Much Maligned Portuguese Drivers

I had a great deal of fun driving 1500 miles in Portugal the last couple of weeks. Tales of “dangerous drivers” were told when folks heard we were going there. I loved the drivers. Sure, they drove fast and got really close before passing (overtaking), and cut in quickly. They really knew what they were doing. In the time I drove there was maybe only one or two close calls, but close may just mean a driver with really good instincts and reflexes. They know lane discipline. Many drive very fast but they don’t weave around. They get on your tail until you move over. All I really had to do was keep in the lane where my speed was expected, that would be mostly the inside lane, and let the speed demons fly by.
We spent quite a bit of time on “wiggley” and narrow mountain roads. Here, defensive driving is the key to survival. The middle of the road is the favored “lane” for native car and truck drivers. With a little care, and anticipating someone in the middle of the road on every curve, we got where we were going with a minimum of “squeaks” from the passengers.
I had a ball!!! Can’t wait to get back to Italy and try those guys again. In 5 minutes of looking I couldn’t find a single photo of an accident in Portugal, so the tragic results of one in Holland must suffice. It really is tragic: hundreds of cases of Grolsch beer on the road, most smashed.
Image: http://www.johnmariani.com/archive/2005/050828/index.html

The Disease of Being Different

“Pediatric endocrinologist Maria New—of the Mount Sinai School of Medicine and Florida International University—isn't just trying to prevent lesbianism by treating pregnant women with an experimental hormone. She's also trying to prevent the births of girls who display an "abnormal" disinterest in babies, don't want to play with girls' toys or become mothers, and whose "career preferences" are deemed too "masculine."” (1) And so begins the description of an article that chronicles an idea so repugnant that one wonders if it is serious or another “Snouter” hoax (2). It is serious. Unfortunately.
In a sincere, I hope, attempt to treat a fetal genital defect, the claim is that the “cure” for lesbians from their terrible tendency to live has been discovered. The consideration of embryonic “treatment” such as this goes way beyond the bounds of experimental medicine and enters the terrible world of Nazi medicine. What the hell are the people thinking (thinking?) that take this nonsense seriously. This “theory” (I hesitate to elevate the ideas even to a small “t” theory) supposes that all lesbians start life with some androgenic “abnormality” that should be treated. Hitler thought brown eyes were evidence of genetic abnormality. Could it possibly be that a wide range of embryonic androgens is NORMAL? And that the expression of several genes produces a NORMAL range of expression? Could it be that the range of human sexuality is NORMAL, like the range of height? Could it be that being strictly heterosexual is ABNORMAL? I don’t know or care. I do care that the battle to get rid of designating gay or lesbian or bisexual or asexual people DISEASED is just now being won, and along comes this crap. Being different is NOT a disease. It’s a blessing. Celebrate diversity, don’t modulate it to extinction. I have all kinds of friends from all kinds of communities. I love them all. They are all different. So am I.
1. http://slog.thestranger.com/slog/archives/2010/06/29/doctor-treating-pregnant-women-with-experimental-drug-to-prevent-lesbianism
2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhinogradentia
Image: http://www.women24.com/LoveAndSex/Gay/Homophobia-is-damaging-lives-20090401

Just Whistling Dixie?

Two observations that are possibly related: One: I was looking at laptop specs yesterday and noticed the following: “easily upgraded to 500 gigabytes to give plenty of room for photos, music and videos” or something close to that. This computer has a 40 gig hard drive and has 18 gigs free. Two: huge numbers of people have some kind of portable device plugged into their ears for many hours a day so they can listen to “my music” whenever they want to.
When is the last time you heard someone whistling? Rephrase that: when is the last time you heard someone young whistling?
My life has a soundtrack. Music is nearly always in the background of my thoughts, and I often whistle favorite tunes. Many of my friends from long ago whistled. My father and grandfather were whistlers. Whistling keeps me company, just, I suppose, as “my music” keeps techie people company. So those critical thoughts I think from time to time when I see half the people on a subway train with iPods are misplaced. They are just listening to the soundtrack of their thoughts, like me.


Ahhh, but there is a difference. My soundtrack doesn’t need batteries. And I have to wonder about the creative force that thinking music and making music must require. Musings of an old fart, or keen observation of a creative mind? What do you think I think?

Whistling Dixie def. :http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/whistle_Dixie
Whistler: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNtMpPFM7M0
Image: http://www.picturesof.net/pages/090612-183133-718048.html

Do You Want to Live FOREVER?

Living Forever? Ask Aubrey de Grey.
Just got home from healthy shopping (yes, I want to live as long as possible, too) and heard a discussion that alluded to the theories of Aubrey de Grey (1) on the expansion of life to 1000 years or more. Not as an old fart, but rejuvenated to age of about 30, there to stay indefinitely. de Grey has a Ph.D. (not earned) for his work. He has his own foundation, first named the Methuselah Foundation, and now Sens (for Strategies for Engineered Negligible Senescence) where he is employed as the director and researcher into aging.
The support for Sens is very rich people who hope to live a very long time. The rest of us? We get the ‘trickle down” benefits. The really poor people? They get to take away the garbage, eat bugs and a bit of rice and kill each other in ethnic and religious conflict, like they do now. Talk about a Utopian world. An over class that lives forever and an underclass that does all the work. And way too many people for sustainability of good old earth.
Now don’t get me wrong here. I would love a few more decades of active life. Maybe even 3 more. Medicine is going that direction now, and I may be able to catch a ride. The world cannot support an entire population that lives forever. Nonsense.
So let’s keep medicine going on helping treat chronic diseases of the aging population while at the same time finding cures or preventions for all the rest of the diseases that kill us. Ooops. That leads to more population, doesn’t it? Bugger.

1. http://www.opendemocracy.net/globalization-vision_reflections/eternal_3237.jsp

Image: fr.toonpool.com/cartoons/methuselah%20anachro...

Sierra

She was a sweet little dog. Dark brownish with a kind of square head and body. Her best buddy was a dufus big black Lab named Bear. She was a neighborhood friend. After being abandoned by her owner in the 1990’s Sierra was adopted by all the surrounding families. She made the rounds, ate here and there, got biscuits from everyone and generally kept watch. And she hung out with Bear.
I met her and Bear when I came to look at a house for sale. I pulled into the driveway and two dogs, one very large black Lab and one small squarish brownish dog walked slowly up to the truck. I didn’t know they were pushovers looking for a biscuit then. They looked possibly dangerous, especially Sierra. So I waited in the truck and shortly they ambled off for a cool lay down on the road.
A few weeks ago someone killed Sierra. Ran her over. Bear is still moping around looking for his pal. I can understand how a small dark dog that likes to lie in the road could get hit by a car in the dawn light. What I can’t understand is just driving off. It is unlikely that the killer was a stranger. There is no traffic on the road that isn’t residents going to work, especially at that hour. Except the paper guy, and he has been on this route a long time. No, I think whoever killed her knew her. And that makes it even worse.
Sierra was near the end of her life, old, nearly blind, nearly deaf and in some pain from doggie rhumatiz. She would have gone soon anyway, but peacefully. This ending to a sweet life was just wrong. But then life sometimes is, isn’t it?
(The picture isn't Sierra, but she looked like this, only brown.)
www.hillstapestrydesign.com.au/kits.html

Piri Piri: A Love Affair

A simple small very hot pepper, sometimes called a bird’s eye pepper. But that is just the beginning.
Centuries ago, Portuguese traders introduced the piri piri pepper to Mozambique (1) and the use of this wonderful fruit spread across Africa. At home in Portugal, people rapidly developed a taste for the sauce made from piri piri. Over the centuries, various verities of hot peppers were used, and various recipes were invented to make a hot and tasty pepper sauce.
A few days into our trip to the northern half of Portugal, we had dinner in a small, local and new restaurant. No sign. No customers at first. Not really set up yet. The owner agreed to make us a meal with wine for 10 Euros each, and we sat and waited. Bread, olives and cheese to start, then small pitchers of red and white wine, both good quality table wines. Then the main course: thick grilled veal steaks and rice. The veal was perfectly cooked and the rice with beans was excellent. And spicy. Bernard, the chef, spoke some English and told us the main spice used was a piri piri pepper. He brought one out to show us, and it was indeed a bird’s eye pepper.
Since then we asked for piri piri (always available as a sauce) at every meal, and used it liberally on rice or meat or sandwiches. There was an almost endless variety of ways to make and serve it, but always it was hot, spicy and tasty. My favorite was peppers smashed with fresh lemon juice and mixed with a little Scotch whisky. The flavor of the whisky pretty much goes away, but the alcohol releases much more of the “heat” (capsaicin) and makes the sauce tangy and fiery.
In the South, we have several stock pepper sauces, like Tabasco, Krystal, Pick-a-Pepper and many others. These are all different and more or less used the same way. None are a good match for homemade piri piri sauce in Portugal. You gotta try it if you get the chance. I will perfect the whisky recipe and send it on. Bom apatite.
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piri_piri
Image: http://www.fiery-foods.com/article-archives/89-photo-essays/1800-my-20-favorite-chile-photos

It Breaks Your Heart

I just watched a video clip of the “tar balls” on Pensacola beach. (Notably absent were Sara Palin and John McCain.) For many years Florida’s beaches were designated as World Class beaches, with white sugar sand, teeming wildlife off shore, and clean water. In one greedy moment that is all gone. Greedy? Yes, greedy. It looks like the BP folks on the rig authorized all kinds of marginal actions that combined to make the spill the worst in US history. The reason? Why, to cut costs and increase profits, of course. Why else would they reduce the margins of safety to minimum levels? The rent on the drilling rig is enormous, and the faster they drill and cap the well the less it costs BP. So they went to the edge of safety. One example: the device on the bottom that is supposed to close the well if trouble occurs, called a blowout preventer, has several sub-devices that are used sequentially. The “last resort” piece is a large shear that literally cuts the pipe off and blocks it completely. If there happens to be a joint directly in front of the shears, they won’t cut because the joint is too thick and strong. So, the device comes in two types: a one-shear and a two shear model. The two shear model is far better because if one shear gets fouled in a joint, the other will absolutely have only pipe to cut, thus shutting off the oil flow.
The BP device was a one shear type. Why? Of course you guessed it. Cheaper, and everybody knows that they will never have to use it anyway, so why spend the additional money? Why indeed.
Go to the beach yourself and see for yourself what the result of corporate greed is. Then tell me that “drill baby drill” is a mantra worth repeating. You want to get really sick, look at this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtGLBgTP8r4.

Image: http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/2010/0623/Gulf-oil-spill-Pensacola-Beach-covered-in-tar-balls

New use for old Genes

Just read an article (1) on so called junk genes. These are genes that make defective RNA, the stuff that helps make protein in cells. The junk genes have been considered useless remnants, or vestigial pieces of genetic material. Now we find out that these defective structures may actually lure molecules that might otherwise cause trouble away from their intended target to form a harmless unit. Or, more sinister, they might lure a beneficial control substance away from a normal gene, thus making it more likely to create problems, like cancer. Big deal? You bet it is. This changes the way we have to think about the control of all sorts of biochemical pathways, and open the way to research that could lead to solving some very perplexing medical problems.
For years, texts have reported lots of DNA in cells that was called “vestigial” and therefore considered useless. My students might remember me cautioning that just because we don’t know what something does, does not mean that it does nothing. In fact, because evolution and natural selection are such powerful agents in the world of the cell and organism, I think that it is likely that most or all of the so-called vestigial genetic material will eventually be found to do something besides just sit there and suck up resources.
Human hubris knows no bounds, so take care not to fall into that trap. Keep your mind open, watch, listen and be prepared to push the boundaries of human knowledge.
Who says science is dull? The image is of a mouse "hand" growing an opposable thumb. Cool, huh? The article that accompanies the photo explains.

1. http://www.sciencenews.org/view/generic/id/60515/title/Vestigial_no_more
Image: http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2008/09/scientists-find/

The Lights Just Dimmed a Little More

From one Richard to another.
From his sense of humor to his commitment to education to his very name (I’m a Richard too), Richard Miller and I were much alike. When I first met him, years ago at a science fair, we realized that “raunchy” was a language we shared, and jokes were the currency of getting to know each other. We shared a professional interest in Med Tech too. His formal and mine less so. We had some great laughs together both in person and via email (all erased, so don’t ask) and ate some interesting lunches together at Med Tech committee meetings. We were friends in the sense of working together and kidding around when possible and enjoying each other's company. We shared opinions of people and had laughs over that, too. We were not friends in the sense of hanging out after work or going fishing or anything like that, but had an easy relationship. He was “there” for me when I needed him, and I would like to think the same for me. Our friendship was the kind that pauses, and then months later continued as if there were no pause at all. I know he will be much missed by his family and friends, and professional colleagues as well.
It seems that our own days are in some ways measured by the dimming of lights when someone we know, or know of, or respect dies. So on this occasion, the lights dim just a little more.
This last bit is for Rich (as we sometimes addressed other):” From one Dick to another, I’m gonna miss you, man.”

What is Wrong With John McCain?

LGBT
Willy Nelson: “Just when you think it’s all over it has only begun” (1)
And so the continuing fight for equality for our lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered brothers and sisters goes on. Make no mistake about this: you know and love and respect many of these folks. They are your children, relatives, friends, neighbors, bosses, coworkers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, entertainers, grocers, police, fire fighters, ER nurses and many many more. Maybe you know they are “out” and maybe you don’t. But do you really care if the first responder that saves your life has a same-sex partner? I think the answer is not just “no” but “HELL NO”.

And since the Revolution LGBTs (OK, no “T” until later) have been protecting you, sharing your foxholes and ships and planes. And your showers. That seems to be one of the real issues doesn’t it? “I don’t want them looking at me. They might “try” something”. What are they going to “try”? To be your friend? To save your life? Did you ever stop to think that they might be just as nervous that you might “try” something too? Like beating the shit out of them just for living? Try living with that fear and see how you feel.

It is time for all of you, my friends, to step up to the plate. You know the right thing to do, don’t you? The American Military is one of the last bastions of segregation for LGBTs. “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” is a disgrace and NOW is the time to end it. Now is the time to call your Senator (a few of these revered folks are queer, too) and tell him or her to vote to kill DADT once and for all. Use this link (http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm?State=IL ) to find your Senators. What if you don’t ? Only you will know that by being silent you are keeping hatred and segregation alive. Only you will know you failed your brothers and sisters. Only you.
And while you are at it, call Senator John McCain and tell him for me that I once thought he was a Prince, and now I think he is an asshole. It’s OK to use that word with McCain. He’s ex military and knows what an asshole is.

1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1OXx4H9DuZY&feature=related
Image: editor-mom.blogspot.com/2006/03/another-strai...