4 In-Flight Magazine Essays No One Has the Balls to Publish

#2. The Best Chancer for Breast Cancer: Radiation Levels at 39,000 Feet

Section: Health and Beauty

... Even as you read this, you are being bombarded with high doses of cosmic radiation that are physically altering your appearance for the worse. The high energy waves knock electrons off of atoms, creating ions in your skin cells, which in turn disrupts the DNA structure and destroys the cells. At best, the radiation is making you look more weathered, and at worst, the DNA isn't just destroyed but mutated and turned into a blueprint for cancer.

Cosmic radiation is about 64 times greater in a transcontinental flight than it is on the ground, which means that, in terms of cost vs. reward, racking up frequent flyer miles is on par with collecting Camel points from cigarette cartons. To put it in context, frequent flyers are exposed to even more radiation than most radiation workers and they have no idea.

For a better understanding of why, here is an exhaustive and detailed description of how the radiation is seeping into your skin right now and there's nothing you can do about it ...

#1. Bird Strike

Section: Fiction

... Together they walked from the porch, down the stone path and out into the field now browned and crunchy in the sun, like a sea of bronze, no, like death spilled from the house and bleeding outward. Yeah. Like that.

She asked him why he wrote "Anarchy" on his pre-torn jeans. He told her that the meaning of life was to crawl along a razor, and also to be a slug, maybe. He made a mental note to revisit the liner notes on his Birthday Massacre album.

It was hot in the sun. His bandanna and goggles were making him hot.

"Hmphrmph phrmp hrm."

Behind them, they could hear the empty cans in the recycling bag hanging from the screen door clinking together in the breeze like wind chimes. He told her this town would never understand the unbearable likeness of being. She asked him if he meant the unbearable lightness. He told her, probably, but who even knows anymore. When he was 18 he was going to get a tattoo of a rib cage on his rib cage. He'd already drawn it out in the back of his Trapper Keeper.

Standing out there in the dead grass, with the grasshoppers ratcheting and the shadows stretching across the field in the summer afternoon, that's when the plane dropped. It skidded across vacant lots, splintering into pieces and flinging shrapnel and passenger seats all the way across the river to his father's property. Then it hit the chemical plant. He turned to her. In that moment, he thought she was definitely the kind of girl who looked beautiful when lit by an explosion. That was important in a girl. He considered trying to kiss her, but decided not to. He'd have to take off his mask and everything. Plus she wouldn't get it. No one in that town got it ...

In addition to being an editor and columnist for Cracked.com, Soren was your eighth grade boyfriend and probably the best thing that ever happened to you. You can follow him on Twitter or on Tumblr.

Check out more from Soren in The 6 Most Baffling Things Every TV Ad Assumes Are True and Exploring the Internet in 11 Days: An Epic Online Odyssey.

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