The desert is an evil, forbidding place. The plants that thrive there are prickly, and the animals, insects and reptiles that survive there are venomous and deadly. The sun is intense, and there is no solace. It cooks the earth in such a way that it radiates heat, creating an illusion of fumes emanating from its surface, obscuring the distance, turning the horizon into a gassy blur. There is hardly any water. There is hardly any shade. All that exists is an arid fervor, and the scarce forms of life that dare to live amongst it.

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A more genuine discussion of modern time travel theories, as exemplified by a bottle of ketchup.

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As far as we know, no person has ever time traveled. While physics states that traveling though time could be easily achieved by going faster than the speed of light, apparently that’s not as easy as it sounds — at least without the help of DMT. Even so, we all know lots about time travel. Our concept and understanding of the phenomenon has been shaped over the years, almost exclusively through books and movies. Rules have been set, conventions have been put in place, and the philosophical and physical realities that time travel functions within are well documented. With this in mind, we spent some time… um… coming up with what we believe to be a definitive rule on how time travel, if it ever were to exist, would ultimately have to live by.

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The only thing that’s prevented us from investing in a personal taser thus far has been the device’s total lack of fun. Like all ladies, we like our hardware to be pretty, available in complimentary tones and vaguely non-threatening. So we are mad crazy for the new line of lady tasers (or lasers) to hit the market. They come in super-girl-friendly colours like pink and leopard print and for an extra $72.99 you can get a gun holster with a one gig MP3 player built-in.

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Potentially life-altering news for all you poorly postured bourgeoisie. US scientists have invented incredibly strong, highly successful, popular, sexually prolific mice, all thanks to the over-expression of the gene for the enzyme phosphoenolypyruvate carboxykinases (PEPCK-C), whatever the hell that is.

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Rejoice! Human civilization has reached the critical and intimate moment in its unique development in which it must move forth and establish its official only-for-space cash.

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The Vancouver Parks Board is apparently considering the installation of 25 to 30 giant robotic dinosaurs at cash-strapped Stanley Park, predicting they’ll draw hundreds of thousands of paying tourists a year. Imagine! Stanley Park, cash-strapped! All those trees and rocks and bumpy green bits and flowers, and hardly a penny in its bank account. What kind of park doesn’t get a job and earn its way in the world? Does it think money grows on trees? Ingrate. Fortunately, wise technocrats appreciate the fact that even places of great natural beauty must be expected to make a profit, and animatronic dinosaurs are definitely the way to go.

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Yep, this battery runs on piss. The environmentally kosher and unintentionally-well-named NoPoPo rechargeable battery is now available (in… Japan) in AA and AAA, and can potentially last up to ten years if you don’t reef on it all the time. Sadly, it doesn’t have to be your piss (most other bodily fluids or water-based liquids will do), but the point here folks is that it can be your piss. It can and it will be.

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Scientists occasionally take having a bit of fun too far. Take, for example, the 20th Century. Sometimes, though, and we’ve all felt this, you just want to make a zebra fuck a horse and see what the result is. In this case, Italian cryptozoologists created a very beautiful zebrula, or zorse, named Eclyse (pictured). Eclyse now lives in a zoo near Guetersloh, in Germany, drawing record crowds of gawkers, oglers and gowglerks, which is what you get if you force gawkers to fuck oglers.

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