HELL EXPLAINED BY CHEMISTRY STUDENT

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid term.




The answer by one student was so 'profound' that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well :




Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?




Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.




One student, however, wrote the following:




First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.




Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:




1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.




2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.




So which is it?




If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...... leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting 'Oh my God.'




THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.

A hearty screw you to September and October



Going to battle with a penny anty operator any second and it has me in a crabby mood, but I have the boss's blessing so, that's good. Don't always get a license for cantankerousness.

If you couldn't find fun at (e:Ladycroft) and (e:Rory)'s nuptials yesterday, you need a checkup! A truly original couple threw a truly original day. Well done, folks. Hope next weeks conclusion lives up to yesterday's overature.

(E:Strip) cleans up well, everybody looked great. I don't think I need to be too horrified at any pictures that I was in. It was a lot of fun to hang with old friends, and meet some new ones too.

The Photo booth was a hoot and I'm enjoying Hallowedding candy as I write this. Got the extra bonus of seeing (e:Drew) in professional mode too (He does good work). Very cool of (e:Jenks) to make the trek in from out of state.

High hilarity and tasteful fashions about.

Thanks Rory and Timika for inviting along as you begin your latest journey.

"Raising my coffee mug."

The 1986 New York Mets were so full of themselves, they could have franchised. They were a bunch of arrogant jerks and great ballplayers. They talked smack, battled personal demons, smoked in the dugout, were hated by pretty much the rest of the National League, but by god they were fun. In the case of Strawberry and Gooden, we didn't learn till later how many demons they were battling, but that was a fun year to watch. For that I feel a little guilty, but I also watched them in 83, so fair is fair. To any Mets fan, "Game Six" is more than just a Seinfeld line. Back before the Red Sox were either sterioid cases of 07 or the "idiots" of 2004, they were the choke artists of 86. Game Six is when a season of promise for long suffering Met fans shifted from intense disappointment to a once-in-a-lifetime cosmic second chance. This is the type of stuff that makes sports fans as nuts as they can be.

It was inspirational, heart-warming and in the case of the above, downright weird.

I hope by now, the creator of this, has at the very least made it out of his mom's basement

Six day work weeks are guaranteed to bring out extra punchiness. This one has left me wishing for a "Sort-of easy button."

Notes from the week that shouldn't have been.

Had a misunderstanding with a friend at a work event that we repaired, but got the week off to a fine start.

I got a lot of giveaways for our current Halloween promotion, but the dairy laden snack really needs to rethink their name, sounds like something somebody ate already.

I'm never going to appreciate a cup of yogurt.

Amiably ended a relationship for good that has left me once again dateless for (e:Ladycroft) 's wedding (she'll probably kill me at this point, too). The woman involved ominously posted something, then appeared in instant messenger, where I asked her to "Come out with it." So, in a new personal low (or best), I was broken up with via Yahoo Instant Messenger.

Like Kip Dynamite, I love technology.

You gotta laugh, it's too loopy not to.

In the silver lining department, part of the Holiday promotion has resulted in an excess of donut holes in the office. I partook a little on Monday, but there are still some here. That's bad for all the logical reasons donuts are bad, but office morale is pretty genial.

A spoonful of sugar and all that.

There is another marathon on Sunday. Don't particularly care but there are other streets beside Elmwood and Delaware in the city. I wouldn't even bitch about that, but the last time these freaks had to pound the pavement, one volunteer made me turn off Elmwood and head up Delevan. When I got to Lincoln Parkway, the volunteer said I needed to go back and proceed on Elmwood. Either these folks were the dumbest people alive or evil geniuses.

Mr-Mike needs beer.

I was taking down some banners from a recent promotion outside the tiger yard. Two adults were sheparding a group of obnoxious four and five year olds (they were!). The kids were hollering stuff like "Hey Mr. Tiger! along with a combination of bathroom euphemisms. Real Alqonquin round table stuff.

The Tiger was staring at them and occasionally looking my way to see what I was doing. After I finished removing my second banner, I swear she was looking at me as if to say "Can you shut those ankle biters up????"

Picking up our story from the Meltdown post, I tell my lovely children that we'll do dinner together once I get out of my Thursday meeting, which of course is running long.

My phone rings with my eldest saying her friend who actually went in for surgery on Friday, wanted to catch a movie that night for being laid up. Since the two of them had the good taste to pick the Ricky Gervais movie, I relented. Right at the same time, the 15 year old accepted an invite from a selfish friend and a ride without checking with me, or her mom out of town, or well anybody. This would have left the mighty number one son to fend for himself. I was not cool with that. Apparently, I can be pretty scary, as I told her she doesn't leave until I get there. "But so and so are already on their way" In my best Will Arnett/Alec Baldwin voice, I replied I didn't care.

Having read the riot act in that voice, I sent her on her way with the warning that if we have this discussion like this again, it will end in her not going anywhere.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smoking.

Having reasserted my Dad-itude, I was almost ready for Friday. I hadn't written about it for fear of jinxing something, but I struck up two friendships in late July early August with two women around my age. One is a platonic sort of thing, we get together once in awhile and enjoy having a modicum of a social life -- but she was clear about a nonromantic thing and that was fine. The other resulted in a fix up from an old college acquaintance and I guess my radar must be off for such matters. That seemed to be scooting along in precisely the right direction. We had a good time, seeing a couple of shows, had similar outlooks, enjoyed some of the same stuff, I even charmed her daughters. I'm thinking, yee ha, finally, been awhile and all that. Might even have a date for the (e:Ladycroft) nuptials. Room for perhaps a little optimism. But, no.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.

I get this note yesterday. The ex and I went to dinner, had drinks.....blah, blah, blah madeuphangovercakes. For crying outloud, I know shit happens and it ain't the end of the world, but just like the moment your hair starts to grey you should be zit proof, there should be an age moratorium for games playing. There ought to be some cosmic ordinance that mandates a distinct cutoff in crapola in relationships. You'd think people who've been through kids, failed marriages, etc would be immune or at the very least a little sick of the nonsense.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking woodgrain alcohol.

As the song goes, alone again naturally.

And then, that football game today?? what the hell was that? If you are on twitter, follow Daryltalley and pthomas, funniest parts of an abysmal piece of tv.

Got to get some hockey tickets soon.

where I sound like a real, genuine,...tool

It's surprising what can make you raw, or then again maybe not. Whenever the ex's job takes her out of town or vice versa, the other steps up and runs the child show solo for the duration. Been doing it long enough that I really don't think about it.

The young man is bunking on my couch, while the girls are holding court at the house. They get a little taste of responsibility and independence, but close enough I can smell the smoke. The kids and I fall into a pretty great flow and as everytime their mom goes away, she returns to see all three still alive, fed, etc, so I think I'm doing pretty good.

We're in day 2 of a 3 day stint. My mother in law calls and wonders "What are they doing for dinner?", meaning the girls. Now, she is one of the most giving, good hearted souls that I know, but the way she managed to ask the question felt like somebody starting pouring bourbon in an open wound on me.

I sat there in my car outside number one son's guitar lesson and just ate that feeling of upset. I know she didn't mean anything but the way it sounded was nausea inducing, like I was less of a parent because I don't reside at the house anymore or that my parenting involvement is suspect since my ex is out of town. "Can he handle it without the former Mrs?' I sat there in a numbed stupor texting this to the lovely mother of my children who talked me back down. I don't know if it is a feeling of spinning my wheels a little bit at work or just remembering what it was like in the eye of the gossip hurricane at our church a few years ago or just being overtired in general. But I needed a moment.

She called, we chatted, and I felt better after initially feeling worse. I started to tell a tale and couldn't get to the end of it. What makes that silly is what provoked it was nothing by comparison to some of the sins that I've already strode through. I'm not sure if that is making any sense. I know my Mom-in-law wasn't out to upset, just to help, but sometimes something benign can start a whole sordid turn. I vented, I baked (cookies) and am better now.

Show's over, move along folks...