Category Archives: Features


This year, wow your friends with one of these ingenious costumes. Some are hilarious, some are scary, some are politically biting — every last one is guaranteed to be the standout at WHATEVER Halloween party you attend!

  • a Bee
  • a Ninja

A Conversation with Pete "Hugger" Shuvvles

Rumble the road!! Ya gotta take a break sometimes though from streakin through the streets, so lemme take a minute to tell you about a little bit about what I do, and that’s motorcycles! I’m Pete Shuvvles! Call me Hugger if you want, then have a seat on the grass! I mowed it yesterday in about five minutes flat!! I don’t know if motorcycles have been around for 200 years or 2 years or what as far as the history, but I’ve been riding them since 1999 when my dad first let me first ride his and I never stopped! Dad’s is a Harley. Now I got my own bike, and it’s the one that you see seated behind me, called the Patriot Missile! I’ve done a lot of custom work on it and more about that later in a minute! First let me tell you that if you ride a car, you’re missing out on the experience of the road and you’ll regret it. By riding on a motorcycle or motorcab as they’re called you are part of your environment and part of your surroundings the way a car or a scooter never is! You are literally a couple of feet away from the asphalt and you’ve got protective denim on whereas on the other hand in a car you are several FEET off of the thing you’re supposably driving on and you’re probably wearing a No Fear tshirt! Why The Missile, which is what I call the Patriot Missile, is faster than my friend Andy’s bike that was originally a bit faster now is that I made several key adjustments to the thing. Me and my friend Deke at Custom Wheels first of all replaced the stock chargers with dual opti chargers right off the bat. We put ’em in back-fitted and lumped, too, so that they sit flush when you get up to speed. Then we got a twin dual spin shifter and dropped that in right behind the stock Smoothshift gear train, and opened up the shift-drop for faster gearspin. We then took the 18 inch multigrip tires and replaced those with Knob Special 18’s and coated those with optigrip tread spray, which I just put on a fresh coat of this morning, which is why you saw me come screeching around that ninety degree turn way faster than you thought. Deke said the cab router was fine, but I said why not, I’ve got the cash from babysitting, and we got a 1550 cab with wound treacle ducts in there and now it sounds like I got a beef missile under the hood! I got a 1600 knob grip tread put on the handle grips, and I treaded out the end-flaps with cross-hatch dual-gain grip-knobs. End result of that is I’m not coming off that bike in any conditions under any situation! Deke wanted to cave out the the cargo box and I said yeah so we had room for an expanded MIDI-grouper � the thing has egged-out group-nuts wound with hatched treading and a fuzz-cut flap train that feeds right into the heat ducts! It makes the acceleration on The Patriot feel like a Yamaha SK467 88-Deucer with a Mac Pack alotment! You gotta feel it to know! I’ll be skeeting along some wet carpark and suddenly I’m somehow 40 feet in the air pulling out a 6 G barrel roll! I just about had a heart attack! This other time I thought my snuff box was strapped onto the engine brick but I hit 90 icbm’s and realized, wrong! I practically crapped myself!

Alright anyway I gotta get back on patrol. You see my dad tell him I’m either at the dunes or shootin weezers in the octagon. Whug whug!

Visit Hugger on the discussion board now with your motorcycle questions and stories.

Some T-Shirt Ideas We Must Decide Between

In considering the span of our tenure as “the most exciting pop band this generation” (Gene Siskel, 1999), purveyors of music “so tight, so hook-driven, it’ll burrow into your brain and stay there for weeks” (Vladimir Putin, 2003), it’s fair to say that we’ve been unreliable at best about stocking t-shirts. This upsets us probably more than anyone, although considering how you folks greedily snap them up when they’re available, clearly we’re not the only ones who are really, really upset. So we’ve taken action. We’ve spent the last few weeks working intensively on new designs, and the results have been amazing and varied. Too amazing and varied, actually. Perhaps because We Are Scientists comprises three such different and differently talented individuals, the final batch of designs offers roughly a dozen brilliant, funny, totally disparate options. And we’ve lost our ability to narrow the field any further. At this point, every possibility is so good, so invaluable in its own way, that the idea of further elimination is legitimately painful to us. But while we can probably do two or even three of these designs, we certainly can’t do all of them, so elimination there must be. Take a look. Drop us a line at and let us know what you think. The future of fashion depends on your participation.

The 5 Craziest News Stories So Far This Year

The Internet widens the aperture of our worldview substantially — every day, we’re able to troll the websites of newspapers from nearly every country in the world, to trade links with friends via email, to google years of compiled journalism and commentary in order to satisfy even the slimmest curiosity. Here at the We Are Scientists, we love the news; we love real stories, real human drama. We’re frankly a bit obsessed. It’s to your advantage, though, as we now recap several of our favorite stories of 2004, many of which are obscure enough that you might well have missed them.

  1. Back in January, in Greece, when (a), the scientists discovered a live minotaur — which, like, holy shit! Minotaurs actually exist?! And then (b), there was some sort of miscommunication and the minotaur went ballistic and killed all those tourists. This was one of those news stories that dashes any belief you might have been cultivating that you’ve got the world pretty much figured out. Link to BBC story.
  2. That report that came out saying that not only did Bush know Iraq didn’t have WMDs, but he personally went about trying to sell them WMDs in the weeks before the invasion. Link to CNN story.
  3. The story about the Nazi-hunting crocodiles. It was obvious for a long time, but kudos to the people who finally did it. Link to Reuters story.
  4. The whole deal about that pitcher for the Red Sox who they found out had two cybernetic arms and that’s how he was able to pitch so fast and hit so many homers. Link to CNN story.
  5. The follow-up story to the croc/hunter thing where the crocs wiped out half of Germany because the scientists had put too much emphasis on identifying Nazis based on their accents. Crazy!
    Link to Reuters story.

A conversation with Mel Meekham

Hello. It’s great to meet you. Great.

Tell me a bit about yourself. Mmmn. Yes. Mmmhmn. Terrific. Well that all sounds terrific.

Can I ask you something? Have you ever been on the World Wide Web? You have. Terrific. And what are your thoughts? Very insightful. Have you been to a site called Vagina Voyage? Vagina Voyage dot com? That’s my site. I take the pictures, I find the models. Find them at the beach and at the mall usually. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get a young woman to take off her clothes for the camera? It’s not very difficult at all. The key, I don’t mind telling you, is to use a French accent when you speak. Like zeese. You say to zem, you say, Hello, you are very byooteefool. I am a photographer een town from France, here to tek some fancy photographs. You weel allow me to tek your photograph?

What do you think of that? Very impressive rather undersells it. You’d realize that if you’d visited Vagina Voyage.

I’ll tell you something. I used to be a gymnast. Spectacular sport, gymnastics. The sport of eagles. It requires absolute discipline of the body and the mind. My specialty was flips. I could do flips all day, backward and forward. I could stand in place and turn as many flips at a go as you’d ever want to see, up to ten in one jump. Strong legs, that’s the key. I could stand on the floor and leap into the air and turn half a dozen flips then land on top of a chest of drawers. That was easy for me, and the judges loved me for it.

Ever been to Transylvania? Home of the vampire. You’d better believe they’re real. Can’t be killed, either. Stakes, sunlight, holy water — all a myth. You’ve got to pacify them, feed them what they love: moth balls. Moth balls and cold, rigid logic. A vampire loves a logic game more than the average joe. Same can be said for his feelings on moth balls, I suppose.

Now werewolves, that’s a different breed altogether. They can be killed readily enough. But the question that pops into your head when you first encounter one is, why would I ever want to harm such a gregarious animal? Friendly as a golden retriever. I know what they say, but somewhere the wires got crossed. Werewolves are the friendliest animals you’d ever want to meet. I only ever killed one wolfman, and he was in human form at the time. Walked in on yours truly and his sister taking some photographs and started shouting. To his credit, she was very young and not all there mentally.

Any interest in the demolition derby? I used to race demolition derby when I was your age. I loved it a great deal, swore there was nothing else in the world. Got to the point where I was organizing the events. That’s when I really started to have fun with it. Used to drive a great big monster truck with eight-foot tall wheels. You’ve never seen naked fear until you’ve looked into the eyes of the other drivers in their beat up Dodge Darts and station wagons as I drive into the ring in a twenty foot tall monster truck. In the derby you have a set of regulations that every car has to adhere to with regards to weight, and of course I was way over. But since I paid the judges salaries…

I used to have the ref who checked the cars sneak a microphone and tape deck into the back seat and later I’d listen to the tapes to hear the drivers’ reactions when I rolled into the stadium sitting on 12 tons of car-compactor. I was surprised to learn there wasn’t a lot of cussing. You’d get one type of guy who’d start praying, another type who’d say ‘hold the phone’, and that’s about it. I’d sneak those tapes onto the P.A. at the funerals and just watch the family get all confused at first then very upset.

Ever date a girl you work with? It can be tough, I’ll tell you. I’ve got a young lady living with me, I met her through Vagina Voyage, and I’ll tell you, there’s no end to the favors they expect. Says she’s too good to ride the bus to school, wants me to have my driver take her. I said as soon as you’re old enough to drive, I’ll let you use any car you want out of the garage, but Raymond has to be available to me at the drop of a hat. I can’t have him halfway to school and the orphanage calls saying they just got triplets.

I was raised by my grandfather, who was a sheriff out in Arizona. Killed twenty-eight people in the line of duty. I’ve got his old Colt, twenty-eight notches filed into the barrel. He used to let me hold it when I was a boy. Told me the main thing was if you even half-wondered whether you should shoot, you should shoot. That old man lived to be a hundred and two. Chalked up eight of his kills during his last year as sheriff, two of them women. They made him retire after that. I’ve got an old holster of his you wear under your jacket. I like to carry that Colt around with me. Feels like part of him’s still alive.

Converse with Mel Meekham now on the discussion board.

There's just something about your mother…

Yo mama so fat, she can only live in one of the largest four or five states if she wants to avoid paying dual-residency taxes.
Yo mama so fat she wobble.
Yo mama, she is so fat that when she walks her fat wobbles all over the place, making everybody sick just from looking at it, it so gross.
Yo mama so fat that she’s murder on the soles of her shoes. They tend to flatten out after just a month or two of daily wear.
Yo mama so fat, and she so into food, that somebody said “Turkey”, talking about the country, and she thought, “Time to eat!”, thinking they was talking about pork or something.
Yo mama she so fat she work up an appetite just by eatin dinner!
Yo mama so fat! Why yo mama so fat all the time? Yo mama, she just so terribly fat!
Yo mama so very fat, she affect the tides!
My mama one fat, fat lady — but yo mama fatter hands down!
Yo mama FAT, all caps!
Yo mama bring fat to a whole new level. If fat to most people means “a really huge person”, yo mama take that to a whole new level!
Yo mama fat. Like, if she was a boat at sea, and her fat was water that got in the boat… nuttin but trouble!

What You Are Seeing

(click to view)
This video, one of many classic slivers of factual hilarity that circulate through the infinite vascular passages of the Interweb year after year, is rarely attended by the backstory; very few people, therefore, are aware of the dark context surrounding this boy’s comical crash landing. But the We Are Scientists, through a typically rigorous series of séances and trips to the library, have uncovered the story behind the stumble, and report it to you herewith…
This short video depicts another sad subject of pop media’s delusion-weaving influence. The child in the clip spent the better part of the morning watching the first season of NBC’s hit Saturday morning cartoon ‘The Gummy Bears’ on DVD. His father, Ernstlich, concerned by the increasing tendency toward “indoor activities” his son had shown in recent months, finally ambushed the screening and dragged the boy down the block toward the public pool, where he intended to manufacture for his camcorder a highly-memorable memory: his son’s first solo leap into the water.
Of course the child had been in the pool before, but always by wading in gently from the steps or being held by the scruff of his bathing outfit and tossed — never had he of his own volition entered avec force. And so Ernstlich was seventy percent sure, as he walked his boy past carefully manicured lawns down level, crackless sidewalks, that the boy would need significant prompting when it came time to roll camera. To that end, he had stuffed into an auxiliary pocket of the camcorder case Milky the Manticore, a handpuppet of Ernstlich’s own exceedingly crude construction of which the boy nevertheless had a near hysterical fear. It was Milky the terrycloth Manticore, you see, who during the child’s scant young years had occupied the dual role of ruthless interrogator and harsh meter-out of penalty. Hot was Milky’s temper and notoriously fragile his tolerance for whining and bedwetting; and if his sentences recalled the Greek king Draco in their extremity, you’d have to go back nearly 4000 years, past Hammurabi and his stone-etched code, to find an execution of law with less rhyme, less predictability, than that of the button-snouted Manticore.
The boy would not require Milky’s peculiar breed of inspiration on this day, however, for his spirit was girded by the Gummy Bears’ flagrant (negligent?) optimism, and perhaps a little bit too the warm June sun; the warm, gently swishing wind, so energized and delicious-tasting after the still t.v. room; and the miles of open air unfurling between him and a jacks-toss of small, finely-carved clouds. So consciously inspired was he, though, by those bouncing bears, that when dad called “action!” the little guy attempted not just a leap into the pool, but a bounce-into-a-leap — the sort of modest maneuver a juiced-up gummy bear tosses off as instinctively as a person adjusting their step to join an escalator. And though the boy felt very strongly in a general way that he had gummy juice charging around in his veins, he hadn’t ever actually drunk any, as he’d have realized had he carefully gone over the morning in his head.
Unhappy postscript: the video stops an instant before the picture rolls forward and dives toward the cement, the camera dropped by a hand flushed and twitching with life, like a raw red framework of muscle and bone waiting to don its Milky suit.