[Feed cuts in and we see Doctor John Falangiopolous, a distinguished-looking epidemiologist, sit down and pull the two lone microphones towards himself. He seems somewhat disappointed to notice that there are only a few reporters present.]

JF: Hello, I’m Doctor John Falangiopolous and we’re here to talk about my study, which shows that most studies are wrong.

You have the briefing materials, but in essence my research shows that small sample sizes, poor study design, researcher bias, and selective reporting and other problems combine to make most research findings false.

In fact, any randomly chosen study has only a 50 percent chance of being right.

Cindy Luhoo, CMN: Cindy Luhoo, CMN. So if that is the case, how do we know your study is right?

JF: Well, of course, I knew the irony of situation, but let me assure you, because of the nature of my study, I was careful to ensure that I did not make any of the mistakes that are so common.

It’s important to note that in the scientific process, it is not the first discovery that is critical, but the replication and confirmation that matters, because quite often research is refuted or shown to be incorrect.

CL: Follow up question: Like your study?

JF: No, my study is quite accurate, but I suppose we will not know for sure until my findings have been replicated by another scientist.

Bob Flaberghast, Washington Times-Journal: Bob Flaberghast, Washington Times-Journal, here. So, I’m confused. Should we be reporting on this or not?

JF: Yes, the study merits media attention. In fact, my hope is that the general public will understand that any particular study is not fact until it has been replicated by other studies.

BF: Well, then why cover it in the first place? Shouldn’t we wait for the replicating studies?

CL: Yes, but what about the news value Bob? Who cares about the second study?

BF: But Dr. Falangiopolous is saying that the first study doesn’t really matter.

CL: He didn’t say that Bob! God you always jump to these conclusions.

BF: Hey, I at least think about it a bit before I write something. At least I’m not just slapping it on the air as soon as I have some kind of film or actuality I can use.

CL: Bob, that’s not fair –

JF: If I could just interject for a moment, I think I can –

BF: Of course it’s fair. I can’t help it if your medium demands instant gratification.

CL: Well my medium may demand instant gratification, but at least I don’t.

BF: Oh! You bitch!

CL: Doctor Falangiopolous, would you say it’s normal for a man to ejaculate the very second of penetration?

JF: Well, uh, my field of research is epidemiology, so I’m not sure that I’m qualified to –

BF: Oh, ignore her because she’s been passed up for an anchor job again.

CL: You prick!

JF: Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t see how –

BF & CL: Shut up!

JF: I will not shut up. This is my media conference. We’re here to talk about my study –

BF: Which by your own admission has only a 50 percent chance of being right?

JF: Yes, but the point is –

CL: So you have it. Put the camera on me. On me! Good. So there you have it folks, this study is worthless and Bob is a premature ejaculator.

BF: Are you doing a stand-up in the middle of news conference?

CL: Yes jiffy pop. What’s it to you?

BF: I told you never to call me that. It makes me angry

[Camera pans wildly, we see Dr. Falangiopolous making cutting motion with his hand, Bob approaching Cindy, who looks simultaneously pissed off and terrified ... feed cuts out.]

Obviously, this is another piece from the archives — however, my theory is that if it’s more than two years old, then it will seem new. This is based on a 2005 story in the New Scientist: Most scientific papers are probably wrong . (The story, not the theory.) Thanks to Mars Discovery District for the nerds. Other geekery is available at humor-blogs.com and alltop.

This is your last chance to vote for The Skwib as the best Canadian humour blog.

This makes me laugh, and then cry, just a little bit. Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends in the US.

Could be worse

Here it is, finally. The long-delayed 107th edition of the Carnival of Satire. Many of the submissions in October revolved around the US election, and they’re a bit dated, so I haven’t included them. My apologies. On the plus side, there is some mighty entertaining stuff left for those of us who are eating turkey today, and those who are just feeling like one.

As you may know, November is National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo), in which masochistic writers attempt to pen 50,000 words of a novel. I am one of them. As I gobble for the finish line, I sometimes wonder what I’m running towards, and Paperback Writer has the answer in the addendum to her Devil’s Publishing Dictionary. (Part one and part two.) It includes such wisdom as this:

Satire: the scornful use of heavy irony, vicious sarcasm, caustic ridicule or similar means to expose the truth about polarizing topics without getting one’s ass fired, attacked, sued, stalked, shot, etc.

If that is not esoteric enough for you, then you will prefer One Weekly Gun’s charmingly strange musical homage to The remains of Nicolaus Copernicus .

But back to the aforementioned election. Rather than rehash all the stuff we know, alejna has deep an important election news in the Republic of Pants « collecting tokens.

Mad Kane wonders, in verse, if Bush doesn’t have brush to clear?

If you’re looking for seasonal poetry, check out The Daily Lifeku’s “Happy Turkey Day” — a three-line meditation of tofurkey.

Kevin Armstrong discovered this tragic story about a Cat Born with Small Face Just Wants to be Loved, Pet .

Satire Patch has hot entertainment news for us: NBC Show “The Whisperer Whisperer” Debuts In December

In the sports world, Kevin Brockman relates the sad tale of an Olympic mascot in trouble: Quatchi Caught In Olympic Scandal .

el guapo presents Amazing World Exclusive Interview of Jesus, Buddha, Bush and Darth Vader .

Mad Mike presents California Wildfires: Caused by Nature’s Homophobia?

And Rickey Henderson fills in our non-satire spot magnificently this edition with How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Read the Prescription Label .

And that’s it for the 107th edition. Thanks to these fine folks for helping us with webby-stuff: the Blog Carnival for their form; and the listings at the Ubercarnival, Ferdy’s permanent floating ping festival, and for the listings at the Blog Carnival too. Also, you may find some satire here if you poke around a bit. Here too. Thanks to Seychelles88 for the Underwood pic.

From the archives: August 9, 2005

The little-known abstract expressionist, Congo the chimp, has art going up for sale at Bonhams, an auction house in England. Three of Congo’s paintings are being sold alongside such masters as Renoir and Andy Warhol. (Not that Congo isn’t a master in his own right.)

Congo began his artistic career when he worked with Desmond Morris, anthropologist, TV presenter and writer of such books as The Human Animal, The Naked Ape, and Chimps-r-Us. Initially, Morris gave Congo the paints just to mess with the poor ape’s head, but after a couple of years, Congo got the hang of it, and he found a dealer in NY.

What happened to poor Congo thereafter is a cautionary tale for all artists.

The dealer knew Picasso, and the famous swordsman was enthralled with Congo’s “primitive” aesthetic. News of Picasso’s approval spread, and soon Congo found himself in a group show at MOMA, alongside the likes of Andy Warhol. (So it is fitting that his work is auctioning along with Warhol’s now.)

The NY arts scene in the late 50s was wild, and a little bit more than the young Congo could handle. (He was only six when he arrived.) At a party, an impish Truman Capote introduced the impressionable chimp to the banana daiquiri, and from there it was all downhill.

After a few lukewarm reviews from the MOMA show, Congo felt he should be more experimental, and changed artistic medium : he started working exclusively with canvas and his own fecal matter. This aromatic work was received rather coldly from critical circles, and even his patron, Picasso, withdrew support. (Thought it must be noted, this was after a wag commented on how similar the famous artist looked to congo.)

As his fortunes changed, Congo could neither afford his loft in Soho, nor even continue to support his daiquiri habit. Instead, he found solace in a slow degradation of fruity beverages: slivovice, ripple, and finally, Aqua Velva laced with vanilla extract.

Nobody knows exactly what became of Congo thereafter.

Putting an upbeat coda on this sad story, a spokesperson from the auction house Bonhams said:

Paintings by apes may be seen as humorous or as a derisive commentary on modern art. However, Morris’s studies were a serious attempt to understand chimpanzees’ ability to create order and symmetry as well as to explore, at a more primeval level, the impetus behind our own desires for artistic creativity.

Original CBC story | Chimp Rehab Fund. You will find other monkeying around at humor-blogs.com and alltop. You can vote for The Skwib as best Canadian humour blog here.

I’m afraid I’m still valiantly attempting to write 50,000 words of a novel in one month, so I don’t have much for you today. (Okay, stupidly, can we agree on stupidly?) Luckily we can go to the YouTube well once again, where Robin Williams proves he’s still got it:

I live in California. We’re a 60 percent Hispanic state, and we have an Austrian governor.

Even old Nazis are saying, “that’s veird.”

You can find the video here if the embeddy thing doesn’t work.

More comedy gold at allotp and humor-blogs.com. And if you feel so inclined, you could go vote for The Skwib as “best Canadian humour blog” here. I don’t think you have to be Canadian, either.

Vote for best Canadian humour blog here! (Scroll about two-thirds down to find The Skwib, hint, hint — actually, I’ve been informed the list regenerates randomly, so you’ll have to search. Just pretend you’re hunting caribou on the tundra.)

Less Canadian humour here and here. (You can tell because they’re both spelled humOR instead of humOUR.

The war in Europe was a wrap, and President Truman turned his haberdasher’s mind to the problem of Stalin.

How do you impress a man like Uncle Joe “I’ve killed 20 million of my own people” Stalin?

Perhaps a nice bowler hat? He wondered what Stalin’s hat size was — he’d never gotten the hang of guessing. He had some of his best scientitians working on a mind control device that could be implanted into the hat. But Truman had no faith in this plan — Stalin was too paranoid to wear a gift from him.

There was the atomic bomb. If he dropped that on Japan, maybe that would scare Stalin . . . but he didn’t think so. The man was just too bloodthirsty, and he didn’t have any compunction about throwing his people into a meat grinder if he had to, so how would vaporization of his armies be any worse? Besides, then the Russians would build one, and the atomic bomb did scare the hell out of him. They were lucky that Hitler didn’t finish his before the Allies took Berlin.

No, he needed something truly shocking. Something so horrific that even Stalin would be intimidated. Truman took another sip of his bourbon and looked into the deep amber of the Kentucky sour mash. And had an inspiration.

Thus, the alcohol bomb was born — a device that could change the chemistry of alcohol and turn it into water. For an inveterate scotch-drinking psychopath like Stalin (and your humble scribe), there could be nothing more terrifying.

This is from The Skwib’s archives, and was originally inspired by this July, 2005 story in the New Scientists: Researchers think Truman did bomb Hiroshima to scare Stalin. You want funny hats. These are very funny.

It’s still looking a little thin, but the main problem is between work and novel-writing, I just don’t have time to put it together this week. Perhaps next week if we can get a few more fun — and ahem, satirical — submissions. You can submit here.

In the meanwhile, you may want to check out the Addendum to the Devil’s Publishing Dictionary.

I actually heard this guy on the CBC a few months ago, so it was interesting to see this posted (somewhere, VSL, Neatorama?). When he was just a kid he managed to get five minutes with John Lennon, who apparently had time for pushy 14-year-olds; I love the psychedelic cartoons — very Yellow Submarinish:

Video here.

Also without buckits: the trippy humor-blogs.com and the groovy alltop.

It is a quiet Welsh neighbourhood. Children play in the streets. An ice cream truck does a desultory business while parents chat in the foreground. This calm of this suburban street is rudely disturbed by the distant mellifluous sound of a Welsh choir singing, “four naked men, five naked men, and six naked men…”

The sound gets louder: “… and … seven naked men, and eight naked men,” the singing is nearly here. Everyone looks frightened. And then then we hear: “and nine naked men just walking down the road would cause a heap of trouble for all concerned.”

This is a brilliant (multi-award winning) short by Steve Sullivan, filmmaker, Welshman, composed of trillions of atoms bound together by the miracle of nature and perry.

Warning: Not Safe for Work if your co-workers are uncomfortable with brief shots of sausage and/or Welsh singing.

You can find the full film, A Heap of Trouble, here. More about Mr. Sullivan here.

Thanks to Spencer Evans for point this out. Humor-blogs and Alltop are also a heap of trouble.