Basically, all legal free speech is allowed. We will assist the authorities in dealing with illegal speech. You are each other’s moderators. Have fun. And don’t forget to MAGA at nuclear levels.
Citizen U
Day 114 – FLEROVIUM.
OK – we’re GOING BIG LEAGUE…..
The U Tree 
OK, let’s start with the obvious. Flerovium sounds like something you’d cough up if you had a bad case of coronavirus.
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I dunno… As it only lasts for less than 2 seconds, it would be great if the after-effects of the coronavirus only lasted that long too. But just like the after-effects of too much of the namesake Mexican beer (or most other beers, wines and spirits for that matter) it does linger for way too long.
Actually, the first thought I had when I saw the name of today’s element was that this is almost as if it could be in honor of fleporeblog, famous for his excellent near-daily news postings on the WQTH.
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FLEP needs an element, there is NO DOUBT!!!
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I may have been thinking of “effluvium”.
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Flerovium is actually named after a particular lab in Dubna, which was named after a particular physicist — Флёров — after being transliterated to look more like “Florida”.
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As of the date of Wikipoo’s article, about 90 atoms of flerovium had been synthesized — 58 going up, and 32 going down — with weights between 284 and 290. The most stable isotope definitively characterized had a half-life of 1.9 seconds.
The Dubnans were back to their old tricks when synthesizing this element — they were smooshing plutonium with calcium in 1998, in the conservatory, with the candlestick.
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There are some who speculate that Fl might have so low a boiling point that it might even be gaseous at room temperature, although trying to plot phases of matter between 90 atoms existing for less than 30 seconds each spread across 20 years is more than a little wishful thinking.
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Well, it was gaseous in space-time, if not space! 😉
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A Briton, a Frenchman and a Russian are viewing a painting of Adam and Eve frolicking in the Garden of Eden. “Look at their reserve, their calm,” muses the Brit. “They must be British.”
“Nonsense,” the Frenchman disagrees. “They’re naked, and so beautiful. Clearly, they are French.”
“No way! They have no clothes and no shelter,” the Russian points out, “They have only an apple to eat, and they are being told they live in a paradise. Obviously, they are Russian.”
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Some of you may have even predicted this — Musical lnterlude #1 —
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A man is driving in Russia with his wife and small child. A militia man pulls them over and makes the man take a breathalyser test. “See,” the militia man says, “you are drunk.” The man protests that the breathalyser must be broken and invites the cop to test his wife. She also registers as drunk. Exasperated, the man invites the cop to test his child. When the child registers drunk as well, the cop shrugs, says, “Yes, perhaps it is broken,” and sends them on their way. Out of earshot the man tells his wife, “See, I told you it wouldn’t hurt to give the kid a couple shots of vodka.”
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Musical Interlude #2 —
Years ago, we took our teenage goddaughter to NYC and visited the mighty Met. We really didn’t have enough time to give it anything like the attention it was due, so I came up with a game for us to play — walk into a room and (without getting close enough to read the placards) try to identify the nation and period by the artworks on display, then explain your choice.
She did quite well (Waldorf schools) and we all had great fun playing — and saw a great deal more of the Met than our time would have ordinarily allowed — and probably remembered it better, to boot.
In the case of this musical interlude, it’s clearly not an Austrian waltz, because it’s not meant to be socially danced.
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An inspecting commission came to a lunatic asylum. To greet them, a choir of the patients sang a song from a popular movie that says “Oh, how good it is to live in the Soviet land!”
The commission noticed that one of the men did not sing.
“Why are you not singing?”
“I’m not crazy, I’m a nurse here.”
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Musical Interlude #3 — as with most places in Europe, using cannons might be interpreted poorly by the gelded populace.
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While I love the old Russian humor . . .
I’ll watch the Soviets get bested in hockey 🙂
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A mummy was found in Egypt. The archaeologists could not determine its origin. Then a Soviet advisor offered his help. The mummy was delivered to the Soviet embassy. In two hours the Soviet advisor appeared and said, “His name was Amenkhotep 23 rd.”
“How did you find out?”
“He confessed,” the advisor said.
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BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
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A fisherman is sitting on a river bank. Suddenly he hears somebody shout ‘F*ck off!’ in a distance.
Ten minutes later he hears the same shout ‘F*ck off!!!!!’, but a bit closer. The fisherman shrugs his shoulders having no idea of what’s going on.
Another ten minutes later when he has already forgotten about strange shout, he sees a boat with a man rowing up the river… with spoons. So the fisherman shouts “Hey, man! Why are you rowing with spoons? Take the oars!”
“F*ck off!!!!!!!!!!”
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Too fun not to share:
The genitive plural of a noun (used with a numeral to indicate five or more of something, as opposed to the dual, used for two, three, or four, see Russian nouns) is a rather unpredictable form of the Russian noun, and there are a handful of words which even native speakers have trouble producing this form of (either due to rarity or an actual lexical gap). A common example of this is kocherga (fireplace poker). The joke is set in a Soviet factory. Five pokers are to be requisitioned. The correct forms are acquired, but as they are being filled out, a debate arises: what is the genitive plural of kocherga? Is it Kocherg? Kocherieg? Kochergov?… One thing is clear: a form with the wrong genitive plural of kocherga will bring disaster from the typically-pedantic bureaucrats. Finally, an old janitor overhears the commotion, and tells them to send in two separate requisitions: one for two kochergi and another for three kochergi. In some versions, they send in a request for 4 kochergi and one extra to find out the correct word, only to receive back “here are your 4 kochergi and one extra.” (In reality, a bureaucrat would likely resort to a trick like “Kocherga: 5 items”; a similar story by Mikhail Zoshchenko involves yet another answer.)
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Note from the San Francisco Zoo: “Please send a pride of lions plus a mating pair so we’ll have some more.”
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