Monthly Archives: October 2007


Salt pork. No, really.

I’ve written about nosebleeds before, but not in any helpful way. Since Dan wants a post on nosebleeds, and since I’m easy, here it is. But read my disclaimer first.

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Tonsillectomy redux

I feel like the publisher of Playboy. While most of my hits come from this cleavage photo or that J-Lo butt photo, occasionally rarely, newcomers are here to read things. In response to last year’s post on tonsillectomy, KC writes,

here’s one for ya…. i used to get tonsillitis a lot as a child. my mom asked the dr. if he thought i should have them removed and he said “No, they’ll probably rot out on their own.” What the HECK? I don’t have trouble with tonsillitis as an adult, but I do have crypts in them like crazy so suffer the dreaded tonsil stones. YUCK. Wish I had them out years ago so I wouldn’t have these nasty tonsil stones to deal with.

What’s up with my doctor saying that my tonsils would rot out on their own?

This was in the 1970’s by the way.

KC, I have an answer for you . . . below the fold.

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Best laid plans

Just settling down to write a post on tonsillectomy, when wouldn’t you know it: the ER calls. I have to go stop a bad nose bleed.

See ya later. Maybe.

D.

Hell, you don’t need me. CORN DOG IS BACK!

Scent of a [sexually receptive partner]

Usually, the mainstream media jumps all over scientific reports relating to gender issues. LGBT science is hot stuff. I might have missed it, but a recent report in Nature (Vol 448, August 30, 2007, p. 1009) should have made a splash, but didn’t — perhaps because the findings can’t be boiled down into a simple sound byte, or the information is a little too technical, or folks are too quick to disregard any relationship between mice and humans.

Here’s the question, and it is, arguably, the central question of gender: what controls our preference for a male or female mate? In the August 30 Nature, Kimchi et al. (no, I’m not joking about the name) report that pheromone sensing controls both partner preference and mating behavior. First, some definitions:

In vertebrates, pheromones are recognized by neurons located in two sensory tissues in the nasal cavity, the main olfactory epithelium (MOE) and the vomeronasal organ (VNO) . . . . Previous work had shown that deletion of the gene encoding TRPC2, a cation channel expressed only in VNO neurons, profoundly diminishes pheromone-evoked activity in these neurons.

Here’s the deal: since the 80s, scientists have had the ability to create “knockout mice,” mice lacking function in one particular gene. (The inventors of the technique recently won the Nobel Prize for it.) In the old days, if you wanted to investigate the function of the VNO, you’d have to surgically ablate it. But that would open up a raft of confounding variables — perhaps the behavioral changes were due to some other effect of surgery, not to destruction of the VNO. But with genetic techniques, you have a truly fine scalpel to dissect structure and function. Trpc2 knockout mice allow us to look at the behavior of mice which have not had surgery, still have VNO neurons, but lack VNO neurons’ responsiveness to pheromones. They are (nearly) ‘pheromone-blind’ mice.

Are you still with me? Great. Because now we get to the good stuff: the behavior of Trpc2 knockout mice.

Male mice lacking the Trpc2 gene do not distinguish between males and females, mating with animals of either sex. Moreover, in contrast to normal males, these mutant mice do not fight with intruder males.

. . . .

Now, Kimchi et al. find that Trpc2-deficient females also fail to distinguish between males and females among their conspecifics [members of the same species] in terms of mating preference. Unexpectedly, however, they found that mutant females behave like Trpc2-deficient males, sniffing, pursuing, and mounting mice of either sex . . . . These findings suggest that the VNO detects pheromones that normally prevent female mice from displaying male-typical sexual behavior.

Females can also be from Mars, Nirao M. Shah and S. Marc Breedlove, Nature News & Views, 30 August, pages 999-1000

How much of this, if any of it, can be generalized to humans? If you search for articles on “olfaction” (the sense of smell) and “libido,” or “anosmia” (loss of the sense of smell) and “libido,” you’ll find a raft of testimonial-quality evidence, but there’s precious little in peer-reviewed journals. A recent review (abstract) looked primarily at evidence from animal studies. However, Swedish scientists have found, using positron emission tomography (a scan which highlights metabolic activity in the brain), that lesbians respond to the putative pheromones AND and EST the way heterosexual men do. Similarly, homosexual men respond to AND the way heterosexual women do.

I don’t think a coherent picture has yet emerged explaining all the intricacies of olfaction and its effects on human sexual preferences. Fascinating topics like this make me wish I were back in the biomedical research biz, though. It’s even relevant to my turf — ear, NOSE, and throat.

Enjoy your Sunday.

D.

I Heart Pete Stark *updated*

. . . for speaking truth to power.

He’s getting blasted by the Republican noise machine for stating that Bush is getting kids’ heads blown off in Iraq for his own amusement. When I sent Congressman Stark a contribution today, I wrote him that ‘amusement’ was not, perhaps, the best word. This war is all about Bush’s toilet paper-thin ego, and his desperate, panicky desire to “stay relevant.” And no, that’s not the whole story, because it leaves out the lust for dictatorial power, the desire to commit the most massive theft in world history, the psychopathology of engineering a Revelations-style Armageddon in the Middle East, and the stupidity to blunder into it with as much foresight and planning as a crowd of drunken frat boys deciding a panty raid on ‘those Tri-Delt bitches’ would be a good thing. Pete Stark’s comments barely scratch the surface of the Bush Administration’s evil.

But they were a fine start.

You rock, Congressman Stark.

Live-blogging tonight, y’all.

UPDATE 10/23/07: He apologized. I want a refund on the money I contributed!

D.

Friday Flickr Babes: voyeur

Man in the mirror, originally uploaded by Sator Arepo.

This one strikes me as masterful understatement. The voyeur’s attentiveness is moderated by the lack of focus; the woman is only partly nude, so to what degree is he invading her privacy?

More voyeurism . . . below the cut.

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The Weather Thirteen

Puke worthy Los Angeles Smog, originally uploaded by perfectlymadebirds.

Smog, hail, storms, wind, and more . . . below the cut. By the way: the photographer says the above photo is true color. I can believe it.

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The heart of things

Mi Corazon, originally uploaded by Pinkbell.

Interesting article in the October 12 issue of Science: Matters of the Heart, by A. J. Wells:

Is there any truth in the long-standing association of emotions with the heart, or is it merely the stuff of superstition and myth? “Heartfelt Emotions,” a symposium that brought to a close a program of events supporting The Heart exhibition at the Wellcome Collection’s recently refurbished building in London, explored this question. The symposium included contributions from the exhibition’s curators, heart scientists, poets, writers, historians, psychologists, and a keenly interested audience.

It must have been a delightful symposium, but we can only guess; Wells provides few details of the proceedings. We’ll have to speculate.

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Damn you, Sughrue

I’m ticked off at a character, C.W. Sughrue, and since he’s not my character, there’s not a damned thing I can do about it. See, I just finished James Crumley’s The Right Madness, Crumley’s most recent (and who knows, maybe his last) Sughrue novel. I’ve been with C.W. through The Last Good Kiss, The Mexican Tree Duck, and Bordersnakes, and even if he is one mean bastard son of a bitch detective (C.W. likes his parents and objects to such aspersions), I still care about him. I wanted Crumley to leave C.W. in a happy place. He’s not in a happy place. He’s more damaged than ever.

Unless you’re a hardboiled/noir fan, the name Crumley probably doesn’t mean much to you. And if you’re not an HB/noir fan, I could tell you that lots of folks consider Crumley a latter day Chandler and that wouldn’t mean anything to you, either. Or that his character, C.W. Sughrue (“Shoog as in sugar. And rue as in rue the goddamned day”), is a latter day Philip Marlowe, if Marlowe popped amphetamines and did the occasional line of coke. But, like Marlowe, C.W. lives by a code: Family and friends are gold, and anyone who threatens them can and will rot in hell.

The first C.W. Sughrue novel, The Last Good Kiss, has an opening line that sings. Lots of HB/noir fans really dig this line, myself included.

When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonora, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.

Seemingly, the story begins at the end: C.W. has been hired to find Trahearne, a novelist-drunk, by Trahearne’s ex-wife. But he takes on a charity case for a friend who wants him to find her runaway daughter, and soon C.W. and Trahearne are traipsing across the USA, ripping through their stash of booze, tobacco, and coke. And when that tale ends, the reader is still only halfway through the novel.

Over the course of these four novels, C.W. gets gutshot and left for dead, kills some baddies, does some drugs, runs afoul of the DEA and the FBI and I-don’t-know-how-many police departments, acquires a makeshift family, defends them from some mean sons of bitches, does some more drugs, kills some more baddies, gets betrayed more than a few times, and loses his family.

That last part, that’s the part that stings. The one thing that tied C.W. to humanity was his wife and adopted son, and now . . . And now Crumley is 68 and I have to pray he lives long enough to write another C.W. Sughrue novel. He’s had some weird health problems (which he discusses in this interview) so his survival is not a moot question. So I have to worry, will Crumley’s next novel feature one of his other regulars, C.W.’s partner Milo Milodragovitch? I like Milo, but I love C.W. Crumley has to write another Sughrue novel.

I can’t think of too many other fictional characters who have come alive for me like C.W. Sughrue. Sticking to the HB/noir stuff for the moment, there’s Martin Cruz Smith’s Arkady Renko. Chandler’s Philip Marlowe. John LeCarre’s George Smiley. (Yeah, not quite the same genre, but close.) And that’s about it.

What characters have come alive for you? And have you ever felt like this — dying for the author to write the next one, so that your character can get his ass out of a sling?

D.

Ground rules

I may be an asshole, but I think doctors should get paid for their work whether they cure their patients or not. There. I’ve said it.

Because if we cured every last one of our patients, we would be gods, and then you would have to pay us in the tribute of our choosing.

Devotion.

Prayers.

A fattened calf or three.

Virgins.

Virgins.

That bill looks a shade more reasonable now, doesn’t it? I believe I’ve made my point.

D.

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