Periodical cicadas emerge in cycles of 17 and 13 years, making them a kind of cultural bug clock -- a buzzing reminder of invasions of yore, and a good excuse to think back on where we were the last time they burst from the ground in massive, memorable hordes.
Our common ancestor was seen trying to cajole the box office attendant at the Cherry Lane Theatre earlier today. But the imposing mammal was turned away -- apparently even the animal that led to all of us needs ID when picking up will call tickets.
They call them Romance Pants, from Instructables.com, one of the world's premier do-it-yourself sites. They're for the Romantic Man who has overplanned (and overthought and overdone) his upcoming night of love. One 7805 voltage regulator required.
Look who we spotted grabbing a cup of coffee this morning. We would've said hi, but it's kind of awkward...we still don't know this critter's name. Help us out -- vote now and let us know who you'd rather wake up to: Schrëwdinger or Mancestor.
They're not locusts. They don't eat crops, don't sting babies to death, don't even harm fruit. Yes, they make loud, screechy noises, but if you were a female cicada, you'd find the love songs ... um ... lovely. Here come the cicadas!
No shirt, no name, no service...
This is the moment all you placental ancestor lovers have been waiting for: we're down to the final two pop culture monikers for the little hairy beast. Who'll it be? Schrëwdinger (is she our oldest common ancestor, is she not), or Mancestor (the ancestor of man)? Cast your ballot below, and keep an eye out for these two common ancestors on the street, trying to grab your vote...
You probably know the feeling: You turn on your computer, decide to mosey around, but only for a minute or two, you have important things to do, and then — whooooosh! The computer sucks you in and you can't stop clicking. Why does this happen? Artist Dina Kelberman knows why. Let her trap you.
Bursting broods of bugs and ... beer? Believe it! The 17-year cicadas are coming, and Radiolab is inviting armchair scientists, lovers of nature and DIY makers to help predict the emergence of cicadas by building a homemade sensor and sharing your observations.
Our Bliss episode (which airs across the country this week) begins with a perfect moment -- polar adventurer Aleksander Gamme finding a hidden stash of utter happiness under the ice at the end of a 3-month trek in the South Pole. And it was all caught on camera.
Some of the best science reporters, like the best Vaudevillians, the best circus performers, the best teachers, are hungry for attention — not for themselves, but for a way to seize your mind, to bring you to an idea, a puzzle, or a creature.
You don't expect fourth-graders to be wise. They're still boys. But one, who was playing and ruminating on his back patio, had a knack for cosmology seemingly well beyond his years.