Author Archives: Scott Bowles

Ok, Seriously, Stop.

Rats giggle when tickled.

Science recognizes two types of tickling: knismesis and gargalesis. The former is the “light, feather-like” kind, which doesn’t induce laughter, while the latter is more high-pressure and does cause laughter. And while you may think of humans as the only creatures susceptible to gargalesis, one of our much smaller counterparts is as well: the humble rat. Rats actually love being tickled, especially on their back and belly, and there’s even a specific term for the frolicking they do in between tickles: freudensprünge, or “joy jumps.” Sadly, rat giggles are too high for us to hear without special microphones that can reproduce the sound in a lower register. (That doesn’t make videos of rats being tickled any less adorable, however.)

where can you buy disulfiram All of the great apes (gorillas, chimpanzees, bonobos, and orangutans) let out a “remarkably human-like laugh” when tickled, while animals ranging from dogs to penguins appear to enjoy it as well. That said, many humans do not — some find the sensation deeply uncomfortable, and laugh out of discomfort rather than joy. One study in which participants rated how much they like being tickled on a 10-point scale (from very unpleasant to very pleasant) produced an average of only 5. Perhaps surprisingly, people rated tickling others at only 5.9.

In other words, it ain’t funny.

Squeaker of the House


After much consideration (wait, that’s supposed to be carbonation (stupid auto-correct)), I have decided to put my name forward as candidate for next Speaker of the House.

I don’t have any discernible skills for the job, but that’s only because I have no discernible skills, period. Well, I do know a magic trick: It’s called “The French Drop,” and it’s a fancy little sleight of hand in which you think the coin is in the right hand when it’s really in the left.

Kind of like Congress. As House Republicans weigh a Speaker — and implode like the Titan — it becomes increasingly clear that the two-party system has been reduced to one, thanks to a remedial skill they lack: arithmetic.

Namely, that 2+1=3. I hesitate to add one and one, or two and two, for that seems to confuse conservatives, who think their legions match those of their adversaries. They don’t. In fact, they haven’t matched since 2004, the last time a Republican president won the popular vote.

Since then, the GOP clings to the notion that 9/11 didn’t change everything. Our notion of American power. Our notion of Western power. Our notion of Christian power. They all collapsed in the dark plume that day. As did the notions of Iron Age goat herders, who established a system of beliefs and governance that exist today.

And the only way up has always been cold, hard logic. Like science. Like math. Like 2+1=3.

3 is key. Turn the digit in on itself and it becomes infinity. Two must acknowledge the presence of one; one must acknowledge the dominance of two. Otherwise, you’re stuck with two meaningless figures with no idea its proximity to significance.

Kind of like Congress. Watching Republicans govern among themselves is like watching adults stage a park rendition of ‘Lord of the Flies,’ with Matt Gaetz as Piggy, squealing that traitors and enemies abound. If you believe the election was stolen, produce the 2 that brings us to 3.

Conservs, it’s time to prove your math. As 2024 nears, so does the moment to show or fold. Even a Trump-assigned Supreme Court has had to hold back the reins on Southern states’ longstanding gerrymandering. Small-time hoods and kooks like Giuliani and Sidney Powell and Alex Jones have learned the meaning of reckoning. Does shit run any direction but downhill? Get a clue, or get galoshes.

At least, that’s what I’d say as speaker. Then I’d point out the shiny quarter in my left hand and…

Voila.