Professor Popinjay's Compendium of Perspicacity

Rachel Ruppert asks:
How many licks does it take to get to the center of the tootsie pop?

Dear Rachie Rollpop,
The question has driven scientists mad since 1969. But have they sacrificed their sanity for the right reasons? Obviously there are more beneficial fields of science toward which a scientist may devote his or her time and energy. I’m fairly sure the ultimate discovery of how many licks it actually takes is not going to revolutionize the scientific community.
“We’ve finally figured it out folks! No longer must we commit ourselves to a lollypop without prior knowledge of the full ramifications of said commitment. Science may now resume its regularly scheduled progress into the next obvious field: How many teeth can we bust on a Big Hunk?”
Many scientific organizations, colleges, and even middle schools have blown your tax money in an attempt to tackle this question, apparently dissatisfied with the incomplete conclusions of Mr. Owl. I can’t say I blame them. If you don’t remember the original commercial (and if you were fully engaged in 1960’s activities then you probably don’t), a young animated lad asks several animals how many licks it takes to get to the freaking center of this crazy whacked-out Tootsie Pop. The commercial is done in that campy impressionistic psychedelic water-color style that makes you feel like you’re watching a short from School House Rock except you learn NOTHING. After inquiring unto a variety of brain-dead quadrupeds, eventually Mr. Turtle suggests asking Mr. Owl as he is the wisest of us despite the fact that he has no peripheral vision… a necessary requisite for wisdom.
Why is the owl the wisest? Let me nip that question in the bud right now. Mr. Owl has been regarded as wise in many cultures partly because of his association with the half-blind Athena, Greek Goddess of wisdom, and partly because of his ability to keep Mrs. Owl happy despite his occupation as a bizarre kind of service animal.
Researchers and bird-trainers have decided owl’s are not wise because instead of allowing themselves to be trained in performing menial tasks such a fetching and speaking, owls just sit there on their perch looking obstinate. Conversely, this information leads me to conclude that owl’s are very wise indeed. If you promised an intelligent human friend a cracker for retrieving a recently thrown ball would you regard that friend as intelligent if they complied? No, you would not, especially if they came back wagging their butts with the ball in their mouth. Likewise, owls cannot be trained because they are too dignified. They say, “Screw you and your stupid cracker. If you wanted the ball then you shouldn’t have thrown it, moron!”
But like all long-winded explanations, none of this is important. The very fact that the owl was chosen as the authority on matters of licking is ludicrous. This is an animal that eats ferrets whole. ‘Nuff said. Back to the commercial, the boy submits the question to Mr. Owl to which he responds by suggesting an experiment. Mr. Owl takes the boy’s lollipop, licks once and counts one, licks twice and counts two, licks a third time and counts three, then bites into the lollipop and hands a bare stick back to the boy. “Three” says the Owl. By this, many people assume the owl is clearly not as smart as the characters originally believed but Mr. Owl just got himself a free lollipop! Not only is Mr. Owl wise, he’s a friggin’ jerk! This is precisely why I have presented Mr. Owl with an honorary scholarship to The Popinjay Institute for Disdainful Know-it-Alls. Welcome to the Family.
In his quest for useless knowledge, an endeavor I fully endorse, the cartoon boy speaks to a cow, a fox, and a turtle. I suppose the cow might have a bit of a reputation for licking. I have seen video footage of a cow licking her own butt, an endeavor I do NOT endorse publicly. Incidentally, she was more blind than Athena. My point is, did the boy ask a pangolin or an anteater, two animals whose conical tongues measure in at around two feet? No. Did he ask the chameleon, whose sticky tongue can be up to 1.5 times its own body length? No, he did not. What about asking a blue whale? Their tongues can weight up to 2.7 tons. How would you like to French-kiss with a tongue bigger and heavier than a sports utility vehicle? I know, me too. But did the boy ask a whale? No. And you know what? Who freaking gives a rip? We don’t want to know how long it takes a whale to get to the center of a tootsie pop. How many human licks are the equivalent of one whale lick? If the whale had concluded “three” that would have made sense. But still nobody would care. We don’t care about animals eating candy. That candy is for us as much as Trix are for kids, silly whale.
Next, in come the scientists with an army of extremely enthusiastic volunteers and fully operational licking machines. That’s right, I said licking machines. Now, right off the bat I could think of a thousand and one great uses for a licking machine none of which include math! That’s why I’m not a scientist. Not once did it occur to any of these scientists to use their licking machines for pranks or getting dates. What a sad life these people lead. I’d love to spend the rest of this blog writing about the licking machine but that’s exactly what I’m going to do. While volunteer lickers have reported averages ranging from 144 to 250 licks to get to the center, assuming by “center” they mean the tootsie roll core and not the dead center of the lollipop sphere. No research I’ve perused has thought to specify this determination, surprisingly as it seems rather crucial. The Tootsie Roll Industries Website asks the question “Have you made it to the center?” and offers the “Clean Stick” award to those who have. I’m not a linguist (pun intended) but that seems to imply the center is not just the tootsie stuff but indeed the very center, so get your tongues back out and finish the job you lazy lickers! The licking machines, on the other hand, have had averages ranging from 364 to 411 licks, once again proving that if we don’t care how long it takes an animal to lick its way to the center we sure as spit ain’t gonna give a hoot about how many licks it takes a sexy robot.
Speaking of spit, do these machines have the equivalent of our saliva? While the enzymes in saliva are mainly meant for dissolving food stuffs, its been noted by some studies that saliva will corrode metals but very VERY slowly so don’t try licking your way into a bank vault. Researchers from New York University and Florida State University developed a theory for how flowing liquid dissolves and shrinks material and from my own observations apparently they decided “licks” would be the term of measurement for this process. For Tootsie Pops these researchers reported a whopping 2,500 licks, proving that they clearly have no idea what they’re talking about!
I like what Al Roker said in response to this information, “…I think most people suck!” That’s pretty much how I feel about it.

-Professor Popinjay