Tobacco could help fight HIV???

(image from: http://dsc.discovery.com/news/2009/03/31/tobacco-hiv-drug.html)

Possibly. According to a Discovery News article, some scientists have modified some tobacco places to produce a large amount of a drug that helps prevent the HIV virus from colonizing the vaginal lining. The problem with the drug is that it's insanely expensive. However, growing the drug in the tobacco plants would make it way cheaper. It's a interesting idea. Hope it works. Though the article was very sparse on details.

Michigan is:

• currently broke and worse than broke because the economy relied heavily on auto sales and the auto makers are . . . not lookin' so great
• the 8th most populous state in the US
• where I was born. Ann Arbor to be exact
• named after Lake Michigan. The word 'Michigan' is a French version of the Ojibwe term mishigama (large water or large lake).
  
• possessed of a university that thinks they are the greatest, and whom everybody else hates
• also possessed of a very nice arboretum within said university
  

Bald Eagles in Hudson WI

We were just in Hudson Wisconsin picking up some application materials from Cathy. On the way back home, we stopped by a tributary to the St. Croix and saw lots of bald eagles sitting on the ice. There were also several flying around. It was a very cool sight. Some were juvenile with dark heads, but there were a couple mature adults with white heads. It was really cool to see wild birds so close.

Major League Soccer, Season Begins!

The Major League Soccer games have started again!!! There's a new team this year, The Seattle Sounders. We're watching them right now as they play the New York RedBulls. The Sounders are winning 3-0. It's exciting that a new team is doing so well. They have one really good player, Montero, from Columbia who is very good. He has two goals already and several very dangerous plays. On his second goal he stole the ball from a defender then beat the goalie one on one to score.

Arg, can't write more, going to watch the game.

Disklavier Piano

Have you ever seen a Disklavier piano? If not, you seriously need to go look one of them up. Go to YouTube, now. They are cool! They have memory systems, so if you play something, the piano can play it back, keys moving, pedal and all. And you can hook them up via the internet and if one person plays something on one piano, the keys on the other piano will move and the same thing will be played. Really, really, really cool.

Dreaming...

Science Fiction night. There was an article in the Science New York Times about dreams, and how people are very biased in interpreting them. I tried to write an article about that, but I got a little off topic. Ah well, it was still very entertaining.

(please forgive the typos, this piece was written in haste)

Whenever I overhear a human saying something along the lines of, “I’m going to do this because I dreamed it,” I laugh myself sick. I pity you poor souls. But I try not to feel too sorry for you, because it’s only a dream after all. Right? You’ll just brush it aside, forget it before you wake up, laugh about it with friends, make up parts to connect the scattered bits you can remember. Huh, welcome to my world, over looked, under appreciated, and never ever thanked. Believe me, I’ve been at this job for millennia and I can count the number of thankful dreamers on one hand (I should also mention that I have five fingers, just like you humans).
I folded my wings, landing carefully on the window ledge. The window opened noiselessly at my touch and I dropped inside. Seriously, security these days. The carpet was rough under my bare feet. I walked over to the bed and its sleeping occupant. Out came my note pad as I consulted the list, let’s see for Mr. Adrian Jole, oh wow, he gets to dream about his traumatic years in the military. Poor guy. But who am I to question the orders from above? I leaned over Mr. Jole as he lay unconscious and set a finger on his forehead. That’s true, I haven’t told you who I am yet. Flicking my finger, I started to write. As I finished each word, it sank into the sleeping man’s skin and vanished. Well, now I’ll tell you. I’m the Dreamweaver. Or the Storyteller, or the Singer, or the Dreamwalker, or any other romantic name you want to call me. I’m also the slave of a fallen angle. You got complaints about your dreams? Bring them to him, he’s the boss, I’m just the messenger.
I turned on silent feet and stalked back to the window as the last word sank into Mr. Jole’s skin. He’ll start dreaming any moment now, and I have places to go. Climbing onto the window sill, I jumped out into the air, the eagle wings on my shoulders spreading wide to catch the breeze. I can see you thinking already. Wings, angle equals handsome guy in white with a gold circle over his head. Nope. Don’t even start thinking of me like that. My wings are sable, sable and brown. My face isn’t pleasant, and I can’t remember ever running around with a bubble-blowing hoop over my head. No, I’m a different kind of angle, the kind the priest’s don’t like to mention.
I landed on the next house. Entered the bedroom. Well isn’t she a pretty little lady, too bad she gets to dream about rotten tomatoes attacking her in the bath. I set my finger on her bronze skin and start writing. Oh, and just in case you forgot my comment about being unthanked, don’t. I mean think about it. How many times have you said, “wow I was really glad I had that dream last night”? How many times have you heard somebody say that, huh? You call dreams funny, weird, scary, nightmares, absurd, etc., but rarely will somebody be thankful for a dream.
Well there might’ve been one guy, but he lived a long time ago. Remember the pharaoh who dreamed of skinny cows eating fat cows, dancing corn cobs and such? Yeah, he’s gotten pretty famous among the religious circles. Well then there was the guy who said, “that dream means there we must prepare for famine”. I bet that guy is thankful for the pharaoh’s dream, because it meant he got work, glory and all that follows. But don’t go thinking he’s some sort of prophet who can tell the future and decipher dreams. He was just a good people person. It stands to reason that if a guy is worried about famine, he’ll dream about famine, and listen to anybody who can say how to stop a famine. Why will a guy dream about what he’s worried about?
I finished the rotten tomato dream and left the apartment. Cool night air ruffled my feathers as I soared over the city. Well… people tend to dream of uncomfortable subjects just because a certain fallen angle likes watching you humans squirm. Yup. My master is the real mind behind all dreams. He thinks em up, then sends me out to implant them in your little minds. When I say he’s a fallen angle I don’t mean he’s an all around villain, ‘cause hey, you get good dreams sometimes don’t you? The best describing for the boss would be ‘bored’. He was banished from Heaven and kicked out of Hell because he was having too much fun. So now he just sits between the worlds, thinking up dreams and watching what happens when he sends me to stick them in little human brains.
I find it funny, how much importance you humans place on dreams. And yet, you always twist the dreams so everything works out in your favor. If you fix the answer, how is the dream telling your future? It’s more like, you making excuses for your own future. I gave this one fellow a dream, he was run over and killed by a stampede of wildebeest. So what does he do? He decides that it means his ‘poor’ self will be obliterated by the mountain of gold he will gain if he visits Africa and sets himself up as a king. I never found out what happened to him, but last I saw he was on a plane for Congo. It’s quite sad really, you humans place so much trust in dreams. Visions you only half remember, and all thought up by a bored angle and surgically implanted into your minds by yours truly.
I landed on the next flat. Well would you look at that, this fellow sleeps outside on the roof. I’d think my boss would give him some dream about falling. I check my notes. Nope. Tomas Gordon will dream that he is in love with a cat, dressed in a cloths line, and styles his hair with marmalade.
Listen to me now as you have never listened before. A bored angle is the most dangerous thing in heaven, hell, or anywhere in between. I’ve heard the most recent theory about dreams. “Dreams nothing but the brain’s response to random impulses,” say today’s scientists. You go on believing that. I’ll go on traveling the world with my notebook and my master’s orders. Yup, dreams are random brain waves, totally, sure. Yes, it’s much better for you humans to believe that. I’m not sure your little heads could handle the truth.

Curious Octopus

Image from: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/bigphotos/21373610.html

How on earth do you disassemble part of that?

National Geographic had a article about a female California two-spotted octopus who disassembled her tank and released 200 gallons of water into nearby exhibits and offices.

There are some signs that octopi are very, very smart and curious. They continuously get into trouble in captivity exploring their tanks (and sometimes leaving their tanks to go next door and eat the neighborly crabs). There was also an instance of an octopus, when offered a slightly spoiled shrimp, stuffing the offending morsel down a drain while maintaining eye contact with the keeper.

However, they also seem to go against some of the general rules about animal brain size. Usually the smarter animals are longer lived and also live together in groups. But octopi only live about a year, and are solitary creatures.

I am of the opinion that the octopi are merely hiding their intelligence from the clueless humans and having a great laugh at all the mazes and brain tests we give them.

Short Science Fiction

This is a short story I wrote after reading an article in the New York Times Science. The article was about the increase in mortality in people with health problems and bipolar disorder.

You’d think it was depressing enough to be in a hospital in the first place. Then the doctor comes to your room and informs you that you have a 35 to 200% greater chance of dying than the guy in the next room with the exact same illness. And all because of a couple little mood swings! Seriously, it’s ridiculous. These people have no sense of the proper bedside manner. If I’m gonna kick the bucket in the next day or two, the last thing I wanna hear before I die is defiantly not a prediction that, “yes, you’re probably gonna die soon”. Yeesh, these people went through that expensive med school didn’t they? You’d think they’d know how to treat a guy about to conk out. Not that I’m about to die mind you! No, that’s the furthest thing from my mind. Well, maybe not the furthest, but pretty far I can tell you. I have no intention of dying anytime soon. None. Zero. Zip.
“Well, that’s pretty ambitious of you,” you think, “seeing as you’re in a hospital.”
Pfff. No problem. I only had a little fainting spell, then my overprotective parents panic and send me off to the emergency room. I guess I must’ve fainted again there, or done something, ‘cause the next thing I know, I’m waking up in a hospital bed and the white coated docs are telling me I haven’t got long to live. Utter nonsense if I’ve ever heard any. I’ll show them.

I’ve heard the doctors say I’m extremely lucky to be alive. Not many people survive the kind of trauma I’ve put my heart through. But I’m not expected to live much longer. I’ve heard the statistics, I know the numbers. My chances? Pigs might fly before I walk out of this hospital alive. The doctors don’t know I’m awake. I guess it looks like I’m sleeping, but really I’m not. I’m comtemplating my fate. Honestly, I don’t care. It’s not like my life was all that great to begin with; stuffed full of drugs at every moment of the day, ridiculed by the ‘cool’ kids. Yeah, if the grim reaper comes knocking, I’m not gonna fight. If it’s my time, I’m gonna go.

The doctors were here again. “Please be responsive,” they say. “Don’t pretend to sleep,” beg my parents. Ha. What do they know. I’m not pretending to sleep. I’m plotting. I’m plotting my escape from this cesspit. Being in a hospital is no fun; nothing to do but watch bad TV, nothing to eat except tasteless mush. Yeah, I’m getting out of here and I’m doing it soon.
It would help if I could move. But that’s only a minor setback!!! Besides a lack of certain motor functions I feel great! True, I’m a little woozy from all the meds the doctors have been dripping into my veins, but nothing hurts and my thinking couldn’t be clearer. Actually, I think I’m thinking more clearly now than I’ve been for a good long time. Usually I’m pretty drugged up, but now I’m clean except for the I-don’t-know-what the doctors are dripping into me, and those don’t really count because I don’t control them. They’re like a force of nature, outside influence. Like a tornado or something. Out of my control, not my problem. I can always blame it on the doctors if something goes wrong. Not that anything will! I’ve got a handle on things here.

Why am I still alive? Honestly, I have no idea. I don’t think the doctors know why either. I ‘overheard’ one of them talking with my parents. They’re surprised I’m still hanging in. I’m surprised too. I was ready. I’m still ready. But the end just won’t come. I don’t even know if I’m breathing by myself now. I’ve got so many machines stuck onto my skin I can’t even count them anymore. Or I couldn’t count them even if I could see. Am I too repulsive even for death to want? Now that’s a depressing thought. So horrible that lord death doesn’t want me, won’t take me. I’ll live in a vegetative state for years and years and years, hooked up to a humming machine that breaths, eats, and lives for me. I’ll just ‘exist’ until I’ve got gray hairs and death finally gives in shuffles me quickly into the tiniest corner of the underworld. What a life. What a death.

Coma? That’s a word for old, half dead people. Not a word for me. No way no how no nothing. My fate will be different. I’m sure of it. I’m me. And everything will work out just fine.

3/3/09

Happy Square root day!

The next time it will be Square root day will be 4/4/16