the inner curmudgeon

Recently published research into physical activity and breast cancer risk shows a significant correlation between increased physical activity and reduced risk of breast cancer. “Activity” was classified as occupational, recreational or household and the most significant correlation of reduced risk was found between household activity. Note that:

• what constitutes “household activity” is not spelled out in the abstract;
• the abstract emphasises that the key lesson to be learned here increased physical activity per se is associated with a reduced risk of breast cancer, and
• men can get breast cancer too.

These considerations have not stopped the worldwide media from reporting that teh scientists are telling their bitches to get the hell back in the kitchen and start scrubbing those pots and pans or else their boobies will drop off. Or words to that effect.

I blame those conducting the research myself. If you’re going to categorise physical activities, you need to choose categories that have some physioligical significance. It is small wonder that they saw a lower correlation for recreational activity if they put yoga and hockey in the same column.

I find it particularly spooky that the Atlantic Oceanic and Meteorological Laboratory feels it necessary to include this in their list of frequently asked questions.

The technical explanation of why reducing the largest nuclear arsenal in the world by using it to blow out hurricanes just won’t work is very interesting. Still, you don’t have to be Einstein to figure out that spreading radioactive death over the world’s second-largest ocean probably isn’t the best way to help lift real estate prices in Florida.

Mind you, perhaps I should email those guys at the Atlantic Oceanic and Meteorological Laboratory with a question of my own. I get the nuclear thing, but I can’t for the life of me come up with one good reason we shouldn’t drop dumb-arse rednecks into hurricanes.

I think it was in NewScientist some weeks back that I read about the Creation Science Fair. Today I stumbled across an article by one Dr Richard Paley who went into more detail.

The winner in the Elementary School Level was Cassidy Turnbull with My Uncle Is A Man Named Steve (Not A Monkey) in which she treated attendees to a syllogistic tour de force: monkeys eat bananas; my uncle refuses to eat bananas, therefore my uncle is not a monkey. Of course, from there it is limpidly clear that the Darwinian edifice must crumble around the ears of evil secular humanists the world ’round.

However, Cassidy failed to spot a faulty premise - that all monkeys eat bananas under all circumstances. As everyone knows, creatures harbouring an excess of pathogenic intestinal fauna, or subject to one of a variety of systemic disorders will refuse even foods that would be popular under other circumstances. So, Cassidy has failed to exclude the possibility that her uncle may in fact be one very sick monkey.

Sadly, Dr Paley fails to furnish us with details on the Honourable Mentions with such thought provoking titles as: Mousetrap Reduced To Pile Of Functionless Parts, Rocks Can’t Evolve, [So] Where Did They Come From Mr. Darwin or the positively tantalising Pokemon Prove Evolutionism Is False.