The real science behind the Merc with a Mouth

Surprise! It’s the one and only Wade Wilson, reporting for duty. Expecting yet another wordy listicle (go on, say “listicle” out loud ten times really fast and try to stop yourself from giggling like a maniac) from some dumb kid who writes about dinosaurs all the time? Well, today’s your lucky day, because I’m here to give you the D! (That “D” stands for “Deadpool.” Get your mind out of the gutter.)

^{Suddenly, a TRAILER!}

You might be wondering what I’m doing here. Well, aside from the fact that our ad budget for my new movie (watch it, but don’t bring your kids with you!) has been stretched beyond its limits—which means I’ve had to resort to taking odd jobs for extra dough—Weasel asked me to take a break from staring at pictures of Bea Arthur to give science buffs and comic book geeks out there a shoutout.

I mean, you guys love this stuff, right? Obsessing about how real-world science affects totally fictional characters, with all your trading cards and power charts and action figures.

Freaking nerds.

Anyway, we need to sell more tickets so I that can keep breaking records and make fun of the Fantastic Four some more at the Fox offices, so here I am, the Merc with a Marketing Agenda (and a five-minute-old degree in “Legitimate Sciencing” and “Totally Not Just Reading Wikipedia”).

A bit of background on me:

I was created in 1991 by Fabian Nicieza, a “professional” comic book writer—call me when this hack gets an actual job, HA!—and Rob Liefeld, an artist-turned-Levi’s-endorser who can’t draw feet to save his life.

I started out just like any other comics character in the ‘90s: overly muscled, crosshatched to hell, and armed to the teeth with pouches. Oh, and I also look like a steamed head of cabbage with a face Sharpie’d on it.

Basically, my inherent talkativeness and costume similar to a certain friendly neighborhood webslinger’s were the only two things that I had going for me back then. Nowadays, though, that number has been bumped up to seven - and the fun part is, I can relate all of them to science, justifying the existence of this article (and thus, my paycheck). Sweet!

1. Neural damage - the permanent kind

Now, I’ve been called many names throughout my entire career by meanies who (sniff) just don’t get me. Neurotic, schizophrenic, demented… the long list of What-Do-We-Call-Wade-Today goes on. Actually, I think it’s more accurate to call me ‘psychotic’ — if you’re going to insult me, at least do it right.

The reason why I’m like this is because my cells heal at a superhuman rate. Thanks to comic book science, this also causes my brain cells to heal way too fast, making my marbles scatter faster than a crowd that just had a Nickelback album blasted at them. This is also why I’m able to break the fourth wall, which allows me to address you, the reader, directly… and to enjoy the confused look on Spider-Man’s face whenever I ask him about how he co-founded Facebook.

Still reading? Good, because this is the part where I try to sound all scientist-like.

Researchers have recently identified three neurologically unique biotypes of psychosis.

Biotype 1 patients turned out to be the most handicapped, with schizophrenia, severe brain damage, and poor cognition and eye coordination topping their “Why My Life Sucks” lists.

Biotype 2 folks fared slightly better, but were also shown to be more likely to get depressed, be hyperactive, or act manic.

Meanwhile, bipolar folks fell under Biotype 3 which, incidentally, was the least impaired of the three.

Me? I think I’m a combination of all three, with a couple extra helpings of Biotype 2.

^{You think I was making up that part about Rob being a Levi’s endorser? Oh, how I wish. And yes, this is me trying to give you brain damage right now.}

2. Unpredictable fighting style

I think most of my opponents hate my guts just because they can’t predict what I’ll do next. I’m guessing that makes me a tough enemy to fight, but hey, what do I know? I’m just the guy whom Gambit once tried to pay off because he didn’t think he’d win. Chew on that, Channing Tatum!

Believe it or not, there’s a precise science behind throwing a punch. Actually, there’s plenty of science that goes into fighting. Heck, even nature’s in on it, letting us evolve to become better at beating the crap out of each other.

But unfortunately for the poor saps who have to fight me, there’s hardly any science, rhyme, or reason behind my fighting style. They can’t read my moves, period.

It’s like being in a televised debate with a person who opens with “Potato elbow vasectomy SPOON!” and proceeds to pull your pants down: nobody understands exactly what happened, you suddenly feel very embarrassed, and everyone realizes that they just wasted their time.

I’m like a fighting game AI set to “Insane”: you’ll have to pull out your best super-combos—mashing the hell out of those sexy, sexy buttons in the process—if you want to beat me.

Oh, by the way, do you know how hard it is to actually pull off a videogame-style super-combo in real life? Check it out for yourself:

^{Fun fact: I also do a mean shoryuken. Just ask Wolverine.}

3. Teleportation

The power to disappear and instantly reappear somewhere else: It’s every Star Trek nerd’s wet dream, and I’m dangling the key to it right above my naughty bits, right on my belt buckle.

At different points in my career, I’ve used a wide assortment of teleportation devices, allowing me to Nightcrawler my way in and out of battle, always be on time for movies, and “accidentally” drop in on Psylocke whenever she’s taking a shower.

In the real world, the farthest scientists have gotten is quantum teleportation, which involves teleporting photons through fibre optics (and is a lot more complicated than it sounds). This isn’t quite the same as the concept of teleportation that science fiction has spoiled you with, but it’s still pretty interesting: due to a phenomenon called quantum entanglement, subatomic particles can influence each other instantly, regardless of the distance between them.

(There’s a Valentine’s Day metaphor in there somewhere, but I’m too distracted by the idea of Psylocke taking a shower to care enough to find it.)

Now, for the million-dollar question: Will all of humanity be able to teleport someday?

I’m not sure about the answer to that, but I do know that when we eventually master teleportation, obesity rates are going to spike.

And it’s going to be HILARIOUS.

^{Uncertainty Principle my butt. He should just stick to making drugs. Oh wait, wrong Heisenberg.}

4. Sense of humor (and lots of swearing)

As weird uncles, your neighbor, and Reader’s Digest all like to say, laughter is the best medicine. Now, to take that statement literally is about ninety-seven shades of stupid—seriously, do us all a favor and go read some freaking National Geographic—and even considering that should make you feel bad.

Still, even though it doesn’t stop you from getting sick or cure whatever it is you may already have, it’ll definitely help you get by.

See, making fun of life is what stops me from noticing that life seems to like making fun of me. What my sense of humor doesn’t stop me from doing, however, is saying things that would make any nun blush and slap me repeatedly on the wrist with a thick ruler.

Actually, I think swearing just gets a really bad rap in the media. Swearing’s pretty useful— it makes stories more interesting, jokes more hilarious, and stress much easier to handle.

Why, whenever I get shot in the leg or run over by a truck, the pain goes away after a few minutes of flapping my sailor mouth. As some psychologist-slash-Liberal Arts guy said, swearing “allows us to vent or express anger, joy, surprise, happiness,” adding that “it’s like the horn on your car, you can do a lot of things with that, it's built into you.”

A horn that’s built into you. Really. Oh, I know what to do with MY built-in horn.

Man, this stuff writes itself.

^{Here, have a video of me kicking some Mandalorian butt in a rap battle. I totally won this one.}

5. Accelerated healing factor

I won’t deny it: joining the not-so-secret government experiment that turned me into this is way up there with Nazism, talk shows, and the Nae Nae song on the list of humanity’s most terrible decisions.

Hell, the best thing that came out of it—my super-awesome healing factor, for readers out there who haven’t been paying attention—turned out to be a double-edged sword: While it does keep my cancer at bay (more on that in a minute or two!), it also made my handsome mug go bye-bye and permanently replaced it with the Michelin Man’s butt.

At first, I didn’t fully understand why my regeneration powers seem hell-bent on making me hate mirrors. I mean, lizards, starfish, and salamanders don’t end up with elongated raisins when they regrow body parts, right?

Then again, this isn’t so bad—after all, I’m one of the few human beings who can grow a lost limb like it’s nobody’s business.

That’s not to say that the rest of humanity can’t regenerate, though; actually, mammals DO replace and regrow lost skin, muscle, and blood. Those brainy guys in lab coats think that the reason why humanity’s ability to regenerate is switched off is because of our relatively more advanced biological makeup.

This makes it a lot harder for our bodies to control the growth of our rather complex organs and body systems, which also means that we need to curb the growth of stubborn cells that are likely to spiral out of control if left unchecked.

Unfortunately, it’s these same cells—let’s call them “pluripotent”, because it sounds really fancy—that allow lower level organisms and invertebrates to regenerate. Now, salamanders don’t use pluripotent cells in regeneration, and we’re still trying to figure out why. Still, it’s interesting how it’s the animals without backbones who have the ability to regrow lost body parts.

Waitaminute, did I just accidentally insult myself AND Wolverine in one sentence?

^{Insert wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey Doctor Who reference about regeneration here.}

6. Cancer

As terrible a person as I am, I just can’t make fun of cancer, unless it’s that emo My Chemical Romance song we’re talking about. Besides, cancer’s the main reason why I’m stuck with this hamburger face in the first place; my healing factor’s the only thing that keeps my cancer at bay, and it’s the same thing that caused (and continues to cause) my horrible scarring.

Funny, right?

The very thing that’s keeping me alive is the same thing that makes me want to hide under a rock and die.

Crap, I think that’s enough My Chemical Romance for me today.

As I was saying, I think cancer’s a serious issue, and that cancer patients tend to have it worse than most. I guess it takes one to know one. If you find it depressing how this disease is responsible for almost 15% of all the deaths in the world, you can at least take comfort in the fact that we haven’t stopped fighting it.

For example, scientists are developing a ten-minute saliva test that you can take at home: it can tell you that you have a tumor as soon as the little bugger shows up. Major medical and research institutions are also teaming up to give this silent killer a death sentence once and for all.

^{Just… Just watch the video. I’m still trying to recover from my depression. Damn you, Gerard Way.}

Okay, back to innuendos and inappropriate jokes.

7. Katanas, guns, and other weapons

I’ve got a pretty large arsenal of murder things at my disposal. Grenades, rocket launchers, knives, rubber chickens, a fruitcake from 1996 - you name it, I probably have dozens of it. I can talk (and shoot) you to death with my guns, and we can spend all day talking about ballistics and why I think kids wouldn’t fall asleep in algebra class if you replaced trains in math problems with bullets. My favorite WMDs (Weapons of Mister Deadpool), however, are my katanas.

Contrary to what you may believe, there’s actually a lot of effort that goes into forging katanas; it’s definitely not just “sharpen a long piece of metal, slap a handle on and call it a day.” The most lethal katanas are the result of forging two metals—a high-carbon outer sheath and a low-carbon inner core, comprised of either pure electrolytic iron, oxygen-free iron, or tamahagane (pig iron)—into a 24- to 30-inch-long blade that is strong, durable, and most importantly, repairable.

My katanas, however, are made of Carbonadium, which is a totally made-up metal in your world. Sorry!

^{That’s it - I’m naming my iPhone “Bill.”}

There, that list pretty much covers the scientific reasons why I’m awesome. If you’re having trouble remembering all of them, you can turn them into an acronym.

Hey, if Samuel L. Jackson can have S.H.I.E.L.D. (Strategic Helipad Iguana Eyepatch… ah, whatever, just Google it), I get to have my own fancy set of letters, too!

Hmm, how's about D.E.A.D.P.O.O.L.... Dead... uh, Extreme And Deadly... ah, poop... — TJD, GMA News