June 22nd, 2006

Cow of Pain, Polter-Cow of Pain

Come On, Baby, Do the Dislocation

I was playing basketball last night with my thirteen-year-old cousin when he smacked the ball down on the ground, the ball transferred all of its kinetic energy—the usual gravitational acceleration supplemented by the force added by my cousin—to the ground, and the ground said, "I don't want your stinkin' kinetic energy," and gave it back to the ball, which promptly traveled upwards to hit my left hand, at which point there were massive intangible equations floating around involving kinetic energy and torque and muscle strain and coefficients of friction, and once all the math was over, it didn't take a genius to tell me that I had dislocated my shoulder once again.

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