The Last Surviving Milligrams

Finally, someone organized the periodic table based on how elements would vote if they had Twitter accounts! This masterpiece maps chemical elements onto the political compass with hilariously accurate stereotypes. Hydrogen rules everything from the authoritarian top because it literally makes up 75% of the universe's mass. Meanwhile, poor Mercury "seems pretty fun at first" but "will kill you for something you did 15 years ago" is exactly how I'd describe my ex who studied political science. Love how Americium is just "AMERICA! F*** YEAH" with zero additional explanation needed. And Uranium? "Builds nukes" and "believes it will one day power the world"—basically that one guy at every dinner party who won't shut up about nuclear energy being the future. The real scientific breakthrough here is that we've finally discovered what Einsteinium is for: questioning its own existence. Existential crisis is apparently an elemental property!

The ultimate showdown between casual speech and chemical precision! One guy's like "just a little sodium chloride" trying to flex his chemistry knowledge, while his friend's all "dude, it's just salt." Then comes the nuclear option—a full breakdown of iodized table salt with potassium iodate and anti-caking agents. This is every first-year chemistry student who just learned the periodic table and won't shut up about it at dinner. "Please pass the sodium chloride" while everyone else at the table contemplates seasoning them instead of the food. The irony? Mr. Scientific Terminology gets absolutely destroyed by even MORE precise chemistry. Nothing humbles a chemistry novice faster than discovering there's always a bigger nerd.

The most scientifically accurate Venn diagram doesn't exi— Oh wait, here it is! Nothing unites the STEM fields quite like their mutual disdain for each other. Physicists mock engineers who can't win Nobel Prizes, mathematicians scoff at both while being utterly incomprehensible to normal humans, and everyone agrees chemists are inferior (except chemists, who are too busy making things explode to notice). The beautiful irony? They all desperately need each other to make actual scientific progress. It's like a dysfunctional academic family where everyone thinks they're the smart one.

The unsung hero of every chemistry lab isn't the scientist with three PhDs—it's the humble borosilicate beaker! While we're busy mixing acids and bases like amateur DJs at a chemical rave, our glass containers are just chilling there, watching the chaos unfold without joining the party. That cosmic guardian vibe perfectly captures the beaker's Prime Directive: "I observe all that transpires here, but I do not, cannot, will not interfere." Without this chemical Switzerland maintaining strict neutrality, we'd just have puddles of reactive goop on the lab bench and some very unhappy safety inspectors.

The devil wants his kid to follow the straight and narrow path of rational scientific inquiry, while Jesus is just silently showing the molecular structure of LSD. Talk about divine intervention! That chemical formula is lysergic acid diethylamide—the infamous psychedelic that's known for inducing mystical experiences and expanding consciousness. Basically, Satan's pushing for strict methodology while Jesus is like "have you tried turning your perception OFF and ON again?" The ultimate spiritual tech support.

That moment when you wanted to immortalize your favorite molecule on your skin but the tattoo artist wasn't exactly following the proper chemical structure! Those hexagons are supposed to represent a specific compound, but the bonds are all wrong and some connections are missing. It's like asking for caffeine and getting some bizarre mutant molecule that would probably explode if synthesized. Chemistry nerds everywhere are having simultaneous panic attacks looking at those misplaced bonds. Permanent ink, temporary understanding of organic chemistry!