So here we are again, witnessing the isochronal cavalcade of embarrassment that is GQ's annual 'Rock Stars of Science' feature. Like a puppy trying to hump a leg, the idea is simple, and probably a bit wrong.

The concept arises from the tedious modern worship of even the most minor celebrities, paired with the idea that standing next to somebody cool can make you cool - a hypothesis comprehensively debunked by Tony Blair in 1997. From that, GQ extrapolate that making scientists pose awkwardly in the background of photos of rock stars, like morons in the background of a news report, is a great way to promote science and scientists.

Before I start ranting (and you lose interest), let me just show you this picture that I stumbled across the other day, to set the scene:

"Pete Conrad inspects Surveyor 3. Conrad's own spaceship, the Intrepid, can be seen 200 yards away in the background." (NASA)

This is a picture of two spacecraft on the moon at the same time, taken by astronauts who have walked from one to the other. If you don't understand why this is one of the coolest things you will ever see, then you really aren't cool, in fact you're the opposite of cool. You are to cool what Dan Brown is to literature.

In contrast, the images published by GQ are not particularly cool, as a casual inspection of them shows. Take this example:

Two scientists disturb a picture of a rap artist.

Here we see a child rapper named Bob posing in front of two scientists; although given the lack of any sort of interaction or acknowledgement of each other, the image could just as easily have been Photoshopped. A caption indicates that he "gives his props to the docs," which is certainly very generous of the lad. The 'docs' in question are so important to GQ that they're in the background and one of them is out-of-focus, which is probably just as well as he appears to be distracted by something off camera.

'Bob' is apparently notable for his breakout hit Haterz Everywhere, which is clearly a clever satire on conspicuous consumption, making a powerful statement about the ability of successful capitalists to act above the law and oppress the common man:

Watch how you talk when you talk to the man

If it ain't about bread you can talk to da hand

I, I, Show you how to get rich

The game we on, I'll show you how to pitch

Made a play with a hit

And told the police I don't know bout shit

...and so on, it drivels.

In comparison to Bob, the scientists present are clearly under-achieving dullards. The guy on the right, Mehmet Toner, has more than a dozen medical inventions and some two hundred publications to his name, which he churns out while leading probably the finest biomedical research group on the planet. Stephen Baylin, the blurry guy in the background, is one of the top cancer research scientists alive, and his work in epigenetics may lead to treatments for faulty genes in cancer cells that can prevent the disease or halt it in its tracks.

In any case, the effect the photos create is reminiscent of depictions of court jesters in art, with the scientists presented as the fools - awkward, out of place, relegated to the shadows from where they gaze upon the true 'stars'.

Leaving aside the photographs' demerits, the choice of 'rock docs' is interesting. Of the seventeen scientists featured 3 are women, none are younger than middle age, and ten are grey, although mercifully only four have facial hair. Where are the women? Where are the post-docs? Where are the role models for the young men who buy a magazine like GQ?

And why single out individuals in the first place? To my mind the whole concept of 'rock stars' in science seems to reinforce an image of an enterprise dominated by individual genius rather than collaborative effort. The concept of a 'rock star' in celebrity culture is an egotistical conceit fed by personality worship, but surely a tribute to science should recognize the importance of the wider team. In that respect, a sports analogy is probably more apt.

The descriptions aren't exactly riveting either, as Tara Smith points out. Here's a sample quote from GQ's description of the research of Frank Douglas:

"My research area was hypertension with specific focus on how biogenic amines and small neuropeptides in the brain influence peripheral cardiovascular function. After joining the Pharmaceutical Industry (Ciba Geigy) I initially became responsible for the Phase 2a clinical trials and ADME zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzwkjdoafefjefijeijfidjfdfjdjfjj."

Oh I'm sorry, I fell asleep on the keyboard. As Tara puts it, "really?? I'm a scientist, and just reading that even made *my* eyes glaze over." Could the editors not have provided more reader-friendly explanations?

I could be wrong. Maybe this is a good way of reaching out to people. Maybe GQ's readers are getting out their dictionaries and picking through those descriptions, stopping occasionally to stare at the blurry, bearded interloper in the background of Bob's photograph. And maybe those readers are now more inspired by science as a result. If so, I'd like to see some evidence of it - maybe a poll of readers?

But I still can't help but feel that if you have to resort to rockstars make science cool, you're really not very good at communicating science. Because science is way cooler than rock stars. And if you still don't believe me, here's a picture of the Sun. Taken at night. Through the Earth (explanation here).

The Sun at night, imaged by detecting neutrinos passing through the Earth.

Bazinga.