f*****g loves the s**t out of meth? Meth addicts! Well, except for Jimmy Handclaws--the thumbless guy who sleeps under the overpass--but hey, the Tasing and meth parts still hold true.

"Lost 'em fightin' a pack of dogs, but sure, I'll sign up!"

But rather than hopping on the clean and bright highways of reason and logic, the scientists opted instead for the disused, dusty trail of hilarious insanity: They gathered up 16 sheep, gave the animals a speedball of powerful sedatives and methamphetamines (an extremely dangerous combination under any circumstances) and then proceeded to Tase the ever-loving s**t out of them on top of it.

This is science, ladies and gentlemen: comatose sheep, on meth, being Tased by stoic looking men in white lab coats.

"It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to get these monkeys drunk and shoot paintball guns at them."

Can you guess what happened next?

Nope! None of them died,

not one! Despite being given the exact recipe for a confusing, nonsensical death, every single one of the sheep lived, displaying no signs of the abnormal, potentially fatal heart rhythm that human targets under similar conditions often succumb to.

Final Outcome: Somewhere out there, there exists a small gang of speed-freak sheep struggling with a dueling sedative addiction. They may or may not be immune to electricity.

"[We believe that] cocaine can have as devastating an effect on honey bee society as it does on human society".

That's what they pitched to their superiors. And not only were they not assigned a social worker on the spot, but they actually received the grants to go ahead with the project and obtain their results. It's official: "Scientist" is the hardest job to get fired from.

"Ha ha, seriously? They went for the bee thing? Holy s**t! All right, let's science this b***h!"

Their experiment involved isolating a small segment of the bee population, and dosing them regularly with cocaine. Then they would release the addict bees with the rest of the hive to look for "sugar." At first read, that sounds like some scientist just has a coke addiction of his own, access to a lot of bees and an unwillingness to drive downtown, but the bees in question were searching for literal sugar, and not more of the nose kind.

"Yes. Yeeesss! My research is complete! Now, my bees, TO THE COCAINE!"

The report says that, despite their drugged state, the bees still remained completely accurate in reporting the sugar's location back to their hive. It's just that they exaggerated how much there was, how easy it was to get and how

totally f*****g awesome it was when they found it. No, seriously: They drastically over-estimated the potency of their find when relaying information to the hive. The scientists were right. After a few weeks of a regular coke habit, these bees behaved exactly like their human counterpart: That guy who comes sprinting up to you in the hallway during parties, telling you about "these insanely hot bitches all over my jock, man! You have to come see 'em. Gotta be my wingman, bro! Ha ha! Ride my tail anytime, Maverick! Come on!" And then, when you arrive at your destination, you find only two confused Puerto Rican men who believe they've been contracted for some kind of late-night gardening job because they only recognized the word "hos."

Lasting Effects: Somewhere there is a swarm of bees that is really fun for about an hour and a half, and then incredibly annoying for the next seven.

drug the holy s**t out of a bunch of spiders, on the grounds of "testing which species respond most accurately to the toxicity of chemicals." No specific goal, really, just: "What do spiders do while high?" And here we go:

Spiders on marijuana weaved about half their webs before abandoning their project. Presumably because a rerun of

MacGyver came on.

Spiders on Benzedrine, an upper, spun their webs faster but left great, gaping holes due to lack of planning. Just like meth-heads, who are surprisingly effective at ripping all the plastic plumbing out of an abandoned home, only to remember down at the scrap-yard that it's copper wiring they'll pay you for.

On caffeine, they throw a few strands together at random before growing impatient and abandoning the project. Presumably while hurling a stapler across the room and swearing at the receptionist on the way out.

This is what happens to spiders on LSD: "The lines... they go on forever! Can you see them, Earl? Can you see them?! TELL ME YOU CAN f*****g SEE THE LINES, EARL!"

Lesson Learned: That spider may not be attacking, it may just be having a bad trip, hallucinating tiny humans scrabbling around beneath its exoskeleton.

dosed up a bull elephant with a metric-fuckton of acid.

"Well damn, Johnson, I honestly can't tell when an elephant is trippin' balls. Do you think it's working?"

West and his lab assistant hooked up with a morally lax zookeeper at Oklahoma City's Lincoln Park Zoo, who gave them access to Tusko, a 7,000-pound, 14-year-old male elephant. To accurately dose the elephant within levels experienced by the average human drug user, they painstakingly calculated the elephant's metabolic rate, assessed the relative potency of the drug, accounted for the weight difference, then converted all the measurements to f**k It, and just shot everything they had into him. About 300-milligrams of pure LSD. Enough for 3,000 hippies to bother God about their mundane bullshit on a Friday night. So what valuable data did this experiment yield?

Five minutes after the injection, he fell over and died.

In a move that practically elevates dickotry to an art-form, this is the actual conclusion to their report: "It appears that the elephant is highly sensitive to the effects of LSD - a finding which may prove to be valuable in elephant-control work in Africa."

End result: Hopefully some sort of furious, hallucinogenic elephant curse.