Since Marissa Mayer took over, a wild, crazy side has emerged at Yahoo!. Take, for example, their landing page. Arriving there today made me stop, scratch my eyeballs and look again. Here are a few of the headlines and popular stories:
In case you’re wondering, they really do move poop from one human to another. From the article:
“Researchers transplanted fecal matter from healthy people into the colons of people infected with the notoriously hard-to-treat Clostridium difficile bacteria, which causes severe, watery diarrhea. The researchers found that 46 out of 49 patients got better within a week of the treatment.”
I need to focus on this story for just a minute, because the logistics have me disturbed. First, is there a shit bank somewhere? Do you have one in your town? Second, who embarks on a career to play with poop? There is no amount of money that could get me to do this job – at least not without losing my breakfast every single day. And finally, how do you ask for time from work and share the story of your transplant? On one hand, people are going to be like, “Oh my god! Are you okay? What is the recovery period? How are you feeling? Do you know the name of your donor? (yeah – Colon Farrell)” On the other hand, when you tell them that Joe from accounting’s poop was transferred from his colon to yours last week, how do you expect them to react? A universally safe response, “Dude. That’s shitty.”
Now before the hate mail starts pouring in, please know that I’m very happy that 46 out of 49 people got better with treatment. This, however, brings up another problem with the research. In other articles, it noted that 4 people in the study died. Math has never come easy to me, but is 49 minus 46 the new 4? Did someone forget to reverse an r from a y and cancel out an isosceles triangle?
Don’t forget to check out the exploding ketchup piece. According to the article, two questions they are trying to answer:
Why did the bottles, which allegedly contained an ordinary, shelf-stable Heinz variety, begin to explode in the first place? What’s keeping an average person at a diner counter from becoming the next victim of a spontaneous ketchup detonation?
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