"Mein Fuhrer! I Can Walk!"

In case you haven't heard, scientists are now able to make paralyzed rats walk again. The National Association for the Perambulation of Paralyzed Eeking Rodents (NAPPER) has passed a unanimous motion rejoicing in the landmark medical event, hailing it as the scientific community's most valuable achievement since its ability to genetically engineer munster.

Lab workers and researchers have been using rats and mice and guinea pigs and other small furry things that nobody cares about 'cause they're nasty for dozens and dozens of years. I know PETA pretends to give a shit about the civil rights of mice, but I'll guarantee you they'd start shooting the little wriggly bastards if they were armed and locked in a small room with fifteen thousand of them.

Personally, I think doing pharma and stem cell research with ugly little buggers like rodents is a great idea. Just don't come near my dog, you white-coated geeks, or you'll get one in the nuts.

I wonder, though, just how far researchers go with these rats and things. I mean, when they first brought out Viagra-- you see where I'm going with this. Were Viagra and Levitra tested out on impotent little mice? Are there impotent mice? I have no idea.

That's one of the wonderful things about blogging, I think. You start to consider things you never gave a moment's consideration before, all in the noble pursuit of churning out semi-entertaining grog for folks, most of whom you've never met.

Nice.

So, getting back to limp-doodle vermin, how exactly is that done? Do researchers call up their mousie suppliers and say,

DOC: "Hey, Tom, it's Dr. Schmenkmann over here at Bristol, Meyers, Squibb. Do you have any mice over there that are, um, not... getting..... any?"

RAT GUY: "Well, what do you mean, Doctor Schmenk?"

DOC: "Well, you know-- any rats or mice that are just kinda.... not... in the action, as it were?"

RAT GUY: "You mean fags, sir?"

At first I thought that the lab dudes would sterilize the mice, but that wouldn't work, because then they'd never know if the medication was working or not, they'd have to reverse the sterilization process. I mean, these sonsofbitches did actually paralyze perfectly healthy mice and rats in order to do the stem cell research on them.

And, really, like I said, I'm okay with that. When my wife and I had our first duplex, you cannot even begin to fathom how many of those pink-nosed motherfuckers we annhiliated, and it wasn't in the goddamn name of science either. I don't care what these queer bastards do to our little furry friends. Attach car batteries to their nipples-- waterboard them. I don't give a shit. Just cure cancer before my mommy gets it.

(God forbid, n'yah mean?)

I hate those stupid commerials for New Jersey Public Schools they run (on Philadelphia channels, inexplicably, like we're going to see that shit and go, "Damn! Let's move to Cherry Hill, honey!") on TV. One of them takes place in a science lab, and there's this teacher, who looks like a blonde Moe, and he's talking about how dedicated he is to science and experimentation and shit, and I want to yell at him and say, "You're one of the highest paid public school teachers in the country, dickcheese-- that's what you're dedicated to."

But I don't, because my wife already thinks I'm crazy enough. I don't need to start yelling at the TV to belabor the point.

Then there's this black kid and in one shot he's in the lab next to the teacher and they've both got two little beakers of bright blue liquid that they're holding up to the light, apparently to examine. I'm sure there's Berry Blue Kool-Aid in each of the beakers, and I silently think to myself that the commercial would be much funnier if the kid and the teacher clinked beakers and drank the shit down, then expired dramatically onto the lab table-top, wretching up blue fluid and bile all over the camera lens.

That's the kind of science I can get into. That and giving mice mega hard-ons.

As you can probably tell, I wasn't very much into science as a kid. I didn't understand it. I thought the Periodic Table was like a tip calculator for teenage girls and that I would learn all about it Health class, but I didn't. Instead of receiving a pity pass from my Chemistry teacher, I received a pity A. Wholly unnecessary. Physics was different. I attended for two days and then dropped out.

Just like the police academy.

Astronomy and Geology were much more my speed. I won't even address Biology, during which I colored black and white ditto sheets containing sketches of amoebas and lichen and, in college, where I went to class maybe 30% of the time and received a D.

And so it was that I would never enter a career where I would be giving mice the power to walk or attain erections.

I've never met a scientist myself, but I want to. I want to meet someone who experiments with animals and gasses and shit. Someone who probably has crazy hair and a personality disorder and a collection of fucked up neckties. I want to meet a really weird bastard and call him "my scientist friend" when I tote him around with me at parties. Obviously, once I have a scientist friend, I'll start going to parties.

"This is Jodphur. He's my scientist friend. He works for Glaxo and he discovered this supercool enzyme that turns ferrets' dicks red."

I want a scientist friend badly. I like the friends that I have, but none of them are scientists, that I know of. Of course, they could be, like, back-alley, basement-type scientists. You know, like how I do amateur G&S, they could do, I don't know, amateur science. But it can't be weird shit, like raping cats with frozen garden hoses in their garage, you know? I want a scientist friend, not a nutcase friend. I have enough of those.

Speaking of which-- did this post start out being about impotent mice?