Cranial Nerve: New World Disorder

My birthday is coming up in early September, and if I wasn’t feeling old enough already, I just had a grim revelation: because I am a) old, and b) stuck on the fact that I was the smartest kid in the fourth grade, I am now the equivalent of your

Cranial Nerve: Aggronyms

It’s true that as people who speak, we rarely know what we’re talking about. It’s also true that we often don’t even know what the words we use mean. So why should we know what a bunch of letters grouped together stand for? Do you even think about what you’re

Cranial Nerve: Metal Health

The line between genius and madness has oft been called a tenuous one. The line between madness and metal has oft been called invisible. We all know about Ozzy Osbourne biting the heads off winged creatures. It’s not news that Judas Priest was taken to court, accused of causing two boys

Cranial Nerve: Plu-Perfect

Pluto, the dwarf planet so shamed barely a decade ago by insensitive “scientists” and “scholars” is this week exacting its revenge and then some. “Bitch, I’m a planet, and LOOK AT ME!,” Pluto was quoted as saying, accompanied by photo spreads in most major news outlets. With its exquisite spherely shape, the

Cranial Nerve: It’s Lonely at the Bottom

In this age of who’s offending whom, who’s complaining about having to be politically correct because they are offending whom, and who is too lazy to come up with a better and more accurate term for “politically correct” already because whom says it's time, there is one segment of the

Cranial Nerve: Bush, Bush, Bush, or Bart?

Everyone loves an underdog. On the other hand, a lot of people love the Bush family. The Texas Kennedys threaten to thrice throne a president in my lifetime. I find this quite rude. Even as a grade schooler, I knew not to raise my hand every time I knew the answer because the

Cranial Nerve: Summer History Textwreck

Isn’t summer great? Yeah, me too. But you know what isn’t? When my speech-to-text thingie completely mis-transcribes what I say into it. I’ve always fancied myself an articulate sort. Though, back in my hometown of Boston, people were thrown by my lack of local accent (Weh da fak yoo frum? Keeahnadah?). In

Cranial Nerve: This One’s on the House

A house is not a home. Especially when it’s an overused metaphor. It is a cranky TV doctor (who is, incidentally, a Holmes). It’s also a glorious song by Burt Bacharach and Hal David. Check out this 1964 performance by Dionne Warwick. [WpProQuiz 1]