We Are All Monkeys

Or more accurately, apes.

One of the most brilliant media commentaries on just who we really are: The Monkeys
..... are us.

"Attention! There are monkey boys in the facility!!"
(anyone know this movie reference? )

In the Age of Politically Correct

I watched with trepidation this Age blossom and pollinate over the last twenty-plus years. Now its seeds are growing all over the world. In several places, it has become a noxious weed.

Even the term ‘Politically Correct’ has been deemed politically incorrect. It’s “offensive’. I still haven’t quite determined who is offended by it and why. But I am astute enough to note the furrowed eyebrows and tight lips when it is mentioned.

Mick Hume, an editor of spiked online of the UK, aptly coined it “The Age of Intolerant Tolerance”.

“The pattern goes like this. Tony Blair says that we have to meet the extremist threat by 'championing our values of freedom, tolerance and respect for others'. Then his ministers announce new plans to criminalise 'indirect incitement' of terrorism, along with tougher proposals to outlaw 'incitement to religious hatred'.

The government must have a different dictionary than I do. Mine defines tolerance as 'broad-mindedness' or 'permitting free expression of views one does not share'. In the Whitehall Newspeak edition, however, tolerance appears to mean the opposite. In order to defend our tolerant society we apparently have to ban views that most people do not share. Welcome to the age of intolerant tolerance.”

Hume’s new label is apposite for this growing weed. The UK is not the only fertile soil for its growth. Pervasive here in the US, it permeates through every faction of our society, even in science. And our government condones or secretively encourages it, as long as it is to their advantage.

How do we turn the tide? Start with yourself, your neighbors, coworkers, friends, newspapers, local societies and committees. Start with the grass roots. Prolific, strong and healthy grass eventually chokes weeds which dwindle down to form a balanced ecology. And the pasture thrives.

“We need to tolerate the 'free expression of views one does not share', in order that we can sort out the truth in the open, instead of trying to bury difficult issues beneath a pile of bans. Let everybody freely express their views - and let us all have the freedom ruthlessly to question, criticise and interrogate everything that is said, about everything from religion to race, from suicide bombings to British values. Now more than ever we need freedom of speech for a frank and 'broad-minded' debate about the sort of society we live in and where it is heading.”

Reiterating a quote from Voltaire:

“'Think for yourselves, and let others enjoy the privilege of doing so too.”

Too bad we have forgotten how to think for ourselves.

If I were Head of State.......

1. Everyone would be permitted to voice their opinions. That’s what they are: opinions. If they offend you, debate them intelligently, learn to filter them, or pull your head into your shell.
2. Everyone will have the right to make wrong decisions. Learn from the consequences. Or be eliminated from the gene pool.
3. Everyone is not created equal. We are not clones. Deal with it.
4. There will be more than two political parties. There are more than two ideologies; let’s have better representation.
5. All science funding will be deposited into a central fund and disseminated based upon merit, not on sexy biotechnology. The Good Ole’ Boy’s Club will be replaced by representatives from qualifying committees and societies.
6. Science journal impact factors will be negative numbers only.
7. Birth control will be distributed free and without discrimination.
8. A Stupidity Test will be a mandatory component of marriage licenses. Applicants that fail will be required to complete a high school diploma and classes in “How to Be a Functioning and Responsible Human Being” before reapplying.
9. A requirement of living with a potential spouse for two years must be satisfactorily fulfilled before applying for a marriage license. Applicants must also prove an established household income.
10. Separation between religion and state will be strictly enforced. There is no debate.
11. I reserve the right to add more to this list.

Natural

Ending yesterday's ride, I rode up the ramp on Red into the shop, turned off the engine and sat in the saddle for a long moment.

Removing my helmet, I told my friend Chris that I find more and more as I ride that I don't want to get off. His smiling eyes and face reflected a knowing understanding.

While reading* on the train this morning, I came across a passage that explains it all:

"Being on the machine seems more natural than being off it."

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert Persig.

Ghost Riders in the Sky

Nothing is as impressive and electrifying as, well, a Texas electrical storm. Lightening between the clouds on the horizon teases with a hint of impending powerful elements or titillates the visual senses with a tame lightshow. Close observation of the swiftly moving clouds may reveal the direction of the storm, but they can deceive as well as promise. Winds can suddenly shift, temperatures plummet, and barometric pressure swing wildly as a storm passes near or approaches.

I awoke in the middle of the night to a strong palpable smell of moisture and earth in the air. Arising from bed I watched lightening dance between the blue-black clouds in the northwest horizon. The still air and the haunting contrast of darkness blanketing the ground with the subtle flickering of light in the clouds presented a surreal world around me. Silence betrayed the distance of the storm and I returned to my slumber.

I was awoken again later in the night by a furtive wind, sneaking through the open windows and rustling the curtains. Lying in bed I pondered if my guest was an edge of the storm passing by or a harbinger of elemental fury. As if deliberately answering my questions, sudden gusts of wind shook the house and whipped through the windows. Anything light enough in the house and in the wind’s path scattered the floor like fallen soldiers beset by an army of omnipotent invisible beings.

Jumping from my warm bed, I was greeted by relentless and imbricating lightening and thunder, the light flashing all around me like strobe lights. Streaks of lightening seared through my vision, superimposed on the ground and the sky as if they were umbilical cords. I struggled against the wind to close the windows in the direct line of assault, leaving the opposite windows open to delight in the elemental fury upon me.

Standing in the middle of the house with the onslaught and fury of wind, rain, thunder and lightening surrounding me, electricity crept up my body, my skin tingled, my heart pounded harder with every close clap of thunder. Lightening strikes were close enough to deliver a luminance brighter than daylight albeit in a fraction of time and space. I felt like an immortal in a vortex of Nature’s chaos as the elements engulfed my senses.

As quickly as it descended, the storm passed me by. A gentle cleansing rain was left behind to clear the air and quiet the senses and heart. With a rhythmic and soft pattering on the windows and roof, I returned to a deep sleep and dreams.

Sure enough, Nature’s wild horses left me a reminder of their presence in the morning. I suspected during the night several strikes of lightening were close. Sure enough, the circuit board in my truck was blown.

Ah well. Horses leave behind roadside apples. Wild horses riding on the storm can leave behind mementos, too. Shit happens.

Buttology

First Scatology, now Buttology.
What's next? Penisology? Hmm......

Rear Admirable
David Holmes, a psychologist at Manchester Metropolitan University, insists that a good bum is key to attractiveness, and he's devised a formula that describes the ideal female buttocks. According to Holmes, maximizing ^{(S + C) x (B + F)}/_T - V makes for gluteal greatness. S is overall shape of the bottom, C is circularity (how spherical the butt is), B is resilience to bouncing and wobbling, F is touch firmness, T is skin texture and V is the vertical ratio or "pertness." Holmes added that a hip to waist ratio—waist size divided by hip size—of 0.7 is ideal for framing a woman's posterior.

Holmes found the formula by getting 2,000 British women to rate their own bottoms. In the shape category, those with a "trodden doughnut" got only one point, whereas those with a "small peach" scored the maximum five points. After compiling all the factors, a total of 80 points was labeled "perfection," whereas booties earning fewer than zero points were told to "stay indoors." But don't fear, saggy bottom girls, Holmes writes, "Failing all else, confidence and good conversation can sometimes distract attention, if not compensate for a 'bum deal' in the buttock lottery."

"Borrowed" from online Seed Magazine, New and Notable

The Honesty Meme

I came across a passage in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig that was an echo from my own past.

A brief converstaion between Pirsig's son, Chris, and he:
"Dad?"

"What?"

"What should I be when I grow up?"

I don't know what to say. "Honest," I finally say.

I recall asking my father the same question. I clearly remember his response:
"Whatever you want to do, whatever you want to be. But always be honest to yourself and to others."

I've tried hard to do just that, Dad. I've changed my mind a few times, but at least I'm honest about that.

If my daughter reads this, I want to tell her the same: always be honest with yourself and with others. And follow the path that has heart.

"Paranoia strikes deep.......

.....into your heart it will creep. Starts when you're always afraid. Step out of line, the Man comes and takes you away."

A flashback from the '60's. Yet history has a nasty habit of repeating itself.

The event of 911 evoked a rekindling of community, cooperation, altruism and cohesiveness amongst not only a city but a nation. It even expanded globally.

For a short time.

Then we 'reacted'. Since then, our country has degenerated into a nation of paranoia and fear in the guise of 'patriotism' and 'right'. Without an honest definition of each. In essence, the terrorists were successful. Look around you; read the papers, watch television, watch and talk to people. We are all afraid of ghosts. Mostly our own.

I mourn what we have lost, what we have become and what we could be.

The following is a small example that trickles down like acid rain on marble:
As a researcher in the medical field, disposable sterile scalpels are used in our labs for grossing tissues. I called to order a box of disposable scalpels from one of the largest scientific vendors in the country that has supplied most of the medical research and hospital labs here for years. Their reputation is impeccable.

I was informed that they were suddenly prohibited from shipping disposable scalpels by the federal government. They were waiting for 'approval' and I was encouraged to call back in 7-10 days. Two weeks later when I called to place the order, I was informed that the responsible federal bureau still had not released an 'approval' to ship disposable scalpels. With detectable frustration and apologies, they could offer no prediction of when that approval would be forthcoming.

I called another vendor that sells and ships medical supplies and was greeted with the same scenario.

We have become a nation of fear. We are afraid of ourselves.
We see ghosts and they don't even know they are ghosts.

Mad Scientists and Coffee

Early (very early) morning coffee with a few colleagues in the departmental office can be enlightening. We pondered several hypotheses of the origins and transmission of prion diseases (also known as transmissible spongiform encephalopathies (TSEs) for you pathologists) and how we can use that to control the deer overpopulation. We hypothesized that if deer cannibalize themselves a form of deer 'kuru' and chronic wasting disease (also associated with prions) would restore a population balance.

Tangenting into predictions of what life form will exist the longest on this planet, I posited that microbes will sit in their little habitats giggling at the extinction of the Big Two-appendaged Macrobes. Face it: humans are built 'wrong'. We don't excel at anything, but we are good, albeit slow, adaptionists. Regardless, we can't mutate fast enough to our own self-induced evolving habitat. Nor do we seem capable of seeing that we are destroying everything that gives us life on this planet. Perhaps our species will succumb to the same basic premise of habitat overpopulation dynamics and we will eat each other and die from kuru like the deer (anyone remember the movie Soylent Green?)

Contemplating the ultimate cure for all pathogenic illnesses, we narrowed it down to mucus membranes. Most pathogens gain passive entry into our body via our mucus membranes: our gut, mouth and nose. It provides moisture, nutrients, and an ideal cradle to multiply. Thus, we posited, if we don't eat, drink or breathe, we won't have to worry about getting sick! It is logical.

However, like good scientists, we need to test the hypothesis. We need more data. Our methodology is simple and falls within a NIH budget: duct tape. Now getting it beyond the ethics committee may be a problem.

Ah, the challenges of being a scientist......

My Zen of Motorcycle Riding

I have a motorcycle. I like to ride it. It takes me places in a way nothing else can, except for my horse. But my horse is getting old (like me), we can’t ride on public roads and he can’t travel as fast as a motorcycle. Similar to riding a horse, riding a bike is all about the journey; the destination is only one part of the whole. I often find that once I’m ‘there’, I want to get back on again and go.

Horses have names, so does my bike: Red (Red Sonja). Just as every horse has the same basic anatomy, and motorcycles share similar mechanical concepts (power system, function, etc), they all express an individual personality. Red and I are becoming well acquainted; I learn something new about it and myself every time I ride. We both have personalities and I am still learning to mesh mine with Red’s. Every time I add or change something on Red, we go through another meshing.

After the first few times I rode Red, I realized this is not just a machine. Well, rationally, it is a machine, in that it has moving parts, burns combustible fuel and expels waste; it gets hot and cold, and something occasionally breaks that needs repair or replacing. But to really ‘know’ my bike, to truly become ‘one’ together, I have to learn how all the parts of the bike work in synchrony just like my own body. I realized at some point in time I would need to learn how to maintain and fix things myself. Moreso, I want to fix things myself. I have to learn how, what and why. Like knowing anything else, it’s a process.

I posed a question to an online motorcycle group on which I participate and it generated slight confusion. I received answers that created more questions, and even more answers. But that’s the process of learning about anything. Rather than knowing only the effect, I want to learn the cause(s) as well. Invariably, peeling away one component reveals another, and on and on until a system is pieced together. In reality, there is usually more than just one answer, more than one way to go from point A to B.

Now, I approach this endeavor the same way I do working with biological questions. Identify the components and their functions. Examine all the small parts at the molecular level. Sort them according to function and location, and ask how they interact with each other, either top down or bottom up. Then ask how that system and its components, interact with other components outside that system. This is the “system” comprised of sub-systems. How they all work together is like a symphony. When all the instruments are tuned and their sounds mesh, you hear and feel beautiful music: it’s ‘right’.

My question to the group was: how does wind affect gas mileage? Realizing that it was a complex question and there would be several answers, sure enough many factors affect gas mileage. The style in which one rides, the intrinsic components of the bike (engine, transmission, power, fairings, etc), and environmental elements. I targeted one element: how does altitude affect engine performance? Of course, what I was asking was a physics-based question (ultimately everything is reduced to physics). So I learned about air density, humidity, temperature, fuel ratios and altitude.

Regardless, all of these factors influence gas mileage: Wind, altitude, gas octane, engine components, bike design, road surface, temperature, style of driving (e.g. commuting versus long-distance open road). And experience. I explained to my fellow riders that as a novice and a scientist, I want, no, need to know the concepts, the fundamental theories of parts, how they work alone and in synchrony, and why. Then I can add my empirical data, experience on the bike under different conditions, to the basic fundamental knowledge and concepts, and ultimately I am able to alter the behaviour of the bike and my riding.

Being aware of all of these components when you ride allows you to feel all of it in synchrony: the wind, temperature, altitude, fuel combustion, speed, road surface, and so much more. But rather than be overwhelming, it all becomes a part of you and your bike together. Does it detract from the beauty and enjoyment of riding a bike? Only if you let it. On the contrary, it can enhance the sensation and pleasure of riding. Your bike becomes more a part of you and you a part of your bike.

It is my ‘zen’ of riding.

Walkabout

The truth knocks on the door and you say, “Go away, I’m looking for the truth,” and so it goes away. Puzzling. – Robert Pirsig*

Time for a Walkabout

Every so often we need a change. We become so caught up in our own small box of existence, hurrying most of our time away, losing grasp of what is important to each and all of us. We repeat the same day-to-day routine, a monotony that becomes shallow yet comfortable for most. It’s as if we become robots on automatic pilot. Then at some point in our lives we wonder where all that time went and sorry that it is all gone. We can’t go back to regain it.

Familiarity is comfort to most; it is ‘safe’, reassuring and relatively risk-free. We tend to shy away from risk and strangeness. Yet the world is full of wonderful strangeness. And what makes this world so hard to see is its usualness. Familiarity can blind you, too.

We accumulate new information and experiences every day, sometimes it is overwhelming. Our perspective tends to become more narrow and smaller housed inside our little box of comfort. We become the center of the cosmos and familiarity shrink wraps us inside the nucleus of our own ego. Our ‘I’ is a small parasitic microbe that only moves to provide for our immediate physiological and psychological needs. In time we become bored with our own little box and find ways to fill the empty spaces as we implode inside ourselves. We become disconnected with others and our environment until the robot is nudged out of autopilot. And malfunctions. We become dehumanized.

Robert Pirsig wrote*:

You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other. In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame…… On a cycle the frame is gone. You are completely in contact with it all. You are ‘in’ the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming.

Metaphorically our lives become like the compartment of a car: the passive observer, too busy to talk to each other, passing life by outside without really touching it, experiencing it. By the time we stop to look back and wonder where it went, it’s too late. This is a dead end.

The Australian adolescent aborigines (and many other indigenous peoples) go walkabout for weeks or months as a rite of passage. I often refer to go walkabout when I travel without a planned itinerary or even destination. It is all about the journey, not the destination.

When the spirit falters, when we find ourselves questioning, confused, or need to break the cycle of familiarity, go on a walkabout. At times I use a walkabout to break the distractions of my ‘box’ of life, or when life throws me a curve ball that hits me square in the heart. Sometimes the surroundings of silence and space allow me to hold and direct the construction of my thoughts. Other times it is the strangeness of the environment and the people that break down the walls of my box and allow me to expand outside again, refreshing my perspective.

Invariably, walkabouts give me the clearness and fortitude to open the door when Truth comes knocking.

* Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. By Robert Pirsig.

Mounting Evidence for the Noodly Appendage of Flying Spaghetti Monster

Debate continues on the validity of God, Flying Spaghetti Monster, Intelligent Design, and non-belief.

Evidence for the existence of Flying Spaghetti Monster, or beings created in his image, were discovered last year. Long noodles were found under ten feet of sediment during an archeological dig in NW China. The noodles are believed to be 4,000 years old.

Are these ancient noodles the ancestors of our modern noodles? The biological composition of the 4,000-year-old noodles suggests that modern noodles evolved over time and perhaps China was the epicenter of their origin. Was the creation of these noodles spontaneous or do they also have a predecessor? Perhaps they were created in the image of the divine Noodly Appendage or serve as an example of spontaneous creation.

Additional evidence is needed to prove that the noodles found at Lajia are the ancestor of either Asian noodles or Italian pasta. "But in any case, the latter is only documented two millennia later," Lu said.

Combined with this discovery, additional research presents empirical evidence in support of Flying Spaghetti Monsterism. Researchers report spontaneous generation of a new species of pasta: Noodleus doubleaous. In lieu of an acceptable explanation, the authors conclude that observed results were guided by the hand of an intelligent designer.

Doubters may refer to their popular Belief-o-matic for consultation on their Belief du Jour in this matter.

Miss Information

If we reduce life, and nearly everything in existence, to the most common denominator, what do we have?
Information.

DNA information is transmitted through RNA, transferred to ..........proteins......cell signaling.....adaptation..... on and on. Read a paper, watch TV, bombardment by your fellow Infomation Perpetuators; we are all information carriers and transmitters. Some should be eliminated from the Information Pool.

There are many genres and species of Information. Even genders.

In today's world of modern technology and its ability to rapidly propagate, we have a skewed gender population of Infomation: Miss Information.

When Miss Information rolls down hill, she balloons, sprays everywhere and the repercussions extend exponentially.

Here is a critique of Miss Information dressed innocently as 'education.'

"How stuff doesn't work"
Pharyngula, the mind of PZ Myers.

April's Fool Day

I woke up this morning with a warm naked body next.....

Oh wait, that was a dream.

Got out of bed greeted by humid warm air blowing through all the window curtains, chirping birds outside the windows, the smell of moist Texas air. The sun hiding above the laden fog and clouds with a hint of later sunshine and heat. Wear a tank top under the jacket today; it's going to be a humid toaster.

The smell of freshly made coffee mixes with the moist breeze in the house and I see my horse outside grazing, stark black against the blended green and brown terrain. The barn roof drips condensation which the ground absorbs quickly. The cows next door meander contentedly.

After throwing water on my face and donning top and pants, I gather a change of clothes, shampoo and toothpaste, top my thermal mug with coffee, and pack the laptop accessories into the padded backpack. We've got miles and miles and days away ahead of us.

Grab the keys on the way out the door and greet the silver FJR waiting outside under cover like a trusty steed waiting for its master. Checking it over, stuffing the hardbags, and strapping the backpack onto the back rack, my leg swings over to straddle the seat. Sitting down in that comfortable sheepkin-cushioned saddle, shift into neutral, turn the key and push the start button. The sound that makes you go hummmmm.....

Sit for a while enjoying the peace and quiet while the Silverado between my legs warms to a purring idle. Smiling, the jacket is zipped up, the helmet is on and strapped, gloves envelope my hands and we ready to roll. Right the bike, push up the kickstand, shift down and roll the throttle. We're off.

Taking the country road curves slowly this morning, making our way to the highway heading south. Got a long day with ribbons of road ahead. No need to push it until the urge arises to crank the throttle open for a gazelle-like sprint. No cars in sight, no lights, no horns. Only the open road ahead and behind, going somewhere through space and time. Right now, there's only me and my steed. And right now, that's all that I need.

April Fool's Day and wishful thinking.

For those who can, have a good safe ride today.

Wasabi Receptors Unite!

Woohoo!!!!! A ‘wasabi’ receptor!!!

Harking back to a discussion with a colleague from India, we debated the merits and preferences for tasting ‘heat’. By that I mean hot peppers and wasabi. Our preferences were the converse: he preferred peppers and I, wasabi. We also agreed on a similar tendency in that while exhibiting a high tolerance for our preferred ‘heat’ generator, we had a relative high pain sensitivity and intolerance for the other.

We debated that perhaps tolerance may be a function of conditioning: his typical diet incorporated foods prepared with copious amounts of ‘high octane’ peppers. Whereas I tend to prefer Asian foods that are traditionally accompanied by wasabi, or even smearing wasabi on other foods such as ham or even eggs. However, living in Texas, I also eat a fair amount of the typical Southwestern fare often doused with hot peppers. Regardless, I haven’t been able to overreach food with a rating of one by the Scoville chile heat index (100-1,000 Scovlille Units), except for an occasional exploration of a meal that may rate a two if accompanied by plenty of neutralizing chips and iced tea.

The magic ingredient of chili peppers that endows that heated kick is capsaicin, a oily substance found in the veins of a wide variety of peppers. Capsaicin delivers a burning and painful sensation in the mouth and on the skin due to its interaction with sensory neurons. The chemical binds to receptors, classified as TRPV1, that are also stimulated by heat and physical abrasion. When stimulated, these receptors permit ions to pass through the cell membrane and the neuron ultimately signals the brain. The result is the sensation of burning.

Typical of the negative feedback control by most receptors, chronic exposure to capsaicin depletes the neuron of neurotransmitters, leading to a reduction in pain sensation and neurogenic inflammation (a process called ‘desensitization’). After capsaicin is removed and following a short refractory time the neurons recover. This may explain why people who traditionally eat food containing hot peppers have a higher degree of tolerance.

Nevertheless, this does not explain why the differential tolerance, and intolerance, of chili peppers and wasabi. The pain-associated chemicals in wasabi, a Japanese horseradish, are similar to those found in hot mustards: isothiocyanates. The wonderful sinus clearing vapors of wasabi are the primary contrast to the heat of hot chili peppers. Yet both produce painful sensations in the mouth and on the skin when topically applied, exciting sensory nerve fibers.

Whereas hot chili peppers titillated my colleague, I covet the rush through the sinuses and tearing aftermath of wasabi. Both of us exhibited a greater degree of sensitivity (and dislike) for the other source of painful sensation. Could the sensations and tolerance be more than just dietary conditioning? I ventured to posit that perhaps there is a receptor for wasabi!

A recent study in Cell now reports that different receptors are involved in the pain sensations of capsaicin and mustard thiocyanates. While both receptors affect neurons on the pain pathway, TRPV1 receptors are associated with capsaicin and TRPA1 receptors with other plant chemicals specifically found in garlic and various mustards. This implies that they segregate at the molecular level yet elicit similar physiological overlapping responses (irritation and inflammation).

Belonging to a group of neuron receptors in our skin, and on our mouth and tongue, they are part of our natural defense system. Transient receptor potential (TRP) ion channels are like molecular thermometers that detect temperature, mechanical abrasion and irritating chemicals. They help us sense temperature and irritants through the skin and, as we can attest, in spicy and hot foods. Even volatile odors, as evidenced by eating wasabi and the mucus membranes in the sinus cavity and lungs. Ultimately, a message is sent to the brain: “Danger, Danger!” In fact these irritant chemicals are a component of the plant’s natural defense system.

On the other hand, both capsaicin and mustards are used in alternative medicine as topical ointments to relieve pain. Applications to the skin are left on until the area is numb. This is induced by overwhelming the local neurons and depleting their neurotransmitters that create the painful sensation and blocking neurogenic inflammation. Another medicinal use that I discovered serendipitously is to clear the sinuses of mucus from upper respiratory infections.

Alternatively, I just plain enjoy the rush of that volatile wasabi up through my nose and sinuses. You can keep the capsaicin, though.

So, yes, Dr. Sri; there really is a ‘wasabi’ receptor after all.

Cell, 124: 1269-1282, March 2006. TRPA1 mediates the inflammatory actions of environmental irritants and proalgesic agents. Bautista D, Jordt S, Nikai T, et al.

Dear Dairy (No. 3)

This has to be one of the most brilliantly created advertisements I have ever encountered:

Brittleactica
http://www.planetinneed.com/

And if there is any question regarding the sleep-inducing power of milk? It is highly efficacious.
(tryptophan + carbohydrates = serotonin -----> zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz......... sleeeeep)
I've also noticed an effect on dreams (or dream recall, perhaps both)

Herocka!!

Friday

Solid phase water encased my windshield this morning,
What planetary constant allows this absence of heat?
Driving into the sunrise admiring hues of blues, violets, and reds
Resisting the urge to vaporize the car in front hogging the passing lane.
Adhesions ripping apart while stretching my recovering left foot.
Vision rudely disturbed by a large white splat deposited by a flying bird.
My head is drawn away from fragments of last night’s dreams
By the uplifting taunting whine of an electric guitar on my stereo.
Notes take me higher lifting me out of the morning haze
As I ponder finding a windshield that belongs on my bike.
Looking forward to the next morn, after donning warm gear,
Throwing my leg over humming metal, sitting deep in the saddle,
Feeling that infusion of adrenaline, balance it with zen,
Pull face shield, shift down, roll the throttle, and lift off.
The sun is shining and it is Friday.

This is good.

Time Machine: Journey One

During a visit to the National Museum of Natural History and Science (New York, NY) years ago, I was awestruck by the display of creatures that roamed this planet before we were ever a gleam in evolution’s eye. Always captivated by the giants who preceded us, I commented to my companion during that visit that if we had time travel I would be one of the first to volunteer to go back and be an ‘Observer’. When prodded what I would like to see or do if I had one chance to go back in time, I couldn’t respond (perhaps for the first time). Too many events flooded my mind.

During the three years ensuing that visit, I have pondered that question again and often: What would I do, where and when would I go, and what event in time do I want to see? This is a series of responses to that question. Sorry, Mark; life is not that simple to provide one answer.

Skunks

Spring is here in Texas; it is the time of flowing pheromones and nature’s drive to reproduce where ever it can. Two and four-footed creatures are on the move to seek a mate, or just mate. As I drive down country roads I see and smell that little black and white furry bugger that isn’t so cute: skunk. Occasionally I wake to the malodour of Pepe Le’ Pew, such as this morning. Having been a victim at close range many years ago, suffering a direct hit, I still have an associated cringe and and clenching of the stomach, along with an almost reflexive attempt to block the smell and taste of skunk perfume.

This morning I was awoken by a strong skunk presence, enough to incite me to jump out of bed and clang the bedroom windows shut. Glancing out one window, I saw my arch enemy returning my gaze below with what could be interpreted as a “Heheee…gotcha” expression.

During my drive to town with a slight scent of skunk lingering on my clothes, I contemplated going back in time to find the ancestor with the culprit scent gland before it mated with the scentless ancestor of our modern skunk and removing it from the evolutionary chain.

The skunk family Mephitidae (derived from Mephitis, Latin for "bad odor") comprises of 11 species in four genera. Nearly all carnivores have scent glands, but they are especially enlarged in skunks and relative families, with skunks taking that enlargement to an extreme. Rather than a duct like it’s close ‘cousins’, the skunk scent glands at the base of the tail has a nipple. The glands contain approximately 15 cc of a yellowish, oily liquid. With highly coordinated muscle control, the skunk can aim and direct the spray as far as 15 feet and spay up to six times in succession. The only relief is that it takes up to 10 days to replenish the supply of liquid after full discharge.
The odoriferous liquid contains various thiols (sulfur compounds) and thioacetates (salts of sulfur compounds). The principle compound in skunk musk is butyl mercaptan, similar to the popular laboratory compound mercaptoethanol used to cleave disulfide bonds in organic solutions (to this day I cannot go into a lab without cringing at the smell of mercaptoethanol). Being sprayed in a direct hit can cause temporary blindness, nausea, convulsions, loss of consciousness and burns of the skin.
To neutralize skunk odor, the thiols have to be changed into compounds that have little or no odor. This can be done by oxidizing the thiols to sulfonic acids. Common oxidizing agents are hydrogen peroxide and baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) and are mild enough to be used on pets and yourself although it may change hair color. For clothes and inanimate objects sodium hypochlorite solutions (liquid laundry bleach) works well.
Skunk Evolution

Scent glands are ubiquitous throughout the class of mammals and serve as a form of olfactory communication. Distinctive and long-lasting smells are distributed in urine, sweat, or released by rubbing. These scents are deposited on the ground, on territorial boundaries, on offspring or mates, or their habitats. Yet the skunk has evolved to use their scent glands as a defensive weapon. Tail up, point, aim and shoot. Anyone taking a direct hit can attest to burning eyes, gagging, inability to breathe and rubbing any exposed skin to rid thyself of the noxious semi-viscous fluid and its aerosols.

What ancestor provided this adaptive trait? The oldest fossil identified as a skunk was discovered in Germany and dates to 11–12 million years ago. However, genetic data indicate the family originated about 30–40 million years ago. Research traces the evolution of the skunk from some of the earliest ancestors of modern carnivores and as members of the superfamily containing those of otters, badgers, and weasels, raccoons, and red panda. It is suggested that the origin of the skunk lineage occurred in the Oligocene approximately 40 million years ago (about 30 million years before the appearance of the first recognized fossil).

At some point in time, a weasely mammal sauntered up to a close relative and whispered in its ear “Hey baby, I have a secret weapon. Want to see it work?” Thus the lineage of the cute little furry buggers avoided becoming someone’s dinner. And they multiplied, with the semi-viscous stench dictating survival and adaptation.

I wonder if they had scent gland firing ranges for practice.

Dear Dairy (No. 2)

A recent quote by Jose' Mourinho, manager of Chelsea Football Club, when explaining why the team's soccer pitch in London is 'not as bad as it looks':

"Sometimes you see beautiful people with no brains. Sometimes you have ugly people who are intelligent, like scientists."

I am a scientist. Ergo, I am ugly. But I am intelligent and have a brain. Oh, woe is me.

However, my contribution to the reproductive success of intelligence genes has been, shall we say, limited by a matter of choice. Mine. Yet when I flip through the television channels and see the plethora of beautiful bodies with empty craniums, I feel guilt over my contribution to the 'reverse evolution' of our species. My selfish lack of interest in 'Bringing Up Baby' won over my patriotic duty to propagation of average appearance coupled with an intelligence factor that probably equals that of several TV starletts combined. That puts me at least with a positive quotient.

Can I still be sexy even if I have a brain? I don't need anyone's approval for that.
My pitch isn't bad either.

Fun with Brains

Brainzzzz……

I want to change my field and be a brain researcher.

They get to do all the cool stuff. Like sticking the heads of five people into a machine (functional magnetic resonance, fMRI ) that scans their brains while they watch twenty commercials aired during the Super Bowl. The researchers’ intents were to gauge what type of a reaction they had, and the anatomical areas of the brain that were affected.

Commercials produced variable responses and in different areas of the brain. The so called ‘reward-centers’ (ventral striatum and the orbitofrontal cortex) in the brain showed activity during some ads. In response to other ads, the visual and auditory regions, or areas that contain “mirror neurons” were responsive. The latter are neurons that fire in an animal’s brain when it performs a task and also when the animal observes the same action performed by another animal like itself. They ‘mirror’ the other animal’s behavior and thus this activity is indicative of empathy.

Their qualification of a ‘good’ ad or a ‘bad’ ad was less objective and questionably interpretive. A ‘bad’ ad was interpreted by activity only in the visual and auditory areas, usually short-lived. On the other hand, ‘good’ ads were interpreted by responses of longer duration in the brain’s reward and empathy centers. However, I question the qualification of their terms ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

“The complete analysis shows that the best ads are the Disney/NFL ad and the Sierra Mist ad,” Marco Lacoboni says, referring to the theme-park and soft-drink commercials. “In the Disney ad, NFL players ecstatically repeat ‘I am going to Disney’. I can see how this ad can elicit strong empathic responses.”¹

The scientists considered the Disney commercial a ‘good’ ad. Now I challenge you to find a handful of fathers in a sample pool of 100 that with sincerity and honesty admit they look forward to and love going to Disney, spending a month’s salary in a few days, fielding hundreds of screaming kids, and maneuvering the traffic and crowds. Perhaps the reward-centers and empathy were confused with internally muffled terror and anxiety of memories and anticipation of repeat visits. Is that really a ‘good’ ad, Docs?

Another commercial depicted a woman playing football with other women but that also somehow advertised beer. The fMRI revealed that the mirror neurons fired in the brain of a female subject, indicating empathy. I wonder if it was more related to woman player’s clothing, hair and physique than actual play moves (“OhmyGod, how could she wear that and get it dirty?”). The same commercial induced activity in the reward-centers of a male subject’s brain. That makes sense: beer and women. What better rewards than that?

Now here’s the best one: put a handful of men and women in the lab and turn them loose on erotic films. Then instruct them to masturbate or engage in intercourse to orgasm. Take blood samples and then give them a questionnaire to fill out. ² I would love to be a fly on the wall in that lab or in the offices of the researchers and staff.

Although I could have predicted the rise in prolactin both after masturbation and intercourse, I was surprised at the degree of increase (400% !!) after intercourse compared to masturbation. What this means, fellas, is that you had best prepare for a long refractory period after intercourse. In other words, you’re done for awhile.

Dopamine is released during arousal (and foreplay), which intensifies erections – harder and for longer duration. Prolactin is a dopamine antagonist, it’s dopamine’s ‘yang’ so to speak. Typically, dopamine levels plummet right after orgasm, following the spike in prolactin. So you can see why prolactin and dopamine are a feedback loop for erections and orgasms. I suspect prolactin also is connected to the post-orgasm oxytocin release, the ‘bonding’ hormone. (Yes, guys, you have response that, too.)

But why the large disparity in prolactin levels after intercourse and masturbation? Perhaps the answer may lie in other sensory input: tactile stimulation, smell, increased anticipation, all the physical and psychological stimulation that accompanies intercourse between two humans (gender not withstanding). Perhaps examining changes in other hormones and neurotransmitters may shed a clue. I mean, if you’re going to bother them before and after by taking blood samples, you may as well make the most of the test samples and assay for a cocktail of chemicals.

Or scientists could just read the Kama Sutra for research insight. Although no blood samples were used to test hormone changes when it was written, the astute power of observation recorded many ‘tricks’ to prolong pleasure and achieve multiple orgasms. Though not properly ‘peer reviewed’ by today’s standards, I suspect the use of such techniques down the centuries provides valuable evidence.

Maybe I really need to move on from investigating skeletal muscle proteins……..

1. “Brain scans reveal power of Super Bowl adverts.” NewScientist.com news service, 07 February 2006.
2. “Sex with a partner is 400% better”. From New Scientist Print Edition. 22 February 2006. Also, Biological Psychology, vol 71, p 312.