What is it with you Bible Belters? Always seeing Jesus in toaster strudels and newspaper kiosks. If I had a nickel for every time one of you southerners tried to stuff the square peg of religion into the round hole of scientific discourse, I’d probably have about 50 times your annual adjusted gross income—which probably isn’t saying much, admittedly.

It’s really no miracle at all, Henry. It just has to do with the porous surface (think: your icky face) of unflavored, or mint, Mentos offering sufficient nucleation sites for the creation of carbon dioxide bubbles—bubbles which become the catalyst for an intense pressural increase and cause the impacted water molecules to quickly break away from one another. The result: a geyser of aspartame-filled proportions—almost as powerful as the geyser of your utter dorkiness. In fact, a more accurate definition of “miracle” might be your ability to pin-point a vagina on a female human.

I don’t really have the time to answer questions as rudimentary as this one, and so will be sending you a bill for the time taken. Just remember: One hundred dollars an hour is a bargain for access to my insurmountable intellect. (If you are in need of monetary perspective, consider the amount you paid for your inflatable girlfriend, then multiply it by twenty.)

First, let me just say that you must attend some rather lame parties. At the types of soirées I normally frequent, if you sneeze on another guest, it had better the result of a violent and involuntary bodily reaction to some killer Colombian. (Not advocating drug use, but I sometimes hang with a rough and tumble set.) I would venture that you probably play Pin the Tail On the Donkey and Twister at these events. Pretty weak—unless there happen to be live equines and stripping involved (respectively or irrespectively).

Anyway, I just looked through my reference materials and discovered that your numbers (17 to 35 percent of the population) are a direct match to the figures provided by the ultimate dispensary of knowledge … Wikipedia. This makes me even more skeptical than my scientific nature would normally warrant, and I can’t help but feel you are trying to set me up. Do you think Bill Hick would actually rely on such a specious source of knowledge (even though he just happened to check it, just this once)? Do you not realize you are dealing with a man who possesses more doctoral degrees than Kool Keith and Chaffey Community College combined?

Hristina, I suggest you go stare at the sun for, I don’t know, the next half hour. After that, do your best to locate a battery-powered flash light, and then head to that party posthaste. I’d estimate you have a 17 to 35 percent chance of striking up a conversation with a bowl of chips.

I really never thought I’d say this, but I hope God is real.

The universe simply must have a plan for people of your ilk. I’m not sure exactly what that plan may be, but I cannot in good conscience continue my mortal struggle believing otherwise. Your particular brand of crude idiocy calls for some barbarous brand of divine punishment.

That said, yes, I suppose if plants could talk it would be pretty noisy during the fall season, like some sad chorus of ensuing death—as cacophonous and insufferable as a moaning collective of crusty geriatrics begging the triage nurse for the necessary amount of demerol to put them out of their arthritic misery. Something like that, maybe, except higher-pitched.

I’d conjecture it could be similarly noisy in spring and summer, when most plants are just beginning to develop. We all know how loud and obnoxious children are—just imagine, talking plant children. How awful. And perhaps worse yet, they’d be everywhere, they’d be green, and they’d emit natural allergens.

Anyway, at least winter would be pretty relaxing because all the stupid talking plants WOULD BE DEAD.

I can’t believe I just answered that. Here’s to new lows.

Sammy, I one-hundred-percent agree with you! Those are indeed the lights of God’s kingdom that you see coruscating on the northern horizon every few months. You can tell your papa I said so, too.

Now, let me give you some sound advice: Look long and hard on those lights, Sammy Davis, because that’s as close as you’re ever going to get to heaven, given the fact that you decided to convert to Judaism while doped up in the hospital after that auto wreck. Say hi to the rest of the Rat Pack for me, would you?

Puppy is a great name for a dog, by the way. Very imaginative. I can only dream what you’ll call your first-born child, should you ever be unlucky enough to have one.

Kind regards,

This is obviously a question of density. Or, perhaps more appropriately, denseness.

I could go on and on about density, buoyancy, water-weight displacement, and the like, but you don’t come off as terribly intelligent, so let’s keep it basic and just stick with what you need to know:

Your dad is a bowler. Given this fact, it follows that he likely has a severe drinking problem, and is therefore more prone to abusing you verbally and physically. How do you think he’s going to react when he sees his bowling ball at the bottom of the swimming pool? My guess is badly. So you have to ask yourself the same question I am faced with each time I receive back-alley fellatio: Was it really worth the five dollars? Maybe. Maybe not.

If I were you, I would sleep with one eye open, Vince, lest you end up sleeping next to that bowling ball.

Best,

Forgive me for neglecting to address your previous inquiry. It was received, but disregarded nevertheless, along the lines that it was nothing more than a juvenile attempt at discrediting me as a “scientist.” Obviously, however, you feel the need to press the issue. So, to paraphrase Wyatt Earp: You called down the thunder, well now you’ve got it, mister.

Any researcher worth his salt would already have concluded that the quantum-confined Stark effect is the result of the piezoelectric fields present at the interfaces between the InGaN quantum wells and the GaN barriers. These piezoelectric fields cause the quantum wells to be triangular in shape, thus separating the electron and hole wave functions and leading to a reduced overlap integral. No shit, right?

So, under higher injection levels, the shapes of the quantum wells begin to level out and the effective band-gap in the material is increased. Therefore, the electroluminescence will experience a blue shift under these high injection levels.

Boo-yah! I feel this answers your question quite sufficiently. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have matters of greater scientific consequence to attend to; namely, optimizing yo mama’s modal gain until she reaches threshold. After that, “in the spirit of scientific endeavor,” I think I’ll increase my injection level until I completely populate her triangular well.

Served.

Bill Hick, Science Prick

Well this is a strange question, Billy. At first, I figured you were going to inquire why spayed or neutered animals continue to display sexual tendencies even after receiving said surgical procedures, but now I see that you are just being an uptight bigot.

Freak.

You neanderthal. Let me explain a few things:

1. It’s not the “Curly Hollis effect”, as you so retardedly stated, but the “Coriolis effect.” The Curly Hollis effect actually originated on your mother’s side of the family. It is the diminishing repercussion on the intellect experienced by the offspring of women impregnated by male relatives. (Who’s your daddy! No, seriously, do you know?)

2. Your “nerd” classmate, Alex Nelson, is correct, and “someone in [your] science class” is even dumber than you are. The Coriolis effect refers to an object’s inclination to deflect (or spin) one way or another in a given rotating frame of reference, as first demonstrated many years ago by Léon Foucault and his fantastic pendulum, which I won’t even attempt to get into with the likes of you. As far as the whole toilet thing goes, let me just say I’m flabbergasted your family has indoor plumbing.

3. “Top and bottom parts of the earth”? Say what you will about public education, but that is simply inexcusable terminology. How old are you, seven?

4. You should have been aborted.

Thanks for writing.

Did you know that if you rearrange the letters in “scientist” a very certain way, you can spell the word “moron”?

That should keep you busy for the next forty years. Good luck in sanitation!

I can’t help but agree with you on this one. I was out of line, insensitive to the beliefs of others, and, most importantly, I was sinful. Please forgive my transgression, and know that I am eternally grateful that you have offered to pray for me.

In fact, in the spirit of quid pro quo, I bestow a gift upon you, Veronica. You will soon receive in the mail a pair of brand new crutches, as God is tired of your use of Him in this fashion. So do me a fucking favor: Find some free will, then run back to church and tell God you don’t need Him anymore. Why? Because you just got HOUSED ON by Bill Hick, the Science Prick. I am your god now, Veronica.

Moded, biotch!