Danny Felts, contributor
William Sanford Nye, or, “Bill Nye The Science Guy”:
In the spirit of impartiality I must confess that this section is going to be the one thing that any good scientific inquiry shouldn’t be: biased. Trust me, it’s not because it’s my goal to be impartial. Nobody wants that. It’s the same quality that allows drunk bros to corner you at house parties and spout off ‘data points’ on how, “if she didn’t want it, why would she dress like that”. Get out of here, Bro. Nobody likes you, and your dong is about as accurate of a measuring tool as one of those “Y” shaped sticks that people used to find water with.
That said, I dare you look at Bill Nye and not say, “Holy fuck, I want that guy to be my Dad”. Seriously. Polka dot bowtie in 2013? Popular television personality from the ‘90s? Don’t. Even. Try. Move the fuck over, Tim Allen, because your sexist, hyper masculine agenda only stifled a generation of sensitive, info gatherers.
Yeah, you act like it’s embarrassing when he busts into your 6th grade sleepover with carrot sticks, peanut butter, and apple juice. “Get out of here, Dad! Nobody wants to see you dance to Steely Dan!”. And then
all of a sudden, it’s 10 years later, you’re going off to college, and all you want is your father to be Bill Nye; rocking out in ways Donald Fagan and Walter Becker never could. “Thanks for that healthy snack you gave me 10 years ago, Bill Nye. For certainly, it was it which laid the mental and physical foundation that’s made me the all-star tennis player/astrophysicist, that you see today.”
Carl Edward Sagan: A Stoner Superconductor:
As a person separated from the decade by a full eight years, trust me when I say my knowledge of the 1970s is limited. That said, you don’t have to be a genius to know that the 70s were not kind to science.
Climate change denial, Steve McQueen dying from asbestos poisoning, etc. You know what coked up disco-nauts weren’t saying when railing blow off women’s tits? “Hey there baby…Why don’t you go ahead and cut me up another ‘alka-line’. Dig…”
Nope. That never happened. Enter Carl Sagan.
In a decade that was more concerned with hot pants than global climate change, Carl Sagan was the bridge connecting a blitzed out drug culture to astrology. You think you’re unique watching Planet Earth blazed out of your mind? Get real, sucka. Sagan’s own PBS Series “Cosmos: A Personal Voyage” predates the David Attenborough voice over vehicle that is Planet Earth by 26 years.
Moreover, while you were busy watching whales murder things, Sagan’s Cosmos was busy enlightening and well as educating. You tell me what’s more interesting: Watching a stupid, dumb polar bear kill a magnificent arctic fox amongst the barren tundra scape that is Northern Canada, or, listening to the most soothing voice in the world reveal the universe’s secrets all while making you feel connected to humanity.
Seriously, in another lifetime the man could have easily been a priest. As far as soothing voices go he’s right up there with Bob Ross, and Jimmy Carter.
RIP Carl Sagan. You may be dead, but at least the worms were able to feast upon the “billions upon billions” of microorganisms in your corpse.