Daily Archives: June 23, 2015

You Can’t Argue With Science: The Science of Love!

Guten Tag, Herr 3.5 readers!

Dr. Hugo Von Science

Dr. Hugo Von Science

It is I, Dr. Hugo Von Science, back to once again prove that if you try to argue with science, you vill totally lose.  It’s impossible, mein leipshin.  Try arguing with a microscope sometime.  It can’t be done.

Perhaps you remember me from one of mein fabulous inventions:

  • The Aerodynamic Ice Cream Cone – allows astronauts to eat rocky road in zero gravity without spilling un single drop.  Also comes in rum raisin, boysenberry, tutti frutti, und mein favorite, moose tracks mit extra rainbow sprinkles.
  • Vacuum Sealed Pants – Just put them on, attach the vac-o-matic, turn on for five seconds and nothing gets in or out.  (Just don’t eat anything for 6 hours prior to wearing these bad boys, mein leipshin, we had a few incidents with lab monkeys exploding when they got a little gassy.
  • The Beyonce-a-fier – Makes any woman look and sound exactly like Beyonce.  Early test results indicate it will save 10 out 10 marriages.  Don’t worry, frauleins.  The Tatum-izer is coming soon.  Divorce vill be a thing of the past!

And last but not least…

  • The Meteor Magnet – Yes!  All will bow down before Dr. Von Science or I vill cause a giant meteor to hurtle towards Earth and….woopsie!  I’ve said too much.

Anyhow, have you been reading along with Bookshelf Q. Battler and the Meaning of Life?  Mein former student has undertaken quite an adventure, and has even met a fraulein!  Good for him!

I know what you’re about to say.  “Dr. Hugo, what do you know about love?  Love has nothing to do with science!”

Malarkey, says I!  It has everything to do with science.  Think about all the scientific subjects that come into play when selecting a person to love:

  • Chemistry – not in the “mix chemicals in a lab beaker” sense (though I did create mein first wife that way) but in the hormonal sense.  When you see that special someone and that little person in the back of your mind starts shouting, “Yah, yah!” that’s the result of all kinds of bodily chemicals und juices being fired to and fro through your system.  I’d explain more, but you’d need a Prestigious Degree in Science from the Science Institute of Science University to understand.
  • Biology – Sort of tied to chemistry, in this case.  On the plains of the Sarenghetti, why does one gazelle see another gazelle and think, “Mein Got, what an attractive gazelle?”  Science!
  • Psychology – Everyone’s head is wired differently.  What one person finds attractive will be seen as blah by another.  Success, security, stability, companionship, status – all these factors come in to play and often compete against each other inside an herr or fraulein’s knogan.  For example, everyone might think the herr mit a flashy fraulein on his harm might be a cool dude, thus increasing his social status.  However, if the fraulein is wild and crazy, she might not have much interest in a stable relationship.

Oh vell, I’m glad Bookshelf Q. Battler has found a fraulein but I hope he doesn’t screw it up the way he did when I allowed him to be my assistant on the Incredible Exploding Chinchilla project.  Time will tell and we’ll have to read on before we find out.

But why not refresh our memories first?

READ PARTS 1-5

READ PARTS 6-13

READ PARTS 14-18

BQB’s epic adventure returns tomorrow, mein leipshin!  Come back to the Bookshelf Battle Blog!  Be there or be un square!

Dr. Hugo Von Science is a Distinguished Professor of Science at the Advanced Science Institute of Science University.  He has patented over a bazillion inventions and may or may not be attempting to conquer the world in his spare time.  His column, “You Can’t Argue with Science” is a recurring feature on the Bookshelf Battle Blog.

Mad scientist photo courtesy of shutterstock.com

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Crowdsourcing a Novel?

Happy Tuesday, 3.5 Readers.shutterstock_71510056

Bookshelf Q. Battler here.

Have I mentioned how much I love Pop Culture Mysteries?  These things write themselves.  I have plenty of ideas lined up, it’s just a matter of finding the time to write them.  (Er, I mean to have Jake write them.)

I’m thinking about writing a novel set in Jake’s world.

Actually, Jake would write it and I’d just take the credit for it.

The gist would be that a serial killer Jake hunted as a police detective in 1949 has found his way to 2015.  Jake has to drop his Pop Culture Mystery investigations for awhile and retrace his steps from long ago as the killer wreaks havoc in modern times.

Delicious Dish Delilah K. Donnelly would back our resident gumshoe up, naturally.

Or in other words – Mr. Devil Man.

If I go for it, I’d publish the novel here on the Bookshelf Battle Blog first in a series of posts, giving my 3.5 readers an early look.

Tell me if it’s good or not, what works, what doesn’t, how I could improve and so on.

Ultimately, you fine 3.5ers could give me the thumbs up or down as to whether it would be worth it to move on the next stages, i.e. finding an editor, putting an ebook together and putting it out there on Amazon.

PRO – It’d motivate me to actually write a novel.

CON – Would people outside of this blog’s 3.5 readership understand who Bookshelf Q. Battler is?  I suppose the novel could begin with a brief intro that Jake fell asleep for 59 years only to get a job as a Pop Culture Detective for a nerdy blogger.

I don’t know.  Like most ideas, could be great, could be not.

I’m itching to get something self-published though.

Who would want to be my test nerds?

Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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Pop Culture Mysteries – Case File #002 – Who Shot First? (Part 4)

I pointed Betsy straight at my newfound enemy and made my demands known.

“You’re gonna cut the bullshit fella or I’ll send you first class on a one-way trip to the great beyond, see?”

Streaming Media has timed out.  Try again?

I wanted to fill the desktop beep boop machine Delilah had gotten for me full of lead but somehow I had a hunch these things were more expensive to replace than a night on the town with Gina Lollobrigida.

Even so, I wasn’t about to spend all day trying to figure out how to work that blasted contraption.

I holstered Betsy and made my way to the LA Public Library.  Upon my arrival, I looked around for Agnes the Librarian, the only person I’d met so far in this ridiculous time period with the patience to help me navigate modern technology.

“Agnes!”  I shouted as I saw the old bird returning a book to its place on a shelf.

Agnes the Librarian

Agnes the Librarian

She turned around and hit me with an annoying “SHHHH!” that gave me half a mind to reach for Betsy.

But God knows Ma Hatcher would not have approved.

“Agnes,”  I whispered. “I’m hot on the trail of a case and I need you to work your magic on a beep boop machine.”

“What do you need?”  Agnes asked.

“You ever hear of a flick called, ‘Star Wars?‘”

“Have I heard of it?”  Agnes asked.  “Oh Good Gracious, I saw it when it first came out in the movie theater.”

“Great story,” I said, though I was completely uninterested in hearing it.  “You got a copy of it here?”

Agnes ignored me and carried on.

“Oh, that was such a long time ago,”  she said.  “Herbert and I were on a date.  We’d been going steady for awhile and of course, my parents didn’t approve, him being a Presbyterian and all but somehow…”

I grabbed the ancient broad by the shoulders.

“Land sakes alive, woman!”  I shouted, forgetting I was in a studious establishment.

A nerd who reminded me of my employer pulled his nose out of a science book and glared at me disapprovingly.

“Hey buddy!  Do you mind?  Some of us are trying to read here.”

“Land sakes alive, woman,” I repeated in a softer tone.  “Skip the story and put the movie on for me already.  I’ve got five big ones riding on this!

“Hmmph,” Agnes said as she stormed off and waved her hand in a motion that bid me to follow.  “All you young people are all the same, never concerned with anyone but yourselves.”

She hooked a left and opened a door marked “Media Room.”

The flick in question came out in 1977 according to Mr. Battler’s note.  Agnes and Herbert, Agnes’ now ailing husband, went to see it on a date.  I started doing math in my head.

“Say Agnes,”  I said.  “How old were you when you and old Herbert saw this picture?”

The old gal handed me some kind of funny looking device.

“Stop it,”  Agnes said as she looked through a metal cabinet.  “You don’t need to pretend to care.”

“I’ve had a change of heart,”  I said.

“No no,” Agnes said.  “You young people just walk around checking your cell phones and updating your Facebook pages and if it isn’t about you then you could care less.  Except for you, somehow you’re a technological illiterate but you’re still just as self absorbed as the rest of them.”

Every generation feels like that about the ones coming up behind them.  Ma and Pa Hatcher used to give that same song and dance routine to my brother Roscoe and I way back when we were just a couple of kids in Bayonne.  Hell, I feel the same way about every Jackass I bump into today.

“Agnes,”  I said.  “I swear on a stack of bibles piled a mile high that I’m never going to feel whole if I don’t hear the story about how you and Herbert saw this movie together.”

The elderly librarian’s face lighted up like a Christmas tree with all the trimmings. She pulled a plastic case marked “Star Wars” out of the cabinet, removed some kind of funny looking circular thing, inserted it into the device she’d given me and led me to a table where we each took a seat.

“Well, since you put it that way,”  Agnes began.  “Herbert and I were both twenty-two at the time.  I’d just started working here and he was a student at UCLA.  My darling Herbie used to visit the library all the time, telling me that he was working on his thesis but between you and me, I think he just wanted to see me.  He always came up with some excuse to get me to help him.  Oh, such a sweetheart he was…”

I ignored all the yakkity yak and worked it out.  Twenty-two in 1977.  The broad was born in 1955, the same year I fell asleep in my office above Tsang’s China Palace.  She was sixty and looked like a decrepit old bag while I was ninety-five and still looked like a thirty-five year old.

I liked being perpetually thirty-five.  It was a good age.  Old enough to know a thing or two.  Young enough to do something about it.

Even so, it made me sad to think this gal that was younger than I was looked like she was going to meet her maker before me.

“It was so amazing,”  Agnes said.  “All of those special effects.  Things on the big screen neither of us had ever seen before.  Herb and I were blown away.  The whole audience was.  Everyone thought George Lucas was some kind of wizard.  Anyway, after the movie we went to…”

I tuned out the old hen’s clucking.  Suddenly, a terrible thought hit me like a truck running a red light.

Delilah.  Should I bother stoking the fire I had for in my heart?

Hatcher was worried that Delilah might grow old and ugly and hideous and oh yeah, that she might also die before he did.  The dying before he did part was totally the part he was most worried about.

Hatcher was worried that Delilah might grow old and ugly and hideous and oh yeah, that she might also die before he did. The dying before he did part was totally the part he was most worried about, not her looks at all.

Wasn’t my favorite filly destined to one day grow as old and wrinkly and leathery and hideous as Agnes?

Oh yeah, and she might die before me too.  I wasn’t just worried about Delilah growing old and hideous and…

Wait, what was I thinking about?  I couldn’t remember.  The librarian was babbling incessantly…

“And so I bent Herbert over my knee and said, ‘This is what I do to people who don’t return their library books on time’ and then I grabbed my paddle and reached back for a good swing and…”

“Hey!”  I interrupted.  “Hey uh, yeah that’s a great story, Ag. Real great.  Say, howsabout you watch this flick with me and explain to me what the hell’s going on in it?  I’ve got a hunch I’m going to find it more confusing than a dance partner with two left feet.”

Agnes thought about it.

“Why not?”  she asked.  “I’ll put those books away later.  Kind of surprised you’ve never seen this though.  I thought everyone’s seen this one.”

“Yeah,”  I said as I leaned back.  “I’ve missed out on a lot of things.”

Editor’s Note:  It’s the official position of the Bookshelf Battle Blog that Agnes is a lovely woman and isn’t “hideous and ugly and so on.”  Hatcher can be kind of a dick sometimes, and not just a private one.

More to come…

Copyright (c) Bookshelf Q. Battler.  All Rights Reserved.

Images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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