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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Few popular hand gestures have as varied a meaning around the globe as the ubiquitous "thumbs-up" gesture, a poorly-named motion since it rarely, except in the case of huge assholes, is performed with both thumbs. But while the dual thumbs-up means "I'm a cock" in nearly every corner of the globe, the single-thumbed variety can mean anything from "I've recovered from my head injury" to "I think this would fit up your ass." Knowing the differences in local translation can save one not only from social embarrassment, but massive anal trauma as well.

Most modern historians place the gesture's origin in Roman times, when coliseum crowds would determine a fallen gladiator's fate by giving either a thumbs-up ("Fuck 'em!") or a thumbs-down ("Kill the shit out of him!"). The gladiator would die either way, but people in those days liked to feel like they had some say in things, whether they actually did or not. The only way the gladiator could actually be spared would be if the Caesar gave the dreaded "He's kind of cute!" hand-waggle, in which case the gladiator's wounds would be treated and he'd be dressed in a muscle shirt for the pleasure of the Caesar.

Art historians and the strange souls who have dedicated their academic lives to the study of hand gestures often argue and get into bar brawls over the meaning of the Roman thumbs–up/down gestures, some believing that thumbs-down meant "swords down" and others arguing that it meant "you're a dick." Confusing the matter further are the various gladiatorial paintings from the era, which depict Caesars sparing injured gladiators via both the thumbs-up and the thumbs-down, and one rare instance of a Caesar giving the coliseum crowd the finger. Historians say this incident was triggered by the Caesar's chariot being dinged in the coliseum parking lot the day before. Most believe that a gladiator was commonly spared with the thumbs-down gesture, and the one outstanding painting indicating the opposite was the result of a lazy French painter who just couldn't paint the thumbs-down without it looking weird.

All of this is hardly relevant, however, since the thumbs-up had already been in use for centuries, dating back to prehistoric times, when those cavemen who were slight of build used the gesture instinctively in an attempt to hitch a ride on the backs of larger cavemen. Modern hitchhiking has changed little, though due to advances in transportation technology, modern man has less time to yell insults after being turned down for a ride.

During Medieval times, Europeans would seal transactions by licking thumbs and pressing them together, fist-to-fist, a tradition they learned from Oriental traders who were only fucking with them. Nevertheless, this bogus Oriental custom survived for hundred of years in Europe, until people began to realize it was greatly facilitating the spread of the plague, and nobody could come up with a way to make thumb condoms that didn't unpleasantly reduce sensation.

Eventually, the thumbs-up gesture came to be used by American pilots in WWII to communicate with the ground crew since they were covered in so much Darth Vader bullshit that their thumb was about the only body part that could still move. This was in stark contrast to WWI pilots, who didn't even wear helmets, and were only issued two pieces of safety equipment: a book on birds and a bible.

The WWII pilots would give the thumbs-up to the ground crew when they were ready to take off, meaning "Everything's cool." This is what the ground crew chumps thought anyway, the inside joke among the pilots was that the gesture actually meant "I stuck this thumb up your girlfriend's ass last night." Thankfully for inter-Air Force harmony, none of the ground crew guys ever found out about this or the "You're an a-s-s-hole/OK" dual-purpose hand gesture either.

The ground crew guys, however, were about the only ones not in on the joke, and as the gesture spread around the globe wherever the pilots traveled, coming to mean "Up your ass" all around the world. Thanks to the uptight 1950's, Americans never caught on to the double-meaning, and continued to use the gesture to mean "Super." One notable exception was actor Henry Winkler, whose father had been a WWII pilot and who used his inside knowledge to give a counterculture edge to his character of Fonzie on the 70's sitcom Happy Days. Whenever Fonzie would give someone the thumbs-up and sneer "Heeeey, sit on it!" Air Force pilots and stoners everywhere had a good laugh at the expense of mainstream America.

Today the gesture is as popular as ever among Americans and foreigners wanting to secretly insult Americans. Though in all likelihood having your thumb stuck up someone else's ass would be even more unpleasant for you than it was for them, the thumbs-up gesture goes down next to "Go fuck yourself!" in the annals of nonsensical insults that still pack a punch.

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It's another day on the bunny trail. Let's hop this motherfucker onward.

Have you listened to this new grunge music? It's all the rage. It's more real than heavy metal, because these kids are singing about the real pain they are in. It mixes together the noise of punk with the melody of pop. And it commercializes fantastic.

For my money, if you're going to buy a melting cheese, Velveeta is the only choice. There may be others, but I don't care enough to do any research about it.

Has anyone ever thought about how to make peace between the Muslims and the Israelites? Am I the first to think of it?

If there's one thing I'm famous for, it's my colossal temper. I get angry two, even up to three times a year, and can say quite ornery things. Of course, all this is moot, since I'm famous for nothing. But if I were, that would be it.

There is some brand of lunchmeat that makes all the pain of the world go away. I can never remember the name. I want to say Hormel, but that may have just been something I saw on the shelf. A shame. Good lunchmeat.

I have played pool before, believe it or not, and cracked a ball. It's a shame, because I would have won that game, had it not been for my injury.

Have you ever worn contacts? I never have. I tell you now, if they make your eyes bleed tears, I will never wear them. I will not be convinced otherwise of this.

Just a minute—I have left my car running outside. Wait—too late. It hit a telephone pole. I must remember to put the car in park.

Do you believe all these Russian women that want to come to America? They contact American men by email and even marry some of them, just to get a plane flight to the U.S. And yet, they all refuse to talk to me. This is why they lost the cold war. Their standards are way too high.

If I were to receive a prominent role in a Hollywood blockbuster, I would be quite surprised. Not as surprised as the rest of the world, I'm sure.

Mexican food—where's that from again? I want to say Mexico, but that sounds too easy.

Hold on—my car's being towed. That's really quite unnecessary. The telephone pole stopped it well enough.

I wrote to another major market magazine about my attempted UFO abduction, but they have also rejected me. What is so hard to believe about a man fighting off a crew of extra-terrestrials, crashing a UFO into the sea, and swimming the hundred and fifty-mile distance back to shore? I have pictures, but they are foggy.

It turns out Napoleon was quite a short man. Stop me if this sounds crazy—I reason that his diminutive posture is responsible for his mad dash to take over the world. Yes, it may sound a little crazy, but just consider it for a while.

I have never had an out-of-body experience, but I have been caught naked on the neighbor's lawn quite a few times. And I don't plan on stopping. Do you hear me, country sheriff? You don't scare me.

It's my car! Look out!

Sorry. Apparently the tow truck failed to hook it up correctly to the tow bar. On the bright side, the car is now in my living room, so they can't take it away without a warrant. I watch TV.

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