New Scientist is a magazine. In depth articles. Science job postings. And a letters column titled The Last Word where readers ask questions about the science of anything at all. The answers are provided by readers.
This came into my hands in the form of the book Does Anything Eat Wasps? And 101 Other Unsettling, Witty Answers to Questions You Never Thought You Wanted to Ask, published in 2005.
"We can't solve the mystery behind the meaning of human existence," says editor Mick O'Hare in the introduction, "but we can tell you why your tea changes colour when you add lemon juice. We don't know whether there is life in another galaxy, but we do know how to make bubbles in your chocolate bar. We are devoted to the trivial."
Some questions (and answers) I particularly enjoyed:
Why do we have eyebrows?
How long can a human live if their sole source of food or drink is beer?
Why do your muscles feel stiff on the second day after a strenuous workout?
Why is wearing black "slimming"?
How long does a person remain conscious after being beheaded?
Why do dogs howl when sirens go by? Why don't cats?
Why does gnocchi sink to the bottom of the pot when it's frozen, and float when it's ready?
Can beer be brewed in space?
Why is the ocean blue?
Why are the Spring and Autumn equinoxes a day or two in advance or behind where they're supposed to be?
And my favourite:
If I had to save myself by surfing down a molten lava flow, what would I be able to stand on that wouldn't melt from the heat of the lava?
The answers generally come from someone (or two or three people) who seems to be an expert in a particular field. The editors occasionally chime in, but usually don't.
I like the fact that they crowd sourced these questions. After all, how can a single person - or small staff of a magazine - know everything about the minutiae of meteorology, biology, animal behaviour, food science and why ear wax is the colour it is? Or how about this one:
Suppose a large ship, such as the QE2, is floating freely alongside a quay and no forces such as wind or sea currents are acting on it. If I stand on the quay and push the side of the ship, will it move, even very slowly and slightly? Or is there some sort of limiting friction caused by all those water molecules around the hull that can only be overcome by a much larger threshold force?
One answer came from a man who'd served in the British Navy in WWII, and said "on several occasions I moved a destroyer under the circumstances described by your correspondent." He goes on to tell how he did it (reaching from the railing of one deck to the other and pulling), how long it took (a few minutes) and how much effort it required (not that much).
How else could such an answer have been provided?
And then another person wrote in providing the numbers as to why that's the case.
Hooray for the generosity of intelligent souls!
