Hah! I must be smarter than Stephen Darksyde!

Two years ago, I took a walk and felt a very mild twinge…and chose to go straight to the local clinic to have it checked out. You don’t fool around with a family history of heart disease! As it turns out, I didn’t have a heart attack, but was at risk and did get some preventative cardiac work done.

Now compare this with Darksyde: he felt chest pains, found that they eased with antacids and prilosec, and figured it was just heartburn, and so skipped going in to the doctor. Wrong move! It turns out he actually had a heart attack (a fact that gives Christians and libertarians cause for glee, apparently).

Actually, it doesn’t mean I’m smarter than he is — you know he’s learned a lesson with this event. The real difference between us is that I have very good health insurance and can afford not to hesitate when symptoms strike…while he is less well insured and is more likely to be reluctant at the expense. And that difference can cost someone their life.

There are two lessons here. One is that it is a wasteful injustice that we don’t have reasonable universal health coverage. The other is that you shouldn’t try to second-guess chest pains and other symptoms, you middle-aged and older people!

Not cool. Not cool at all.

There’s a common tactic that gets used against me a lot: random harassers sign me up for magazines. I’ve been signed up for gay magazines, motorcycle magazines, chicken farmer magazines…all kinds of stuff with the intent of causing me trouble.

The latest slimy move — and it coincides with Reap Paden’s angry spammy comment sprees, just sayin’ — is to sign me up for test drives at local car dealerships. And then I get a cheerful call from some sales person who, in good faith, thinks I’m in the market for a Chevy Tahoe or a Honda Civic or something, and we then have a friendly conversation in which I say they’ve been hoaxed, I’m sorry but I’m not buying a car right now, but I will keep them in mind for the future, and they apologize, and I say, “oh, no, I apologize for the trouble”, and we have a little friendly back and forth, and then we’re done.

It’s absolutely no trouble for me — I have a brief, pleasant, and entirely amicable conversation. But you know what? This game you’re playing is wasting innocent people’s time and money. In your pathetic attempt to lash out at me, you are failing completely…but you are succeeding in using otherwise uninvolved bystanders as your pawns, and costing them some effort. Effort you won’t make yourself because you’re a coward and would rather hide behind some hardworking guy at the local dealership or some clerk at a publishing house.

That makes you an asshole. Knock it off. You want to harass me? Do it to my face, don’t hide, and don’t involve others to do your dirty work for you.

Fucking scumbag cowards. All you’ve succeeded in doing is to continually increase my contempt for you. Good job.

Did you have to remind me?

I wake up this morning to discover Doonesbury telling me stuff I already know.

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Yep, classes start for me tomorrow at 8am. I have a lighter load than the grueling mess last semester, and I also get to teach my fave class, developmental biology. No new paradigms this time, though — I think it worked fairly well the way I did it last time, with a mix of once weekly lectures and lots of class time dedicated to discussion and analysis. I’ll also be compelling my students to set up blogs and write about science publicly, so I’ll occasionally be linking to a lot of student work.

One thing I’m considering doing differently…I might post summaries of lectures and discussion topics here, if time allows. Public exposure of all the stuff that usually goes on behind the doors of the classroom? I don’t know if the world is ready for that.

I’m including the syllabus for my developmental biology course. Just in case you think I’m totally slacking with just one class, I’m also teaching a course called Biological Communications, a writing course that tries to get students to read and write in the style of the scientific literature, and am also doing individual studies with 5 students.

Evolution? This fossil says no

I thought I’d break the news here first: I have incontrovertible evidence against human evolution. To wit: my lungs are persistently filling up with fluid over the last few days. Which, if I’m not mistaken, is pretty much the opposite of what they are allegedly evolved to do. I mean, what possible advantage could that have provided on the savanna? Aside from possibly repelling predators with weaker stomachs. Hear my mighty and productive coughs, o puny lion, and slink away revolted! Or something.

Why did we even bother to lose the gills, again?

This is becoming an annual tradition I’m not so sure I approve of: I was sick last year on my birthday as well. (Yes, today. 53. Thank you.) Last year Annette bought us a room in Tucson to celebrate, and we spent the day enjoying the city and eating lunch with friends, and then by the time we were halfway back to the Coachella Valley I was wracked with fever and hoping for truck stop soup.

I have to say, from the perspective of increasing age, that coughing fits aren’t nearly as fun as they used to be when I was a kid. And dextromethorphan is definitely becoming my least favorite recreational drug ever. Between this and PZ’s nosebleed, you all may want to cover your monitors with dental dams for the next few days. When do the Obamacare Death Panels kick in again? I’ll happily take my Socialist Suicide Pill if they cut it with some codeine.

Anyway, I do have a few interesting things to report that have accumulated over the last few days:

  • We were talking here a while ago about wildlife agencies and their 19th Century-style obeisance to the hunting crowd. As an effort to emphasize conservation over game hunting and fish stocking, the former California Department of Fish and Game is now the Department of Fish and Wildlife. A cosmetic change, but an important one.
  • Rebecca Rosen at The Atlantic has launched a campaign in which men pledge not to speak on science or tech panels  that are all-male. I don’t get asked all that often, but I signed it anyway. Spread the word.
  • A literature survey and metaanalysis published in JAMA suggests that while there are indeed links between significant obesity and increased mortality,  as compared to people with “normal” range Body Mass Indices (BMI), “Grade 1 obesity overall was not associated with higher mortality, and overweight was associated with significantly lower all-cause mortality” [emphasis mine]  than in people whose BMIs are in the “normal” range.

I think that last item means I’m gonna have to get over this goddamn cough the hard way.

Podcast postponed

How about tomorrow, at 6pm Central time?

This has been a nasty week for me — my ankle is a nest of flaming knives, which means I haven’t been getting a heck of a lot of sleep. Then on top of that, this morning my nose started bleeding — I’ll spare you the details, but I was browsing the web on my iPad this morning and marveling at this incredibly brilliant, detailed, glistening blood spatter effect appearing on a website before I realized it was me, drenching everything in my lap. Almost two years on blood thinners means that when the geyser blows, it’s a bad one. I’m afraid I’d be going on camera with yet another toilet paper plug in one nostril that would steadily turn crimson over the hour, and really, that’s not a good look for me.

(Yes, I did see a doctor about this a short while ago. It’s become a recurring phenomenon lately. I thought they were going to tell me to count my blessings, I was getting leechings every day for free.)

Now pardon me, I have to go stare at the ceilings some more and pack more wadding up my face while cussing as I hobble about the blood-flecked bathroom. It’s been one of those fun days.

My glamorous New Year’s Eve

Well, it’s time for my usual wild night of partying…oh, wait. I never do that.

My wife is out at a neighbor’s party, while I’m sitting at home, nursing a painful tendinitis flare-up, and drinking…tea. Sorry, image. I’ll probably just read for a while, and if I’m feeling rambunctious, I might have a wee glass of wine before bed. Or maybe not.

I really can’t get overly excited about rolling over a calendar.

So, what are you fashionable and exciting people doing tonight?

My beard isn’t turning gray, that’s just the ice

Well, actually, it is getting rather gray. But I was just out on my daily walk on this very cold Minnesota day, and in addition the the usual coating of rime that accumulates on my face, I took off one of my gloves for just a minute to snap this picture.

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Really, it was just a quick exposure of bare skin to the cold…and my hand is still burning. Ouch. I think the swiftness of the transition contributed, but you know what? Cold weather can be really dangerous.

You can die.

I’m warming up in the coffeeshop for a bit, and then I’m bundling up again and heading out. Don’t worry, it’s broad daylight, along well-trafficked roads, and it’s a short hike, but still — y’all be careful out there.

It’s a squamous, glutinous, phosphorescent Christmas eve!

We’ll soon be sitting down to a vegetarian Mediterranean style Christmas dinner at my daughter’s house, but before that, my son Connlann had to revive an old family tradition: he insisted on fixing lutefisk for an appetizer. So he bought some, did the usual salt extraction and soak, and baked it for a half hour (my mother assured me that it is much, much worse boiled — I remember the grey translucent goo from childhood Christmases). In case you’ve never seen it, here’s a platter of the stuff, drenched in melted butter and with some interesting lighting that gives it an appropriate eldritch glow.

lutefisk

Would you eat that? Connlann dug in enthusiastically. He actually seemed to like the stuff.

connlann_lutefisk

Skatje tried a tiny little sliver of it, aided by tissue paper noseplugs — really, this stuff reeks. She didn’t die! But I don’t think she’ll ever eat it again.

skatje-lutefisk

By the way, that’s Alaric smirking in the background. He’d already had a couple of bites, and was only there to crack a Nightstalker stout to wash the taste out of his mouth. I ate a goodly chunk of the palely pellucid processed piscine gelatin…it went down smoothly enough, like boneless slime — but I also welcomed the stout afterwards to thoroughly cleanse the palate.

The downside now, unfortunately, is that Santa will take one whiff of this place and turn around and flee.

One…more…day…

It was a hellishly busy semester, and wouldn’t you know that the grading would also be hellish? One more day, I think, and I’ll have all this done. I’m about to stroll down to the coffeeshop and surround myself with papers and red pens again, but I think this should wrap it up. Bear with me a little longer.

In case the trolls are thinking to exploit my absence, the monitors have been doing a good job, and all they need to do is send me an alert and my iPad goes “boing!”, and once I peel my eyes away from the papers I take care of it.