As Russian authorities try to identify 29 mummified women "dressed as life-sized dolls" in the home of accused graverobber Anatoly Moskvin, the press is having a field day.

As scrutiny of intra-protester violence and sexual assault at various Occupy Wall Street protests around the country increases, a man was found dead at Occupy New Orleans' protest site. He was apparently dead for two days.

The Air Force's mortuary affairs department—those elite professionals who oversee the return of our nation's war dead with solemn reverence at Dover Air Force Base—has lost body parts of dead airmen on at least two occasions, according to a new government report.

Freshman 15! Conjoined twins! Breast milk! Wino diet! Lonely sleepers! Yoga pain! Soda targeting! Cold flu! And some health facts just aren't funny! It's your Tuesday Health Watch, where we watch your health—supportively!

Today's New York Times features a contribution from Steve Jobs' sister, the novelist Mona Simpson: the eulogy she gave at her brother's funeral. It's one of the better things we've read in the wake of Jobs' death—if we have to read platitudes, we'd rather they be written by someone who knew and loved him personally—and in it Simpson writes about her brother's final hours:

We can think of so many reasons why you should never, ever abuse your wife while she's driving (or engaging in any other activity, really), but here's a very good, common-sense one: You might cause a fatal accident. Fatal to you!

Everyone has been waiting to see what the Scotland Yard's inquest into Amy Winehouse's death finds, and the Yard is finally done with writing the report. But—oops!—they mailed it to the wrong address by accident.

I've got news for you: everything you're doing to keep yourself healthy is worthless. Well, by "you" I mean "people who do yoga and take vitamins and generally try to be healthy." I know you just sit around on the internet all day. The point is: it doesn't matter, because you're wasting your time either way.

If you're the kind of person who likes to casually drop Debbie Downer statistics into your holiday party conversations, here's some new data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that will certainly be of interest to you: 8 million adults reported considering suicide at some point between 2008 and 2009, and 2 million actually made plans to do it.

Reality TV has certainly dabbled in ancient embalming practices before — Paula Abdul immediately springs to mind — but never, to my knowledge, has it been taken quite to these extremes. A terminally ill man with a longheld fascination for Egyptian burial rites donated his body to a documentary series about mummification on Britain's Channel 4.

A new biography of Vincent van Gogh, which is getting a featured segment on 60 Minutes this weekend, posits that the post-Impressionist master didn't commit suicide by shooting himself in the abdomen, as previously believed.

Cholesterol diabeetus! Docto procto! Death surgery! Concussion athletes! Cantaloupe killers! Cell harvest! Cialis excuses! Man breasts! And you monkeys won't get away with this, after all! It's your Friday Health Watch, where we watch your health—on the real!

So, Steve Jobs is dead. A tech genius has passed on. Sad. Certainly a devastating loss to Steve Jobs' close friends and family members, as well as to Apple executives and shareholders. The rest of you? Calm down.

Have you been under the impression that now, a decade after 9/11, you could stop fearing the ubiquitous Mysterious White Powder that could—at any moment—come spilling out of a nearby envelope, forcing you to evacuate your office? Wrong!

One thing you can say about Robert James Moore, whose skeleton was discovered this week on a small island in St. James Park near Buckingham Palace: He died doing what he loved. Stalking Queen Elizabeth II.

What's new "on campus" these days? Guns! Guns, guns, guns. The college experience is no longer considered complete without a firearm to accompany you all over campus. Don't be a victim—of enemies of the Second Amendment!

Gawker friend Aaron Jamison—who approached his own terminal cancer with a wry and sometimes morbid sense of joy, starting with his plan to sell ads on his own cremation urn to help defray the costs of his medical bills—passed away last weekend. His wife Kristin has written an appreciation of her husband that can be read here. Aaron's blog, in all of its inspirational glory, can still be found here.

Terminal cancer patient Aaron Jamison has hung on longer than anyone expected. We first met him last year, when he was selling ad space on his cremation urn in order to help his soon-to-be-widowed wife pay the bills. You, the generous Gawker readership, helped them out. Earlier this summer, we heard that Aaron did not have much time left. He's made it this far, but his situation is grave.

Cancer sex! Coffee women! Insurance cost! Doctor complaints! Fatherhood hearts! Diarrhea pools! Killer cantaloupes! Sleepy teens! And cheese is coming to take your soul to hell! It's your Tuesday Health Watch, where we watch your health—inappropriately!

It's just not good enough to kill them, in Texas. Because following last night's execution of Lawrence Brewer, a white supremacist who killed a black man by dragging his body from the back of his pick-up truck and eventually severed his head, the Texas Department of Criminal Justice has decided to stop granting special "last meals" to those being executed. Brewer's meal, see, was over-the-top!