First test-tube baby penguin says hello to the world

First test-tube baby penguin says hello to the world - To science, she’s simply known as “184.” But on the empirical cuteness scale, the world’s first test-tube penguin scores a “100.”

The still unnamed baby Magellanic penguin was hatched at SeaWorld in San Diego 12 weeks ago, but the first images of her were released to the public this week.

She’s the first penguin to be born using artificial insemination, a technique researchers say will help them increase diversity in the captive penguin population and help their studies of the creatures.

Officials hope the first penguin hatched via artificial insemination at SeaWorld in San Diego will help make strides in conservation efforts.

“The goal of our research center is to study a species’ reproductive biology, to learn as much as we can about that and use this to not only monitor the health of not only our zoological populations but wild populations as well,” said Sea World’s reproductive center Scientific Director Dr. Justine O’Brien.

The baby penguin is reportedly doing well. Twelve weeks after her birth, she is mingling with the natural-born penguin population and has transitioned from being hand-fed by a team of biologists to eating fish on her own. 
Say hello to the world's first test-tube penguin  

There are an estimated 1.8 million Magellanic penguins living in the wild. The species is typically found in South America around the Falkland Islands, Chile and Argentina. The species is considered “near threatened,” as its numbers have been affected by oil spills, diminished fish populations and climate change. O’Brien says the successful breeding of 184 is not only helpful for research purposes but could help scientists in future efforts to increase the wildlife stock of penguins and other species.

Penguin 184 has a special place in history. Hundreds of baby penguins have hatched at the Sea World facility, but they were all natural births. Sea World says that it successfully completed the first artificial insemination of an animal in captivity in 2000 but that this was the first time the technique had worked on a penguin. O’Brien tells NBC San Diego that she and her team went back and forth between trying the process with frozen and thawed sperm sampled before finally managing to succeed with a test run in May.

However, O’Brien says that 184 mixes in perfectly with her four adult penguin companions.

“You could not tell if she was from frozen-thawed or fresh, chilled semen or even from natural breeding,” said O’Brien. “She’s happy and healthy, and that’s what we want to see.” ( The Sideshow )

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Former Mr. Universe turns 100 in India

Former Mr. Universe turns 100 in India — A former Mr. Universe who has just turned 100 said Sunday that happiness and a life without tensions are the key to his longevity.

Manohar Aich, who is 4 foot 11 inches (150 centimeters) tall, overcame many hurdles, including grinding poverty and a stint in prison, to achieve body building glory.

His children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren gathered Sunday in the eastern city of Kolkata to celebrate his birthday the day before.

Hindu priests chanted prayers while a feast was laid out to honor Aich, winner of the 1952 Mr. Universe body building title.

Rippling his muscles and flashing a toothless grin, Aich says his ability to take his troubles lightly and remain happy during difficult times are the secrets to his long life.

In this Friday, March 16, 2012 photo, Indian body builder Manohar Aich flexes his muscles as he poses for a photograph in a gymnasium in Kolkata, India. Aich, who is only 4 foot 11 inches (150 centimeters) tall, won the Mr. Universe title in London way back in 1952. Happiness and a life without tensions are the key to his longevity, said Aich, who turned 100 on March 17. (AP Photo/Bikas Das)
That, and a simple diet of milk, fruits and vegetables along with rice, lentils and fish have kept him healthy.

He does not smoke and has never touched alcohol, he said.

"I never allow any sort of tension to grip me. I had to struggle to earn money since my young days, but whatever the situation, I remained happy," Aich said, sitting in a room decorated with posters and pictures of his many bodybuilding triumphs.

Aich, who was born in the small town of Comilla in Bengal, was a puny youngster. But he was attracted to exercising and building his muscles when as a schoolboy he saw a group of wrestlers in action.

In 1942, he joined the Royal Air Force under India's British colonial rulers and it was there that he began his relentless pursuit of body building.

Encouraged by a British officer named Reub Martin, who introduced him to weight training, Aich earned praise for his physique from his peers in the air force.

Some years later, however, he was thrown into prison when he protested against colonial oppression.

"It was in the jail that I began weight training seriously. This helped me prepare myself for the world championship," said Aich.

"In jail I used to practice on my own, without any equipment, sometimes for 12 hours in a day," he recalled.

The jail authorities were impressed with his perseverance and he was given a special diet to help build his stamina.

India's independence in 1947 led to Aich's release from jail. Dogged by poverty, Aich and his wife struggled to put their four children through school. There was little cash to indulge his passion for body building, but Aich took up odd jobs to earn a little on the side.

His 1950 win of a "Mr. Hercules" contest spurred him to set his sights on the Mr. Universe tournament in London.

In 1951, Aich came second in the contest, and stayed on in London to prepare for another shot at the title. He returned to India after winning the title in 1952.

What followed were a host of awards, including top positions in the Asian Body building Championships. Over the years, he also earned the more popular title of "Pocket Hercules" due to his 4 foot, 11 inch-frame.

Six decades later, Aich helps his sons run a gym and fitness center and spends his days guiding juvenile hopefuls to reach the heights of body building.

A minor stroke last year robbed him of the ability to lift weights, but he keeps a watchful eye on young body builders training in his gym.

Although his two sons did not take up body building, Aich says his mentoring has earned him rewards. It has produced India's eight-time national champion, Satya Paul. Another protege, Premchand Dogra, snagged the Mr. Universe title in 1988.

Among his regrets, says Aich, is that he never had a chance to meet his more famous counterpart, a fellow Mr. Universe winner, Arnold Schwarzenegger.

But Aich says he's seen many of Schwarzenegger's action films.

"I like the incredible stunts he does in the movies," Aich said. ( Associated Press )

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Indian girl trapped in life of cigarette rolling

Indian girl trapped in life of cigarette rolling — Sagira Ansari sits on a dusty sack outside her uneven brick home in this poor town in eastern India, her legs folded beneath her. She cracks her knuckles, then rubs charcoal ash between her palms.

With the unthinking swiftness of a movement performed countless times before, she slashes a naked razor blade into a square-cut leaf to trim off the veins. She drops in flakes of tobacco, packs them with her thumbs, rolls the leaf tightly between her fingers and ties it off with two twists of a red thread.

For eight hours a day, Sagira makes bidis — thin brown cigarettes that are as central to Indian life as chai and flat bread.

She is 11 years old.

In this Thursday, Jan. 26, 2012 photo, 11-year-old Sagira Ansari holds up bundles of bidi tobacco cigarettes that she rolled at her house in Dhuliyan, in the eastern Indian state of West Bengal. Sagira is among hundreds of thousands of children toiling in the hidden corners of rural India, many working in hazardous industries crucial to the economy: the fiery brick kilns that underpin the building industry, the pesticide-laden fields that produce its food. Sagira and nearly every other child in the town of Dhuliyan works through the tobacco dust to feed India's near limitless demand for the thin, tight cigarettes. Sagira and her family earn 75 rupees ($1.50) for every 1,000 bidis rolled which brings in about 7,500 rupees ($150) a month. (AP Photo/Rafiq Maqbool)
Sagira is among hundreds of thousands of children toiling in the hidden corners of rural India. Many work in hazardous industries crucial to the economy: the fiery brick kilns that underpin the building industry, the pesticide-laden fields that produce its food.

Most of the children in Sagira's town of Dhuliyan in West Bengal state work in the tobacco dust to feed India's near limitless demand for bidis.

Under Indian law, this is legal.
Sagira, who has deep brown eyes and a wide smile, joined her family's bidi work when she was seven. At first she just rolled out thread for her older sisters and brother, then she helped finish off the cigarettes, pushing down the open ends. Last year, she graduated to full-scale rolling.

She is not alone. Her best friend, Amira, also rolls bidis. So do Wasima and Jaminoor and the rest of the girls in a neighborhood that is, at its heart, a giant, open-air bidi factory.

Parents and children roll cigarettes on rooftops, in the alleyways, by the roads. One woman draped in a red shawl in the yard behind Sagira's house breast feeds her baby while rolling. Of the roughly 20,000 families in Dhuliyan, an estimated 95 percent roll bidis to survive.

Sagira is expert enough that even when distracted, her fingers continue to flit blindly through the tobacco shavings in front of her.

She says the work can make her ill, with a cold, a cough, a fever. Her head often aches. So do her fingers.

Sometimes, she takes her woven basket of tendu leaves and tobacco to the banks of the Ganges to roll in a circle with her friends. She stops every so often to splash in the river for a few moments. Then she gets back to work.

"I can't play around," she laments.____
Manu Seikh, the bidi king of Sagira's neighborhood, sits on a roadside bench. In front of him lie orderly stacks of rupee bills — tens, fifties, hundreds — large bags filled with one- and two-rupee coins and a small box holding his asthma inhaler.

He and thousands of middlemen like him are the linchpins that provide the veneer of legality to the bidi industry, insulating the powerful companies selling bidis from the families and children rolling them.

Seikh, 66, got his start in a bidi factory when he was 16, back when bidis were rolled on the factory floor.

A 1986 law barred children under 14 from working with bidis and other hazardous industries, but left a huge loophole that allowed children to assist their families with work performed at home.

So now, while the tobacco is threshed, cut and blended in factories, it is then given to Seikh and other middlemen to distribute to families for rolling. The bidis are then brought back to the factory for roasting, packaging and shipping. A pack of 10 to 12 will retail for 6 rupees, or 12 cents.

The informal nature of the work makes it nearly impossible to count how many of India's 7 million bidi rollers are children, but estimates range from 250,000 to 1 million.

Every noon, adults and children carry baskets and tubs filled with bundles of bidis to Seikh's corner stall, where his men scan them for quality, reject those deemed substandard and stack the others in shallow wooden boxes. A bookkeeper makes a note in a ledger and hands over a chit for payment.

Then the rollers receive more tobacco and tendu leaves for another day's work.

Seikh blames poverty for forcing the children to work, and the government for failing to stop it.

"I am very concerned about children not going to school and losing their futures. But we are helpless," Seikh says.

In his nearby factory, Ranjan Choudhary, 37, also distances himself from blame, even as boys aged about 7 or 8 slide bidis into plastic pouches and seal them on a small stove.

Whatever the child labor laws say, he sees the industry as "a lifeline" for the people.

"It affects children, but for them to survive, this is the only industry here. There is no other source of income," he said.

The industry's chief trade group also brushed off responsibility.

"The child has every right to help the mother. As long as we don't recruit the children to roll bidis, I don't think we violate any act," said Umesh Parekh, chief executive of the All India Bidi Industry Federation.

Bidi rollers should "themselves exercise restraint" in using children, he said, adding that his trade group had no plans to fight against child labor.

"The industry is not doing anything for that. It is for the government to do," he said.

The government is reevaluating its child labor policy, said Mrutyunjay Sarangi, India's labor secretary, but had yet to decide on any concrete action.

"We are having discussions," he said.

India has tacitly recognized this Dickensian nightmare with a recent law making education compulsory up to age 14, said Bhavna Mukhopadhya of the Voluntary Health Association of India, an aid group. "Everything has a time, and I think this is the right time to do it ... you have to ban child labor across the board, strictly," she said.

But efforts to change the labor laws are complicated by the bidi industry's clout in government. One company owner even sits in the national Cabinet.


Sagira's town was once a textile center where her family for generations wove scarves and sarongs on hand looms.

Mired in poverty, they lived in a mud and thatch hut and could afford only a single meal a day for their 12 children. "We were starving," said Sagira's father, Mahmood Ansari.

Then the Ganges caused flooding that destroyed the family's house — and its loom.

Meanwhile, merchants from other states realized the cheap labor here would be ideal for bidi work.

Sagira's grandfather turned to bidi rolling, then her father when he turned 12.

Now, every day at 8 a.m., Sagira, her 17-year-old brother and sisters aged 18 and 14 begin a four-hour rolling session. They stop to bathe and have lunch, spend a few hours cutting the tendu leaves into neat squares and then roll for a few more hours.

Because of bidis, his seven children are far better off than he was, Ansari said.

The family gets 75 rupees ($1.50) for every 1,000 bidis rolled, totaling about $150 a month. That's enough for three meals a day, with a little fish or egg once a week. A few months ago, Ansari used loans to replace the home of tarps and sticks his family had lived in for two decades with an unfinished two-room house of brick and plaster with dirt floors.

But there is not much hope for Sagira's future.

She's only been to school twice in the past month; she's too busy, her mother, Alea Bibi, said. She only goes when there's a reason, when new books are being handed out or to register for the aid the government gives to bidi rollers as an incentive to educate their children.

When she does show up, she is humiliated for her absences, made to hold her ears with her elbows outstretched and repeatedly sit down and stand up. It doesn't work, yet each year she graduates to the next grade, regardless of her attendance.

She barely knows math, but can at least count to 25, the number of bidis in a finished bundle.

But at night, after the work is done, her brother, who rarely attends school himself, uses her schoolbooks to teach her to read.

She dreams of being a schoolteacher.

Far more likely, she will get faster at rolling bidis, which will improve her marriage prospects. Then, as so often happens here, her husband might stop working, and she — and eventually her own children — will become the bidi-rolling breadwinners.

Her father sees no way to break the cycle.

"We are destined to roll bidis," he said. ( Associated Press )

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Justice for victims

Buried amid rape kit backlog: Justice for victims — For nearly two decades, Carol Bart's untested rape kit collected dust in a police evidence room. Her attacker, who kidnapped her from outside her Dallas apartment and repeatedly raped her at knifepoint, had spent time in prison by coincidence, but not for sexually assaulting Bart.

Bart, now a 52-year-old mother of four, fears that among the thousands of backlogged, untested kits pulled from a Detroit police evidence room are stories of women similarly violated only to be forgotten by a justice system that seemingly has placed its priorities and resources elsewhere.

"Women go to the hospital and their bodies are a crime scene and treated as such," said Bart, who still lives in Texas. "For these kits then to just to sit in a laboratory or in police vaults or wherever they sit, denies victims of sexual assault any opportunity for justice. I just wonder how many more there are?"

In this photo taken Wednesday, Feb. 29, 2012, Carol Bart poses for photos at a park in Richardson, Texas. In 1984, Bart was kidnapped and raped repeatedly in her car at knifepoint and she submitted to a rape kit at the time. It would be 24 years before the kit was tested, entered into the FBI’s Combined DNA Index System and produced a hit on Joseph Houston Jr. (AP Photo/LM Otero)

Bart and other rape victims spoke recently to The Associated Press in hope that other women about to go through the same painful process in Detroit learn from their experiences and know they are not alone. Detroit has begun testing some of its rape kits.

The women — who agreed to use their names for this story — know testing years-old rape kits holds no guarantee the attacker will be found and brought to justice. They also know the tangled legal process can reopen wounds that took years to heal and send horrific memories of the assault flooding back.

According to some estimates, between 180,000 and 400,000 rape kits remain untested nationwide, despite DNA technology that can swiftly link rapists to crimes.

Between 9,000 and 11,300 rape kits stored by Detroit police were collected two years ago by Michigan State Police.

The kits are being documented and tested in batches as part of a National Institute for Justice project. Initially, about 400 were chosen. Another batch of about 1,000 has been identified for testing so far this year.

The kits — 10-inch-long boxes containing swabs, evidence envelopes and information sheets detailing the examination, complications and a list of 24-hour rape crisis centers — can cost $1,200 to $1,500 to test.

Detroit's project is funded by grants. Houston, which had a 4,000-kit backlog, has embarked on a similar project. Grants and donations helped Los Angeles city police go through about 7,000 kits.

A team that includes police, prosecutors and Michigan State University researchers is methodically inspecting each kit to determine which still can be taken to court, what protocols can prevent future backlogs and what protections should be included for victims.

"Victims will be contacted at some point," said Rebecca Campbell, a psychology professor and member of the Detroit Sexual Assault Kit Action Research Project. "You have to make sure the way that's done is appropriate; take into account the victim's physical needs, support needs, resources and health needs.

"You're reopening an incredibly tragic event. You just can't knock on someone's door to do that."

Bart was attacked in 1984, and DNA swabbed during a hospital exam was stored in a rape kit. When the kit finally was tested 24 years later, DNA was added to the FBI's Combined DNA Index System and produced a hit on Joseph Houston Jr.

"Four months after he kidnapped and raped me, he attempted to do the same with another young lady and a security guard chased him off," Bart said.

Houston was sentenced in 1985 for kidnapping and served 19 of 50 years. His DNA was taken while in prison, even as Bart's rape kit sat forgotten. He eventually was released but now is serving a 20-year sentence in Texas for indecency with a child.

"He could not be prosecuted for his crime against me. The statute of limitations was only five years at the time of my assault," Bart said. "DNA evidence is tested quickly following a murder, but is not always when a woman has been raped by a stranger."

About 55 percent of victims never report being raped, according to Scott Berkowitz, president of the Washington D.C.-based nonprofit Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network.

"When they see stories like this, that's even more discouragement for them," he said.

Helena Lazaro also fell through the cracks. She was kidnapped at knifepoint at a self-car wash in 1996 near her Los Angeles County home. For six hours, the 17-year-old was repeatedly raped.

"I did my rape kit. It was just terrible," said Lazaro, now 32. "It was very impersonal. The doctor disregarded my wishes and examined parts of my body I asked him not to. The police questioned me at the same time.

"They asked, 'Why were you at the car wash at night? Are you sure you didn't know him? Are you sure you didn't want it?'"

Over time, Lazaro wanted to know the status of the case, but investigators stopped returning her calls.

With the help of the Peace Over Violence advocacy group, she learned in 2009 that her kit was not tested until 2003. Charles Courtney was in jail for another crime when the kit was tested. He is serving a 25-year sentence in Ohio for another rape. When that's completed, Courtney will serve time in California for raping her, Lazaro said.

Natasha Alexenko was 20 when she was raped and robbed at gunpoint in 1993 in her New York City apartment building. She submitted to a rape kit which "sat on a shelf collecting dust for nine and a half years," said Alexenko, the founder of Natasha's Justice Project, which advocates for rape victims.

In 2007, a sample from Victor Rondon matched the DNA from Alexenko's rape. He is serving 25 to 50 years.

"I felt re-victimized knowing nothing had happened to my kit," Alexenko said. ( Associated Press )

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How Much the 'Fiscal Cliff' Will Cost You

How Much the 'Fiscal Cliff' Will Cost You - It sounds pretty abstract: If Congress doesn't deal with a bunch of controversial tax and spending decisions by the end of the year, something bad will happen to the economy. But the odds are, negotiators in Washington will come up with some kind of last-minute deal that averts disaster.

That's the general narrative relating to the "fiscal cliff," which means the whole ordeal might come and go with no real effect on ordinary Americans. But there are other worrisome possibilities. Congress could temporarily let a huge set of tax hikes and spending cuts go into effect at the start of 2013, as scheduled, while planning to rescind them later in the year, once the next Congress is seated. Or, Republicans and Democrats could split the difference and allow some of those measures to take effect. There's also the chance that Congress could botch the whole thing--with partisan bickering standing in the way of any kind of deal--and torpedo the entire economy.

The tax hikes and spending cuts due to take effect total more than $600 billion per year--with tax hikes accounting for most of that. So while the policies under debate are somewhat arcane, the outcome could lead to tax hikes for virtually every American if Congress plunges over the fiscal cliff, even temporarily.

The nonpartisan Tax Policy Center says that if all the scheduled tax increases occur, the average household would have to fork over an extra $3,400 to Uncle Sam next year. Here's the average hike taxpayers would face, broken down by income group:
  • Lowest fifth of households (average income: $11,239): $412
  • Second-lowest fifth (average income: $29,204): $1,231
  • Middle fifth (average income: $49,842): $1,984
  • Second-highest fifth (average income: $80,080): $3,540
  • Highest fifth (average income: $178,020): $14,173
  • Top 1 percent (average income: about $1.3 million): $120,537
The biggest hit for most people would come from the expiration of the 2001 and 2003 tax cuts, which would raise income-tax rates for everybody by 3 to 5 percentage points, depending on the tax bracket. Those changes alone would raise the tax rate for a family earning $80,000 from 25 percent to 28 percent, resulting in about $1,450 worth of new taxes.

But there are at least nine different tax hikes due to go into effect in 2013, which is why few taxpayers would escape the noose. For the lowest fifth of earners, the biggest change would be the expiration of temporary tax cuts that were originally passed as part of the 2009 stimulus plan and then extended through 2012. The end of those breaks would raise the tax bill of the lowest quintile by about $329 per year. Other scheduled tax hikes include higher rates on capital gains and other investment income, a lower threshold for the estate tax, and a new tax on high earners to help pay for the Obama healthcare reforms.

Congress can rescind some or all of those, which will be a big part of the negotiations between Capitol Hill and the White House over the next several weeks. But doing so would perpetuate Washington's huge budget deficits and continue to erode investor confidence in the stability of the government's finances. So it's likely that at least a few of the scheduled tax hikes will actually happen. Taxpayers who aren't paying attention to the fiscal cliff probably will be soon. ( US news )

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Why Men Like Petraeus Risk It All to Cheat

Why Men Like Petraeus Risk It All to Cheat - An admitted affair has crumbled the career of CIA Director David Petraeus, prompting the evergreen question: Why do people with so much to lose risk it all for sex?

In the last few years alone, several public figures, from former Rep. Anthony Weiner to action star and former California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, have admitted to straying from their marital vows. In Petraeus' case, a miscalculation of risk may have contributed to the decision to cheat, psychologists say.

"People tend to underestimate how quickly small risks mount up" because of repeated exposure to those risks, said Baruch Fischhoff, a professor of social and decision science at Carnegie Mellon University. "You do something once and you get away with it — certain things you're probably going to get away with — but you keep doing them often enough, eventually the risk gets pretty high."
Now-retired U.S. Army Gen. David Petraeus addresses service members during a reenlistment ceremony at Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan, July 4, 2011 before he left the military to head the CIA.

Even so, men can become blind to risk at the sight of an attractive woman, and from an evolutionary perspective, cheating can be a positive mechanism for ensuring gene survival, regardless of risk, scientists say.

Military affairs
Petraeus, a retired four-star general, resigned his post as CIA Director on Friday (Nov. 9), admitting to an affair with Paula Broadwell, his biographer. Twenty years the general's junior, Broadwell had close access to Petraeus for several years, but their affair reportedly did not start until after he left the military in 2011.

A West Point graduate, Broadwell is a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army Reserves. She reportedly bonded with Petraeus over physical activity, going on runs with him and remaining a close confidant after Petraeus' military career ended.

That time together likely contributed to the intimacy between Petraeus and Broadwell, said Frank Farley, a Temple University psychologist, just as many people begin affairs after getting close in the workplace.

Petraeus is not the first high-ranking military man to have an affair, said Farley, who is also a past president of the American Psychological Association. Famously gruff World War II general George Patton had an affair with his wife's step-niece. General Douglas MacArthur had a mistress named Isabel Rosario Cooper, whom he met in the Philippines.

And General Dwight D. Eisenhower, later president, may have had an affair with his World War II chauffer, Kay Summersby, according to the woman's memoirs and some suggestive letters left behind after both parties died.

"The nation should not be surprised at Petraeus having an affair," Farley told LiveScience.

Leaders like Petraeus tend to be bold risk-takers, Farley said, a personality trait that is very helpful when leading soldiers into battle. The same trait may make these leaders more likely to take risks in their personal lives, as well.

Broadwell may have some of the same risk-taking traits as the former director. In a January interview with The Charlotte Observer, Broadwell, who is also married, called herself and her husband "adventure junkies."

Risk versus reward
Still, Petraeus' 38-year marriage and his career were at stake in his decision to pursue an affair. Extramarital liaisons are especially risky for CIA employees with access to classified information, because an affair can leave the person open to blackmail.

There are also concerns that Broadwell could have gotten classified information from Petraeus. For example, in a speech in Denver in October, Broadwell brought up details about the U.S. Consulate attack in Benghazi that may not have been public knowledge, according to The Daily Beast.

With risks like that on the line, could an extramarital affair be worth it? As it turns out, men may become blind to risk when an attractive woman enters the picture. One 2008 study found that men who played blackjack after seeing beautiful female faces took more risks than men who played the game after seeing unattractive faces.

This was true if the men were highly motivated in seeking new sexual partners. The blackjack risks seemed calculated to impress potential mates, study researcher Michael Baker, now a professor at Eastern Carolina University, told LiveScience.

More germane to high-profile affairs, Baker said, the risk of losing one's career or reputation is nothing compared with the evolutionary drive to reproduce. In that sense, while embarking on an affair may seem dumb, it actually shows something called "mating intelligence."

"These individuals have these very high-status, high-power positions, and the whole idea behind why people might be motivated to get these positions is because it gives them better access to resources that could be used to increase their reproductive success and attract more mates," Baker said.

Until the last few decades, extramarital affairs wouldn't have put a crimp in the careers of high-profile men, Baker said. It's only recently that men have been subject to the consequences of infidelity. And, of course, monogamy is often a lofty ideal.

"The human race has had thousands of years of problems with monogamy," Farley said. "The problems have not been resolved." ( )

READ MORE - Why Men Like Petraeus Risk It All to Cheat

Man with Romney face tattoo ‘disappointed’ with election results

Man with Romney face tattoo ‘disappointed’ with election results - Eric Hartsburg was confident that Mitt Romney would win the election. Perhaps a little too confident. In the weeks leading up to Romney's showdown with President Barack Obama, Hartsburg had the Romney campaign logo tattooed on his face. (No, he wasn't even promised a position in Romney's Cabinet.)

Hartsburg didn't do it for free. Via eBay, he raised thousands of dollars to get the tattoo. The 30-year-old professional wrestler from Indiana said, "I am a registered Republican and a Romney supporter. I didn't mind getting this tattoo because it is something that I could live with and it's something that I believe in."

Man with Romney 'R' tattoo disappointed with election. (Eric Hartsburg/Facebook)

But that was before the election. Romney lost, and now Hartsburg isn't happy with his new ink. "Totally disappointed, man," Hartsburg told Politico. "I'm the guy who has egg all over his face, but instead of egg, it's a big Romney/Ryan tattoo. It's there for life."

The tattoo isn't subtle. At around 10 square inches, the ink can't be covered up without help from a ski mask (or maybe a wrestler's mask). Several weeks before the election, Hartsburg told ABC News, "In the beginning it was done for gags and publicity, but now I see it as a way to encourage young people to vote. We have so many rights that we don't utilize and young people need to exercise that right." Hartsburg also told ABC News that he got some weird looks. "A lot of people look at me and think I am the boogeyman."

Still, according to Politico, he isn't too broken up about Romney's loss. "I'm a tattoo guy, and it was something fun," he said. "I was trying to make politics fun. I didn't change no lives; I'm no hero. But I shed blood for this campaign, and I'm glad to know that I did all that I could." ( The Sideshow )

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