A couple in Poland were spotted riding a bike side-by-side down the street. This kind of bicycle is called the Sociable; get a look at the front end of one at Wikipedia. It seems quite a bit more sociable than a standard tandem bike, in which you are either staring at the butt in front of you or wondering whether the person behind you is pulling his weight. -via Daily Picks and Flicks
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That pot of gold is obviously somewhere in Brooklyn. Do you reckon there may be a bank right where it ends? Link
(Image credit: Scott Beale)
It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Superman! Which leads to …chaos, in a new animation from Dorkly. -via Tastefully Offensive
The Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose Botanical Garden near Kolkata, India, is home to the Great Banyan Tree. You may know that banyan trees spread by growing branches down to the ground that tunnel into the earth and become roots, which in turn support more branches. This spreading habit makes the banyan look like a forest when it is one single tree. The Great Banyan covers an area of over 14,400 square meters -and it is still growing!
It's taken it over 250 years to reach this staggering stretch, and not without a few natural disasters that almost did in the whole giant arboreal wonder. In the 19th century, two cyclones hit the tree, breaking it open and exposing its main trunk which led to a damaging fungal attack. By 1925, the main trunk, which once measured over 50 feet wide, had to be removed. Yet as the sign at the tree states: "interestingly enough, the tree now lives in perfect vigor without its main trunk."
Read more about the Great Banyan and see more pictures at Atlas Obscura. Link
(Image credit: Biswarup Ganguly)
This is a pre-production teaser for a project Director Timur Bekmambetov hopes to turn into a feature film.
When a young man’s estranged father is killed under suspicious circumstances, he returns home for the first time in years to get to the bottom of the mystery. Hoping to uncover some logical explanation, he instead finds his mom’s sleazy new boyfriend, a natural gas company buying up the town, an angry female sheriff who happens to be his ex-girlfriend, and an army of flesh-eating squirrels hellbent on destroying everything in their path due to an erosion of their food chain as a result of environmental destruction by the gas company.
I'm not much on horror films, but I might go see this just for the novelty. Link -via Daily of the Day
Well, maybe if you stared at this one long enough, you'd get it, but the quiz gives you nine minutes to identify 25 different books. The style of each word cloud could be another clue. It's a fun quiz! I scored 15 out of 25, which was better than I expected, because I haven't read these books -well, maybe one or two. How did you score? Link -via TYWKIWDBI
The following is an article from the magazine The Annals of Improbable Research.
by Stephen Drew, Improbable Research staff. Top image credit: Flickr user Charlie Kindel.
Hamburger and Salmon are highly correlated with cancer. The association lay largely unsuspected until late 2005, when Ian Davis of the Ludwig Institute for Cancer Research, in Melbourne Australia, identified ten especially suggestive published reports. These are:
Hamburger, A.W. and Salmon, S.E.: “Primary Bioassay of Human Tumor Stem Cells,” Science, vol. 197, 1977, pp. 461-3.
Hamburger, A.W., Salmon, S.E., and Alberts, D.S.: “Development of a Bioassay for Ovarian Carcinoma Colony-forming Cells,” Progress in Clinical and Biological Research, vol. 48, 1980, pp. 63-73.
Hamburger, A.W., Jones, S.E., and Salmon, S.E.: “Soft-agar Cloning of Cells from Patients with Lymphoma,” Progress in Clinical and Biological Research, vol. 48, 1980, pp. 43-52.
Hamburger, A.W. and Salmon, S.E.: Development of a bioassay for human myeloma colony-forming cells. Prog Clin Biol Res 48:23-41, 1980
The following is a Whodunit by Hy Conrad featuring Sherman Oliver Holmes, a mysterious crime solver and great-great-grandson of Sherlock Holmes. Can you solve the crime?
(Image credit: Flickr user Michael Schmit)
Sherman Holmes and Sergeant Wilson stood side by side. They were staring at a bloody corpse sprawled face up in the living room of a suburban tract house.
Sherman spoke first. "A premeditated crime, what ho?"
Wilson frowned. "What makes you say that?"
"Choice of weapon." The round little man pointed at the fireplace poker. It had been used like a sword, stabbing its victim several times in the chest and stomach. "When we were walking up the drive, I didn't see any chimney."
Wilson looked around. "You're right. So, the killer brought the poker from another location, which indicates a planned murder. Very observant."
Holmes and Wilson had been in the midst of one of their occasional lunches when the call came in on the sergeant's cell phone. A mail carrier, making his rounds in a quiet neighborhood, had happened to glance through a living room window. He saw pretty much what they were seeing now, a large, elderly man who had died trying to fend off a brutal attack.
The responding patrolmen interviewed the next-door neighbor, a nearly deaf woman who claimed not to have heard or seen a thing.
"Harold Kipling." The sergeant was reading from the patrolman's notes. "A widower living alone. Three children, none of whom seemed fond of him. A life insurance policy was split among the kids, plus some savings. There had been lights about a nursing home and money."
"The children all live locally?" asked Sherman.
As if to answer the question, a patrolman eased open the door. "The victim's kids are here, Sarge. I told them he was dead. I hope that's okay."
The sergeant and his civilian partner walked out onto the lawn to face two middle-aged men and a woman. Wilson adopted his best corpse-side manner.
"Your father was murdered," he told them. "We don't know much more than that. The murder weapon was a fireplace poker."
"Fireplace poker? Dad doesn't have a fireplace," the older son said.
"We know that."
"So, what happened? Someone broke in with a poker and stabbed him to death?"
"There were no signs of forced entry," Wilson explained.
The following is a Whodunit by Hy Conrad featuring Sherman Oliver Holmes, a mysterious crime solver and great-great-grandson of Sherlock Holmes. Can you solve the crime?
(Image credit: Flickr user Jef Harris)
Once a year, on his birthday, Sherman Holmes threw a dinner party. The cream of Capital City's eccentrics would gather in his large, comfortable home, along with neighbors and other friends, to eat and drink and laugh.
At this year's celebration, after everyone else had left, Sherman and his three last guests sat over brandies in his living room, discussing the one inexhaustible topic, the Sherlock Holmes mysteries.
"What exactly is a carbuncle?" Dora Treat asked. Someone had brought up "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle," and the nurse practitioner was curious. "The only carbuncle I know is a skin infection, like a boil."
Buddy Johnson, a jeweler, chuckled. "It's a gemstone, a deep red garnet. Carbuncles are never blue. That was a figment of Conan Doyle's imagination."
Sherman puckered his round face into a frown. "But there is a blue carbuncle. Dr. Watson wouldn't lie about a thing like that."
"Yes, of course," Sam Pickering stammered. Their host seemed so rational in every other respect, it was easy to forget his fixation. "What Buddy meant was there are no other known blue carbuncles, just that one."
"Exactly," Sherman said. "That's why it was so expensive. Would you all like to see it?"
His guests were flabbergasted. "You mean you actually own the blue carbuncle?" asked Sam. "The one from the story?" The newspaper reporter had already done two articles about the unconventional millionaire and he could sense a third one in the making.
"The gem dealer assured me it's the real thing. Come into the library and I'll show you."
The room they walked into looked more like a junk room than a library, with first editions strewn on the chairs along with stacks of old papers and magazines. Sherman took three small boxes down from a shelf. He rummaged through the blue one, flipped through the red one, and finally found what he wanted in the green box.
"Here it is."
From among a pile of receipts and marbles, he pulled out a blue gem, about the size of a pea. Buddy Johnson pulled a jeweler's loop from his pocket and gave it a quick examination.
"It looks like a garnet," he said. "How amazing."
Each guest examined the strange stone, then returned it to their host.
While Dora excused herself to use the powder room, Sherman dropped the carbuncle into the red box and returned all three boxes to the shelf.
"You leave a priceless gem in a simple box?" Sam asked with a disapproving smirk. "With no security?"
Sherman puffed out his chest. "I am all the security it needs."
The guests stayed for another hour, then left at the same time. Normally, Sherman would have gone directly to bed. But some instinct led him back into the library.
He was shocked to see all three boxes lying open on the library table. Sherman went directly to the red box, then to the others. Sure enough, the carbuncle was gone.
The following is a Whodunit by Hy Conrad featuring Sherman Oliver Holmes, a mysterious crime solver and great-great-grandson of Sherlock Holmes. Can you solve the crime?
Sergeant Gunther Wilson rolled the library ladder over the shards of glass and water, then climbed to the top rung. "This skylight must be how the thief got in," he said, pointing to the smashed skylight and the rope dangling down into the room from a crossbeam. "Forensics can use this ladder to dust for prints."
"There won't be any prints," said a familiar, high-pitched voice. The sergeant gazed down to see Sherman Holmes standing below him in the university's research library.
"What're you doing here?" Wilson barked.
"The victim asked me to help out."
Sherman, it turned out, was a friend of Professor Plotny, the man who had acquired the small Etruscan statue that had just been stolen.
"I spent a fortune of my own money on that statuette." The burly professor wrung his hands. "I left it on the center table when I exited the building last night. I locked the door. But, of course, anyone up on the roof could have looked in and seen it."
Sergeant Wilson shook his head. "No thief goes around rooftops with a rope, just hoping someone left valuables on a table. It had to be someone who knew the statuette and knew your rather careless habits."
A small, wiry man stepped forward, brandishing an authentic English accent Sherman would have killed for. "Next to no one knew about the statue, officer. I'm Donald Westbank, an Etruscan expert. I arrived yesterday from London. Dr. Plotny and I examined the statue together and, frankly, I was thrilled. What a find! I was a little jet-lagged, so I left the library around six, just in time for that little storm you had. I took a cab to the hotel and ordered from room service. When I got here this morning, I found Gina, the professor's assistant, unlocking the doors."
Gina, an athletic-looking graduate student, came forward with her story. "I left Professor Plotny and Mr. Westbank here yesterday at 5:30 p.m. My dorm room is just around the block. I did some studying until seven, when the rain stopped. Then I joined a friend at the Cathay Cafe for Chinese food. I got back to my room around 8:30."
The following is a Whodunit by Hy Conrad featuring Sherman Oliver Holmes, a mysterious crime solver and great-great-grandson of Sherlock Holmes. Can you solve the crime?
(Image credit: Chief Supply)
Sergeant Wilson enjoyed an occasional breakfast with Sherman at the Baker Street Coffee Shop. What he didn't enjoy were the homicide calls that so often came right in the middle of the meal. He was just finishing his Belgian waffle with fruit when this morning's call took him to Gleason & Son Insurance, located on a lonely stretch of highway. As usual, Sherman tagged along.
A uniformed officer met them in the parking lot. "The victim is Gary Lovett," the officer told them. "A Gleason & Son employee. That's Neal Gleason and his sister, Patty Lovett. She's the victim's widow." He was pointing to an anxious-looking duo, both in their late twenties. "Mr. Gleason discovered the body at about 8:30 a.m."
Neal Gleason stepped forward. His statement sounded rehearsed. "When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw Gary's car. Gary is often here early, though he's always gone before noon. If Gary wasn't Patty's husband, Dad would've fired him long ago. The front door was open. Right inside the door I saw him, like that."
Wilson examined the body in the doorway. The man's head was a bloody mess, and it took the sergeant a while to realize that the rifle now bagged as evidence had been used as a blunt instrument, its wooden stock having been slammed into his head like a baseball bat. The body was cold and rigor mortis had already come and gone.
"That's my husband's rifle," volunteered the widow. "He kept it here at the office. Last night at home, Gary got this phone call. He said he had to go the office and that I should just go to bed. I thought he might be going to see another woman. This morning when I woke up he was still gone. So I went to find him. I must have arrived here just a minute after my brother did."
"I think we should probably call Dad," Neal said.
That call wouldn't be necessary, for at that exact moment, George Gleason was pulling into the parking lot. The burly insurance broker eased himself out of his Cadillac and wordlessly took in the scene, the body, the bagged rifle, and his two children.
Patty ran up to him. "Someone murdered Gary," she moaned. "The police suspect us, Neal and me."
The following is a Whodunit by Hy Conrad featuring Sherman Oliver Holmes, a mysterious crime solver and great-great-grandson of Sherlock Holmes. Can you solve the crime?
"Maybe now you'll stop bugging me," Zach Alban said as Sherman walked into his friend's shop. "See? I got that alarm system you recommended, wired straight to the police station."
"It's about time," Sherman replied. Alban Jewelers had just expanded its business and finally had some jewels worth stealing.
"Mr. Alban, I'm leaving now." Ricky Mayfield had finished clearing out the window displays, placing the felts of precious stones into their locked drawers for the night. The door buzzed as the young assistant raced out to catch his bus.
Melanie, Alban's second in command, was putting on her jacket and looking at the newly installed alarm panel. "Are you sure you don't want to give me the code, Zach? That way you won't always have to be here to open and close."
"Not right now. Maybe in a few days when I get more used to it."
"Whatever," Melanie said. A rumbling from the street announced the arrival of her boyfriend's motorcycle. "See you tomorrow." And she was quickly out the door, hopping onto the back of a Harley-Davidson.
Zach led the way into the back office, eager to show his friend the entire system. "Once I set the code, any broken window or open door will trigger the alarm. Twenty seconds, that's all the time I have to disarm it. Sam, why don't you go home, too?"
Sam Wells switched off the computer and wished his boss a good night. Seconds later they heard the front door buzz, signaling the last employee's departure. "Want to help me close up?" Zach asked Sherman. "I don't want to make a mistake. After your first false alarm, they start charging you a fine."
Sherman and Zach followed the instructions to the letter, then went down the block to Gil's Tavern. When they left an hour later, Sherman noticed a police patrol car parked in front of Alban Jewelers.
"Break-in and burglary," an officer informed the devastated storeowner. "The back alley window was smashed. We responded within two minutes. But the alley was empty and the crooks were already gone."
The following is a Whodunit by Hy Conrad featuring Sherman Oliver Holmes, a mysterious crime solver and great-great-grandson of Sherlock Holmes. Can you solve the crime?
(Image credit: Flickr user Collin Anderson)
An inch of snow fell that evening, turning to a crusty sleet that hardened and made everything beautiful and treacherous. When the skies cleared, Sherman went for a stroll.
"What ho, Trent! A quiet night, eh?" Sherman waved to the uniformed guard hired to patrol the neighborhood.
"A little too quiet." Tom Trent was naturally suspicious and pessimistic, good traits for a neighborhood security guard. At the moment, he was scanning his flashlight beam across the suburban landscape. "Uh-oh." His light stopped on the side of the Warner family's home.
Sherman saw what he meant. The ladder that Bill Warner had used last fall to paint the house was now propped up against it, leading up to a second-story window. The flashlight beam scanned the rest of the house. Lights were on downstairs but not upstairs. The family had undoubtedly come home before the snowfall, since there were no footprints going up the walkway. But there were other footprints, a single set leading to the dry space under the eaves where the ladder was usually stored. The same prints led to where the ladder now stood, then retreated back to the sidewalk.
Trent checked out the ladder, stepping on the first rung and causing the wooden feet to crunch into the hardened snow. Without a word, the guard crossed to the front door, drew his revolver, and knocked. Sherman followed.
Amelia Warner answered the door. "Tom. Sherman. What's wrong?"
"Possible break-in," Trent replied, then asked a few questions. Amelia, Bill, and Frank, a visiting friend, had been home for about three hours. For the past hour, no one had gone upstairs. And no one had propped the ladder up against the house.
Supercutonline says this supercut is a tribute to the iconic shot of movie characters through a windshield. It is a handy shot: in a car, all the characters face the front so you can see everyone's faces at once. They can react to events around the the car without the filmmakers actually having to stage those events. How many of these movies do you recognize? It gets exciting about halfway through. -via Tastefully Offensive
It's hard enough to march in formation and play an instrument. The Dutch Army Bicycle Band does it on bicycles! Most of them play with one hand and control the bike with the other, but what about that fellow playing the snare drum? He's awesome! -via Metafilter
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