Here's a sample of the kinds of lectures held at my old university:

Scrotal/testicular thermoregulation in farm animals
About the Lecture:
In farm animals, it is essential that the testes be maintained a few degrees below body temperature for the production of normal, viable sperm [...] Dr. Kastelic and colleagues have shown that that scrotum and testes have complimentary temperature gradients that contribute to testicular thermoregulation.

Whilst that already sounds interesting, you can double your fun if you assume the term "Thermoregulation" is something dirty, and if you replace the words "farm animals" with the words "Horny Japanese Businessmen."

Actually, I suspect that works for pretty much everything.

So in the spirit of the times, here's a fun game: Match the terrible, outright lie to the politician it belongs under:

1) Once attacked and bit the head off a badger.

2) Once defecated on a slow moving turtle.

3) Regularly drives without pants.

4) Is a decent guy.

BUT, that's until this little fellow showed up on the scene. It can ignite a match and cut through black electrical tape. Sure, maybe not the kind of thing we'll be strapping to the front of out spaceships just yet, but after watching the video's of these things in action, who here wouldn't wonder what it would be like to use one of these super-lasers to play target practice with a few house flies?

Mr. Meow's short attention span was just one of many reasons he was a poor driver

Of course, this is the best paying job I've ever had, so when it comes time to fill out the weekly timesheets for my paycheck, it suddenly doesn't feel so terrible.

(And then, to celebrate my new wealth, I go home and eat my money, slowly, note by note, by candle light whilst looking in the mirror and weeping joyfully.)

if you said a man that just ate noodles for dinner you'd be correct.

#1: offices collect some odd characters.

#2: No matter what time of day it is.. everytime I go into the washroom, there's someone in there taking a dump.

I mentioned these observations to Tom, a coworker friend who's been doing this kind of temp work for several years now. He told me a story:

One time, Tom was in an office washroom, sitting in a stall having his daily company-funded bowel movement, when he heard someone else enter the toilets. Since this newcomer was using the urinal, Tom "paused his proceedings" out of politeness. But then he heard the sound of grunting and heavy breathing. Horrified by what image he might see should he leave the cubicle, he stayed put until the stranger left. Eventually, the stranger did indeed leave, and upon exiting the stall, Tom went to wash his hands... where he noticed what had been the cause of the grunting and deep breathing: laying there, in the middle of the basin of one of the urinals, was a large turd.

MONSTER crashes through window.

GAVIN picks up telephone and bludgeons MONSTER

FADE TO BLACK.

SCENE 2
Morning. A bedroom. GAVIN wakes up.

His hand quivered as it reached toward the door-- but then, overcome with a wave of self doubt, he pulled it back. Beads of sweat were begging to form on his brow. His eyes anxiously shifted from left to right. He was alone. All that existed was he, and the door.

George closed his eyes and counted to three. He felt his arm start to lift, his hand traveling forward... and then, on the very tips of his fingers, he felt the cold rush of the brass metal door handle. He let the feeling of coldness linger, slowly traveling up his arm, tingling to his core.

He opened his eyes. The self doubt began to drain from his sweaty body; he knew what he had to do. Animalistic hunger was filling every corner of his being. The sense of urgency was overwhelming.

His hand tightened on the handle and twisted. He heard the clich of the door latch - so loud! - and began to push against the door. It swung open.

And then he saw it. Framed in the darkness by a single hanging lightbulb: a cake. And on the cake was written the simple but all-telling message:

"Happy Birthday, George!"

George once again licked his lips, and pulled a small spoon out from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

It wasn't George's birthday.

I went to see The Brothers Grimm lastnight, here's the best way I can think of describing it: about 1/3rd of the way into the film, for no reason at all, a kitten is killed and the bad guy eats some of it's bloody flesh - after seeing this, I thought, "well, this must be the low point of this crappy film."

Then the rest of the movie happened.

But hurry! Time's running out, so bid quickly if you've ever wanted a picture in your home of a woman getting it on with a man-snail.

So it turns out that precocious little theory, known as Quantum Physics to it's friends, now dictates that were we to go back in time, we wouldn't be able to change anything if it has already been observed as happening in our present.

This is because once once something has been observed as occurring, its possibility of occurring then shrinks to one (ie: it will happen). In other words, If you've seen your neighbor's dog crapping on your lawn, you can't go back in time and stop him from doing it, because his pooping ways have been observed and therefor that brown patch on your grass is unfortunately guaranteed. However, if you suspect that your neighbor himself is crapping on your lawn, but you have no proof of this, then you may be able to go back in time and stop him, because his slightly-psychotic act hasn't been observed.

But you may be wondering, "Gavin, this is all very interesting, but what is its relevance in my everyday life?" Here's how this affects you and I:

Stop crapping on my goddamn lawn.