good as pacifism is, I think I'd rather fight. In fact, if I had to do it, I'd probably like to fight a pacifist. As long as you don't lock them inside with you they can't fight back, it's against their own personal legal code. So you could really kick some ass, and get it on tape. Then I'd show it to the guys who whupped my ass before and just tell them I didn't fight before because I was a man of peace. Hopefully they wouldn't ask why I kicked the pacifist's ass then. I haven't thought of that part of the lie yet.

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