Boy, do we have some Science for you! Baby-in-tummy Science, to be precise. To the Holy Land:

[R]esearchers who studied 219 women undergoing in vitro fertilization (IVF) discovered that women were more likely to become pregnant if they were paid a visit by a professional “medical clown” after the procedure. The numbers speak for themselves: 36 percent of the clowned women became pregnant, whereas only 20 percent of the un-clowned women conceived.
According to the study, led by Shevach Friedler and published in Fertility and Sterility, a medical merrymaker visited the fertility clinic regularly for a year. Half of the women studied were visited by the jester soon after they had received a fertilized embryo. Each time, the funny-bone tickler stayed for 15 minutes and acted through a set routine. As the Guardian reports:
The researchers found that, compared to women who came to the clinic on a “non-clown” day, those who’d had a laugh were more than twice as likely to become pregnant, when other factors such as age, type of infertility and the number of embryos transferred, were taken into account.

“Had a laugh?” Is that what we’re calling it now? I’m no scientist, but even I can tell you the meaning of this study: Somewhere in Israel there is an extremely fertile clown, and he’s not going to rest until he knocks the whole country up.

Photo by howieluvzus, from Flickr.

“’Money for Nothing’ was a much bigger hit than anything that Dire Straits had done before; that is, Knopfler made himself into a successful rock star by way of a song about people resenting rock stars’ success. He also abandoned his own opposition to making music videos, so the song was marketed with an MTV video in which computer-animated characters disparaged MTV videos — expressing what had previously been Knopfler’s actual point of view — which won Video of the Year and helped make the song No. 1. And then, yes, alongside Knopfler’s grumbling, working-man’s-persona anti-MTV, anti-rock-star lyrics, there was another voice singing the video network’s actual marketing slogan, and that voice belonged to, of all people, Sting. So. If you’re looking for some moment when art and commerce, integrity and ‘selling out,’ class solidarity and class envy, performer and spectator, content and advertisement, and assorted other tensions all collapsed into a lucrative and critic-proof singularity*, you could do worse.”

Should you want to get on a giant sea vehicle named Freedom of the Seas, with a bunch of shut-ins who’ve come outside for the first time, awesome news! It’s a Harry Potter cruise! From the press release: “Passengers will be immersed in this wizarding world at sea, which will include a Sorting Ceremony, Classes in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, Wizards Chess, Horcrux Hunt, Yule Ball, Quidditch Lessons on board taught by Harry, Cedric and the International Quidditch Association, Quidditch Match on land, Team Trivia Contest, Wizards Wheel of Fortune, Charity Auction, Vendors Room and Photo Shoot. Events will only take place while the ship is at sea never during port times.” The Facebook page is not to be missed. And ports of call include Labadee, Haiti. The spellbinding horror sets sail in August!

In a city that works overtime to make you feel alone, there is perhaps no more depressing mundanity than a trip to the Duane Reade. A wave of ennui smacks you in the face as soon as you walk in — generally through the out door because some schmuck who never learned to read or doesn’t care to is exiting through the in, but very slowly because he’s talking on his cell phone and is clearly unaware that there are other people around him who might also need to make use of the goods and services the store somewhat grudingly provides.

As you contemplate your purchases in that sickly light, boredom gives way to the heartsick realization that you are about to buy banal household items which — after a seemingly interminable wait at the one open register, where a clerk is scanning things at the rate of an item per minute — you will then cart home to your tiny box, where you will use them, replace them, and eventually die. That will be your contribution to the legacy of our species’ evolution; you bought a bunch of generic cotton balls and asswipes and then your body made its inevitable way into the earth (probably next to those very same asswipes, which will never biodegrade no matter what they promise on the label).

God forbid you’re there to pick up a prescription; the line of old Jews fumbling for their insurance cards and skeevy unshaven types who cannot remember what time they were told to come back for their syphilis medication but won’t let that stop them from carrying on a long and heated argument with the pharmacist will make you wonder whether or not it’s just easier to die from the fever you’re running. (It’s certainly quicker.)

Outside it is always dusk — the saddest time of day. Everything smells like cheap plastic and failure. You’d drop to the ground and kick and scream like you did when you were a kid and your mother made you come with her to the carpeting store, but God knows what kind of filth is teeming about on those despondency-inducing floors.

On the other hand, apparently they are serving beer now. So maybe it’s not all misery and horror.

Photo by scalleja, from Flickr.

Adkeeper, the mysterious new startup that is a service… for web readers… to “clip and save” ads… has pushed back its launch date to Valentine’s Day. They have raised $43 million in investment money. So with some of that money, they’re going to… give six months of free advertising… to some of the country’s biggest companies. (McDonald’s! Sears!) AND THEN the CEO said the potential audience size was “twice as big as Twitter.” Here’s a bold prediction from Henry Blodget: “It will either work and get huge, or it will flop and be worthless.” I’m not much of a visionary! (Seriously.) But is it crazy that I keep waiting for someone to jump out in a gorilla mask with a pie and announce the big joke?

Okay, yeah, this probably is the best headline of the year so far. The story itself is considerably less amusing, but such is life. [Via]

This is helpful, since it pulls way back to start with, like, “What’s a Tunisia” for those of us who have some geographical blank spots.

In the immense new report to the President, “The Gulf Oil Disaster and the Future of Offshore Drilling,” from the National Commission on such, there’s just about one whole paragraph that’s getting people all riled up.

Local resentment became a media theme and then a self-fulfilling prophesy. Even those who privately thought the federal government was doing the best it could under the circumstances did not say so publicly. Coast Guard responders watched Governor Jindal — and the TV cameras following him — return to what appeared to be the same spot of oiled marsh day after day to complain about the inadequacy of the federal response, even though only a small amount of marsh was then oiled. When the Coast Guard sought to clean up that piece of affected marsh, Governor Jindal refused to confirm its location. Journalists encouraged state and local officials and residents to display their anger at the federal response, and offered coverage when they did. Anderson Cooper reportedly asked a Parish President to bring an angry, unemployed offshore oil worker on his show. When the Parish President could not promise the worker would be “angry,” both were disinvited.

According to the footnotes, all this comes by way of an interview with a “Coast Guard official” and an interview with a “government official.” (Jindal of course denies this; Anderson Cooper will get around to it no doubt.)

Of course this is the only paragraph people are getting riled up about, because, much like with Wikileaks, who has time to sit and read the whole thing thoroughly? I mean a lot of it is about boom and berms. It’s like the world’s worst John McPhee book!

Following up on that very important story from earlier, the stolen goat discovered in California during a DUI bust is reportedly doing well. As for his abductors, “It just sounds like they were on a drunken joyride, and the goat became their new buddy along the way,” says a spokesman for the Riverside County Animal Services Department. Well, sure. We’ve all been there.

“New Jersey Governor Chris Christie’s comments that rising health-care costs might ‘bankrupt’ the state, made the same day of a planned bond sale, drew criticism for poor timing and may have driven up borrowing costs.”