A Red Sketchbook

` Yep. It's a sketchbook. It's red. I bought it while I was waiting for EdgeWalker to complete his driver's test. Later on, I took a Pilot G-2 and started to draw myself on the cover wearing a shirt with my own monogram. And dammit, it took a really long time to fill in all that black!
` I was going to type 'Under Construction' over this image, because it is and I thought it would be amusing, but for some reason I didn't after all.

` I should note here that this is actually the first time I ever remember seriously drawing anything with a pen!

` In fact, EdgeWalker is the one who photographed these drawings for me - despite the fact that he still has not replaced his stolen flash. I had actually gone to the library on Monday - like I said I would! - in order to use their scanners, which it turned out they didn't have.
` However, EdgeWalker happened to have missed a going to work that day for the first time, so he gladly photographed, adjusted, and did other things to each page of my sketchbook. On top of that, he put them all on a CD and made an awesome label composed of parts of my cover art.
` What a guy! Can't wait to add more onto the disk...
` Only one thing about the pages, however... I completely forgot about putting a backing behind each one so that you can't see the page behind it. As a result, you may notice blue areas in some of these images. Well, hey, I don't like to bother with Photoshopping things if I can help it.

` Now then, here's the first page, as well as the very first pen drawing I remember doing on paper:


` It represents the many attacks that our enormous cat, Butters, has waged on EdgeWalker- yes, that's him! You see, he is constantly having to endure this perpetually meowing, licking, biting, shedding and scratching feline terror, which is sometimes of great annoyance to him. In fact, earlier on today, he dumped her here in my room, saying; "Let's go see your favorite Spoony!"
` Or at least, he would have, had that been my real name.
` Basically, he treats her like a small, very vocal child, picking her up and playing with her - and brushing her fur - until she becomes so worked up and aggressive that he has to shut her in another room or something. Despite this, he is definitely her favorite human.

` I also want to say, I'm not entirely happy with the lettering, plus I just noticed I could have made the tall and pointy 'o' in 'Bipolar' into the pupil of a cat's eye-design (instead of drawing the ill-fitting little one I had done) and it would have worked just perfectly!
` Well, perhaps I'll do another sometime. After all, I'm very much a beginner at this.

` Moving on already, my next drawing of Butters illustrates the two sides of her personality; asleep and neurotic.


` Personally, it's one of my favorite sketches of the whole book. But I almost like this other one of her better:
` Butters as one of the little sphynxes from the movie MirrorMask:


` It's quite apt, too; When she's not attacking EdgeWalker, she's standing by her food dish meowing incessently, and sometimes she won't even stop when you pay attention to her! Butters does this so much that we're worried she thinks the only reason she gets fed is because she whines so much!
` Gar.

` Now, as for the other entity I live with - that would be Phil - I've done many pencil sketches that portray him quite accurately.
` However, this is my first relatively successful pen sketch of him:


` He says he prefers another one I did rather than this one, because he claims this drawing makes him look like a bloated corpse. Well, too bad, I don't agree. Even so, I think he makes a quite handsome zombie.

` I also have a couple more of EdgeWalker from the same page:


` I think they tended to work out better because I was sitting across from him at the cafe we were at, rather than next to him. In each case, however, I couldn't see his ear from that angle, so I messed that up both times.


` Even so, they really do a lot look like him, albeit with a scribbly ear and a few delinquent lines. Notice, off to the right-hand-side is at least a proper drawing of his other ear!
` In fact, I have an even better drawing of him, but that'll be in my next post.

` Until then, feel free to leave as many comments as you like.

The Mad Doctor - a true story not for the weak of stomach. (Part 4 of 4)

` And here we come to the final part of my true story, The Mad Doctor (which begins here).
` So, you may be wondering how I got out of the institution. Well, it wasn't so much my own doing as it was my mom's, but... oh, you'll see.

` Luckily, after begging to see a doctor as many chances as I could, Doctor Carman finally agreed to see me. I figured, all I had to do was not tell her how much I constantly had the feeling that I didn't belong there, which I prided myself in not saying at all to anyone - that's usually a big mistake.
` This time, she was much nicer, though when I finally tried to tell her about when I was tortured, she merely interrupted me with; "You know, you are really so much better today than last time I saw you. Your speech isn't slurred anymore, and you seem so alert!"
` I don't know how she could have expected any different: Last time, I had been drugged to the extent that I couldn't even walk, much less speak or think clearly.
` "Do you remember that?" she asked.
` Thinking hard, I nodded.
` "Well, I'm thinking of letting you go upstairs soon," she said. "Maybe tomorrow."
` While she didn't want to discuss my being tortured, or even acknowledge that it had happened, I did manage to complain about the way the Abilify she had prescribed was causing me to constantly rock back and forth - even when I was trying to sleep.
` Seriously, the only way I could make it stop was to concentrate on it, much in the way breathing can be controlled. If I stopped thinking about it, the rocking started again, and because one cannot fall asleep without thinking of things like holding one's breath, it was almost impossible for me to sleep. At all.
` It was also making me very confused about where I was at times, I told her, and I kept doing strange and annoying things I had both never done before and had no control over. On top of this, I was shaking to the point that I could barely walk.
` Carman's solution? More drugs!

` Even so, that was an exciting night for me. To think, I wouldn't be considered 'dangerous' anymore! Though I became less and less coherant the more Abilify I was given, I still managed to write down many more observations, including the last of Christina's incessent all-night ramblings. Go ahead, read them for your own sick amusement:
` "When. When will you?" "I'm affecting your magic. I am. I'm affecting your magic." "Hgh! I can do a deal, Christina. This is Armageddon and Nostradamus." "No, don't do it. Take the eyeballs." "And you can have that." "I feel your Reiki. I see her every single lifetime. 'Cause this is your name. Vinny's gonna try to convince everyone they're God, you gotta wake them up. This is your name... except Nathan." "I'll come. Nathan? It's me. I'll come. Just pitch yourself out of your body. Go outside and hurl your soul." "Where are they?"
` She was interrupted by the other raging hallucinator, Vicki: "What'd she say? I'll kick her!"
` "I see 'em, Christine. Nothing is working out good. Nothing. No - all the angels aren't taking care of things. I'm looking at the night stars." "You're not. Nostradamus said the right year. But Satan has the scissors." "Hgh! Hgh! That's where they are. They're right here."
` "Onyx, you're hurting me. Let go of my mind... Reiki is really pissed. She is. I don't want to wake them up. And tell them their names. Be gods, be gods. Especially you, Christine, especially you. Especially you. Especially you. Especially after today."
` "Okay, alright." "Dammit, David, you still got dusted. These eyeballs. They're still purple. Make them purple with your time machine." "They will be. They will be. They will be. They will be. They will be. They will be. They just turned purple. They did. They did. They did. There, they are purple. They are. You are supposed to say you are Christina." "Didn't all the other galaxies get really pissed when you called yourself a god?" "I am. I'm a Reiki, too. Put your eyeballs in. The right one first. The right one first."
` Christina mimed putting an eyeball into her right orbit. "They are supposed to roll back in your head. Now your left one. Just stick it in there, not like that. Just stick it in." Abruptly, she looked down at her feet. "I'm splashing it, dude, I am." She bent down and picked up the eyeball, which of course, wasn't there. "Now, open your left eye."
` "Hey, you sleepy?" Vicki yelled from her room. Then, Vicki went on to curse and scream at her bathroom and called Christina a bitch for not ever shutting up.
` This type of thing went on until about three in the morning. At about five, Vicki was still awake, saying something like; "Your mother is being tortured by my son being alien intern. I didn't kill your grandma. Vicki did." She seemed to be talking about sons and aliens and 'dinotopia' for a while, from what I can tell from my notes. At one point, she was sitting on one of the lobby chairs, saying; "One of my children's gonna kill 'em." Then she mumbled something about veal, and stood up. "I think your mother..." she sat down suddenly and said innocently, "I'm just Ginger, Roger's daughter."

` And after the sun had risen, nothing had changed. Vicki was going on; "Excuse me, but you said not to talk about that shit - I am 49 years old! I should know better than you!"
` Christina, on the other hand, was speaking in a very deep, vibrant voice, slowly moving her arms above her head; "I held up the sky. Ommmmmmmm. I held up the whole sky. Ommmmmmmm. Cosmic earth."
` I made my way past Vicki, who said; "Am I watchin' you? Don't walk with me!"
` "Ah, demons," I snickered to Jennifer.
` "Some people are just prone to them," she said, shaking her head. Well, we got to talking, and it turned out that I wasn't the only one being moved upstairs soon. Both of us were quite excited about this prospect.
` Jen was telling me how the old woman who had slept in the other bed the first night I was here had said; "I don't want no bible beatin', smokin' people. I'm sick of it. Go back to the hospital you came from! Drop dead!" Jen had actually been this woman's roommate before I had.
` I told her about the other day when I thought the Milk of Magnesia had finally kicked in on my intestinal blockage - after taking it for three days - and rushed into the bathroom. No sooner had I pulled my pants down when my only roommate, Theresa, opened the door, thrown a towel across my lap, and started whispering hysterically about how she thought we were going to be killed: Apparently, someone in the hallway supposedly had said; 'She knows,' just after she had stuffed the phone number down my mom's sweater, a clue that she just couldn't keep it to herself any longer.
` Actually, later on that day, I really did think the Magnesia might have kicked in for real, however Theresa was in the shower and the orderlies would not let me into the other bathroom. That surely was another thing to complain about, although at least it was a false alarm - I was only beginning to bleed in a new and different way.
` Gee, I guess that made three bleeding orifices for me - a record that I have thankfully not bested myself at. I really was in horrible shape, sleep deprived with a whole-skull migraine and jaws that were only just beginning to unclench. Not to mention all the cramps and bleeding and whatnot.
` Truthfully, we were both very miserable down there because we were having all these problems and the orderlies just disregarded us. That, and we weren't crazy! ...Well, I wasn't anyway. Anyone could tell you that, but for the time being, I was the only one in the whole place who knew that I didn't belong there at all.

` As far as what had happened later that day, I don't clearly recall, as the drugs were quite overpowering. All I remember is being on the other side of the glass wall and climbing some stairs. I took down these notes:

` Now I'm in the upper unit. I can barely see because I didn't get much sleep. [Or so I had thought.] I'm listening to the Jerry Lewis Special on PBS. The new guy, Travis, totally hit on me and said 'I'll be ready when you are.' WTF?! [Yes, and he constantly sang my name over and over whenever he saw me.]
` This place is not like jail. It's got a bed so firm and not plastic with stuffing in them [sic], so I sit on it with no crackly, springy noises. My roommate, Kim, is ill so at least it's quiet here. [It turns out that Kim was about eight months pregnant.] My supposedly life-threatening double-period that's really bad is fading finally. [I was severely white-complexioned at that point.]
` We have a flatscreen TV, a [very out-of-tune] piano, foosball, and a shower that isn't flush with the floor so that I don't have to put in any towels on the floor to sop it up. I was lucky that the water was hot! There's actually two TVs here in two different rooms.
` Seriously, I have it made, all because I was acting like myself with Dr. Carman, and successfully navigated a group therapy thingie. Then I moved my stuff and went to lunch (Open Pit-type barbecue!!) and another meeting, and then forced my jaws open enough for half a hoagie. Getting sick of these Resource drinks!
` In other words, I am well. And I actually DIALED Phil's cell phone and he called back on the nearest pay phone from where the phone was. They also have an exercise bike and a water cooler. I think I'll have some [water] and eventually I'll get a blanket!

` Yes, all of this was truly a big deal to me as I had been deprived of regular food, water, and orderlies who would pay me any attention. In fact, twice a day we even got to go outside into a large fenced-in area with picnic tables, a basketball court, and sometimes, deer. We also had a laundry room and a kitchen, so we always had clean clothes and snacks to eat.
` And, 'blankets?' - no idea why I'd written that. Perhaps because I still had a chill and needed to wear one in order to stop me from shaking too much.
` But the extra medication I had been prescribed was already doing that to most of an extent. I could walk almost normally, and my perpetual rocking was a bit easier to control.
` Unfortunately, this medication also made me go nearly blind for a while. As a result, I had to stop writing about anything that had happened for the rest of my stay. In addition, the Abilify had really begun to affect my memory, so half the time I didn't even know what was going on, though at least I can remember more clearly now.
` For example, I remember that I had been in some kind of group therapy twice a day and had actually gone to a cafeteria to eat real food three times a day. It was really good, too!
` Unfortunately, the staircase on the way down smelled strongly like burnt margarine and chlorine - to everyone's dismay - and so it didn't help much with my appetite. Strangely, though, all of the orderlies were so used to it that they assured us that there was no such smell.
` The chefs were really nice, too. They were always making the greatest food, from pancakes to pizza. However, one day I couldn't possibly make myself eat lunch. Afterwards, one of the chefs asked why I wasn't eating much and I said I was sick. He said; "Oh, but you'll eat tonight, I'm sure!" I insisted that I could not, and he insisted that I could. So, my face burning, I said; "I've been constipated for a week and a half! So there!"
` However, even though everybody who worked there seemed to know this about me, if I was ever in the bathroom for more than a minute, someone would come around and knock at the door at intervals of thirty seconds, calling; "Are you alright?" I'd say; "I'm fine." Thirty seconds later, they'd knock again, asking about my well-being. This got old real fast. I was like; "I might be better if you'd leave me alone!"
` Eventually, I did get better, too; after that point, only one orifice was bleeding. And it was not my mouth, either, which had healed up sufficiently after about a week from being torn up.

` I recall, mainly, being very confused a lot, especially in group therapy. I was always speaking as much as possible and saying things I wasn't sure were true or not because I couldn't remember. It was around this time where I kept thinking to myself about my strange and hyperactive behavior; 'I can see the light! I really am crazy! I just can't sit still! How could I not have noticed before?'
` The truth, of course, was that I was normally a human lump, no matter what there was to be done, and I generally had very little energy for anything. Having such a short memory, however (It had seemed like I'd lived in that hospital forever!), I thought that this was somehow the way I'd been my whole life.
` I remember meeting this conflict when I volunteered to talk about something I knew nothing about - the other patients. I said; "I'm sorry I don't know anything, but I was just saying this because I usually am so shy around other people and just can't talk to a group of people."
` Strangely, they all applauded my effort. And yet, what had I been doing each group? Constant motormouth, my mind racing. It didn't make sense, but my perception was colored by the Abilify - plus everything else going on around me - and I just could not remember who I was.

` One day, Phil and my own mother dropped by. I don't really remember this, but my mom recounted later that she'd said then that she'd left something on the top of the microwave oven and I'd began to run off to get it. Then I'd stopped and turned around and looked at her strangely, saying; "Oh, the microwave's at home, and I'm not there."
` I do remember, however, that I could not stop pacing in my free time - I couldn't sit still at all! - so in order for Phil to talk to me, he had to keep up after me around the corridors, of which I had three rather than one! I don't really recall what he'd said, other than the fact that he was about to be forced to leave on family vacation and I wouldn't see him for another couple of weeks. I also remember that I'd kept stumbling every so often because my inner ears had a tendency of randomly going out on me: I would suddenly feel as if I were falling and lurch forward in order to try to catch myself.
` After the fact, however, Phil told me how amazingly lifeless I had been that day - I had no spirit whatsoever, seemed to be perfectly contented with life at the mental hospital. Really I didn't even care if I lived there for years! It was like I didn't want my old life back.
` Of course, I couldn't even remember my old life.
` While Phil was talking with me, however, my mom was speaking to Doctor Carman about my situation with the Mad Doctor torturing me and all. She said that earlier on, Carman did think I might have had schizophrenia - thanks to my know-nothing psychiatrist in Medina, Dr. Kwak, who had told me earlier that year that she couldn't help me because she didn't know what was wrong with me. (Try Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?) Well, it is no wonder that a lot of other Medina mental health professionals called her 'Dr. Quack."
` Anyway, Carman realized from what my mother had told her that I was not at all delusional about what had happened to me, and didn't even seem to be psychotic one bit! She said she'd let me go pretty soon, in fact.

` But when, exactly, I didn't find out until eight hours after I was supposed to have left. I was in my room, attempting to read alternately by using one of the nurses' reading glasses and waving my hands in front of the paper. Yes, my eyeballs were beginning to work because I had stopped taking the medication that prevented me from constantly rocking. And that meant that I was constantly rocking. All the time. But it was better than being blind.
` I looked up to see this blurry shape in my blurry doorway, with a blurry something in her hand-like blurs, telling me that I was supposed to have been discharged at noon. Excited as all heck, I got up and called my mom straightaway.
` Naturally, her response was; "Aw, do I have to come get you? It's eight o'clock at night!"
` No, it really, she said that!!!
` Nevertheless, I made her come right down and get me. Afterwards, I was packing up the clothes and things she'd brought me, when another blur entered my room. Or maybe it was the same one, I couldn't tell. Anyway, she asked me about my intestinal blockage-thingy and I said; "Oh, it's been over two weeks and not much luck."
` She said to hang on and left for a little while. She came back with a glass bottle of Citrus of Magnesia, though she made me drink it right away in case someone raged into my room and smashed it against something.
` It tasted very, very good, actually - just like fresh-squeezed lemon and lime juice, though it was carbonated. I can barely sip those things they sting so much. But, as I was about to leave soon on an hour-long car ride from Chagrin Falls back to Medina, you can guess that it had begun working profusely before I'd gotten home. I'll say no more, other than the fact that my mom's car was perfectly clean, thank you.
` And then, I finally did arrive home. I finally got to do so many things I'd missed; first, using my own bathroom, then holding my Katie-cat, sleeping in my own bed with my Katie-cat, and getting on my computer - though I had about three hundred e-mails waiting for me.
` That Mad Doctor Benninger had called a couple of times while I was gone, asking about how I was doing, but this was little more than harrassment. Soon after, I was able to open my mouth wide enough to have my stitches removed with nice, cool scissors by my dentist, Dennis Schirippa. He said he wasn't surprised at this kind of behavior from Benninger. (Actually, so were a lot of people I'd heard from who described the guy as an asshole who didn't care about how they were feeling or whether or not they were bleeding when they left his office.) In fact, he called Benninger to verify my story, and Schirippa's conclusion was that he now had thorough reason to stop sending his patients to him at all!

` But that's not the end of the story. I would like it to be, but there was still much to come - not the least of which was the two hours I spent crying because Schirippa later told me he didn't believe that Benninger was capable of changing someone's consent form. My orthodontist, Dr. Fuller, also had the same opinion, despite the fact that many of his patients didn't.
` But I'm getting ahead of myself: The first thing of all was getting off of Abilify - a.k.a Aripiprazole. After being home for a few months and not being able to stop rocking back and forth, constantly getting into fights with Mom and her eponymous-brewery boyfriend Tom Burkhardt, being often told that I had lost my sense of humor, and doing hundreds of very alienating things such as going up to complete strangers and talking to them in a funny voice (because I was actually failing to not say anything at all and squinching my throat up as tight as I could), I realized that I had something very wrong with me that wasn't there before.
` I think, though, that it was more the panic attacks which were what finally broke the straw. Really - have you ever been so afraid that you feel sick to your stomach, yet so frightened that you can't vomit? Like you're up against a wall and there's some horrifying, monstrous beast that's just about to do something you know will be unspeakable, and you just wish that you'd spontaneously die before it got to you?
` Have you ever been terrified that you'd swallowed broken glass for days, even when you knew you hadn't? In fact, I remember once being horrified that somehow I had gotten pregnant, even though I was (and am still) a virgin (for obvious reasons), plus my boyfriend had been on his dreary vacation all that time. Really, I didn't actually believe these things, but I couldn't get rid of the awful feelings that seemed to come from nowhere!
` About every day, I'd be having panic attacks, flashbacks, and panic attacks with flashbacks. They were really quite something. Sometimes, I'd scream agonizingly at the top of my lungs - *ahem*, you'd think that someone was cutting my very flesh and bone! - and of course, if my mom heard me, she'd come over and tell me to be quiet.
` Well, that wasn't very nice.
` And one night, I actually screamed so loud near a sneakily open window I didn't know was there, and someone who was outside heard me and called the police! I was quite interested at first for some reason, but then I had the awkward fortune of trying to explain to Mom and Tom just why they were there.
` Anyhow, after another night terror caused my mom to come into my room and restrain me from thrashing around and getting all bruised (a rather strange behavior of her), I resolved to stop taking the Abilify. A few days later, I began to notice that I had some control over myself, although the shaking took a few more months to wear off. (It was really interfering with my driving ability, too, as putting on the brakes without pumping them involved standing on the brake pedal.)
` Later I learned from two mental health professionals that this bizarre behavior - completely uncontrollable impulses to do things against my will, panicky feelings from nowhere, and the inability to stop rocking - was caused by the fact that I did not have the thing wrong with me that the medicine was supposed to correct. Normally, its effect goes the other way around, you see - people who think and do strange things and rock back and forth are supposed to stop doing those things!

` And then, of course, let's not forget the fact that the part of my tongue that touches the roof of my mouth as well as part of my genitals went completely numb at one point. It started getting better over the course of a couple of months, then worse, then better, then it plain spread throughout my body in February.
` Since then, it's been steadily getting worse, though the pattern of empty spaces in my brain does not reveal a neurological basis for this particular problem. After CAT scans, MRIs and an EEG, it's clear that this is caused by a type of mental blockage they call 'conversion disorder'. And supposedly, the Ancient Egyptians called these related phenomena 'the wandering uterus'. I have no idea why.
` Anyway, I know that I will, at some point, break myself of this strange mental habit of making oneself feeling not like much of anything on the outside; I just have to be untroubled and unafraid enough to do so.

` However, it was still a mystery to me why I had been sent me to that mental hospital in the first place. Apparently, my G.P., Doctor Madrilejos, who I'd talked to in the ER, didn't believe my story at all and thought that I must be delusional if I thought Doctor Benninger would have done such underhanded things to me. You see, they were friends, and Medina wholeheartedly supports the 'Good Ol' Boy' system.
` And yet I didn't know he thought I was crazy because he didn't tell me at all! Sure, he told me other things, such as the fact that I had strep throat twice in two months, and that I'd never stop having problems unless I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, but he didn't tell me he thought I was off my rocker! Instead, he told my friend, and Phil's mother, Rhonda! Apparently Madrilejos doesn't think much of that doctor-patient confidentiality thing.
` Of course, I didn't find that out until this year, because Rhonda is one of those people who can't seem to not keep secrets from other people - not even ones they'd like to know about! She explained she didn't want me to find out because I already had enough law suits on my hands.
` I should also mention that Madrilejos is also friends with that Dr. Kwak, who really never did find out what was wrong with me. Neither did I, until I came to Everett and began attending PTSD classes.
` Anyway, there's much more to the story, really, though I'm sure you're all quite tired enough of reading of my ordeal, and so am I, frankly. I am going to go and have a nice, sane day with some nice, sane and considerate people, in a nice little city about 2,400 miles away from The Mad Doctor of Medina.


` I'm also sure you will all be pleased with the ceasing of this horror story and the beginning of a new era, of my blog anyway. Aside from writing about these events here, I have also been obsessively working on digitizing some artwork for your viewing pleasure.
` In fact, I have it all ready to go!

The Mad Doctor - a true story not for the weak of stomach. (Part 3 of 4)

` Well, part two was definitely not nearly as traumatic to write about than part one - that was really the most frigtening experience I could have ever chosen to write about.
` Now, where was I?

` Oh yes, I was lying on the thin slab of foam, which bent up so sharply around me that the fitted corners of the sheet had probably instantly slid from its slippery plastic edges - which turns out to be the type of thing sheets do on plastic-covered pieces of foam.
` In fact, I spent the next three days on the plastic-covered foam, enduring stinging injections at regular intervals, barely able to move and totally unable to eat: Not only was the pain raging through my mouth, sinuses and ears intensely enough to keep me from laying my head sideways on my pillow, not only did my uvula feel as if it would be ripped off every time I tried to swallow, but I just couldn't open my jaws. They seriously wouldn't move any further than was necessary for tooth-chattering.
` In fact, my teeth tended to chatter like mad - especially because I had developed a chill - and the only facial expression I seemed to be capable of was a perpetual grimace coated in lukewarm blood-spittle.

` The first time I tried to get up was the dreadful morning I'd arrived. I was too dizzy and weak to be coordinated enough to walk - my mobility was actually worse than it had been while I waited in the Emergency Room. I halfway crawled to the bathroom - which was just behind my bed, on the other side of the door to the hall.
` I happened to look up out at the hallway to see a woman with dreadlocks standing there. I said to her something like; "I can't seem to get up this morning."
` "I suggest you try," she said, with a Jamaican accent.
` The 'Jamaican Lady', as I referred to her, seemed to be more or less a bitch, though she did change my sheets every day. That was good at least, as I had a habit of peeing on them once a day from not being able to get to the bathroom.
` She even gave me extra blankets for my chill, which helped me feel less cold. She said I was burning up and probably had a bad fever, but I couldn't take the extreme coldness and shivering on top of everything else. She also gave me these little boxes full of a chocolate supplemental beverage called 'Resource', which I was to drink through a straw despite the fact that it gave me what the nurses there called 'dry sockets'.
` It must have been the second or third day that I was sprawled out on the foam slab, surrounded by my bunched-up fitted sheet, when an actual medical professional came to see me. I was trying to distract myself from the pain by listening to a television set burbling in another room and scraping the caked blood off my neck when a woman with short, gray hair came in holding a clipboard.
` Other than raw sensory information, I remember very little of this incident. I had just been injected with a sedative, so my speech was especially slurred and the only thing I could think of was the pain, the flashbacks, and the fact that I felt too hot and too cold at the same time.
` I tried to tell the doctor that I needed some painkillers and someone to talk about the incident with Benninger. She didn't seem to want to listen to it herself, however, and soon left me to my suffering.
` Well, at least this wasn't quite as bad as having labor contractions for no discernible reason and then being screamed at for it. Nevertheless, it was still somewhat overwhelming.

` A little while after this, I was given some kind of pill, which I took grudgingly with some more Resource. Eventually, I managed to pathetically crawl from the tangle of bedclothes on the floor and get to the bathroom this time. Bracing myself on the sink, I was able to stand high enough to glimpse myself in the mirror.
` I was a mess.
` My face was solid brown with dried blood from the nose down, and my hair resembled some type of bird's nest. Not only this, but I also smelled of a mixture of rotting chicken fat and urine, and my mouth positively reeked of blackened flesh and blood.
` That day, I actually felt quite priveleged to be able to use the bathroom like everyone else rather than pee on myself. I was also somewhat grateful for a severe intestinal blockage I'd had for several days.
` Luckily, I managed to get myself cleaned up before my mom walked into my room, to my great surprise. I don't remember anything about seeing her other than my schizophrenic roommate practically shoving a scrap of paper with a phone number down her sweater in fear that someone else would see this transaction.
` Also, she'd said that Phil and Rhonda were coming soon - which, in fact, happened shortly after she left. It was odd, and I think it was because I'd just been put on this new medication. They seemed familiar at first, and then they didn't, and then they did. Never in my life had anything like that ever happen, though I can remember nothing else about this encounter.
` Phil told me later, however, that he'd talked to as many people as he could about me, and they seemed to think that I was some kind of hopeless mental case - hence my being held in the critical ward. These same people also looked shocked to learn that he was my boyfriend. He said; "She's not crazy, and the reason why she says she was tortured by a surgeon is because she was!"
` This was evidently news to those people, who were certain that I was schizophrenic. And, after Phil came in to visit me, he walked around a natural foods store called Wild Oats, feeling awfully guilty that he was capable of doing so.

` After the third day - the day on which I'm fairly certain my mother, Phil and Rhonda showed up to see me - I was able to get up and shamble around fairly well. A large part of the reason for this improvement was that I felt so helpless that I stopped calling out for painkillers. That stopped the nurses from injecting me with sedatives - which burned quite badly when they spread throughout my body.
` Yes, I had been officially broken by this mental hospital, which was really something I was quite sick and tired of. One of the first things I did, however, was find the large open area at the end of the hall, which had a television set and many lobby-style chairs occupied by the other inmates, a motley crew I'll get to in a few paragraphs.
` Beyond this area was a glass wall and glass door with a hinged window just to the right of it. I swung the window in and stuck my head through - which rather reminded me of Mister Ed. Accordingly, I was in fact treated like a talking horse - not seriously at all.
` I demanded strong painkillers, was denied them, and so I demanded to speak to a doctor, which I was also denied, and then I demanded a therapist, and was denied this as well. So, I blew up and started on about how much I couldn't stand the pain, how much I couldn't stand being denied my rights to medical treatment as an American citizen and how sick I was of being treated like I wasn't. "I'm a human being for god's sake!" I screamed.
` This earned me about three faceless people bursting out of the door, yanking down the back of my pants, and administering another stinging shot into my quite sore hips.
` For probably about a half hour after this, I did nothing but sit on my bruised buttocks in despair, bitterly weeping and drooling blood. Apparenly, the glass wall here was used much like the one at the primate house at the zoo, and there was nobody to ask the animals what was on their minds, despite their ability to speak.

` And yet, as I was in the same cage, I did learn to talk with the other animals. My roommate , Theresa, seemed to actually be quite normal most of the time, and even showed me how to lay towels on the floor to keep the water from coming out of the shower. (Yes, there was no barrier on the floor to keep the water from flooding the entire bathroom floor - but then, my showers were always quite short due to my chill and a consistent total lack of hot water.)
` I also learned that Theresa had made the sparkly blue thing she wore over her hair, and that she's been in a lot of very traumatic situations. Even so, I didn't have many problems communicating with her.
` Like the time she got me up in the middle of the night, teary-eyed, cupping my slimy face in her hands and telling me that her husband and children were being shot and we were next. She suggested we move my bed across the door, apologizing for wanting to barracade me in the room with her, though I decided to act 'the brave one', and scout out around the hallway.
` I said; "I don't see or hear a thing. Everything's okay."
` And just after this was actually when I first really paid much attention to Christina, a beautiful young woman with a head of long, wavy and vivid orange hair. She was still awake - as usual - walking around the TV area. Unable to sleep, I sat down in a chair and, being given pencil and paper by my mother, wrote down the many things she had been saying that night, which were punctuated by tosses of the head with what sounded like the snorting noise a horse makes.
` I noted that she was talking about some sort of business with magical eyeballs that could be put into one's eye sockets. It starts:
` Seeming to reassure someone in a rather monotone voice; "I have been doing this for two days straight. This is my job. This is my job." Then, another, younger-sounding voice; "Seriously, dude? Seriously? I love you dude." Then, the other voice; "Oh, get out, quick! Hgh! One down. Hgh!" "No, seriously! You get it out, you did."
` And then, a not-very happy voice: "Christina, this is Onyx!" Then, presumably whichever one Christina was; "Toss 'em back down to the devil and pray. Toss 'em back down to the devil and pray. I will never put them in your face again, Onyx." And Onyx said; "Free me from hell and I'll keep my promise." "If you keep your promise, I'll keep mine. Hgh!"
` "Yes we will! Yes we will. Yes we will. They can see the scissors. They can. They can see the scissors." "Christina, I don't want them getting them right now."
` Wellll... maybe I wouldn't talk to her just yet. But the next morning, I was once again shambling down the hallway, my new medication now making me shake more than ever along with my chill. Even worse, I was in even more pain because a freak menstural cycle had been somehow triggered by what I'd been through, so I had to stuff my pants with toilet paper to keep it from running down my leg.
` Luckily, it wasn't anything as bad as the contractions I used to have for reasons which still mystify me, but it was still bad enough to keep me from standing up straight. So here I was, doubled over in pain and shuffling along when the other raging schizophrenic - Vicki - a middle-aged woman with a black thing like Theresa's over her hair, came along in her usual pacing.
` "Excuse me, do you have to walk with me?" she spat.
` "Uh, no." I said, through my gritted teeth.
` "Then get outta my way!" Over her shoulder, she added; "We'll see what my father has to say about this!"
` Yes, Vicki was not fun to be around due to her aggressiveness. Luckily, her hallucinations tended to grab her attention away from me.
` Over in the TV area, I saw - wearing a tee-shirt and khaki shorts - Christina, who was Still At It. She said to the floor; "Maybe we would cannibalize them if there was nothing to eat?!" and then; "I was just kidding! Can't you take a joke?" Then, halfheartedly; "Oh, ha, ha."
` Another woman of indeterminate age, dressed in spotted hospital pajamas seemed very interested in Christine. This one had a lot of puffy, brown hair, prominent, rounded facial features, and a thoroughly glazed look - a look I'd found I also had.
` She stretched out her arms and put her hands on Christine's forehead, though one of the other patients told her to leave Christine alone. She lowered her hands and dreamily reminded her; "I'm only doing God's work."
` How could I get along with any of these other people?

` The time came when Vicki was motioning to one of her invisible people, perhaps a daughter, I was thinking. "Now, turn the yellow one around," she said. "There's my gorgeous girl."
` Inevitably, the woman with the bushy brown hair came up and tried to 'heal' Vicki. So, Vicki violently shoved her away and she came and sat down next to me as I innocuously shook and rocked back and forth uncontrollably from my medication.
` I was also wrapped in a blanket from my chills, but I attempted to smile at her anyway. I introduced myself and apologized for rocking back and forth, shivering. I explained that since I'd never done that before, it must me the Abilify - a drug I later learned was causing all sorts of strange behavior in me precisely because I didn't need it.
` She told me her name was Jennifer, and we got to talking. She seemed amazingly normal. Except, of course, she believed that demons were inhabiting the heads of the most afflicted of us.
` Really, we talked about all kinds of perfectly normal things, though at one point, she twisted around and clutched her back, saying; "You know. My back really hurts in this one spot, I think it's because Vicki hit me. Did you see that?"
` "Yeah, I did." I said, "She looked really pissed. Too back you can't do that oo-ooo-ooo.... that... healing stuff on yourself."
` She smiled genuinely and said, "I wish I could, but it doesn't work that way."
` "Doesn't that figure?" I said, grinning.
` It was truly amazing how rational and alert someone like her could seem, I thought, and yet be totally unaware that she was mentally ill. Meanwhile, as we were talking, I scratched the top of my nose and Vicki criticized me for not using a tissue. Luckily, I didn't have to respond because one of her hallucinations had distracted her.
` Surely, Vicki was definitely not someone I'd want to talk to. I'm not sure if Christina was, either, not that she was aggressive. In fact, the only agressive thing I'd heard of was when Jennifer said that once, she was saying to Christina; "I bet you're not even aware of me, are you?" and Christina actually snapped out of her miasma of gods and scissors to call her a bitch.
` How to break the barrier of her own little world? Truthfully, I was so self-absorbed with my own pain and problems that I didn't bother to make an effort, though I kept thinking that this wrongful trip to a crazy house was truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to observe (what else?) crazies.
` Fascinating, yes. But an unpleasant situation, nonetheless.

` Besides having to shower in a flooded bathroom with nothing but liquid soap and icewater, sleeping was also amazingly uncomfortable. My head had to be pointed straight up because my entire jaw musculature hurt like crazy, my erratic hormones caused my breasts to feel like two bulging bruises which hurt if I moved or tried to lay on my side, and yet my poor glutei were so bruised from all the injections that lying flat on my back was not a smart idea.
` Luckily, the drool pouring from my mouth was turning maroon, though the blood from my also-very-painful period caused me to have to get up every fifteen minutes and clean up.
` At one point, I was crying, so I got up in the middle of the night and swung the window in, asking for someone to talk to. The lady who was on the other side said that I didn't have that privelage. I asked who she was. She said she was my case manager.
` After much bargaining, she said she might talk to me if I was good, but first, I had to be sedated if I was to come behind the glass wall. After even more bargaining until after I stopped crying, I was still forced to agree.
` With my posterior newly stinging, she let me wait in a room behind her desk. I sat on a bed with restraints on it, afraid to leave to go into the nearby bathroom despite the blood that ran down my legs.
` Finally, she did come back and I said; "Oh, good you're here. I didn't know when you'd be back here. Listen, I need to clean the blood out of my pants really quickly, my underwear's soaked, it'll be like thirty seconds, it's just... I should have done it earlier, but, I didn't know when you'd come... I really do need to talk about this, and I thank you, you're the first person who's ever offered to talk to me since it happened."
` She sighed, rolled her eyes and said; "I don't have time for this," and walked away.
` I waited for her to come back, but when I came up to her behind her desk, she was still busy with whatever she was doing. She said she wouldn't talk to me because she had too much work to do.

` The next day, I think, someone else behind the desk showed me how to use the red phone in a which sat in a little scarcement in the hallway. It had no numbers in its dial - you had to ask for someone to call the number for you. So, I asked them to call Phil's number.
` He picked up the phone, glad to hear from me, and started telling me how the mental hospital I was in was about the greatest in the state, and that it should be no time until I got to the upper level.
` I was like; "What do you mean?"
` He said; "There's an upper floor, too."
` That was new to me. "Really?" I said.
` "Well yeah, when you come in. Don't you remember going through all those locked doors, before you got all the way down where you were?"
` "Phil," I said, "I came in through the double doors by my room. In the middle of the night. I don't even know what the place looks like from the outside."
` He proceeded to tell me how things weren't so bad upstairs, and that I'd be able to get out if they could see I wasn't a threat to anyone. "You're in the section reserved for dangerous people," he told me.
` Well, that was comforting. But then, I realized, the only direction I could go was up! And so, I spent the next I-don't-know-how-many days working to get myself the privelage of not being considered dangerous.


` Next time, we'll see just what I wound up working for, in Part Four of The Mad Doctor!

The Mad Doctor - a true story not for the weak of stomach. (Part 2 of 4)

` So, where did I leave off last time? Ah, yes. Phil had somehow gotten me out of the sugeon's office, though instead of dragging me right over to the ER, he sped away to where he lived in Lafayette, in a record time of ten minutes.

` I was still bleeding profusely down my chest and neck, unable to open my jaws no matter how much I tried to relax them. I was in a great deal of pain, but Phil needed to go to work. Luckily, Rhonda, his mother, was home to offer moral support.
` Still not able to completely support myself on my own, they helped me clean myself up and sat me down on the couch with paper towels and a wastebasket to hang my head over. I still couldn't spit or swallow, due to the piercing sensation in my uvula, but I was still able to move my lips and tongue enough to slurringly tell them all that had occurred.
` After much blubbering on through the bright red drool pouring from my mouth, my mom came over and seemed rather miffed that I hadn't been dumped off at home by myself. She helped me to the car and drove us to the pharmacy to pick up the codeine I'd been prescribed for the pain.
` Meanwhile, Phil's mom called Benninger and tried to tell him off. All he kept saying was; "Oh, she's not in any pain. She's just a drama queen."
` "How do you know?" Rhonda demanded. "How can you tell she's not in pain? She was over here, bleeding all over the place, crying, and she looked like she was in agony. It was pretty clear to me she was suffering!"
` "I can assure you, I she wasn't in any pain when she left my office."
` "You can't know that!" Rhonda said, exasperatedly. "What, are you saying you're psychic? You can't know what's going on in someone's head!"
` It went on and on, Benninger denying everything Rhonda could throw at him, until it was clear how fruitless of an endeavor it was.

` Now, it is true that I sometimes like being the center of attention - not that Benninger would even know that about me, as I was quite frightened of him - but in times of torture, there is no room for such foolishness much less any possibility of exaggerating one's reactions to it.
` My mother, on the other hand, has almost always acted as if this were the case. Fractured foot? "Oh, quit crying like a baby! You just hit your foot! Get up!" Unable to get out of bed due to deathly illness? She only complained about the smell coming from my room after three days - and once, she was brought to tears and said I put her under a lot of 'duress' because I 'just wouldn't' get up!
` Oh yeah, blame me for everything that happens to me! God forbid I ever get a scrap of sympathy! Well, this was no different. She gave me a codeine pill - which took a long enough for me to get up the nerve to swallow - and left me in the living room by myself.
` Keeled over on the couch with my legs together, I slowly became more and more anxious about the situation. After bawling about the whole thing for three quarters of an hour, I slowly realized that the codeine just wasn't going to help - the pain in my mouth, ears, nose and neck still seemed to be stabbing just as much as it had been.
` And then, part of me was suddenly back in Benninger's office, being cut up by the damned butcher, and the pain was once again nearly lethal. I became so panicked from this flashback that I started convulsing uncontrollably, arms and legs smacking into furniture, though I wasn't at all aware of that part until my mom told me I'd broken the phone receiver later on.
` However, I did notice that my mother briefly flitted by the doorway while this was happening, rolling her eyes, and sauntered downstairs. I saw her boyfriend follow, glancing at me with a kind of too-scared-to-do-anything expression on his face.

` When I finally began to gain my faculties back, I picked up my video camera and began to clumsily recite what had happened to me while strands of bloody drool steadily ran into the wastebasket. If she wouldn't listen, then at least I'd have some kind of proof of what went on here and all would be well for me.
` After that, I shakingly stumbled to the top of the steps and clung to the banister. I'd decided that I'd been neglected for the last time and I would be damned if I didn't get any type of painkiller or some kind of help from this mess.
` "Mom!" I yelled, after figuring out that descending the staircase on my own would probably be suicide. "Get up here, now!" Honestly, I'd never used that tone of voice with my mother, much less demanded anything from her, but I think I had an excuse.
` Eventually, she approached the bottom of the stairs and asked what was the problem.
` "I need to go to the emergency room! Now! I cannot stand this pain any longer!"
` "Well, just wait for the codeine to kick in," she said.
` "It's not kicking in, and I suggest you make some effort to fucking help me! I need painkillers! NOW!"
` She actually came up the stairs to try arguing with me, but I wasn't going to take it. After all the times I'd been completely ignored when it was quite possible and very appropriate to get me medical help, or at least pay me some attention, I refused to even argue.
` I hit her.
` Not hard, or so I thought, but I slammed her on the shoulder and kept yelling, halfway crazy from the pain, which seemed to be shooting through my nose, ears and jaw. She stared up at me in shock, and said; "Ow! That hurts!"
` And I said something like; "Excuse me! Miss Bruised-Arm! I've just been tortured and I'm bleeding all over myself! How the hell do you think I feel?" ...Yes, like that, but with more spraying of blood.
` Suddenly her demeanor transformed into one of someone who had just been frightened into doing something, and she said; "Alright, alright. Let's get you to the car."
` "THANK YOU!" I bellowed, and gratefully took her arm down the steps.

` Feeling somewhat humiliated, I had managed to stumble into the ER by myself and tell the check-in nurse what my problem was. By this time, my face felt as if it had been badly sunburned and I felt quite dehydrated.
` Then, someone got me a wheelchair and one of those little beige, kidney-shaped pans to catch the blood. One nurse took my temperature and saw that it was 98.6, which she said was normal.
` Normal for most people, yes, but my body temperature is usually around 96.5 so I corrected her, adding; "For me, that's a fever."
` She said; "Well, it's normal here."
` Evidently, she didn't understand the logic of people's personal body temperatures dictating whether or not they had fevers rather than the location they were in.
` She wheeled me into one of those little curtained-off areas and made me put on one of those little paper gowns. I still chose to keep my underwear on, even though it was still slightly damp. I sat there on the bed for quite a while, grumbling into my kidney-shaped dish, unable to put it down because the red string of drool didn't seem to want to break.
` By the time the dish was full of completely opaque, red blood-slobber, someone came in to draw blood in order to test for anemia. I asked when I could have a painkiller, and learned that one has to wait about four hours after taking codeine before you put another painkiller into your system.
` Or you die.
` Joy. So, about an hour of trying not to have more flashbacks - and failing - someone came and made me stand up in order to inject my hip with both a blood-clotting agent and then a sedative.
` After that, it all went hazy, save for memories of the surgeon cutting me up, and my constant screams of; "It hurts! It hurts!"

` In between panicked frenzies, I also recall that I just happened to see my general practitioner walking by. "Doctor Madrilejos!" I shouted, and stumbled across the room (he had to catch me) to tell him every grisly detail before he walked off to attend to whatever business he'd had.
` Well, I needed to talk to somebody.
` I was still in there by nightfall, and vaguely, in a fog that seemed to be made of pain, I remember asking why the Demerol I'd been injected with long ago still hadn't had any effect on me. Someone or another said that it wasn't working because my adrenaline was so high. That's why they had called an ambulance to take me somewhere that could do a better job - like a pain clinic, I was thinking.
` Though the ordeal had started that morning, it was almost midnight before the ambulance arrived. I signed a consent form to be taken off to this other hospital, put on my thoroughly bloodstained clothing, and got on the stretcher.
` The whole two hours I spent in the ambulance - from what I can barely remember - I was spewing through my gritted teeth both bloody saliva and gruesome details of my ordeal, but the EMT guy seemed very disinterested with the whole thing. He didn't even give me any painkillers.
` At last, I arrived through some glass doors and was unceremoniously dumped onto a plasticy-feeling bed in a dark room to the left and just left there. The whole night. I kept crying and demanding painkillers, but the things they injected my buttocks with only focused the pain.
` "This will make you feel better," they'd say - whoever 'they' were - though it only seemed to make it more intense because it shut everything else out. I couldn't think - I could only feel my head aching and stinging, which is just what I had demanded to be done away with.
` What was happening? My mind wasn't much able to put two and two together, and I stayed up the whole night attempting very unsuccessfully at trying to figure out what was going on.

` And then I saw it - in the light of morning. The sky was becoming bright enough to make out the windows in front of me. And the windows made my pounding heart skip a beat.
` Why?
` Because of the iron grate in front of them. Not only that, but there were Plexiglas sheets to prevent one from trying to get at the bars. The whole room was not at all friendly to people who needed medical help: It was small and barren with three metal cots, which apparently had thin, foam pads coated with plastic instead of mattresses. My sheet slid around under me as I struggled not to convulse.
` Eventually, I saw that there was another person lying on the bed across the wall from mine. I wondered why they hadn't complained about my night-long sobbing and screeching. Finally, I decided to try to talk to whoever it was.
` She was a somewhat stout woman, with a somewhat troubled and shining ebony face, wearing some kind of blue thing over her hair. I asked her what she was in here for. Her reply: "They killed my babies and they killed my husband. They ain't getting us if I can help it."
` The pounding sound from my chest suddenly seemed to turn up the volume.


` And that is part two of my horrifying and epic true tale. Tune in next time for part three of The Mad Doctor!

The Mad Doctor - a true story not for the weak of stomach. (Part 1 of 4)

` It's pretty graphic, but I spontaneously felt like spilling my guts about a personality-shattering event that happened in 2003. It's rather long, so I'm probably going to write about it in several serial parts. Also, as writing this first part has caused me to block out a lot of the feeling in my body, I'm not going to bother editing it.
` Without further chickens or duckies:

` One of my wisdom teeth was bothering me once again and I figured I needed to see someone to have them pulled, despite the fact that I didn't have dental insurance. Frankly, I enjoy having teeth pulled, that's why I have so few of them. I actually don't mind dental surgery as long as I can watch - being 'knocked out' is a great phobia of mine, because of the thought of being forced to be at a stranger's mercy. I went to the office of Benninger and Evanco in the doctor's office buildings next to the Medina County Hospital.
` This joker, Benninger, basically neglected to talk to me about any of what he found, though he insisted that it needed to be done in two weeks. He asked me to sign a consent form, and I looked at it and asked him exactly what he was going to do.
` He said, simply; "Oh, I'm going to put you to sleep, pull out those teeth, and then you'll wake up and they'll be gone."
` Not only did he insist on calling utter loss of consciousness 'going to sleep', but that was all the information I could get out of him. I tried to tell him that I knew those drugs didn't work on me, and, since I don't even lose consciousness while asleep (a common enough symptom of PTSD), it was fruitless to try anyway. I figured those facts would serve as a good enough excuse for my total unwillingness to have this guy do whatever he wanted to me while I just lay there, unable to move.
` He only said; "Have you ever been to sleep before?"
` I didn't really answer, but he continued anyway:
` "Well, this'll be the first time!"
` I just about collapsed inside. Even so, I noted that I had anesthesia options on the consent form, so I just circled 'local anethetic', which was the weakest nerve-dulling option. After I'd signed it, he actually came up behind me, ripped it out of my hands and circled something else.
` I just about felt raped. I cried and cried, barely able to stand because my legs seemed to have been glued together. I blubbered on to some receptionist who scheduled my appointment for about an hour. I tried to tell her my situation over and over, but she kept saying; "No, it's okay. You just go to sleep and a second later, you wake back up."
` 'Go to sleep?' why was everyone here treating me like some child?
` I didn't realize it, but since I'd been scared silly, one of my defense mechanisms kicked in and I'd forgotten that the piece of paper he'd changed was a consent form. I instead called it 'the piece of paper' and thought of it as 'the game plan'. In my mind, it wasn't carved in stone what he could now legally-but-not-legally do to me.
` Eventually, I gained enough composure hobble down to the parking lot as if my legs had been tied together, stumbling every few steps and sobbing uncontrollably. It took about ten minutes before I could drive.
` Phil and his mother were expecting me for dinner at the Lafayette Greenhouse, and I was quite late. I barely managed to get through the door before I keeled over on the desk in the green room. I explained everything to them in a state of near-panic. Phil calmed me down and reminded me that a doctor could not do anything to me that I did not want. We agreed that he'd come with me to my appointment for moral support.

` Somehow - it's all a blur now - we went to my appointment, but the nurse wouldn't let Phil past the waiting area. She cheerily asked if I'd eaten or drank anything since midnight the past night, which I had, though I don't think I said anything. She also asked me if I'd taken the Valium I'd been prescribed, which I told her I hadn't even picked up at the pharmacy.
` Straight away, she insisted that I sit down before anything else. I tentatively sat on the edge of the chair and asked whether or not I'd be able to talk to the doctor.
` "Oh, sure," she said.
` A minute later, he came in the room and said; "Hello, ready for surgery?"
` "No," I said, and proceeded to ask him about 'the piece of paper', while he did his best to pretend I wasn't there. He washed his hands, got his gloves on, and did whatever else surgeons did while I shakily fired questions and complaints at him.
` While I was distracted doing that - shivering with my heart pounding in my ears - singularly focused on getting his attention, I didn't much notice the room filling with several other people. I looked over at someone when she put a big plastic clip on my finger, which was attached to a heart monitor.
` Now I everyone else could hear my pulse, I thought, daring not to believe what was going on. Were they just going to go through with it? My hands were trembling so much by now that I could barely take the clip off. At that time, I also noticed someone rolling up my other sweater sleeve.
` I kept saying; "I didn't say you could give me general anesthesia! I never said! What's the heart monitor for?" Nobody was answering at all. I began crying hysterically and saying; "I demand you answer me!"
` I tried to get up, but it was as if a crippling weakness had gripped my body and the only motion I could still perform was shaking uncontrollably. Whoever was around me easily managed to grab me and slide me back into the chair. Strangely, I was thinking that, through all the horrors and abuse in my life, I had never been so scared that I shook.
` Dimly, I knew something was very wrong, but unable to focus, I could not comprehend the danger I was in. Feeling cold, sweaty and weak, I broke down and plead desparately through chattering teeth, trying to bargain with the doctor.
` He wouldn't speak a word.
` Noticing that my left arm suddenly felt as if it wee filled with battery acid, I looked over to see that a man had not only rolled up my sweater sleeve but was now squeezing an IV bag into my arm. Yet another wave of panic washed through me. I was thinking; 'I'm probably gonna lose a lot of blood, aren't I?' and 'How could I not notice that?'
` I didn't get a chance to throw up, however, due to the gigantic lump in my throat and the fact that I couldn't stop catching my breath. I tried to reach over to the needle, but my strength was virtually nil due to my severe, Parkinson's-like tremors.
` This one lady put some kind of hairnet on me and a nose-mask, which I figured was the anesthesia. She said; "This is just oxygen" - the only thing I remember anyone saying to me the entire time - though I was too busy holding my breath and melting into a jiggling puddle of goo to really think about what that might mean.
` I tried to get the nose-mask off, crying; 'Please, give me some lidocain or something if you're going to do it this way!'
` But something about my perception was changing. I started to feel violently nauseous while at the same time the shaking in my body slowly became less violent. The tunnel vision I had been developing suddenly contracted and the only thing I could see was the ceiling, which I realized was moving because the chair was moving backward.
` I couldn't help but breathe like crazy, though I was hoping my nose would be too clogged for the stuff in the mask to be breathed in. I wanted to scream, wanted to vomit, but then a single thought gripped me - I didn't want to have been born.
` My whole life - I'd give it up if only I didn't have to face this moment.

` The next few moments were rather blurred, as if I'd been hit by a freight train. It seems as if someone had said something to me like; "Nighty night", my eyes were closed for me, and something was put over my face.
` My muscles felt like burning jelly, and they didn't seem capable of functioning. I strained my brain, but I couldn't move - I couldn't even breathe, much less scream. All I wanted to do now was thrash around and say something, everything, but my lungs were even paralyzed!
` For some reason, it seemed as if my heart were pounding in slow motion, though I could barely hear the beeping of the machine over the throbbing in my head. Over my desperate thoughts of escape, I was barely aware of them opening my mouth even wider than I could stand to have it open and putting in a suction tube and whatnot.
` What snapped my attention back was the excruciating pain of Benninger ripping up my gums and digging into my jawbone with some kind of motorized instrument. It was like being stung by a hundred angry wasps that had mistaken my mouth as a nest - I felt as if I could not possibly survive this level of pain, and I'd been through quite a lot in my life. It was somewhat like being stuck with your head in a furnace, suffocating and burning, and yet not being able to die fast enough.
` 'Why, oh whyyyyy can't they kill me fast enough?' I thought. 'They're not killing me fast enough!'
` White-hot, yet freezing jolts of pain wracked my head while my body grew cooler, feeling like it was buried firmly under miles of cold, hard earth. Every time a tooth was extracted, it seemed as if spikes of pain were being driven straight into my head. Springs of blood were spurting down my throat it seemed, as I tasted bitterness, iron, and smoke of some type.
` And they didn't know! They didn't know! I was being tortured and the only people on earth who could do about it didn't even know or care! I would die, drowning in pain and blood, not even able to cough up whatever was trickling down my throat, and nobody would know how much I'd suffered. Sure, he was going to pay for this, have the pants sued off of him, but no one would know!

` By the end of the ordeal, I felt as if I had just run a marathon headlong through tree branches and was hanging onto life and sanity by the tiny threads he had woven into my lower gums. The sharp needles had really aggravated the holes he'd hacked into my raw, swollen flesh, but by that point I was spaced out, exhausted, and resigned to submission.
` Someone then wiped all the blood, snot, saliva and sweat off my face, packed my mouth with this starch-flavored stuff that dried my mouth to the extreme, and everyone just packed up and left the room.
` Tears were streaming out of my eyes before I realized that my body was gently twitching from sobs. I kept thinking; 'Why did they have to do that to me? I'm not a dog that flinches every time you touch its mouth! I could have just held my mouth open of my own free will, in a dignified way!
` 'But they didn't even trust me to do that! They didn't have to paralyze me and just control me like that! I'm not a machine, and nobody has the right to try to turn me off!'
` I felt so... violated.
` The first thing I did was move my legs, which felt like they were made of sacks of potatoes: I drew them together as much as I could, which was surprisingly difficult. Then, I worked on breathing.
` Becoming more aware of my surroundings, I realized that the lights had been turned out and the door was nearly shut. I also felt that my entire head, especially my jaws, was burning in pain. I wanted nothing more but to drown myself in icewater and get it all over with, but I could barely even move my neck.
` With much concentration, I was able to heave my chest out enough to have an entire lungful of air, but when I tried to scream it back out, it was quite weak. No matter what, I couldn't hold my vocal cords together and breathe out at the same time. After a while, I managed to scream somewhat, which finally began to make myself feeling better, after not being able to do it after such a long time.
` Nearly choking on the blood-soaked gauze or whatever was in my mouth, I discovered that I couldn't open my jaws. I could pull my lips back, but my sore and burning mouth was stuck closed. It felt as if the flaring pain shooting through my wounds was trying to solder them back together.
` Strangely, my eyes also ached, my ear canals felt as if they were badly infected, and the floors of my sinuses felt as if something was attempting to dig down through them. Noticing this acutely for the first time, I began coughing and screeching, pressing against my eyes and ears and nose.
` It wasn't long before a blonde and a brunette nurse rushed into the room, each looking equally annoyed. I tried to tell them; "I felt everything you fucking people did to me!"
` But they kept saying; "Shh! Don't be so loud! You'll make the other patients nervous!"
` "That's the idea, bitch!" I kept screaming, teeth beginning to chatter as my jaws bristled with tension. I also kept trying to spit thick, bloody drool on them, but using those particular muscles felt very strongly like someone was yanking on my uvula and cutting it off with a dull pocket knife. So did using the muscles for swallowing, I discovered a few seconds later.
` As I choked on my own bloody drool, they grabbed me by the arms and said; "Here, let's get you out of here."
` Quite willingly, I put one leg solidly on the floor and applied the neccesary forces to stand. And immediately crumpled to the ground. It was like, I was doing the right thing, I just didn't have the strength to support myself.
` Smacking my head against the tile, I tried to get up onto all fours, until each of the fours buckled beneath me and I fell to one side, reduced to a tooth-chattering heap in a puddle of blood. I also noticed that, while staring at the ankles of these women, some lovely hot urine was running down my thigh and I sensed that I was probably on my way to becoming mired in another puddle.
` It was just pathetic. So I set a new resolve - somehow get to the waiting room and tell everyone there what had happened - and spent the next few minutes observing how strange it was to have excruciating uvula-pain when spitting or swallowing and yet none with screaming and cursing as loud as my muscles would allow.
` The two women grabbed my arms and tried to pull me up. I tried to get my feet beneath me, but they uselessly dragged a few inches and stopped.
` "I can't walk!" I said, loud enough for people in other rooms to hear.
` They heaved me upwards even further, but I still couldn't get my legs to move right. Right then, all I wanted was to eat some magical spinach and knock them through the ceiling or something crazy like that. Though the tops of my thighs were flat on the floor, I was actually using all of my strength to struggle away from them to alert everyone else of what was going on. Those nurses might as well have been boulders as they set my wet crotch onto a rather cold vinyl-padded cot. It was orange, I remember, because I quickly got a very close view of it when I toppled over.

` I couldn't sit up. It was rather like being too dizzy to sit up, but I wasn't so much dizzy as weak or uncoordinated or something. They kept sitting me back up and I kept falling down, moaning and crying and trying to spit until the yanking sensation in my uvula stopped me.
` When Benninger came in, he demanded to know what was going on.
` Perfectly capable of feeling and moving my lips, I said through my permanently-gritted teeth; "It hurts! I felt that! I need painkillers!"
` "That's ridiculous!" he said. "I numbed you up."
` I just stared in disbelief before shouting; "I felt the whole damn thing, don't think you can fool me!"
` "I numbed you up!" he yelled at me.
` "Say what you want, Jackass!" I screamed through my chattering teeth. "It's clear that I can move my mouth JUST FINE! SEE? LOOK!" I could barely move my arms, but I managed to weakly point at my bloodsoaked jaws.
` "Just shut up!" Benninger shouted back at me. "I'm not buying this crying and falling down act!"
` I lost it. Suddenly, I started trying to get up and strangle the bastard, but it was like being tied up or something. I recall making my hands into claws in front of my face and staring, like; 'I wish he'd just come down here...'
` "You'd better stop acting like this, or I'm not going to let you see your boyfriend!"
` I then attempted to sound like a banshee and cried as loud as I could. Surely, I thought, Phil could hear me. I was hoping against all hope that he'd come and get me and we'd be out of there.
` Well, after several minutes of treating me like an overreactive child, Phil was allowed to see me, and his jaw dropped. I couldn't stand, I was peeing my pants, and my entire front side was drenched in blood.
` Somehow or another, Phil ordered the two nurses to drag me out front into his awaiting car, where I told him what had happened. Though we were now on a collision course with the ER's parking lot, Phil wouldn't stop there. Instead, he sped away in the other direction until I was safe at his house in record time.

` I thought at that at last, this would be the end of my long, exhausting and perilous journey: In fact, it only proved to be the first day of a two-week tour of the hell they call 'medical neglect'.


` So, if you're like one of those people who just love the types of horror stories published in Reader's Digest, don't miss the next installment of 'The Mad Doctor!' ;D

Mesozoic Grass?

` Once upon a time, I was talking to James T. Kirkland, a famous paleontologist who probably detests Star Trek. I asked him when grass appeared in the fossil record to the best of our knowledge, having read several times that this was long after the Age of Dinosaurs, around the time primitive horses were evolving.
` Unlike all the other paleontologists, however, he said; "Oh of course dinosaurs ate grass!" This was quite confusing to me, and I'd wondered where he'd gotten that from.
` Of course, being conditioned to never question authorities, I just sat there with a puzzled expression. Really, I still don't know what he was smoking back then.
` A bit later on, in fact, Kirkland appeared in the breathtaking work of art; Walking With Dinosaurs on the Discovery Channel, a 'prehistoric nature documentary' well-known for its few inaccuracies. Accordingly, there was no grass in this documentary, because none had been found in the fossil record until later on.

` However, that's all changed now: According to a Nature article I was able to access a few days ago (but not anymore), there is now evidence that a titanosaur from (what is now) India was eating this tough plant! The evidence: Its fossilized dung contained what appears to be bits of various silica-rich grasses!
` Apparently, grass was around at least near the end of the Mesozoic, along with a type of gondwanathere mammal with horse-like teeth. Evidently, the reason we hadn't found it before was because it was extremely rare until about the time primitive horses, artiodactyls and hyraxes began to take over the role of large herbivore.

` For more information, click the title of this post - it is linked to a BBC news article on the same subject.

I'm back! And I have CANDY!

` At least, if you define 'candy' as 'random prose and drivel'.

` Also, I am glad to announce that my computer now works! There may have been nothing wrong with the hardware at all - my hard drive did nothing unusual on Phil's computer, although Phil's did turn up two worm viruses that may have been wreaking havoc with the BIOS. So far, it hasn't done anything strange yet.

` So, without further ado: Drivel! First, this is what I am told is a Chinese proverb:

` 'There is no economy in going to bed early to save candles if the result be twins.'

` It is so wonderfully and culturally different that I wonder if it really is from China. Hmmmm... it's hard to say. Really, I like to be informed on where words, phrases and sayings actually come from. That's why I make some effort to be sure of something before I say 'I'm sure'.
` It's the skeptical way.
` For example, I recently learned that the children's rhyme Ring Around the Rosie is not at all about the Black Death of the fourteenth century, just as I had suspected all along. At least, there seems to be no evidence of it whatsoever:
` In 1881, Kate Greenaway's Mother Goose published the rhyme for the first time we know of:

Ring-o-ring o' roses,
A pocket full of posies,
Hush! Hush! Hush! Hush!
We're all tumbled down!

` Sounds like a rhyme about children becoming exhausted after picking flowers all day to me! Then in 1883, William Wells Newell's Songs and Games of American Children came out, which claims that this version of the same rhyme was sung by children in New Bedford, Massachussetts nearly a century before that:

Ring a ring a rosie,
A bottle full of posie,
All the girls in our town
Ring for little Josie.

` Sounds like a neighborhood crush, doesn't it? Another version Newell provided was this one:

Round the ring of roses,
Pots full of posies,
The one who stoops last
Shall tell whom she loves best.

` Newell explains: "At the end of the words the children suddenly stoop, and the last to get down undergoes some penalty, or has to take the place of the child in the centre, who represents the 'rosie' (rose-tree; French; rosier)."
` In addition, Alice Bertha Gomme's 1894-98 work, The Traditional Games of England, Scotland, and Ireland, published a good dozen versions of this rhyme, and only one is at all similar to the one children sing today.
` Overall, none of these seem to have anything to do with dying of the plague, including the modern version:

Ring around the rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down!

` So, though some as-yet-unknown persons have suggested that 'roses' describe buboes from the plague, there is no evidence that they have ever been called 'roses': As for the posies, they seem to come from earlier rhymes which describe flower-picking and whatnot: The word 'Ashes' or 'Attishoo' seems to be more a nonsensical new addition to the rhyme rather than an allusion to cremation or sickness: 'Falling down' dates back to earlier versions of the rhyme when it was meant to be more of a game, rather than death.
` I just love these things - thank you David Wilton and your book, Word Myths: Debunking Linguistic Urban Legends.

` Next up is something that is even more obscure that even less people will care about - my question to Barnes and Barnes about a song of theirs:


` Hey Mr. Art-men? I have your adorably infernal song 'Salvation is Linoleum' song going through my head. I gotta ask: was this song inspired by linseed oil fumes, or are you guys just being weird? Who came up with this 'linoleum' thing, anyway?


` Hugs and flying squirrel undies- - - -Spoony Q

` Billy Mumy wrote:

That was Spanky McFarlane, if memory serves me well. But if could've been Fidel Castro or Fidel Castro's barber. They were all hanging around us a lot in those days.
toomp
yeah

` Robert Haimer answered me as well:

We, and our minds of brilliance, came up with that song. Actually, it was a reworking of an old Everly Brothers tune...

RT-

TOOMP!


` Ah... it's so clear to me now! May you shine with floor wax!

S E E Quine


` Uhmmmmm. Yeah. Aren't they great? As one fan recently pointed out, Barnes and Barnes are like music deities who are quick to answer their minions' prayers about linoleum, beer and cheese. And yet, they won't tell any of us what 'toomp' is supposed to mean! Gr.
` What else? Hm. Oh yes, I was going to go to the library to scan some of my beautiful new pen sketches, as well as the cover of 'a RED sketchbook', which I think looks awfully sharp. I coulda done it today, but I really want to work on my sci-fi novel right now, as I haven't had a chance to do that in a while. Then, perhaps I'll complete my DVD in time for Christmas and all will be well.
` Oh yes, I still have to finish that MIDI for The Swill Man, and I could now that I have the song I need available once again. Hmmm. Well, I have been playing the piano more often...

` La, le laa. I'm hungry. I go get Thanksgiving leftovers. Mmm. EdgeWalker's homemade cranberry sauce...

Just so you know...

` I won't be on my blog for quite a while... my computer seems to be supernovaing at the moment - the hard drive tried to power down several times today while it was still supposed to be running. I wanted to turn my computer off after publishing my last blog post, but as I was being urged out of the door, it was still in the process of putting my post online.
` I considered staying home, but decided to go out anyway, worried that I'd come home to a Blue Screen of Death. Which I did. I think I need a new motherboard. Hopefully, that's all it is.
` Anyway, I'm borrowing Phil's computer for the moment, but I probably won't be back here for quite some time.

Born with the knowledge to know more...

` I have an article from the internet here, but I have no idea where it's from. It appears to be entitled 'Not as ignorant as they look...' I dug it up, though, and I think it's interesting nonetheless. It begins:


If you had been blind all your life and could suddenly see, could you distinguish by sight what you knew already by touch--say, a cube from a sphere? Would flowers look like flowers you'd felt and faces like faces, or would they all be confusing patterns? How would you start to make sense of the many objects in your immediate view? If we are born knowing nothing, how do we come to know anything?

Harvard University psychologist Elizabeth Spelke takes these questions to the people who may be best able to answer them: babies....

` Apparently, Spelke has come up with the possibly revolutionary theory of 'core knowledge', by observing that infants seem to be born with certain 'basic cognitive skills that let them make sense of the world.'
` It is a unifying theory as well, as this 'core knowledge' seems to underlie everything we humans learn throughout our lifetimes - from before we can talk and grasp objects until after we have a vast amount of life experience in our past.
` And, we all are born with these same abilities.
` This theory is so valuable to psychological studies, in fact, that in 2000, the American Psychological Association honored her with the William James Fellow Award.

` Though young babies have little control over their own movements, one thing they are sure to do is look a certain amount of time at an object after they have seen it several times. However, if you change the object in some way - for example, add two extra ears onto a toy bunny - and show it to them again, they will stare at it longer because they are seeing something they did not expect.
` This is called 'preferential looking', and was discovered over half a century ago by Robert L. Fantz, who controlled the infant's perception within a stage-like box. In this way, he and others found that newborn babies recognized that there was a difference between red and green, two-month olds could discriminate between red, blue, and yellow, and that three-month-olds preferred yellow and red to blue and green.
` They also discovered the levels of facial recognition in babies of different ages, and that six-month olds can interpret facial expressions.
` The article says of its featured scientist:

This work attracted Spelke when she was still an undergraduate at Radcliffe College. From 1967 to 1971, she studied with Harvard child developmental psychologist Jerome Kagan and quickly found herself hooked on the excitement of investigating the essential workings of human cognition by analyzing children. She continued that research while pursuing her Ph.D. in psychology at Cornell University, where the famed developmental psychologist Eleanor J. Gibson served as her graduate adviser and mentor. Gibson, one of only a handful of psychologists to win the National Medal of Science, had revealed much about infant cognition with some elegant experiments of her own. Her best known was the "visual cliff," a piece of heavy glass extending from a tabletop. Would early crawlers avoid the apparent drop-off? Most do, a discovery that revised theories of infants' spatial understanding.

` Spelke's Ph.D. thesis came from asking the question of whether babies looking and listening to something perceive the sight and sound as part of the same thing, or as two unrelated sensations? At dinner one night, she came up with a new, brilliant experiment: Set a baby in front of two movies, with a loudspeaker playing the sound from only one of them. Then, unpredictably, play the sound from the other movie. Would the baby look at the movie that corresponded to the sound?
` Indeed, when she performed the experiment, the babies showed that they recognized that there was a link between the sound coming from the loudspeaker and the movies on the screen. In other words, a baby can form a unified whole from more than one sense.
` No one knows how this happens, though Spelke was able to demonstrate that this ability would seem to be innate to each person.

` She has shown, for example, that a four-month old notices when a moving object does not continue at its logical speed, and an eight-month old expects an object to abide the principle of inertia.
` Interestingly, she has discovered that six-month old babies can distinguish an array of eight disks from an array of sixteen, and sixteen from thirty-two, they do not seem to notice any difference between eight and twelve disks, nor sixteen from twenty-four.
` She also found that when an adult looks at an object on a table and then reaches for it, a twelve-month old expects for them to reach for what they are looking at, though an eight-month old does not seem to notice.

As the data from such clever designs mounted, Spelke began to develop her theory of core knowledge, often inspired by or collaborating with colleagues such as noted Massachusetts Institute of Technology linguist Noam Chomsky, French mathematician turned cognitive neuropsychologist Stanislaus Dehaene and Harvard psychologist Susan Carey. Core knowledge systems, Spelke says, are neuronal "modules" that are in place at birth for building mental representations of objects, persons, spatial relationships and numerosity. Somewhat akin to the "deep grammar" that Chomsky believes underlies all human language, these core knowledge modules enable all infants to organize their perceptions.

The sophistication of these systems in infants resembles that of modules in nonhuman primates, suggesting an ancient, evolutionary development; a six-month-old baby understands numbers, space, objects and faces much as a mature rhesus monkey does. As Spelke sees it, these cognitive tools underlie all the more complex skills and knowledge we master as we grow up--spoken languages, number manipulation and other abstract mental operations. Core knowledge forms the basis for the robust cognitive machinery that gets us through life. And we almost completely ignore it.

"Even for adults," Spelke says, "most of what we know that lets us negotiate the world, guide our choice of paths through the environment, understand whether a car down the street might hit us or whether a falling object will miss us, even what we say as we're conversing--most of that is completely unconscious. How many things do we do that we hardly think about? Most of what we do is like that. We operate on richly structured cognitive systems that aren't usually accessible to introspection. To me, this is one more sign that most of our cognitive workings are much like those of babies and are built on the core knowledge that we had as babies."

` And if we all have these abilities, one question from Harvard president Lawrence Summers was her opinion on why there aren't that many women in the math and science departments. Is this an inborn trait?

"If you look at things Summers's way," she says in her office, leaning forward in her chair with a sly grin, "then to study innate cognitive abilities, like I do, is supposedly to study gender differences. In fact, I didn't know we were studying gender differences at all, because we don't find any. But since the subject came up"--she spread her hands, clasped them, then sat back in her chair, smiling--"I was happy to tell him about our work."

` Oh he got his answer, from both her and her colleague and friend, Steven Pinker. Decades of research show little, if any, gender differences in babies and toddlers, and this was discussed in a public, high profile debate.
` At those ages, culture has very little effect, though sex hormone levels are extremely high. As far as the numerous skills that relate to mathematical thinking go, no differences between boys and girls has been found.
` One such test is this one: If you put a four-year-old in an oddly-shaped room, hide a block in a corner, and have the child close their eyes and spin around, only some of the children will quickly distinguish the corner that the block is hidden in, and others remain somewhat disoriented. However, the percentages of who readily finds the block and who does not is the same for boys and girls both.

Meanwhile the expanding pile of data on infants, who are not tainted by culture, shows remarkable parity among sexes and races. "We're getting evidence for an intricate and rich system of core knowledge that everyone shares and that gives us common ground," Spelke declares. "In a world of so much conflict, I think that's something we badly need."


` I don't know about you, but I didn't know any of this beforehand. I think it's good to know that (at least most) babies, while personalities differ, have similar abilities from the start. And no evidence to the contrary is 'good' news in this case, I guess.

Completely Random Stuff I'm Giggling About

` For the past coupla days, the area has been engulfed in one huge cloud... sometimes, I can't even see past two blocks away. It has forced me to go crazy and actually look to what I have inside the apartment to keep me company.
` Mrrrraaarrrrrrr. *lick, lick, lick...*
` Besides Butters.
` For example, I have quite a few pictures on my computer. Here's what appears to be an actual newspaper clipping...


` Speaking of newspaper ads, Phil had been looking through some really scary $#!t in The Evergreen Weekly when he broke down laughing and pointed to an ad with a picture of this very scary-looking woman with a flower behind her ear gazing off into space with an evil-yet-vague look in her eyes. It says: 'Joooooiiiiiiinnnnn uuuussss!' No, no, really:

Mystery School - A 4-year Mystery School Without Walls.
Beginning each February, the Lynn Andrews School for Sacred Arts and Training presents a truly unique and magical course of study. Its design allows you to fully understand and deepen your experience of the wonder and magic contained within the ancient teachings of the Sisterhood of the Shields. Students enter the circle of teaching for a myriad of reasons, and all are welcome....

` Yes, all with large enough savings accounts are welcome to jooooiiiiiinnnnn Lynn Andrews on a Hawaiian Retreat. Phil also found an ad for the Society of Novus Spiritus Gnostic Christian Church, and started laughing; "Past Life Regressions!? Wha ha ha haaaaa!" Yes, well, a closer look reveals that Sylvia Browne is the founder of the church.
` Yes, she's the sham spiritual guru who's been flattering Larry King, saying she can see angels around him, pretending to talk to dead people, etc. Yes, well... I seem to remember that magician James Randi had some kind of deal with her to test her 'psychic abilities'...

On September 3, 2001, Sylvia Browne agreed on the protocol for a definitive test for the JREF million-dollar challenge, on Larry King Live.... It has been 240 weeks since she first agreed to take the test on March 6, 2001!

` Actually, she's already failed one of Randi's televised tests in 1989, and quite abysmally at that. She had talked with many of the studio audience members, one of whom she'd learned was German. And so, as an excuse for her failure, she claimed that all 140 people were German and didn't speak English!
` It goes on and on... just like all the other fraudster magicians, Browne cannot do anything that the Amazing Randi cannot do, and it's been pretty blatant since the beginning. Really, Sylvia! All you have to do is use your psychic powers to show Randi who's boss, and he'll give you a million dollars, not that you need it! That's all he asks of you. Seriously!
` Sigh... so far, this has been Sylvia's response. No exaggeration.

` Anyway, I think that 'psychics', New Age-ism and 'magic' need to stay in the fantasy realm.
` Before I pee my pants laughing.
` Speaking of which, in the Zebra Girl Forum, I noticed a few days ago that my fellow Zebriac DarkLite () had made a |_337 representation of the Gandalf-type scene in ZebraGirl:


*Player "[PLAID]J4c|<" has re-connected.*

DuV4s3: Lol You get Ascenshun!!!1

[PLAID]J4c|<: STFU u kilt my frends!!1+shift

DuV4s3: LOLOLOLOL i am teh Ub3R L33tzorz j00 caanot kil me lol

[PLAID]J4c|<: STFU j00 firewal s offzorz!!!!!! GO UBRHAXZ.exe!!!!!!11

*Player "[PLAID]J4c|<" has sent Player "DuV4s3" a file.*

DuV4s3: No Axept1!!!1

*File accepted. Begin download.*

DuV4s3: OMFG HAX!

....

*Download complete."

DuV4s3: OMFG THTS NOT F-

*Player "DuV4s3" has been banned.*

[PLAID]J4c|<: Pwnt, b17ch.


Omeg@:

LOLOLOLOLROFLMLAO

\m/
|)4r|<>71+3 u 1337 (Y)45+4h!!!


DarkLite:

You know you like it really, you dirty bitch.

*does the 'come hither' motion*


` Heee hee hee eheeee haaaa..... gnk. Okay, I'm done... whew... If you don't know what that was all about, you'd recognize it if you read through the archives. Don't let us Forum Freaks scare you - it's a surprisingly worthwhile way to spend your spare time, assuming you can download web pages faster than the speed of smell.
` Even so, when my bandwidth is constrained by the hundred other people who use the same connection, I always do something else when I'm waiting for something to come up on the screen. Such as creating vacuous blog entries.
` Ha ha... that cute li'l werewolf! "Man, you guys're fun! You must go on all sorts of adventures. Can I stay with you, really?" "...You're getting an apartment."
` But he's such a cute puppy!

` Anyway, I'd better go. I have more important things to do, such as ensure my videos fit on a DVD. Shh! It's my mommy's Christmas present!

Taking your chances without medical science...

` ...Not a very good idea.
` I've been thinking about something to do with my last post. In order to set it up, it would help you to read an excerpt which I had edited out (for length, of course!) which demonstrates one of my reservations:


` That's the way of science - it is generally trustworthy (yes, even medical science). On top of that, medical science is something everyone needs to be up to speed on how to stay healthy and to be treated for severe or threatening illnesses. Normally, this is how the 'gullible public' comes into direct (often uncomfortably intimate) contact with it.
` Unfortunately, people who are familiarizing the public with real medicine are generally confused with those who are promoting quackery when in the mass media.
` And, when you think about it, individual doctors are the ones who talk to your face - they know they could potentially sell you anything they wanted to sell you, especially if they are very warm and pleasant. On the other hand, you may have a doctor who doesn't seem to have much respect for you, and yet will not pull that kind of crud on you because they know it's wrong and they think you're too dumb to know that.
` Though I don't think most doctors easily fall for quackery, it's hard to tell who will try that stuff on you - you cannot judge a doctor's trustworthiness by their personality or charisma.

` In fact, some of the more weasely doctors may try to talk you into things which may be known to work, but that they know are probably not neccesary for you: They may also try to sell you something which just doesn't work at all. It may even harm you! Why? Selfishness, I guess: Usually it's something along the lines of making more money and all that stupidity.
` The truth is; medical science is something everyone needs some of, gullible or not, so no matter who you are, you could actually face very real deception. In other words, it tends to be part of life, and it is important to be able to deal with it.
` The easiest way is knowing what is a myth and what is not.


` Unfortunately, I know some people who are so paranoid about doctors-in-general that they said they wouldn't even consider seeing one for themselves or even their children if they knew they had cancer! I said; "You'd probably just die."
` The response? 'No you wouldn't, because Nature is the way. If you die, you die. What's more, eating organic foods and seeing a naturopath - even though they do charge an arm and a leg - are all one really needs to be healthy.'
` Sorry. Naturopathy is not medicine - though a little bit of it is based on medicine. Not the same thing. I don't care if someone they knew didn't go to a doctor for cancer treatment and got over it anyway. It is a known medical fact that people occasionally get over these things on their own, though it is also a known medical fact that in general, no matter what someone does, the cancer will eventually sap them until they die.
` Doctors will tell you that the body is capable of healing itself on many accounts, though dressing wounds and administering antibiotics are still beneficial in these cases to ensure that everything heals properly and more quickly. They will also tell you that your body has limits, and that you may suffer and die or else live in constant pain if you refuse treatment for brain cancer, ruptured organs, or liver parasites.
` On the other hand, naturopaths say that the body can heal practically anything in the world on its own, and they use this excuse to give their characteristically superficial care. The main forte of a naturopath is to be warmer and fuzzier than a lot of doctors in order to gain the trust of patients and drain their wallets.

` Similarly, if one of them had Alzheimer's - and they know what it does to people - they said that reversing the symptoms by injecting brain cells into their head to fill in the gaping holes already in their brain would be unethical.
` Yes, even if it means you will lose your memories, your personality, your ability to communicate with words, develop the crying, pooping mentality of a baby, and eventually starve to death when you're a vegetable and 'forget' how to swallow.
` Well, that's their idealism - as long as they keep their 'ethics' to themselves. I know that medical science is often quite unethical, and many studies are pointless. Every time I see something like;

Nicotine Normalizes Increased Prefrontal Cortical Dopamine D₁ Receptor Binding and Decreased Working Memory Performance Produced by Repeated Pretreatment with MK-801: A PET Study in Conscious Monkeys

` I think; "Those poor monkeys! Do they really need to do these studies?" Okay, so they found that 'acute nicotine normalizes MK-801-induced PFC abnormality of D<sub>1</sub>R in PFC'... so what, it could mean that PFC abnormality in humans could be treated with nicotine? Is that it? What is that, anyway?
` Stupid or not, I agree that many animal experiments are pointless and/or cruel. Luckily, our society is slowly improving animal welfare. In fact, the most intelligent lab animals such as apes and dolphins may one day have rights - in about a hundred years.
` As far as preventing superfluous experiments from taking place, I know that a robot has been invented that may help with this problem for some. Who knows what kinds of efficiency techniques they'll use in the future?

` Really, if scientists are sickening, vivisecting, neglecting and otherwise making animals miserable, just for our benefit, I don't think that's right. On the other hand, I also don't think that the billions of people (and their pets!) who would benefit now and for millenia in the future need to suffer from illnesses and injuries we are now struggling with.
` Could you imagine if no one knew how to curb Polio and smallpox, or if there was no way to help someone who's had a severe heart attack? Not only would there be more suffering from illnesses (when we know now there does not have to be), but we would also be much less enlightened about the way our bodies work.
` I know that in developed countries, a great deal of people are able to get medical treatment when they need it - even homeless people who don't have government insurance are not turned down in an emergency. In developing nations, the only treatments for most people may be folk medicine, which is often not even helpful at all. However, it is not unusual for charitable medical teams to give vaccines or even simple cataract surgery for people in isolated villages.
` Someday, though, those nations may be as developed as this one is now and the people in them will have more chances for life and well-being. This would probably also help most of nature have more chances for life and well-being:
` The populations of developing countries are increasing exponentially through reproduction, partly because of the scarcity of birth control, and partly because the only way one can hope to have a living family is to have twenty children. In developed nations, population increase through reproduction is actually stabilized and in some cases, reversed.
` Also, by that time, we probably won't have so many problems with pollution, so even though these people will have access to transportation and electricity, they probably will not be contributing to global warming. And, if less people are crowded into oversized jungle villages, they will no longer need more firewood than nature can provide (which causes deforestation), plus, there will be fewer people who would shoot endangered species for a profit.
` So, introducing technology and medical science to those places could be, in the end, good for the planet. We just have to handle everything we can properly, because industrialization can be a real bloodbath. The truth is, we humans are in the middle of this now, and I think that the only way to improve our future - and even the planet's - is to go through, rather than back to the beginning.

` But, instead of accepting the possibility of working with the situation in the world, my friends would rather believe that the future is literally going to be like Nineteen Eight-Four and reject medicine in favor of apathy. This is known as 'the hippie way'.

` In addition, these hippies stated that if their beloved offspring were mentally challenged and a doctor demonstrated to them that some kind of injection would clear up this disadvantage in a week, they wouldn't do it. They'd rather choose to have a retarded child.
` Yes, they would rather that someone else be mentally handicapped, even if it could easily be changed by a treatment that has already been developed!
` You know, it's not fun to be mentally retarded: You would be denied a higher quality of life and may not learn many wonderful things or have a love life, etc. It can really suck, yes, and many people do have to accept it as reality, but I think that if it can be avoided, I don't think that one should deny their child opportunities in life to realize all their potentials.
` To do otherwise is considered child neglect and is therefore illegal. I'd say, rightly so. To sacrifice someone else's health for your own ideals isn't exactly 'noble' in my book. But perhaps if it actually happened to them, they would change their tune.
` Really, a lot of things have pressed them to seek genuine medical treatment. In fact, Mrs. Hippie is considering getting her tubes tied so she doesn't have to take birth control when she doesn't want any more children. It seems that they only go to a real doctor when it's most convenient for them.
` I think being inconsistent is also a hippie thing.

` Anyway, I think that if people want to get better, putting their faith into non-medicine isn't the way. A lot of it probably has to do with the fact that quacks often treat the person as if they are an individual and not just a body. Yes, I know that it is wrong to disregard people's feelings - that is what the medical science of psychology can tell anyone.
` That is why hospitals employ people who specifically make rounds to cheer everyone up, bringing with them encouragement and entertainment and even animals. The world of medicine is slowly changing in order to embrace the fact that treating people in a 'mechanical' way can really compound a person's suffering, and can even cause mistakes.
` We know this. Suffering is bad, and painkillers are not enough. But 'alternative medicine' that doesn't help runs rampant nevertheless. Especially around here. It is therefore unsurprising that a friend of mine is learning about how to be an acupuncturist.
` Though acupuncture has some interesting implications for pain treatment, and therefore may be considered medicinal, most acupuncture treatments don't seem to do anything when scientifically studied.
` In the future, don't be surprised if I continue writing about the topic of quackery and 'alternative medicine'. If my posts reach no one, fine, but I like putting this information out there anyway.

Four-Winged Birds?

` ... or is it just Microraptor, which was a tiny dromaeosaur (like Velociraptor), not a bird. I've been wondering how the debate over the different stages in flight evolution in birds. It's hard to tell, really, though I do have small glimpses occationally...

Origin of flight: Could 'four-winged' dinosaurs fly?

Kevin Padian¹ and Kenneth P. Dial²

Arising from: X. Xu et al. Nature 421, 335–340 (2003); F. Zhang & Z. Zhou Nature 431, 925 (2004); X. Xu et al. reply; F. Zhang et al. reply

Our understanding of the origin of birds, feathers and flight has been greatly advanced by new discoveries of feathered non-avian dinosaurs, but functional analyses have not kept pace with taxonomic descriptions. Zhang and Zhou describe feathers on the tibiotarsus of a new basal enantiornithine bird from the Early Cretaceous of China¹. They infer, as did Xu and colleagues from similar feathers on the small non-avian theropod Microraptor found in similar deposits², that these leg feathers had aerodynamic properties and so might have been used in some kind of flight.

1. Museum of Paleontology, University of California, Berkeley, California 94720, USA
2. Division of Biological Sciences, University of Montana, Missoula, Montana 59812, USA

Origin of flight: Could 'four-winged' dinosaurs fly? (Reply)

Xing Xu^1,2, Zhonghe Zhou¹, Xiaolin Wang¹, Xuewen Kuang³, Fucheng Zhang¹ and Xiangke Du⁴

We agree that a strict biomechanical analysis is needed to reconstruct Microraptor's locomotory mode, but we disagree with several of Padian and Dial's arguments¹. In addition to the six Microraptor specimens we described², other similarly preserved specimens³ have been discovered that also had long, asymmetrical pennaceous feathers attached to the hindlimbs². These feathers show features that are functionally correlated with flight⁴. A large, feathery surface on the legs would increase, rather than decrease¹, drag during running, as evidenced by the reduced or lost filamentous integumentary structures on the lower legs of cursorial birds and mammals.

1. Institute of Vertebrate Paleontology and Paleoanthropology, Chinese Academy of Sciences, PO Box 643, Beijing 100044, China
2. Present address: American Museum of Natural History, New York, New York 10024, USA
3. Tianjin Museum of Natural History, Tianjin 300074, China
4. Radiological Department, People's Hospital, Beijing University, Beijing 100044, China

Origin of flight: Could 'four-winged' dinosaurs fly? (Reply)

Zhonghe Zhou¹ and Fucheng Zhang¹

Padian and Dial¹ challenge our view that the evolution of flight involved a four-winged stage. This disagreement stems from our different views on the origin of bird flight and from the methodology we use to analyse functional morphology in the non-avian theropod Microraptor² and in an enantiornithine bird³ from the Early Cretaceous period in China.

1. Institute of Vertebrate Paleontology and Paleoanthropology, Chinese Academy of Sciences, Beijing 100044, China
   

` Neato, huh? Eh. Well, I'm off to take a nap and then hopefully eat something. I'm very hungry and sleep-deprived and there will be no food in the house until Phil and Jason come back from their walk to QFC.

Circumcision: There goes your sex life!

` Believe it or not, I recently interviewed a man who once had a relatively normal sex life, with a normal penis, but tragedy resulted in a much less rewarding sex life when his penis was severely mutilated.
` ...Not to be overly dramatic or anything.

` I find this whole American obsession with circumcision to be incredible: How could anyone want for an erogenous zone crafted by nature for the specific purpose of sexual ease and pleasure (for both partners) to just be amputated, thrown away and incinerated in some hospital basement?
` Gah!
` This man I interviewed, let's call him 'Steve', was not at all enthusiastic about this procedure, and quite depressed for a while when he discovered just how much of his sexual experience is now missing.

` Most American men, however, are probably not at all aware of the fact that almost all negative publicity about foreskins is either entirely fictional or blown way out of proportion. This explains why most of them will agree to have it done to their sons - before they are even born! - for utterly vacuous reasons.
` (This is evidenced by the fact that today, over 50% of baby boys are still being routinely strapped down, slowly 'peeled' and cut, while screaming hysterically and flailing their arms wildly.)
` I know that some people cite supposed medical benefits. Keep in mind, the 'medical' circumcision that American doctors perform was started in the Victorian Era, and its purpose was to make the penis much less sensitive to sexual pleasure.
` That, it does.
` Being the 1800s, people thought that masturbation would weaken a man and make him ill, and so circumcision was prescribed for all kinds of completely unrelated ailments, from hydrocephalus to paralysis, in order to get him to stop!
` Today, some of the American public believes that being foreskin-less helps to ward off most STDs (even AIDS!), as well as cervical cancer in women. And yet, this is known to be untrue! However, circumcision does seem to have an effect on urinary infections in a baby's first year of life, so yeah, this is effective for a year. After that, circumcised boys tend to be at a disadvantage when it comes to UTIs.
` The other thing is that circumcision might possibly somehow lessen the risk of penile cancer, which is already much lower than the risk of male breast cancer to begin with - and how many men get that? (In other words, in this case it would actually be more logical to cut off male breasts, as that would have more chance of doing something beneficial!)
` So, that's all medical science could find after more than a hundred years of research? Big, fat, hairy deal!

` In fact, there are so many myths asserting that the wildly popular non-medical circumcision is desirable that even comedian-mythbusters Penn & Teller have found it neccesary to devote an entire episode of their show to this subject.
` Unfortunately, I have not yet seen any episode of Penn & Teller: Bullshit! as of yet, however, a summary is provided on the show's website:

Finally, an episode that will make every man feel regret, cringe with pain, and grab their genitals. What would make the male sex react like this? Two words - snip and chuck. If this alone doesn't make you cringe then this will: when your foreskin was removed thirty percent of your sexual pleasure went with that little piece of skin. Ouch!

We'll examine the historical, religious, medical and ethical arguments associated with circumcision. And we'll have a little hidden-camera fun with the topic, as well. After all we are talking about dick!

` Yes, executed with their usual blunt humor. Always working to expose the more dubious side of humanity, I'm glad they are at last reaching the public with information on this subject.
` And I'm glad I can too. I've been meaning to do this for a long time. Hence, my interview with this 'Steve' character, so without further ado:


` I don't know much about Steve, other than he is an artist, a sculptor, and a writer. I hear he also has a wicked sense of humor, though today he was quite serious while he discussed with me the history of his penis.
` He was born to a Jewish woman who - like a surprisingly large number of Jews - did not opine that amputating part of the male genitalia was in any way different from general barbarism. Soon after, Steve was adopted by an Italian family, ironically with the last name of Gentile ('gen-TEE-lei').
` I think I should note here that when a baby is born - male or female - the prepuce (called a 'foreskin' in males) is fused with the phallus (a.k.a. clitoris or penis), and generally does not begin to separate for a couple of years.
` However, as a little, naked two-year-old running around the house, Steve was tugging at his foreskin - for whatever reason that two-year-olds may do such a thing - and accidentally peeled back the section over the frenulum (which anchors the foreskin) before it was developmentally ready for that! This, he speculates, might have been what caused him problems later on.

` Now, growing up, Steve and his little friends all had perfectly normal penises, and accordingly, considered their penises to be perfectly normal. So, it was pretty stupid, he said, that when they went to Junior High, they were ridiculed in the locker room.
` "You got smegma!" the other boys would say. "Gross, dude!"
` He and his friends had some pretty logical comebacks for this: "Yeah, well, at least I have a whole penis!" or, "It's not a problem unless you don't know how to shower," and, "At least I'm a whole man! I'm all there!"
` It's like," he said, "why would it bother me that I have a whole penis?"

` Vaginal intercourse involving a normal penis (which is probably a complete mystery to most Americans), is supposed to go basically like this: On the 'downstroke', the foreskin slides over the shaft of the penis, exposing the head while bunching up into the labia; and on the 'upstroke', it rolls back over the head.
` So, not only is the foreskin itself a sizeable erogenous zone, but it is meant to stimulate other erogenous zones in both the man and the woman!

` Steve's first sexual experiences were often painful, unfortunately, because his frenulum - which is just like the fold of flesh which keeps your tongue in place behind your front teeth - had a tendency to tear open. (Perhaps from its previous damage?)
` His doctor said that the frenulum could not be removed by itself - the foreskin wouldn't work properly without it. No, he would have to amputate it all.
` In Steve's own words: "The problem was getting worse and worse, so, though it was traumatic to think about it, sex would have been painful if I didn't get it done. I really didn't have a choice. I didn't want to not have sex for the rest of my life, and I didn't want to bleed, either."

` The appointment was scheduled for April of 2003. "I kept thinking; 'I'm going to get part of my penis cut off.' It's an important part of my body, so I thought about it a lot.
` "When it was going to happen, I didn't know what I was getting myself into, like I couldn't take it seriously because it seemed like a distant idea, and then afterwards, it was like... whoa! It's one thing to observe something, and another to experience it.
` "I woke up from the anesthesia in the greatest pain. I needed a lot of Percocet for that, and I was also really depressed for a while."
` Much of this depression came from the fact that he learned firsthand just how much sex, or even masturbation, would never be the same.
` "Even with it tearing, sex was way better beforehand. There was sensation in different areas which just aren't there anymore. It took away, like, a whole lot of what sex was to me. Like, my definition of sex... it was gone.
` "It's just not that sensitive anymore. Like, the head isn't even as sensitive. But in one way, it's like, the head is exposed all the time now, and it seems more sensitive that way, somehow, but in a way that just speeds things up, which I don't like.
` "Also, I used to be able to do a lot more things. Nowadays, I can be rougher, but I'm not as responsive because I can't feel... enough for that."

` "It really took awhile for me to get good in bed again. I had to recoordinate myself. It's like learning how to control a muscle again after it's been like... I don't know how to say it, changed.
` "When I had my foreskin, sex was more like, intimate. Like, it felt more intimate because it was more sensitive in my perception, and that let me be more sensitive to the other person, see?"
` "It's just like... more... smooth now. Plain. It's just a thing that goes in and out... like, there was more to work with before. And now there is just not as much to do. It's really hard to explain."
` Yes, hard to explain, and therefore, one can easily be wholly unprepared for such an experience.
` "It wasn't that shocking that it affected me that way, because I knew it would, but it really changed my life. See, I'm a sexual person, and it's important to me, and I think it had some kind of effect on me. I don't have a small man's complex, but before it happened, I was way more confident.
` "Now when I try to be confident, I end up getting kind of cocky. Well, not really, but sort of. I think it was an accumulation of things that were going on at the time, but I think [circumcision] has a lot to do with it."
` He also has become less productive in his art, and partly from that event.
` "I also used to be way more creative before then, though like I said, there were a lot of things that were going on at the time. I really haven't done that much."
` I'd guess this was because just trying to acclimate to this condition required him to keep remembering what had happened.
` "It was like when my friend died, and I picked up the phone and was getting ready to dial his number, and remembered that he wasn't there. It's like that here, I keep thinking about things [not usually sexual in nature, either], and then I think, 'oh no, it's not there anymore.' Or I'd look down, and it's not there. Just a big scar."

` "But I don't want to wallow in pity. It does suck, but I do have more confidence now than I did for the longest time. I've definitely been emotional, I couldn't... perform for a while. I was like being a beginner all over again.
` "The girl I was with at the time also said that sex was definitely better when I had my foreskin than when I didn't anymore. And with new people, I wasn't comfortable about my physical self, and it caused a lot of anxiety because I still didn't know what I was doing yet, and the scar was a little bit embarrassing.
` "For a while, I didn't want to have sex at all. I thought I wasn't meant to have sex, and I wanted to be a rabbi or something.
` "About six months after it happened, I just became totally Orthodox Jewish for a while. It definitely made me feel better about being circumcised, like it was a good thing, like there was something to back me up, because I could just read my Torah and stuff and try to decipher the scriptures because it's something to do, it distracted me, and did something for my spirit. It was therapeutic, I guess.
` "It gave me something to lean on, some support. And like, I've never really been the kind of person who picks out a religion, but it gave me a positive perspective on my penis. I didn't feel pressure to be sexual, and when I felt lonely, I didn't feel like it was my fault. Like it's not my fault that I'm lonely, because I'm doing it as a choice.
` "I also didn't get drunk, like a lot of guys might, so it kept me from drinking, too."

` "But I got more comfortable with myself. I've been able to accept it and get used to it and get past it, because there's nothing else I can do about it. Just learn how to use it. It's important for me to be able to use my penis.
` "Really, I don't think religions should be used as supportive things, I think they should be studied. I didn't have bad thoughts about circumcision, but I didn't advocate it. Why would I do that?
` "In fact, when conversations with couples who were having a baby would lead to the subject, and it turned out that they wanted to circumcise their boy, their reasons were stuff like; 'It's easier to clean,' though I learned through experience that there is no hygienic difference between now and then.
` "Another reason was; 'I think he should have the same as his dad.' Hey; if his dad new how good sex was with a foreskin, he would never say that!"
` Steve has also said to friends considering circumcision for themselves that; "There'a absolutely no reason, it's not worth it! No way, unless there's some kind of medical problem and that's your only option."
` Luckily, though Steve has had to go down this road, he's learned to cope with it. Upon reflection, he said: "I've never had sex without a problem, anyway, and I'm looking on the bright side. Luckily, I was young enough to adapt to this. It really is a big difference."


` Personally, I myself am quite glad to run into people with such sensible perceptions about circumcision in general. (And it's hard not to in Steve's position.) Sadly, most Americans are still doing this to their little babies who doubtlessly have no idea what the world is and what's going on in it.
` That, of course, is illegal: It is severe sexual abuse, mutilation, torture and it violates a person's right to have a perfectly normal body, barring illness. I mean, come on, it's a baby. You're supposed to nurture and protect them, not send them to a torture chamber!
` This is why my friend Andie once told me; "If my baby turned out to be a boy, and some doctor asked me to make that decision, I would say; 'Sure, just get him to sign the consent form'."
` She knows full well about normal penises, and she ought to: The other component of Cosey Mo's DNA came out of one! *Ahem.* She prefers this one - Jason's - to the mutilated ones. (And yes, she is very much in love with Jason, for the strange, wise and adorable man he is.)
` I currently know at least twelve other people who will tell you the same thing - so I know that the opposition is really out there!
` For example, I remember that one of my friends in Ohio said; "Yeah, I think that's really creepy. Like if someone did that to me, you know, I'd be like... why? That's sick! And stupid. But luckily, they don't do that to girls. Here, anyway."
` I even happened to meet someone else is in opposition because when he was four, he saw his little brother being mutilated, and the screaming and blood was just overwhelming.
` Also, I couldn't forget, EdgeWalker - ever the ethical debator - said; "I'd rather have all my genital organs, thank you. It's not like I had a choice in the matter."

` Really, I trust sound medical science - which cannot provide justification for circumcision anyway - but doctors... as you know, they are another story. Though the routine circumcision rates in small babies has gone down quite a bit, many doctors here still come up with stupid reasons or excuses to perpetuate this outdated, largely superstitious and unscientific practice.
` One of the biggest excuses, I think, may be the fact that many doctors would rather be pseudo-democratic and let the parents just tell them what to do, rather than saying; "Hey, there's a reason this is not medically accepted all around the world."
` Um, like, they're doctors! What do the parents know? (Although, if a doctor tells such parents all the facts, they generally decide not to.) In fact, this is why there's an organization called Doctors Opposing Circumcision. They will not listen to parents who demand this operation of them on other, unconsenting people - their beloved children!
` And yet, if they insist? Consider that it's often not done for medical reasons of any kind so much as it's for show. A dried-up, thickened glans - which is actually meant to be an internal organ - oh yes, it's so damaged and attractive!
` In fact, around here, that's considered to look more normal or natural by many, especially women. Which is why they would inflict it on their sons. It's sexy in their opinion!
` In that case, routine circumcision is basically harmful cosmetic surgery. And yet, if a father wanted some kind of female prepuce amputation done to his baby daughter - which has about the same effect as male circumcision - he would be arrested.
` That's American culture for you.

` That reminds me, back to the Penn & Teller: Bullshit! website... I just love how the 'Circumcision' video clip ends:

Doctor: "...So with this clamp, there's zero chance of hurting the baby's penis."

` Oh, I see, the foreskin isn't part of the penis. Is that what you're saying? I thought foreskins were part of all mammal penises! But not humans? Interesting. So, they're... there but not really meant to be there in some way?
` It is indeed true that in this country, many people tend to say; "It's just an extra flap of skin. We wear clothes now, so humans don't need it. That's all."
` This is what Phil had told me, once upon a time. He defended circumcision, promoting all its myths, proclaiming that the foreskin didn't even have feeling in it because it was 'just a useless sheath'!
` Really, I am sure that in places like all European countries, Japan, etc. - where this surgery is not done, barring emergency - the attitude is much different. For people who have never had to contemplate routine circumcision as a reality around them, there is no question of 'should you?', only strange looks.

Bizarrely Androgynous Osteoichthyes

` Busy day, busy day! Another Post of Very Little Effort... here is a slightly strange and brief article that Dory e-mailed me, in its entirety:


LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Researchers have found male fish with eggs in their testes and female sex traits off the coast of Southern California and believe that chemicals in sewage may be the cause, an author of two studies said on Monday.

The two reports found the changes in fish such as English sole and California halibut, both of which are bottom dwellers, in water near where sewage is released, said Dan Schlenk, an environmental scientist at the University of California, Riverside.

High levels of estrogen, both natural and man-made formulations used in birth control pills, are thought to cause such abnormalities in fish. Estrogen makes its way into sewage water and then the ocean through women's excretions.

Compounds that act like estrogen, found in certain industrial chemicals, have also been blamed for such changes.

But in this instance, Schlenk said higher levels of the egg protein were found in male fish in areas with lower levels of estrogen and estrogen-like chemicals in the sediment. The cause of the female characteristics, therefore, could be unknown chemicals in the sediment, he said.

"We might have other players in this game," Schlenk said in an interview on Monday. "We would guess they are primarily coming from waste water."

He said the sewage contained natural and man-made chemicals that was deposited in ocean sediment.

One of the culprits could be DDT, Schlenk said, a pesticide banned in the United States in 1972 after it was shown to cause reproductive damage to birds. DDT is no longer used but can remain in the environment for a long time.

Los Angeles County's sewage outfall, Schlenk said, "has probably one of the most contaminated DDT sites in North America, and these responses are fairly consistent with that kind of exposure."

11/14/05 18:56 ET

` If fish could somewhat mysteriously become gynandroids, it makes me wonder what else is going on under the waves that we are not seeing.... I'd be willing to bet, though, that it is easy for this kind of thing to happen among fish. After all, there are some species which change genders as part of their natural reproductive and social behavior.

` (Then again, if I recall correctly, there is also a type of African bird that can change from female to male and breed with females, so it's not just an osteoichthyes thing.)
` It's strange, though, that some fish could somehow develop both male and female characteristics at once. I think to myself: 'Can they breed? What kind of offspring could they have? Could they be somehow genetically different, or just different in the expressions of their genes? I wonder how that affects their populations?'

` Eh, I don't have an expert handy, so oh well. Anyway, I'm off to work on my sci-fi novel. Ta!

What really makes someone autistic?

` Holy Criminy, the sun just about burnt my retinas out when I opened my eyes this morning! It's a blinding bright day outside! Gotta go out into it!
` Therefore, I'm gonna make this post of Very Little Effort. I was just going through my e-mail, and I found this to be very interesting:

Brain deficits found in relatives of autism sufferers

` Whoa!

People can have physical brain abnormalities similar to those found in autistic individuals without having the disorder themselves.

` But it's not just any random person who is like this...

In one study, Eric Peterson of the University of Colorado at Boulder and his colleagues scanned the brains of 40 parents of autistic children and compared the results with functional magnetic imaging (MRI) scans from 40 controls. The data look much like those obtained for comparisons between autistic and non-autistic brains, says Peterson. The results were discussed on 13 November at the annual meeting of the Society for Neuroscience in Washington.

` Hmmm...

Some areas of the brain region known as the prefrontal cortex were smaller than normal in the parents of autistic children, for example. This part of the brain is involved in understanding other peoples' motivations, something that autistic people find difficult and is thought to lie behind the problems they face in interacting socially.

` However, immediate relatives of autistic children are not completely unaffected...

Another typical symptom of autism is the tendency to avoid making eye contact. This behaviour was studied by Brendon Macewicz and colleagues at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. He gave nine families with an autistic child and unaffected brother a digital camera and told them to take pictures of friends and family. Macewicz then mixed up the shots with images of strangers and tracked the childrens' eye movements while asking them to say whether the people they saw in the pictures were familiar or not.

Most people rely heavily on looking at the eyes when asked to complete this task. But autistic children are known to avoid the eyes and focus on other aresas of the face. To Macewicz's surprise, the non-autistic siblings did almost exactly the same.

"This piqued our curiosity," he says. The team then ran MRI scans on the brothers, focussing on the part of the brain known as the amygdala. This area is involved in fear and is typically smaller in autistic people. "It was very interesting," says Macewicz. "The children showed a similar decrease in amygdala size to their autistic siblings." The difference was around 5-10%.

` And yet, the siblings of the autistic children do not seem to actually have autism.

Macewicz says it is likely that in the unaffected siblings other brain areas, perhaps in the frontal lobes, are helping to regulate the amygdala and compensate for its smaller volume.

It may be that a core set of brain abnormalities has to be present for autism to occur, adds Peterson, and that the parents he studied do not have them all. He points out that some autism-related behavioural traits have previously been seen in the relatives of people with the condition, but that these current studies are among the first to show similarities in brain anatomy.

` Hmmm... interesting, huh?

` Well, I'm off to the great outdoors! I think I'll go over to the Co-op and take out their garbage and recycling - that requires being outside, and it would help with me getting my volunteer hours in!

The most important thing in life is to accept it...

` This is another post about my life... It is also amazingly long and perhaps tedious, but possibly interesting to read in any case.
` I stayed at the Baxter's house a couple of nights earlier this week, which was highly stimulating. Jason and Andie basically were teaching me how to move on with my life and become interested in being independent and all kinds of things.
` I feel like a totally new person after engaging in conversations with them - yet more weight has dropped off my shoulders, and I'm almost doing as well as I was before the emotional relapse I went through a couple of months ago. Jason is quite a wise and extraverted man, and as such, he did most of the talking. In a fake French accent, which we were all doing.
` Even after we had moved from the living room, we sat on our respective beds and talked the night away.

` Basically, they pointed out that problems, in a way, do not exist. Stuff happens to you. The most common difficulty people have in life are things like not wanting to accept these things, or not wanting to accept the nature of their unhelpful reactions to them. You have to realize what is going on and stop having a cow and whimpering and obsessing over these things in order to heal.
` In other words, people's 'problems' are mostly not from life, but the denial of the parts of life they just don't want to see. They keep feeling miserable because they can't do anything about what has already happened. As goes the saying, life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you deal with it.

` And so, after some lengthy discussion, we agreed that therapists which encourage people to focus on their problems more are only somewhat helpful, and even more unhelpful! If a therapist mainly points out a patient's denial, however, and gets the person to accept what they don't want to (what else can you do?), then I cheer them on.
` However, most therapists in our experiences have helped only a little and perhaps have done even more harm than good.
` I even had one who screamed at me: 'Why do you keep crying? What the hell is wrong with you? You were tortured two whole months ago! Stop crying!!! And don't start yelling at me!'
` The first thing Jason said was; "That's what they need to say!"
` But then, of course, a therapist who screams at people and criticizes a patient's problems like they'd intentionally plotted their immediate animal insticts after being tortured (instead of asking what exactly they are crying about) is not the way to go about this.
` You only alienate and upset the person even worse by angry accusations, as if they had perpetrated some kind of crime, which is untrue.
` In a way, they have, on some subconscious level, and they really hurt themselves with it. The mind is a powerful thing, and when you are not used to handling traumatic events, you can really screw yourself up accidentally.

` Jason said that basically it's both childish and arrogant to act like you can change what already has happened. You're not a deity, and that's life. (Especially, if you are/were a child, this is most expected. Doesn't mean you can go without correcting it, though.) The only way to not feel helpless is to just accept the the past.
` I said; "Or what is inevitable," and told him an instance of such foolishness in my life:
` It was the time Phil and I were spending an hour or so together in Medina, and he kept obsessing over the fact that his bookbag was in the back of his friend's car, which was parked under the hot Ohio sun. In it were many important papers as well as a container of some kind of horrible chemical which - though unlikely - could explode and ruin everything. Unfortunately, his friend couldn't unlock his car as he was on vacation, so there was no way to get the bookbag out except by breaking the window.
` He kept deliberating on whether or not we should drive over to look at it to see whether or not it had already exploded. This, perhaps I would have tolerated just to calm his nerves if it were only a few blocks away, but his friend lived a half hour away in Seville!
` Finally, I had said; 'If we go all the way down to check on it and it's okay, then fine. It stays in there anyway and may yet explode, though it probably will be just fine because the weather is starting to cool down today. If it's already exploded, it's just the same - you still can't do anything! And by the time we get back, we'll have completely wasted an entire hour and we won't have time to go anywhere else!
` 'In either case, it will have been totally useless. There's nothing you can do. What's happened or not happened has probably already been determined. Even if it's not, would you smash the window of your friend's car? Why worry?'
` Incidentally, the container had not exploded, so everything was fine. You see my point, though? I admit, if there was something in the bookbag that was truly unique, and perhaps historical or important to national security, I might have considered going over there with a crowbar. In this case, it really wasn't worth it. Instead, I drove us off somewhere and we did something or other together and didn't think about volatile chemicals.

` Even though this incident was potentially about something that had not yet been decided, it is very important to realize that as for events that have already happened, it is fruitless wishing that things had been different. Whether or not you were helpless in the past, you are helpless to change the past.
` What is so difficult about understanding that? Your emotions can get in the way.
` Similarly, if you see someone fall off the bridge that you are standing on, you are not psychokinetic or anything. You cannot just rescue them - you can only call down to them; "Point your toes!" After that, it is the way it is from then on, and that's that.
` Most important here is to accept that there is a real difference between something that is a reality - all things which have happened in the past, for example - and something that you do have control over - most things in your life which could happen in the future - and what really does have the most priority to be changed, then not only do you stop fighting what is history, you start going after anything you can and want to change.
` This gives you real control over real things because you can only really control those things in your future - this includes helping other people, too. And, though it requires you to accept that you are helpless to change the past, you stop feeling helpless!
` I imagine that many people have trouble with this idea because it seems so counterintuitive.

` Let's say, you were tortured, like me? Raped? A loved one was killed? You feel like part of you is gone? I suspect that at least most of this part of you that is missing is merely the part of you that thought, in shock; "Nooo! I can't take this!!"
` It is an 'animal' reaction, though, a coping mechanism, something all people have, and something that no one can really be expected to be able to control in the moment. Though it may be, overall, more useful in Animals of Very Little Brain, it can easily happen despite your human intellect.
` And so, you feel broken. Nauseous and sick. Lost, contaminated, perhaps. It hurts so bad that the pain is all you seem to be able to think of. You don't know it, but there is another side of you, the part of you that is hiding and has let the trauma control you. It may be hard to believe, however, when you are in this situation. It is really part of you who is causing this pain, and though this thought may insult you, it is only that you don't know how to get yourself back together.
` Of course, there is a simple way to get rid of this feeling, and it may be exactly what you don't want to do: Get rid of the denial! It divides your mind into pieces that don't work well by themselves. It causes literally 'mind tunnel vision'.

` Stress, I would say, is really what does this. The higher the level of stress, the more you feel like you are in a tiny, windowless room with nothing in it. It seems as if, no matter what you look at, there is nothing there to see. Thinking feels like trying to slog through a swamp, and it may seem like your head is packed with wool or cotton balls. Very unpleasant, but this 'wooly' thinking is not really not the way you are, it is the fact that you are - probably not exactly on purpose - trying to block things out.
` Feeling a lot of paralying stress all or most of the time is truly a torturous hell. Even when you aren't feeling strong, unpleasant emotions. Blocking them out, however, can cause most of those emotions and anything else in your mind to become utterly invisible most of the time.
` The worst, I think, is the fact that it may make it practically impossible to think of more than one thing at a time, so you don't generally focus on things or have goals, ambitions, or the ability to make simple, everyday decisions. On top of this, blocking out unpleasant emotions also blocks any type of feeling that you might like to have.
` No one likes that!!!

` If whoever is reading this happens to have such a problem, which even I was not aware I'd had (being this way almost all my life and having no other frame of reference), I still suspected it was not normal.
` If you suspect it of yourself but are not convinced, then, irritatingly, accepting this concept would have to be taken kind-of 'on faith': It is hard to see when thinking and remembering feels like groping around in a basement with a flashlight - it is hard to hold more than a couple of things in your thoughts.
` You yourself are not falling apart. These are superficial symptoms. Painful stress is merely making you 'short circuit', deviating from your normal brain functioning. It masks your normal behavior and thoughts.
` Personally, mine was so bad that I thought that since I'd been this way most of my life, my brain would never be normal enough to think as well as it is right now. I had actually tried to deal with this by attempting to organize and control the few thoughts I did have going through my brain. It turns out that they don't work in such small numbers - they need to be 'networked', by not blocking out other thoughts or processes or memories which might be connected to them. (Of course, this was a surprise, as I had no idea they were even there!)

` So, first of all, you need to realize what stresses you out and do something about it. It's not as complicated as I'd thought, either. What helped me first of all was noticing what is bothering me in the present and just not putting up with it, which I've explored in this post. You cannot say things like; "It seems ridiculous that this is bothering me, therefore I'll put up with it." No! It bothers you, and this feeling is part of reality. You may question how it happens, but you cannot question that it happens.
` You have to accept that your feelings are real if you have felt them, and there is no two ways about it!
` Why? Even if you aren't sure, feelings do not neccesarily have to make sense to you. For example, I discovered that my more ill-fitting clothes were actually causing me to almost have a nervous breakdown, and I really can't think of why. Ridiculous as the reaction sounds, I realized that there is nothing that can stop me from not wearing these clothes, and I eventually threw the offending garments out.
` I accepted my feelings, and I realized that there is no way to 'just put up' with them. You have to remove yourself from a situation - even if it sounds like a stupid thing to remove yourself from - and then, perhaps you may figure out what was wrong there.
` The most important thing now is that these awful, terrible clothes cannot bother me, I am safe from them, I will no longer want to tear them off to prevent smoke from shooting from my ears, even as I continue to puzzle over why. (This feeling has been present ever since I can remember.) I think some of it has to do with already-high-enough levels of stress.
` Really, this can apply to anything that bothers you.

` So yes, you can control things like this. If you haven't been, you have obviously underrated them, or do not care that much about yourself. Or both. You can change your environment. As far as I know, the same principle goes with people: If you can think of someone in your life who is bothering you, then do you know why? If you know why, then can you fix things? Even if you cannot fix things, at least you can just get away from them.
` That is very important to know, and even more important to realize.
` Putting up with such foolishness only shows that you would rather care about their feelings totally at the expense of your own. It is possible to care about both of you, but to realize that you do have problems, you are being hurt in some way, and then to think that you are not as worthy as they are is a very unhealthy attitude.
` Hurting people doesn't always equate with being mean - it can also equate with self-respect rather than denying that you have problems, or disregarding them. If you are too afraid to confront a problem you have with someone, it only causes you emotional problems, plain and simple! In the long run, at least, the same usually goes for the other person.
` It may seem selfish, but it is actually more selfish to keep things from yourself! You are not below other people!

` Luckily, I do not have anyone that I want to push out of my life. But, I do want to just... get away and learn to be myself. I understand now what the appeal of this is - you do not go through the same, hackneyed existence, with the same people. I am not sure this idea would have had such impact on me before, however, I am more emotionally open due to my non-resistance to much more of reality.
` What's more is that I have always had people to pay most of the rent for me, even after I've moved out of my mom's house. For once, I need to spend my own money on things other than largely food and car insurance.
` For once, I need a life, and I'm finally feeling confident enough to do so. Getting rid of a lot of my stress has done that for me. Why do you think I was crazy about Benadryl, which was actually prescribed to me. It let me relax and therefore cleared up my thinking! And here's the genius part: when it cleared up my thinking, this allowed me to think of more than one thing at once, giving me a huge advantage in clearing up my internal difficulties. I could then think of about eight things at a time, and had many more thoughts touching up against these.

` I used the drug as a way most (I think) psychotropic drugs are meant to work - to enhance rationality, thereby allowing you to overcome problems which require more 'thinking space' than you have - and now I don't really need it much anymore!
` In other words, drugs which let you relax and also allow your brain to function better allow you a mental shortcut - you aren't burdened with thinking your way through your problems so that you can feel better, which improves your thinking, so that, then, you can think better in order to feel better.
` That's much more difficult than just not being able to think and perceive freely enough to come up with solutions of problems that are keeping you from thinking and perceiving freely in the first place! Getting rid of stress artificially will not only show you some of what you are working for, but allow your complex network of thoughts to flow normally, which personally had slowed me down by about a hundred times.
` (Yes, a hundred times - it's a multiplication thing, having to do with how many thoughts you can connect to every other thought in your brain at one time.)

` Not only is my mind clearer and my muscles less tense, but I feel like I have much less weight holding me down. I have more energy, and more motivation...
` Really, I don't know what motivation is - just a non-painful drive that people have in order to do everything they need and want. I was previously not that intimately aware of it. I don't know how it works, though I do know that stress will block it out. Too much and you might wind up weighed down to the point where you might seem incredibly lazy to yourself.
` No, I was not lazy, it was more like being too afraid to do anything. Really, it was. I needed to relax!! As simple as that sounds, I was just not very adept at it, that's all.
` And now that I feel safer in the world, my plan is to go off and have a somewhat different life for two weeks - with Jason and Andie of all people, who are going to be at Andie's mom's house for a couple of weeks. Then, they are moving temporarily to the Queen Charlotte Islands, where I might also go to visit them.
` Phil says my going out and experiencing other things is a good idea - he has done it himself a whole lot. I have actually never felt so enthusiastic about something for as long as I can remember! This includes driving across the country (and seeing some sights) to get here!

` So really, relaxing is, in a way, the most important thing ever, because you can think! (Even if this means taking Benadryl or something!) And if you have some kind of issue or another, you can think through it relatively effortlessly. The only real roadblocks from there are not wanting to face up to things, including how much better or worse things are getting in your life.
` I just didn't used to know how to chill! I thought that the way I would lay around 'lazily' sometimes was the same thing as relaxing. Though my body was rather inert, it was from the weight of pain pushing against me: I was paralyzed by tension.
` In fact, the more relaxed that I am, the less sedentary I am, and the more I notice that I'm not slouching, simply from my shoulders not being weighted down by pain - know what I mean?

` Because I can relax, I am amazingly more mindful of what is going on, with my thoughts together, and can even plan for something in the future. This includes day-to-day things like chores and whatnot.
` Seriously, it's really so much easier when you can remember and keep track of the laundry, writing, drawing, answering e-mail, running errands, and other things I might be doing in one day. (Ah, drawing, I haven't done much of that for like... ever!!!) These things I need to do are just there in my mind and don't overwhelm me to the point where I just want to collapse.
` I could probably even get a real job at this point, and hold it for more than a month! (However, I'm going to be very cautious about this, due to the fact that a job could cause so much stress that I might backslide into numbness, and I really don't need that!)

` Anyway, that is, in its entirety, everything on my mind I could think of to write. (Obviously! 'Cuz that's a lot!!) Thought I'd get that out. Anyone who is having some kind of psychological issue, however, may find it helpful - after all, relaxing and thinking can really help with all kinds of disorders! I have the disorder of post-traumatic stress, oh, and that is one other thing...
` Disorder, shmisorder! Andie and Jason have had the same diagnosis - they've gone through some pretty tough trauma in their lives that was about as bad as mine! In fact, Andie, sad to say, even developed some kind of bizarre psychosis from one event!
` While she was in this state, she had blocked out the feeling in her body, just like I have, which feels just like novocain or something. Blocking out the sense of touch or vision, my psychiatrist has told me, is part of a family of conditions called 'conversion disorder' (a strange name, I know), and it is perfectly curable. Of course, there's really not that much to cure...
` It is like a 'reverse hallucination' - the blocking out of senses which are there - which I suppose complemented her regular hallucinations - which are sensory imput-type things from things that are not there.
` After a couple years, she did get completely over all this! Really, I have yet to conquer conversion thingy. We don't really see it as a 'disorder' in some mycommon sense of the word. I see it, personally, as something like a scientific theory. Oh, it is there, all right. It works as predicted, yes. But it is not like a thing; it is an ever-changing process. And one of the things it is predicted to do is to go away as suddenly as it came.
` Mine tends to get worse when something stresses me out. I know this. And when my hand touches something that I am uneasy with (no, probably not the kind of thing you're thinking!), it feels like novocain being injected!! It gets better when I relax, however.
` So, see, relaxing seems to be most crucial for recovering from just about anything!

` Anyway, I'm going to stop blathering now and publish this, before my post gets any longer!

Explaining "why" for the gay fly

` A somewhat interesting news@nature.com article...

` In the humans species, there is no known 'unusual' difference in either genes or brains of men and women who are homosexual that is different from those who are not. This, I think, can be attributed to our extreme complexity.
` However, the fruit fly, Drosophilia melonogaster, has simpler genes and a much simpler brain. It is therefore no surprise that such an unusual difference has been found in fruit flies, in relation to a gene known as 'fruitless'. And before you start thinking this might help with solving this mystery in humans, keep in mind:

Scientists caution that fly mating behaviour is very different from that of humans, as are our brains, so these results cannot be extrapolated to people. "No homologue of the fruitless gene is found in mammals and humans," points out Ken-Ichi Kimura of the Hokkaido University of Education in Iwamizawa, Japan.

` The male fruit flies which have a strong mutation in the fruitless gene will often fail to make a protein called Fru. This results in such flies failing to perform the tapping and tilting motions to attract females. Interestingly, males which only produce a little bit of Fru cause them to court both male and female flies.
` However, females who are engineered to carry the fruitless gene (which is normally specific to males) will go through the tapping and tilting routine to attract other females!

` So, how does this gene affect the structure of the fly brain? One difference is known: Flies which perform this mating ritual have a small network of neurons in the brain that other flies lack. How does this work? Apparently, the Fru protein keeps this cluster of nerve cells alive in young, developing flies - if a male does not have Fru, this cluster of cells will die. In females, on the other hand, the presence of Fru causes this cell cluster to develop intact.

"The idea that differences in a highly complex behaviour such as courtship can be caused by a small number of cells is very interesting," says Toshihiro Kitamoto, a researcher at the University of Iowa in Iowa City who has studied same-sex courtship in flies. Kimura and his co-authors speculate that the nerve network controlled by the Fru protein relays information about chemical cues that allow flies to recognize the sex of a potential mate.

` However, it is suspicious that this mechanism seems to be so simple - experts say that there could be many more subtle changes that are not yet known.

` Hmmm. I wonder if gene manipulation could be used to cause fruit flies which occasinally plague our kitchen to all become uninterested in reproductive sex and go extinct? Oh well, I guess old-fashioned sealing up fruit in bags and vacuuming up as many flies as possible works well enough...

It's good to know skeptics...

` Such as EdgeWalker. He's pretty good at logicking things, though we don't talk much considering how much we hang out. (He's just so darn introverted.)
` However, there are also extensive online communities, including forums. For example, I just got a notification about an update to this thread in The Skeptics Society forum. Thought you might be amused.
` Note: Genders are approximated.

Thread: Have you seen a UFO?

rrichar911: If so, what is your story?

` Rrichar911 proceeds to tell about an instance in 1966 when he was marching back to the barracks from Tech School at Chanute Air Force Base. Suddenly, to his confusion, everyone began tripping and falling over one another. He noticed everyone was looking into the sky, so he looked for himself and saw some kind of object hovering straight overhead, red and illuminated.
` This object, which appeared to be too high to make out, went from apparently not moving to quickly dashing to the southern part of the sky, where it hovered for 30 seconds. Then, in the blink of an eye, it moved to the northern part of the sky, stopped, and then went back to the center, directly over them.

It is a UFO, because it could not be identified. But what ever it was, it obtained tremendous velocities.

` Yes, if it really was 'way up there', anyway... Don_Fernandez then tells about his sighting in Houston: An unmoving, bright object with blinking colored lights, hovering at dusk before the stars were visible. After staring at this, the object 'started moving way to fast' before disappearing. Because of his unbelief in alien spacecraft, he kept watching to see if he could figure out what it was.

And then the Arriving UFO became an IFO, a prosaic Arriving Airplane, from Southwest Airlines if you must know (Houston is a hub city for them).

` Ha! Apparently, the effect Don_Fernandez was seeing turned out to be the setting sun's rays glinting off the landing airplane, which was also lit up with navigation lights! He was walking towards it, so the plane's relative position to the horizon didn't change as it descended.
` Then, as he was walking in a curved path, and because the plane had also changed directions, it seemed to move very fast, suddenly. If it had been higher in the sky, it would have indeed been moving faster than an airplane, but in reality, it was quite low.
` It seemed to 'disappear' because it became too low in the sky for the sun's rays to reach it, and so it seemed to have disappeared. However, after a minute of looking, he could finally spot it.
` In fact, he saw many such 'UFOs', and they all turned out to be planes from the two airports he lived near.

` For his second UFO story, rrichar911 tells of the time he was driving through the Big Bend area of Southwest Texas. A desolate place, there are no gas stations and no other drivers for miles. It was two in the morning, and he had stopped to answer the call of nature.
` Standing in the road, he was admiring the visibility and brightness of the stars in that region when one of them began to move! Now, this one is a real pickle:

It moved around the horizion just above it [the horizon]. It took about 5 seconds for it to traverse 180 degrees and stop. It then climbed to about 20 degrees from vertical, stopped, and then went into out space.

When it becomes an IFO, I'll let you know.

` Whoa! I don't know if you can identify something like that - it sounds pretty crazy! But, if this light moved around the horizon relative to him, it might have been something one could only see from that perspective. You know?
` Moving on, flyer1 describes a sight she speculates may be some kind of new military test aircraft:

I saw something once in the sky that I can't explain. It consisted of about two dozen diamond-shaped metallic objects, turning and diving in unison, about 200-300 feet off the ground. This was in central Nevada. It looked something like a school of fish in the sky, or like a small flock of shiny birds, but no birds I'd ever seen in the area.

` Awesome!!! Rrichar911 comes back with another story which may explain some UFO sightings:

I once saw ball lightning while driving to work. It was the most uncommon thing you could imagine. It floated around the sky, about 30 feet off the ground, visibly spinning, and taking arched trajectories, until it ran into a transformer sitting on top of a pole, and then the sparks flew followed by smoke.

It looked like a small galaxy in shape, I would estimate about 1 1/2 foot in diameter. Spinning at an estimated rate of 4 or 5 revolutions per second. Amazing.

` A rare sighting indeed - I did not know it could look like a galaxy! Moving down the posts, Skeptical... says that when he was a paperboy 36 years ago, he and a friend saw a disk-shaped object flying straight through the clouds. He is not sure exactly how accurate this memory is, though. Also, Bunk mentioned a recent and very bright irridium flare.
` Lance Kennedy, on the other hand, has seen two UFOs, which soon became IFOs...

First was in Fiji. A very bright red light high in the sky out over the sea. It sank slowly, then rose, moved in a clear arc and sank again before fading. Took me a while to work out what it was. A parachute flare, descending, then lifted briefly by an updraft.

Second was here in NZ. Two white lights at night shooting across the sky. Car headlights!

` It is interesting how these things can fool you. Next up, Flash tells of a more bizarre-sounding experience.

I was twelve, it was on a farm far away from any city, the sky was totally blue and it was afternoon. I saw a metalic object hovering very high, I couldn't tell its shape. After about five minutes the thing took off into space with a very high speed and disappeared. I have no idea what it was and really have no evidence whatsoever which would allow me to even speculate. I treat it as one of those "what was it god damn it?" things.

` Yes, this is the way a skeptic takes such sights, really. Especially at night, when visibility is low. This would explain why Skeptical... could point out that most UFOs are seen at night. To balance this out, then, rrichar911's next story took place in the daytime, while he was driving south on 1-35. On his right was a large, 1/2 mile-long rock quarry.

I glanced over and observed a quite large egg shaped glowing ball of what appeared to be gas hovering above the quarry on a line perpendicular to the road from me. I was along the side of it. It was dense enough that I could not see through or into it.

I glanced back to the road, for a split second to make sure I was still headed down the highway appropriately. Then back to the ball of gas. In that instant that I took my eyes off of it, it moved approx. 1/4 mile down the road and now was in front of me.

I then had to glance back to the road, and as I did it took off to the my right, and was gone over the horizon again virtually instantly.

` This is strange, is it not? Each time he looked back onto the road, the object also moved! And very quickly, too! This may have nothing to do with his perception, however.
` Skeptical... said that it might be a corona discharge from high tension power lines - as he indirectly discovered some of these apparently moving along such wires - though rrichar911 said the power lines were on the other side of the road. It did seem to be electrically-related, though, as it moved very fast and was opaque.
` After this, flyer1 came back to say:

I did see "Aurora" one time. I was coming home from work about 0700 Pacific time, and happened to glance up. I saw a contrail that looked like this: --|--|--|--|--|--
being made by some aircraft traveling very fast, and so high I couldn't see it, only the contrail. No sonic booms to confirm; although interestingly, I live in the same area that two confirmed "Aurora" sonic booms occurred in the early 1990's.

But that is a genuine secret military aircraft, not a UFO.

` At least there is a logical explanation for such an unusual sight - though, it is rather amusing when you realize how many non-secret aircraft are mistaken as other things.
` Next on the thread comes my contribution:

` When I was younger and more naiive, I watched this show where this guy put his video camera in the shade just out of sight of the sun, so that the sun was just barely peeking over his roof. He recorded what looked like milkweed seeds bobbing and drifting all over, though you couldn't see it otherwise.
` I decided I might see the same thing if I looked out the window with the sun barely in view - and indeed, I saw the same white, semi-transparent things! They drifted lazily up and down and across, floating like so many tufts of white milkweed fluff.
` But it couldn't be milkweed, since it was winter! I did this quite a bit for a month, but other than discovering that they appeared to be milkweed tufts (but couldn't have been), I never did figure out what they were.
` Perhaps some strange atmospheric effect having to do with the way the sun is just barely in view? Heck, I'd bet any of you could do it if you tried...

` Though, I have heard of much stranger things, as I also used to live in Ohio... a rare and bizarre-looking phenomenon occurred that made it into the papers: This photographer was walking along the U.S. side of Lake Erie and just happened to look across the lake... at Canada!
` It appeared that the Canadian shore was right there! He took a photo of it, which got into the papers. But then... it disappeared.
` Well, Ohio is known for its extreme, treacherous, and sometimes interesting weather...

` Yes, something that looked like milkweed fluff. (And I don't think it could have been any kind of snow. It was a clear day.) Then, Tito popped in to report something amusing:

Know what you mean about Ohio...... I used to live there too! I left!! If I'd known the entire country of Canada was going to sneak up on me, I would have left even sooner!!!

I saw something that was a UFO for about 3 minutes or so - just long enough for me to get out the binoculars. It was almost straight over my head, almost looked like I could throw a rock at it and hit it. It was a sort of asymetrical oval shape, with a very brilliant, shiny crescent along one side. It moved without a sound, very very slowly. Of course, as soon as I looked at it through the binoculars, it sneakily changed itself into a weather balloon!! Probably thought I was holding a camera. That made me laugh, and while I was standing there laughing, my neighbors came tearing up in their truck, frantically pointing at the sky. I could not even speak I was laughing so hard, I just handed them the binoculars.

` Hee heeee! This is somewhat similar to Centaur's experience of seeing a UFO 'for about ten seconds.' It was springtime in 1958, and he was twelve years old. He awoke at midnight to get a glass of milk - and he saw through his screen door a very bright object that looked rather like Venus, though Venus could not be seen at midnight. He ran for his telescope...

After taking a moment to focus, my heart began pounding as I spied a mother ship surrounded by four scouts! My great excitement lasted for about 10 seconds - until I realized that for the first time in my life I had detected Jupiter and its four large satellites. Actually, though, that discovery left me with the same warm glow that Galileo must have experienced when he first trained his scope on the king of the planets.

` Skeptical... also had an amusing experience at this time:

I wish I would have had my video camera with me this morning. It's rainy here today with a low cloud ceiling. As I was driving to work, I caught sight of two bright white lights, ascending rapidly from my right to left. The two lights were visible perhaps only a couple of seconds, then disappeared into the clouds. Of course, they were the landing lights of a private plane taking off from a small airport I was approaching, but I would have loved to have turned the video into Jeff Rense just to see how much of a fuss I could stir up.

` Rrichar911 comes back with another extremely bizarre experience: He was driving along at 2 a.m. somewhere between Jacksboro and Fort Worth, when his truck had suddenly become the center of what apparently was a circular spotlight. Its outline was round both ahead of and behind the truck (in the rearview mirror). To the left, the trees were lit up, looking as green as they did in daylight.
` An airplane could not have tracked him with a spotlight so accurately, so maybe a helicopter? He wrote: 'My truck stayed perfectly at its center, with never the slightest waver one direction or the other.' And yet, there was no noise at all! He stuck his head out the window to look, and at that moment, the light disappeared. He stopped the truck to look at the sky, but there didn't seem to be anything up there. And another thing:

It was extremely bright, but my eyes adjusted to it instantly. Like walking from a dark room into the sun, with out having to adjust. The passenger said, what was that? I replied, I don't know.

` This is very odd. If true, I can't imagine how to explain this. In the next post, flyer1 said that the custodian at the place where she works was very excited at something one night. A bright light, just over the guard shack. The supervisor went out and found that it was only Venus. Apparently, because it was so bright on such a clear night, it looked like a much smaller object within the atmosphere, quite close up.
` This kind of thing happens surprisingly often. In the same vein, Broken Spyrl volunteered that:

When I was young, I used to see UFO's all the time. I would see this silver, cigar shaped object in the sky, all the time.

I since learned that those were airplanes. But it surprises me to still hear about people seeing these silver cigar shaped objects, and have them immediately say that they are not only UFO's, but alien in origin as well.

` Spyrl also wrote about seeing a meteorite, which seemed to be something like the 911 attack for a minute, and this post spurred me to contribute this:

` Yee! ^^ Once I happened to be staring up out of a skylight one night, and this white ball came zooming across it... and then it seemed to expand to five times its size and zoomed out of sight.
` In an earlier day I might have said; "Oh, it's an alien craft!" Of course, I'm sure it was a meteorite hitting the atmosphere. My friend who lived out that way had actually seen one hit his neighbor's yard! They seem to be everywhere...

` Hee. You know, I have heard of cigar-shaped things from my paranoid delusional lunatic father. He used to tell me all these UFO stories, and he said he even had a picture of a spacecraft that wasn't there 'in real life', which he never got around to finding.
` Anyway, when I was about eleven, he used to tell me this childhood story where, one sunny day, he and his younger brother saw a cigar-shaped silver thing with "nine round windows - he counted them" which came up really close to the pier on Lake Mead where they had been on a dock with some other people. He said everybody freaked out! It didn't make much noise, and you could see the aliens holding their babies up to the window.
` Then it just took off real fast, straight up into the sky and was never seen again.

` Years later, he told me this story again. Except, he and his brother were in their twenties, the windows were square, and no, his brother hadn't counted the windows so he didn't know how many there were, and they could see the windows were also lit up because it was night-time, and there weren't any baby aliens they could see because it didn't get very close, and it also flew around quite a bit, doing some kind of maneuver in the air, and again, and a third time, and then some fighter planes came out, and...

` That's when I stopped believing that kind of stuff.

` Tee hee. And I'm not the only one, Brevabloke wrote:

I was driving back late one night with a mate from a jam session in Parkes NSW towards Orange NSW. I looked to my left and saw a ovoid, silver glowing object that looked about 10 metres long and about 50 metres away. I asked my friend if he could see it and he said he could. It was travelling at the same pace as the car; quite disconcerting. Well we were quiet for a bit and I asked him to keep an eye on it, so he did. Then he started laughing and could not stop. I said whats so funny man, we are being followed by a light!!??" He said, "no mate were aren't, thats the railway line and the moon is reflecting off the edge of it.

Identified Object On The Ground.

I stopped believing that UFOs were in any way not of this earth when I was about 21. Nothing I have seen yet has changed my mind.

` And Pendantica just wrote yesterday:

I know it is a cliche but when I was young I really did think the moon followed me. That's the closest encounter I've ever had.

Although I have hallucinated enough to know that my senses are not 100% reliable. And I am persuaded by the evidence that the sensory world I experience is effectively a virtual reality model constructed by my brain; and that model is not always 100% accurate. This gives me good cause to doubt any eyewitness accounts not backed up by physical evidence.

` Anyway, yes, this is the thread so far. Amusing, no? The Skeptics society forum is full of all kinds of strange things. You might be interested to go there.

` Also, to members of F.A.R.T. (or other members of The Pentarchy?), when I began this post, I got an e-mail from my friend, Dory, about the Marzipan Babies - which are of course non-edible scupltures by Camille Allen. Thanks to one of Amber's posts, I immediately recognized this stupid e-mail myth and told Dory about this. This is not the first time I've had to do this. I get the weirdest things in my e-mail sometimes!
` In fact, after this, Dory e-mailed the person who sent it to her to correct them.
` Hey, maybe she could send me more things she gets from other people and I could scan them for mythery for her?

My disastrous interview with a Boeing 787 engineer

` Now that Blogger is back up and running today, I figured I'd do a little interview in case anyone cares about the new Boeing 787 Dreamliner. Without further ado:

` I'm severely ill and feel like I've been hit with a tranquilizer dart, despite the fact that I haven't had any substances which might cause this effect since that pint of cider I had four days ago.

` I'm sitting at my computer with the man who was with me when I had the cider, the 787 engineer whom I've only referred to as 'Phil' on this blog.

` "It's all true, everything in that video," he says.

` "So," I ask, unable to really comprehend what's going on in the video, due to being in a stupor; "What makes this plane different from the previous Boeing models?"

` Phil: "This one has a ton of composites, meaning that you don't have to worry about corrosion from humidity. No bleed air is taken from the compressors of the jet engines - it's all onboard electrically powered systems that maintain the environment.
` "See, one of the problems people have when flying is altitude sickness and dehydration, which contribute to jet lag. The 787 will have more cabin pressure than normal planes - the air pressure of six thousand feet in altitude as opposed to eight thousand feet - so there will be more humidity and those symptoms won't be as bad."

` Me: "So that's a huge advantage to using the composites - they won't rust from the moisture in the cabin."

` Phil: "Actually, the main advantage is that the composite is a lot stronger and more flexible than aluminum, and there aren't many pieces in the fuselage: It's made of one-piece barrel sections instead of stringers and beams riveted together with an aluminum skin.
` "Composite's also much lighter, which allows you to have a much farther range without refueling. It'll be able to connect any two city pairs in the world, for example, Detroit to Shanghai nonstop."

` Me: "And you've been saying that it's a lot nicer on the inside, besides more normal air. There's a bunch more room and more space for your luggage..."

` Phil: "Yes, and the windows will be a lot bigger on the inside, and there are no window shades; you just turn the little dial to change the translucency. Also, the cabin lights can be adjusted to about any color, to simulate the sky at any time of day."

` Me: "And it's more convenient on the outside, too, you said something about the spiky edges on the jet engines, that it cuts down on noise?"

` Phil: "It's a lot quieter than a normal plane, and I'm not going to go into any detail. Granted, I don't know a lot of the numbers."

` Me: "Well, I'd guess not. You're a loads engineer. So, what is it that you're working on?"

` Phil: "There's honestly not anything I can tell you about what I do, at least not anything you can put online."

` Me: "Ah."

` And that was about it. It had completely trailed off by then, and there wasn't anything else I could think of to ask.

` Grah. Thank you and goodnight.

Fossilized fungi caught with flagella off!

` Something else Dory pointed out to me...

` Fungi, which formerly inhabited what is now a dry well in Madhya Pradesh, India, have been discovered doing something which us eukaryotes are known to do.
` According to the Indian journal Current Science in October, this is the first time that anything had been fossilized in the act of copulating!
` The organisms in question were tiny slime molds that lived 65 million years ago, at the end of the Age of Dinosaurs. The 'swarm cell' stage of this fungus had been preserved, which is where each cell 'fuses' to another in order to sexually reproduce. Once fused, the cells' long flagella are shed.
` So, finding a microscopic fossil of two swarm cells that have fused together, without flagella, shows that they were having sex. A truly rare find, as they are quite delicate at this stage.

` Well, what else would you expect? Two Tyrannosaurs going at it? Not likely...

Mouse Song

` Well, this has certainly helped with my earworms today - singing mice! Also, behold my Adobe Photoshop graffito! So much better than my MS Paint graffiti... (Yes, I am kidding!)

` Apparently, mating calls from male mice, triggered by smelling female mouse urine, are qualitatively similar to simple bits and pieces of two-note birdsong!

` Timothy Holy and Zhongsheng Guo of the Washington School of Medicine in St. Louis, Missouri are the hooligans responsible for this discovery.

` The Nature news article reads:


The animals' high-pitched squeaking has song-like characteristics, the researchers discovered, with distinct pairs of notes arranged in repeating phrases. Holy likens the mouse songs to juvenile bird songs, which lack a complex fixed pattern of musical themes. The findings appear in the journal PLoS Biology¹.

` There is a recording with its pitch lowered for human ears on this page, if you'd like to hear for yourself. It's disruptive enough to music that it halted a particularly troublesome refrain of; 'What's it like to be you?'. (Barnes and Barnes have a knack of getting stuck in my brain.)

` Considering that this song is recorded from a lab mouse, it will be interesting to know if wild mice have more complex songs. Nobody knows yet if they learn how to 'sing' or if it's just something each one can do by itself.
` So far, the best evidence that this is a learned behavior is that each lab mouse - all clones! - have a different preferred song! In other words, they don't automatically chirp in the same way, they need to get it from somewhere else!
` Not much is known yet about this phenomenon, so I'll keep you posted if 'mouse song' gets interesting.

I have worms in my ears! Must get them out!

` Yes, my auditory cortex is really acting up today! Currently, this really rabid heavy metal song is going through my mind, now that I've listened to it twice today. Why? 'Cuz it has Brak in it, whom I've written about before.

` Must... use... blog... as outlet!

Space Ghost:

I smell turkey!

Brak:

Tuna fish!

Space Ghost:

Big beef jerky!

Brak:

Potato k-nish!

Space Ghost:

I smell o-nions-ahh!

Zorak:

Pizza too.

Space Ghost:

The dog needs washing!

Zorak:

And so do you.

Space Ghost:

It smells like...

A bunch of other characters:

What does it smell like, Space Ghost?

Space Ghost:

It smells like...

Everyone:

Pork and beans?

Space Ghost:

It smells liiike!

Everyone:

Waaaaaaaaaauuuuugggggghhhhhh!

Space Ghost:

It smells like Cartoon Planet! ...Whoo-whee!

(Electric guitar.)

Space Ghost:

Zorak, prison pod, Brak, Brak,

Zorak:

Barnyard animals,

Brak:

Oink!

Zorak (not thrilled):

Quack.

Space Ghost:

Zorak upside-down!

Zorak:

Sing it, fuzzy.

Brak:

I'm a little teapot, short and stout!

Space Ghost:

It smells like...

Everyone:

Asparagus and cabbage!

Space Ghost:

It smells like...

Everyone:

Boxer shorts!

Space Ghost:

It smells like...

Everyone:

Wwaaaaaaauuuuggghghhaauuu!

Space Ghost:

It smells like Cartoon Planet! (*sniff!*) Ahh!

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` And now back to the random singing that plagues my brain... Hey, it's Henry Phillips with his guitar. He's pretty good, that Henry Phillips! I writed down the notes in case you're curious about them.


E E, E D# C# B, C# B C# (dn)D A G#,
Ancient Philosophy was framed by prodegies,
A A A G# F# E E E D# E,
Aristotle, Plato and Socretes,
E (up)E E E, E D# C# B, B C# B C# (dn)D A G#,
And even though their thoughts were deep, the aristocratic voice,
D A A A G# F# E E D# E.
They also had a thing for little boys.
G# F# E F#, G# F# E C#,
Catherine the Great, so it's been said,
G# F# E F# G# A, B C# D# E, D# C#,
Needed large animals to be fulfilled in bed.
C# C# B A B B, E E E D# E D# C#,
From historic rulers, to the ancient Greeks!
(dn)G# B A A, G# F# E E D# E.
We're standing on the shoulders of freaks!


` Hey, wait a minute! That's historically inaccurate! I must escape this madness! (Everyone around here knows Catherine the Great wasn't killed by an uncontrollable lust for stallions! Of course, she died of a stroke! On the toilet!)
` Quickly, someone else get a guitar out! Art! Artie! Those guys'll help me out...


E F G, F E F, G,
There's a penis in my butt,
E C A, E C A, F C G#
Hurting me, hurting me, hurting me...


` Um... that is a dilly of an earworm from the Barneses' Homophobic Dream #22! It's not the kind of thing I'd normally sing (overtly) in public, but it's just so darn catchy!
` Surely I have more favorite songs than that... hey, what's that strange sound? Who's that giggling? Wow, it's Doc Cox... or is that Ivor Biggun? And he has something to tell us all:


When Mum locked me in the coal shed,
After the incident, with the chainsaw and the latex rabbit,
And the girl guides and the tent,
She fed me poundcakes under the door,
She gave me a radio!
I drool and smile and swivel that dial to the Doctor Demento Show!
I've stayed tuned in for twenty years,
But now it's plain as plain,
Oh, come on, Mum, and let me out!
Compared to 'im, I'm sane!

(Singing:)
Well, bless my little pointed head, I'm howling at the moon,
I'm nutty as a fruitcake when the Doctor plays my tune!
Dementions and Dementites from Saint Lou to Sacramento,
Know the weirdo with the beardo that the kids all call Demento!
Listen each week, and ya might just freak, and your senses will grow dim!
You'll hit that crackpot jackpot, and end up just like him!
Calling all the funny farms, it's crazy time again,
Bring out the beer, the doctor's here to scramble up your brain!
Oh-oh-oh-oh, he's the guy, the reason why your funnybone was invented,
If you're inclined to lose your mind, well, let's all get Demented!
Dee ee em ee en tee auu! Doctor Dementauu!

He's the chap that Norman Bates would take home to 'is mum!
With songs about dead puppies, and fish heads, *eat up, yumm!*
Crazy words and Crazy Tunes, Spike Jones and a little bit of Punk Bear,
He don't give a $#%@ about Middle of the Road unless there's a dead skunk there!
Flo and Eddie, Cheech and Chong, and discs that won't go Platinum,
Sung by folks that they keep locked up so other folks can't get attythem!
Calling all the crazy houses, every padded cell!
I've run amok, I'm Donald Duck, *Napoleon, as well!*
My-my-my radio brings me that show that keeps me so contented!
I'm King of the Zulus, I've got a screw loose, let's all get Demented!
Dee ee em ee en tee auu! Doctor Dementauu!

Exacaly A to Zackaly, it's Barnes and Barnes the goons,
Steve Martin, Shaving Foam and National Lampoon!
*They're coming to take me away, ha ha!* a geek with a neck like a pencil!
Monty Python, Loudon Wainwright, Gumby, Ogden Edsl.
Zappa and Elvira, and Weird Al Yankovic(h),
It goes to show that Demento is one weird son of a %*$#!
Callin' all around the world, it's time to get Delerious!
Try Dr. D! And then you'll see! *You cannot be serious!*
If you complain that he's insane, 'e'd be so complimented!
Don't touch that dial, go hogwild! Let's all get Demented!
Dee ee em ee en tee auu! Doctor Dementauu!


` What a special little boy that Ivor Biggun is. I'm glad he didn't sing any crazy wanking songs this time. And yet, even this is sticking in my brain!
` Alas, for the good old days, when Mr. Yankovic was the only person I knew who sang crazy songs...


Do you remember sweet Michelle?
She was my high school romance.
She was fun to talk to and nice to smell,
So I took her to the homecoming dance.

Then I tied her to a chair and shaved off all her hair,
And I left her in the desert all alone.
Well, sometimes in my dreams I can still hear the screams,
Oh, I wonder if she ever made it home?

I tell ya, those were the good old days!
Those were the good old days,
The years go by, but the memory stays,
And those were the good old days.
Lemme tell ya buddy...


` Um, yeah. Keep that 'Weird Al' psycho away from me! Anyway, I've got a psychiatrist appointment to walk to, so I don't wind up like him. Catch ya later!

Solution: Eat the enemy!

` All this talk about eating livers and brains just makes me want to become a cannibal, so I can devour all who try to torture or kill me! ^^

` Yeah, yeah, I'm technically a vegetarian. However, that only applies to innocent animals that are most likely capable of suffering. Some of the schmos in my life haven't been so innocent. No, I think I shall just eat them all. That would get rid of them!
` MMmmmheee heee heee. I could just... maim, rend, tear, mangle, destroy, spindle, fold, mutilate, gouge, cripple, gore, deform, savage... Ooh! The possibilities!

` And afterwards, I could just eat what's left. That should take care of them! Some of my concerned friends have suggested that I try vegetarian human flesh (i.e. Hufu), but that's not the point. Assuming that's even a real product, albeit with a hilarious marketing strategy, that stuff's for wimps! Can you imagine putting the Green back in Soylent?

` Soylent Green! It's not really people - it just tastes like it!

` Hm. No, I'd rather get real human meat from real humans, thank-you-very-much. If you'd like to become my dinner, just attempt to draw and quarter me!
` That'll show you.

` Well, off to run errands.