I think that, if it

I think that, if it weren't for this blog... I would explode from pent up cynicism. With no friends around to unload material on, the ridiculous and ludicrous things that I observe would overwhelm and poison me.

As is the case with this story...

Police believe that Stephen Hawking is being abused by his wife. That he's bruised. That she left him out in the sun for hours on the hottest day of the year. They say she has Munchausen Disorder... where she hurts him to get attention for herself.

Now then... three observations on this.

1. I know Mr. Hawking is paralyzed, but can't he use his mind to pilot his Super-Chair 9000 back into the house? I mean, even if the batteries were dead, I'm sure that puppy is equipped with solar cells and it was a sunny day.
2. Being married to Stephen Hawking isn't attention enough for his wife? I mean, Stephen Hawking is the smartest man alive, and also almost a robot. He is rolling attention.
3. The smartest man alive, IQ 280, has romantic woes. Now I truly know that love is a bastard. I have an IQ of 124, how am I supposed to find a sane girl? If Mr. 280 is being bruised and left in the sun, I'll surely end up stabbed to death.

Let me say that my source of Stephen Hawking's IQ is an episode of The Simpsons.

And let me also take a brief second to mention this teacher... a woman. She was charged with having an affair with an eleven year old student. ELEVEN. This kid, he's the luckiest kid in the world. I mean, it was totally consentual. And think of the bragging rights!

Now, who isn't the luckiest kid? The teacher's own seventeen year old son. Could you imagine it? You're seventeen and it's all over the news that your mother is boning an eleven year old! It's absolute horror. Absolutely. I'd have to change my name, change my face, change planets, and erase my memory. Since a few of those things were purely sci-fi, I'd just have to jump off a bridge.

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