Link to liveleak.com

And here’s the photo Tom Biscradi describes as “the actual creature, standing up, walking away,” courtesy of huffingtonpost.com:

Looking at it, I’m having a little trouble seeing the ears, nose and eyes Tom points out, but I’m also not wearing my glasses.

Now, let’s see how I dance around this next part without leaving PG-13land. You see, when a boy coral and a girl coral really love each other, and decide the time is right to commit themselves to settling down and expanding the colony… well, see, they engage in a beautiful expression of their love in an act known as spawning, in which they…

Oh, hell, just watch this video:

Or this better one, that you’ll have to go to YouTube to watch.

All of which is only notable because it only happens once a year, and for the corals of the western Pacific, that once a year is slated to start tonight.

For those unfamiliar with this not uncommon yet rarely seen genus, the tumbleweave is human hair extension which has severed its bond with its host, choosing the come-what-may uncertainty of life on the street over the sort of continuous primping and preening known to drive many a champion-quality show dog over the edge.

This little critter was found on a residential street in a Brooklyn neighborhood populated largely by hipsters retiring to the SUV and baby stroller set. While not the sort of place one might typically expect to a find free ranging hair extensions, Carroll Gardens is known to be full of hidden surprises.

Still, it’s kinda cool in slow motion.

There’s a feature length documentary on the subject, too, which is only available on some archaic format called ‘VHS tape’.

Also on his menu of inventions for consideration by folks with surplus military budgets:

• Firepaste – ceramic, concrete-like thermal shielding able to insulate against reportedly greater-than-reentry temperatures.
• 1313 Paste – a relatively inexpensive rigid composite able to withstand “direct assault by shotgun slugs, rifle fire, and enough high explosive to demolish a car”.
• Angel Light – a device for seeing through solid objects, detecting stealth aircraft and disabling electronics.

Next on his list? Sadly, Troy isn’t saying (at least on Teh Interwebz). But I’m putting my money on flying cars.

Cheesus video, courtesy of badastronomy.com & CNN

One of my coworkers, watching the video with sound off asked what the big deal was with someone finding a Cheeto shaped like Osama bin Laden. Which got me thinking about the whole gestalt that goes into finding familiar faces in mass-produced foodstuffs. And, lest it not go without saying, the exquisite manufacuting genius that makes such foodstuffs possible at all. It’s one thing to make 35,000,000 million chicken nuggets that look exactly the same — any rookie could do that. But making 1 chicken nugget in 35,000,000 look exactly like Oscar the Grouch? That takes some craft.

Take, for example, this cornflake that recently sold on eBay for $1,350 due to it’s excruciating similarity to the geopolitical border of Vermont. Umm, I mean, Illinois:

Or this rogues gallery of potato chips that look like Nefertiti, Marilyn Monroe, Abe Lincoln, and a veritable Brady Bunch of B-list historical personages. And I have to admit complete dismay that Goolging “Food that looks like Elvis” gave a paltry 340,000 responses, and that foodthatlookslikeelvis.com² wasn’t among them.

¹Yes, I applied a Rock/Flanders translation filter there for the children frequenting this blog for their daily fix of conspiracy and paranoia.
²Having just registered it, I asure you it will be soon enough.

Mostly, these stories came across as wild speculation and conjecture of what one might expect a lost city of mysterious origins to be. A fortress built by primitive peoples to ward off invading clans. Or a temple honoring some wrathful if forgotten deity with sacrifices of blood. Perhaps even a home to untold riches. Where facts were few and far between dreams had filled the cracks.

At some point last Fall, I found myself at some local happening eavesdropping on a conversation by someone claiming to have actually seen the lost city. Defying logic, he claimed it was not only within the city limits, it was nestled into a corner of nearby Liberty State Park. As I nonchalantly filled, drained and refilled my cup at the punch bowl, he parlayed directions, which I transcribed onto this map:

Saturday morning I set off, Indiana Jones style, to find the lost city.

For those unfamiliar with Jersey City geography, LSP is a two mile stretch of park land on the Jersey side of the confluence of the Hudson and East rivers that serves as launch point for ferries to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Half of it is grass land suitable for flying kites and walking dogs, while the other half is reedy marshland suitable for dumping bodies and hazardous waste. Unlike the meticulously plotted ‘nature areas’ of other local parks, namely Central in Manhattan and Prospect in Brooklyn, a goodly portion of LSP is in fact wild. While it’s unlikely you’ll run into a bear or mountain lion, snakes and ill-tempered rodents are not entirely uncommon. Oh, and ticks. Lots and lots of ticks. All of which I mention just so you’ll understand how truly adventurous this adventure was, and how recklessly I took my life into my own hands in this quest for the mythical Lost City of the Jersey Marshlands.

Still, I have to admit I was vexed by how difficult it was to find. I mean, come on, there aren’t many places for a city to hide 36 paces past the first seating area behind the Interpretive Center in the southeast corner of Liberty State Park. Alas, when I found it, it all made sense:

The lost city, it seems, was built and inhabited by people nary an inch tall! Or perhaps the construction foreman was Nigel from Spinaltap. Who can say. Its citizens long since departed and its riches long since plundered, I fear the riddles of the Lost City may never be answered.

Jolly old England, the country that brought us Stonehenge, crop circles and Jack in Irons is up at bat with a new first: a six-legged octopus. Which, for obvious reasons, can’t really be refered to as an octopus. As such, the highly imaginative “British marine experts” dubbed it a hexapus, I imagine because naming it a sexapus was just begging for the sorts of jokes astronomers have been enduring since the naming of Uranus in 1823. It seems that Henry, rather than being an alien life form or previously undiscovered species, suffers from garden variety birth defects. Still, we can always hope his are dominant mutations and will some day lead to additional tentacled options at the sushi bar.