I got a lot of questions when I begged asked my readers for the third time.  So many questions, in fact, that I have decided to make my answers shorter.  This will allow me to not have to plagiarize so much answer more questions.

I don\’t know if that is bad or good.

Olympic Dreams

Charity asked the following:

If you could combine two (or more) Olympic sports to create a better hybrid version, what would you combine?

Wow.  Lots of choices here.  I feel like I have been served a hanging curve right over the plate.  In addition to hybrid sports, there are some sports I think need serious consideration for future inclusion.

Here are some of my choices:

• Equestrian Bobsledding – I would make the horses wear those skin-tight suits and a helmet (for safety).
• I would make those rhythmic gymnasts use shot puts and javelins instead of ribbons and hoops.  I would probably enforce the \”over 16\” rule rigidly.
• Spud – This is the greatest game ever invented.  If I was elected president, I would make this the national sport.  Mother may I is a close second.
• Llama gymnastics – few people realize the grace and finesse of these wonderful animals.  I would not, however, take the job of spotter for the uneven parallel bars.
• Synchronized pole vault
• I would use the Olympic mascots as targets for archery
• Greco-Roman Badminton – Players would have to wear togas and they would play to a score of XXI

I wait with baited breath as to what my readers might add to this list.

Twitterific

Purplesque (I suppose that is a vague sort of purple) asks:

I recently joined twitter and regularly update my tweets, but nobody seems to follow me, including people I follow. Do I have the twitter equivalent of b.o.?
How can I become more twitterific?

First let\’s take care of business:  everyone who reads this must follow Purplesque on Twitter.  Click HERE.

Now some of you may be wondering: Dr Rob, what in Odin\’s beard is Twitter?

Twitter is a social network.  The term social network is what is called a euphemism.  Euphemisms are nice ways to say mean things.  For instance:

• \”cosmetically challenged\” is a euphemism for ugly
• \”television\” is a euphemism for: the best explanation for society\’s collapse
• \”dermatologist\” is a euphemism for doctor who doesn\’t like to work
• \”insurance company\” is a euphemism for insane group of money-hungry morons.

In this way, the term \”social network\” is a euphemism for a group of people who can\’t make real friends.

Twitter is one of the largest of these groups of \”pretend I have pals\” people.  To talk to their \”friends\” people on Twitter \”tweet\” at one-another.  Just how you tweet depends on the tweeting modality.  You can tweet via the web, via an add-on program like twhirl, or on the phone.  That way you can access your make-believe chums in many ways.

So what should Purplesque do?  Nothing.  I have already supplied her with a glut of pseudo-buddies, as the millions of my readers have clicked on the above link.

As to becoming \”Twitterific,\” just think about it: she is a person named for a sort-of color who writes to a looney doctor about the ins and outs of social networking.  I could think of no better word to describe her that twitterific.

Cornucopia

A reader who wishes to remain anonymous (I don\’t know why) asks the following:

\”Where does the corn come from, you know, when you haven\’t eaten any?\”

Most of my astute readers know the obvious answer here: Iowa.  But I must assume this anonymous reader is not asking about agriculture, but instead about biology.  I think the real question being asked (and the reason for anonymity) is about the ol\’ \”corn in the toilet when you haven\’t eaten any\” phenomenon.

A certain percent of the population have the habit of regularly inspecting their product of defecation after production.  Psychologists have long speculated as to the reason for this.  Are these people worried that they were just imagining their experience?  In my experience there are six reasons people look at their poop:

1. They get a sense of \”a job well-done\” when looking at their brown creation.
2. They are obsessed with the \”Will it Float?\” segment on the David Letterman show.
3. They desperately want to be in the Guinness Book of World\’s Records (or at least the Farmer\’s Almanac) but don\’t have any unusual talents.
4. They are haunted by the \”toilet alien\” episode of the X-Files television show.
5. They hope they could strike it rich if they find evidence of oil production.
6. They are keeping a detailed diary of every body fluid/solid coming out of their body so that they can spend twenty minutes of their next doctor\’s appointment enlightening their doctor with the evidence that they are probably dying of a heretofore unknown disease.

I am not sure which of these is the malady of our anonymous reader.

So what about the mysterious corn?  To be honest, the research on the subject of physiologic corn production is scant at best, but I would suggest several possibilities.

When you look at the above picture of the digestive tract, you see that the pancreas looks like a cob of corn.  Perhaps it is not actually corn you see in the toilet, but instead pieces of your pancreas.  If so, then you probably should start keeping a detailed diary of this and tell your doctor, as you may just have a new disease named after you.  It must also be noted that you may find other things in the toilet along with the corn:

• Broccoli – from the pancreatic duct
• Green Beans – from the common bile duct
• Green water balloons – from the gall bladder
• Words with arrows near them (which I did not realize were part of the GI tract).

Another possibility explanation for covert corn production is that you are one of the genetic experiments of the 1950\’s where humans were cross-bred with farm produce.  You would know this to be the case if you are named \”Nibblet\” and have a mortal fear of the Nebraska Cornhusker mascot.

My guess is that someone in your home bought one of those gag corn toilets from Spencer\’s Gifts in the mall.

Thanks for all of your questions.  Keep them coming!