If you work for a normal company, this is most likely funny and relatable. I can go for the funny, but it doesn't happen to me. I've been with Neatorama for 15 years now, and when you work for a company this small and internet-savvy, you rarely need to communicate at all, and when you do, the email works as it should. This Bingo card is brought to you by Matt Shirley.

The Tokyo Olympics has 33 different sports, most with many events within the sport. Which one is the hardest? That's an impossible question, as you will have various opinions on what  makes a sport "hard." How can one compare the difficulty of withstanding hits to the face (boxing) to split-second timing (gymnastics) to incredible endurance (marathon) to juggling a variety of skills (water polo or decathlon)? It's an impossible question, but Gizmodo asked six sports experts with multidisciplinary practices, and got a variety of answers. Professor of Instruction in Sport Matt Bowers determined his answer by the process of elimination.

If we think in terms of a Venn diagram where we have two circles indicating the two most basic factors that could make a sport hard—physiological exertion and complexity of skill/movement—then the hardest sport would be classified where those two circles overlap. In other words, a sport that is demanding in both the physical and the skill requirements. Can we identify sports of those 33 that clearly do not fall in one category or the other? Since virtually any sport being played at the Olympics requires a high level of respective skill, perhaps it is easiest to make the first cut on the physiological side. Are there sports that do not require maximal exertion during competition? That eliminates, at a minimum, archery or equestrian sports. Next, do we believe it to be harder psychologically to compete solo than to be part of a team? You may disagree, but if so, then we can remove the team sports from contention. Another question to debate is whether we believe that it is harder to be competing against nature (for example, kayaking or sailing) and/or on a course (for example, cycling or golf or skateboarding), or whether it is harder to be competing in a sport where a fellow Olympic-level athlete is physically trying to prevent your success.

There's much more to Bowers' elimination scheme on the way to an answer, which differs from the other five experts. Read all of them at Gizmodo.

TL;DR: The difficulty of defining difficulty.

In October of 1955, the charter vessel MV Joyita set off from Apia in Samoa bound for Tokelau, an island off New Zealand. The boat never arrived. A search effort turned up nothing, but five weeks later, the Joyita was found 600 miles away, listing to the side as you see above. There was no sign of the 16-member crew, nor of the nine passengers aboard when the boat was last seen. The four tons of cargo -medical supplies, food, and timber- were gone.

As the recovery team boarded the boat, things only got more sinister. The radio was tuned to 2182 kilohertz, the international marine distress channel, indicating that they had required help. The port engine clutch and the auxiliary pump were both disassembled and unconnected, meaning the ship had only been running on one engine. The clocks were stopped at 10:25 pm, and the lights were on. The logbook, sextant, and other navigational equipment were gone, along with all three lifeboats. Finally, there were some eerie signs of possible violence. The ship’s bridge had been smashed by something and covered with a canvas awning, moreover, the deckhouse’s windows were broken. On deck, a doctor’s bag was found open containing a scalpel, stethoscope, and lengths of bloody bandages.

No trace of the crew or passengers was ever found. So what happened? There are plenty of theories, cobbled together from clues left on the ship, some more sinister than others. Read the story of the MV Joyita at Cracked.

(Image credit: unknown)

Götz von Berlichingen, born in 1480, was a notable knight and warrior, whether he was fighting for the Holy Roman Emperor, various kings and nobles, as a mercenary, or for his own purposes. He became a soldier as a teenager and continued fighting and leading armies in various forms until his old age, even after his right arm was amputated on the battlefield. Berlichingen commissioned an iron prosthetic hand, the second of which was so elaborately-designed that his fingers could hold a quill. But it was something else that really made Berlichingen a legend.

Götz von Berlichingen is perhaps best remembered for one of his witty catchphrases. In 1516, during the above-mentioned feud with Mainz, he was laying siege to a castle, attempting to lure the bailiff out on the ramparts. When the bailiff finally appeared, Götz famously said to him after an altercation: “Er solte mich hinden lecken!” or “Er kann mich im Arsche lecken!” Both phrases can be translated to “He can kiss my ass!” Saying this, he defiantly rode away. The phrases remained as an iconic symbol of his willful defiance and became known as the “Swabian greeting.” Today it is used throughout Germany as a witty and light comeback.

Read about the military leader with an iron hand and a witty tongue at Historic Mysteries. -via Strange Company

(Image credit: Immanuel Giel)

Winning a gold medal at the Olympics is a great honor, but an even greater honor is to be featured on a box of Wheaties. General Mills is celebrating 100 years of Wheaties cereal with a series they call Century Boxes, featuring the last century's greatest athletes. First in the series was Muhammad Ali. But how did Wheaties become so closely associated with the world's greatest sports figures? It makes sense, as the cereal was developed to be a health food, a more nutritious whole-grain alternative to refined white flour.    

At first, Wheaties wasn’t much of a hit in the market. However, the company came up with a novel concept to market the new cereal. It created a fictional character—Jack Armstrong, All-American Boy, an athlete and all-around good guy—to promote the product. He starred on a national radio program, and the new hero was featured on the cereal box.

Washburn Crosby tried one more thing to sell the cereal: a singing jingle. Sales soared after a barbershop quartet belted out the first-ever song in a radio commercial—with the simple lyrics: “Have you tried Wheaties? They're whole wheat with all of the bran. Won't you try Wheaties?” After that, the cereal became the most popular in America.

But the athletic run of the Wheaties box arose in 1934, when a picture of Lou Gehrig appeared on the back of the cereal box. Read how Wheaties has paid tribute to sports stars through the years at Smithsonian.

The coelacanth is a fish known for its fossils, and was thought to have died out about 66 million years ago. That is, until 1938, when they were discovered to be still around and reproducing in deep waters. Coelacanths became known as "living fossils" since the species goes back so far. But were they really ever lost at all?

And while science only recognized that these critters were not actually extinct as of 1938, it seems fisherman local to their habitats were abundantly familiar with them.  So familiar, in fact, that they knew how to make a meal out of them. Pre-eminent cryptozoologist Ivan Sanderson, in reference to ichthyologist James Smith’s 1938 coelacanth-hunting in South Africa, once observed, “There were indications that the native population in this part of the world had fished for and eaten these ‘living fossils’ for several generations. Although not a common item in native diets, there is no doubt that, while Professor Smith dreamed of finding a second coelacanth, a dozen or more had probably been served and eaten” (Sanderson, 1961, p15).  Fisherman off the Comoro Islands, Madagascar, and Mozambique colloquially referred to coelacanth as gombessa (“worthless”) due to the fact that it secreted gallons of oily mucous, and would often ruin the rest of the catch, which makes it even more puzzling that it’s 1938 rediscovery happened when it was found in a pile of other fish headed for the market.

This shouldn't surprise you, as we've posted many stories about rare or even unique animals that were eaten. You might be interested in how one prepares a coelacanth dinner, which you can learn about at Esoterx. Once you do, you probably will swear them off for good. -via Strange Company

(Image credit: Dean Falk Schnabel)

Binky Dinky's best bud left for work, so he was already sad. He decided to take a nap, and that's when the nightmare started. Warning: if you are a dog, this may be terrifying. -via reddit

Farms sell produce directly to consumers in farmer's markets and right on the farm during harvest season. Vineyards do that, too, although the laws about selling alcohol are usually more stringent. In Germany, there's a traditional way around those regulations of who can sell alcohol where.

Here in southern Germany’s wine regions, a besen, or a broomstick, signifies something special. For up to 16 weeks, local laws permit winemakers to set up temporary restaurants to serve their latest harvest. So each year, typically in spring and fall, they sweep out their family room or barn, drag tables out from the garage, and recruit family members as servers. Then, they hang a broomstick outside to indicate they’re open.

These broomsticks inspired the name of these pop-up establishments: besenwirtschaften, or simply besens. The limited season creates demand, as does the feeling of being welcomed into a stranger’s home for a rowdy dinner party. As customers sidle up to each other at long communal tables, three-piece brass bands play catchy folk songs and wine is poured by the same hands that picked the grapes. It’s no wonder besen season is a local favorite.

While the pop-up restaurants are in themselves a loophole in the laws, there are strict regulations about them. But why a broom? Read about traditional besenwirtschaften at Atlas Obscura.

Why do people live in Yakutsk? Some are native to the region, some are descendants of Stalin-era exiles, but many are there to make a lot of money in resource extraction industries, from gas and oil to metals to diamonds to mammoth carcasses. When it's this cold, you have to learn an entirely new lifestyle. -via reddit

You may never have heard of the Roman emperor Elagabalus, possibly because the name changed (according to Wikipedia, Elagabalus' royal name was Antoninus) and because he only ruled for four years, from age 14 to 18, then was assassinated in disgrace. Was it because Elagabalus promoted the worship of a sun god ahead of the Roman pantheon? Was it because he was incompetent? Or was it because of his sexuality? There is some evidence that Elagabalus may have been transgender.    

An 18th century English historian Edward Gibbon, wrote that Elagabalus “abandoned himself to the grossest pleasures with ungoverned fury.” Germany’s leading historian of Ancient Rome, Barthold Georg Niebuhr, said that “the name Elagabalus is branded in history above all others” because of his “unspeakably disgusting life.” An example of a modern historian’s assessment is Adrian Goldsworthy’s view that: “Elagabalus was not a tyrant, but […] incompetent, probably the least able emperor Rome had ever had.” Only archaeologist Warwick Ball describes Elagabalus as “innovative” and “a tragic enigma lost behind centuries of prejudice.”

When Elagabalus was alive, a Roman statesman who kept close tabs on the lives of his emperors. In his writings, Cassius Dio notably referred to Elagabalus by feminine pronouns and states that the emperor wanted to marry a former male slave and charioteer named Hierocles. Dio stated that Elagabalus delighted in being called Hierocles’s mistress, wife, and queen. Officially, Elagabalus was married five times (and twice to the same woman) all before he was 18, although there were rumours he also married a man named Zoticus, an athlete from Smyrna.

There were further clues from the written accounts of the teenage emperor's reign. Read what we know about the Roman emperor now known as Elagabalus at Messy Nessy Chic. 

Together, we are all... pic.twitter.com/R5FnT4kv1I

— Cleveland Indians (@Indians) July 23, 2021

You may have heard by now that the Cleveland MLB team, eights months after announcing they would change their name, will officially be called the Cleveland Guardians at the end of the current season. Now, before you make a joke about Guardians of the Galaxy, there is a perfectly local explanation for the new name, eight sentinels known to all Cleveland residents who pass over the Hope Memorial Bridge, possibly on the way to see a baseball game. They are the Guardians of Traffic.

Flanking either end of the Hope Memorial Bridge from both sides, are 4 towering pylons. Each pylon bears a massive statue on each side representing a "Guardian of Traffic." These winged Art Deco figures wear either winged helmets or winged laurel crowns. Each figure holds a different ground vehicle: a hay wagon, covered wagon, stage coach, passenger car, dump truck, concrete mixer, and two other trucks. The progression of vehicles from hay wagon to semi truck symbolizes the evolution of transport, and the breadth of their protection. They have stood on either side of the bridge protecting all who pass between them since the early 30's.

Henry Hering carved each piece out of a 43 foot tall sandstone slab based on designs by Frank Walker. The Guardians were Hering's first foray into the Art Deco style and they remain the only public Art Deco monument in the city.

-via Metafilter

(Image credit: Erik Drost)

Does anyone remember the Arch Deluxe? It was a fancy hamburger offered at McDonalds beginning in 1996. The company spent $200 million to promote it, and expected to rake in a billion dollars in return. Only they didn't.

It wasn’t entirely unreasonable to expect miracles because on paper, the Arch Deluxe is one hell of a burger: crisp lettuce, mustard-mayo sauce, peppered bacon, tomato, and beef on a bakery-style potato roll. It was the creation of Andrew Selvaggio, a fine dining chef from Chicago’s legendary Pump Room. With all the talent and bona fides a McDonald’s head chef required and then some, Selvaggio spent months coming up with what he now describes as “something unique and different [to] set us apart from everybody. The Arch Deluxe was supposed to be the first entry into a better burger — premium burger — experience for McDonald’s.”

When I read the name of the burger, I confused it with the McDLT, which launched in 1984. So you might be forgiven if you've forgotten the Arch Deluxe, but you can read about it at Eater.  -via Digg

We learned that the ancient Olympics were a big deal in Greece, then were adopted by the Romans, and died out as the Roman Empire turned to Christianity. While it's true that the name fell out of use, sporting competitions inspired by the Olympics became a part of life throughout Western civilization.   

In the West, chariot racing died out rather quickly, but beginning in the second half of the 11th century, knightly tournaments were the spectacle of medieval Europe. At their height, beginning in the 12th century and continuing through at least the 16th, participants would, like their ancient Olympic forebears, travel a circuit of competitions across Europe, pitting their skills against other professionals. (The depiction in the 2001 Heath Ledger film A Knight’s Tale was not far from reality.) In these competitions, armored, mounted men would try to unseat their opponents using lance and shield, or battle on foot with blunted (but still dangerous) weapons to determine who was the best warrior, all for an enthusiastic crowd.

And indeed, these were performances. Lionized in contemporary fiction, and discussed repeatedly in historical chronicles from the period, one scholar has suggested that these were often accompanied—much like the modern Olympics—with theatrical opening and closing ceremonies. An autobiographical set of poems from the 13th century, for example, had the knight Ulrich von Liechtenstein perform a chaste quest for a wealthy (married) noblewoman. Dressed as a woman, specifically the goddess Venus, Ulrich travels across Italy and the Holy Roman Empire defeating all challengers in jousts and hand-to-hand combat.

The legacy of such tournaments continues today, with sports offering nations and individuals an opportunity for fame, glory, and one-upmanship without killing or colonizing each other. Read about the medieval tournaments that grew out of the Olympics at Smithsonian. -via Strange Company

(Image credit: Thomas Wriothesley)

It's been pretty hot in Oregon this summer, so the staff at the Oregon Zoo go out of their way to help cool things down for the animals. Watch as a group of ring-tailed lemurs and red ruffed lemurs enjoy some frozen fruit treats! -via Laughing Squid

This terrifying structure is part of an irrigation system used in the Valais region of Switzerland since the 15th century. Some bisses are still in use, while others are designated as historic landmarks. It's a way to get water from the Alpine mountaintops to the dry valley farms that need it.   

Despite being surrounded by some of Switzerland's wettest mountains, the sun-scorched, glacier-carved region receives just 500mm of rainfall a year, presenting a unique engineering challenge for irrigation. Cue gravity-defying bisses, designed to divert glacial meltwater from mountain streams to parched pastures and vineyards at lower elevations. To this day, 200 of them totalling 1,800km in length supply water to 80% of the Valais' irrigated land.

Measuring between 0.5m to 2m in breadth, the most primitive of Valais bisses were hewn out of rock. Others, like the 500-year-old Bisse des Sarrasins in the district of Sierre in central Valais, were hollowed from tree trunks. But the true marvels of bisse engineering were the "hanging channels", designed to guide water from far-off glaciers around gorges and overhangs in the region's wildest corners.

Now imagine the labor and the danger involved in building these in the 15th century. Read about the Swiss bisses at BBC Travel.  -via Damn Interesting

(Image credit: Rilaak)