Matt… can you talk to him this time? He’s freaking ignoring me. Give it a try, damnit. I need to get some sleep. We’ve got the governor coming in the morning and…. well, you know.

Oh, hi. As per my usual affectation, I will act surprised at my discovery of your presence. What-WHAT? Okay, now that that’s out of the way. Just trying to get Matt to speak to Mitch Macaphee, our resident mad science advisor, about keeping the noise down a little bit, just for one night. One night, Mitch! That’s all I’m asking! Man does not live by tofu alone! He needs socks, too, and occasionally a couple of ounces of baby oil … so, my point is that it’s more complicated than you think! Oh, what’s the use?

What’s he doing that makes so much noise (i.e. more noise than a rock band)? Well, I made the mistake of leaving last Wednesday’s paper lying about. Mitch picked it up and zeroed in on an article about the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland … you know, the high-tech gizmo that smashes atoms to PULP. (Gulp.) Yeah, well … apparently that’s one of Mitch’s hobbies, too, and he got this bug in his head about finding something he calls the Higgs boson particle, which is the theoretically predicted thingy that gives all matter its mass. (Apparently, we Americans are just chock full of the stuff.) And now he’s obsessed with finding the bastard before those scientists in Switzerland do.

Now, when I use the term “obsessed” with reference to Mitch, I am not using hyperbole. He’s plugged together his own hadron collider (which he calls the “reasonably large hadron collider” or RLHC) using discarded PVC tubing the plumber left behind, as well as other odds and ends. He’s press-ganged Marvin (my personal robot assistant) into the effort as well, making him eyeball the gauges and man the meters, day and night. And the freaking noise! I can’t even hear myself type. I mean, how the hell are we supposed to finish our new album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick? How are we supposed to record our July episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN? If those smock-wearing eggheads in Switzerland could just … just…

What? They found it? Oh, Mitch…. The paper’s here. Read all about it.