Parasitology joke o' the day

How is D-Rock's mom like a tapeworm?




They can both be found passed out in feces.

Death be not proud

There have been lots of talks about death, dying and grief in our classes lately. Pretty depressing, but also a good time for reflection and thoughts about our own lives. In order to get us to think about our own mortality, one lecturer this week told us to close our eyes and imagine our "ideal death." He then asked us if we pictured ourselves dying at home, in a hospital or in a hospice and started giving statistics about where people die.

I imagined a lot of scenarios, but none of them involved any of those places. Nice try though. If I die in a bed, things have gone horribly wrong. Don't get me wrong, home/hospital/hospice is a great way to go, but Montgomery is the kind of cowboy that wants to die with his boots on.

But I do appreciate the way you broke it down into three categories: home, hospital and hospice. Three is the magic number, after all. So in deference to your knowledge in the field, I'll break my "ideal deaths" into three categories as well: peaceful, violent and naked.

Peaceful
"Peaceful" in this context does not be "eyes closed, resting." No no, in this case "peaceful" means "not currently violent." This is probably the least desired category, but not without its charms. Top 8:

1. Riding a nuclear bomb like a cowboy as it plummets to earth.
2. Drifting into space with no hope of rescue, preferably listening to Bowie's "Space Oddity" or Schilling's "Major Tom."
3. Happily sacrificing my life to detonate a bomb which will destroy an asteroid on a collision course with Earth, while listening to Aerosmith.
4. Out-of-body experience gone wrong.
5. Out-of-body experience gone right...*wink*.
6. Poisoned (in my ear) while sleeping by a usurper.
7. Driving off a cliff with Larkitect while being chased by cops after a weekend of bank-robbery.
8. Massive stroke mid Disneyland ride.

Violent
A close second to "naked," a violent death is a good way to go. From "hail of gunfire" to "impaled by spear," violent deaths have a long proud history. Top 8:

1. Hail of gunfire.
2. Crushed to death by robots, specifically the Crush-o-Tron 5000.
3. Eaten by zombies, probably by a former friend I didn't have the heart to destroy.
4. Monkey knife fight.
5. Disintegrated by ray gun while using a flagpole (with American Flag) as a weapon to charge attacking aliens.
6. Buried under the corpses of my enemies.
7. Eaten by a malfunctioning Pirate of the Caribbean.
8. Impaled by spear.

Naked
"I was born naked and I'm going to die naked." It's the way to go: classy, memorable and with style. Naked death takes excellent timing and confidence, two things I lack. But I'm in training! Top 8:

1. Throws of passion.
2. Heart attack while streaking.
3. Naked monkey knife fight.
4. Killed by police after a bank robbery goes horribly, horribly wrong.
5. Killed by police after a bank robbery goes horribly, horribly right...*wink*.
6. Severe hip trauma after being kidnapped by amazons.
7. Abducted by aliens, death during "the probe."
8. Massive stroke mid Disneyland ride.

As you can see, my vision of death is considerably less common than those listed in class. But they are in no way less relevant. Don't marginalize my dreams!

Maybe some day I'll tell you what I want to happen to my body after I die. It's much more disturbing...

Our stores are not constantly on fire

I'm sad to say that Legal Counsel is feeling a touch under the weather. But I'm happy to say that she's still cute, even when she's sick. So I was up late last night making sure she didn't pull a Hendrix on me, and I got up early to sneak out and find the magical Witch's Brew that is guaranteed to cure a sick Legal Counsel - Lipton Chicken Noodle Soup, Extra Noodle. This means that I'm a touch sleepy today, so if my post is more of an incoherent ramble than usual, I apologize. Unless you happen to enjoy incoherent rambling, in which case: you're welcome.

As I was saying, I snuck out this morning to find the panacea necessary for Legal Counsel's recovery. And after scouring* three stores, I finally found some. And when I took it to the register, it was...interesting.

Customer 1**
When I arrived at the register, there were three people in line and one guy behind the register (who looked like a 55 year old man child, with all due respect). And none of them were moving. Seriously, they were all standing completely motionless. I was frightened that the governor of California was robbing the place. Or that I was going to interrupt a statue contest. Or that they were zombies. But then one of them blinked, so I decided they just got red-flashy-thingied, which means I just misssed an alien encounter. Zombies don't blink - remember that.

After standing there with no movement for several minutes, the bagger ran (waddled) up with a gallon of milk and gave it to Customer 1. "It took that long to get milk," I thought, "What, was she milking the cow herself?" Then the register guy said, "What took you so long? Were you milking the cow?" Then I felt like a loser for having the same zinger as the register guy. I am ashamed...

Customer 2***
Customer 2 was an old man who, if I had to guess, probably didn't fight in the Vietnam War because he was a college professor at the time. Economics, I bet. But his appearance wasn't what intrigued me - it was his purchase. He was, at 7am, purchasing a single bag of potatoes and nothing else.

Why? Why the hell would somebody be buying a bag of potatoes at 7 in the morning?? I've come up with five theories.

1) He's bootlegging liquor.
2) He's building a trap to catch some Irish.
3) He murdered his wife, and he needs some more ingredients for his stew.
4) He's playing Mr. Potato Head, old school style.
5) Hash browns.

Given his (assumed) history, I'm going with 5...possibly 4 if he's cool.

Customer 3****
Customer 3 was an old lady in one of the store provided electric wheelchairs. she was buying a handful of food and cleaning items totaling $12.97; she paid with quarters. Sigh! I stood there watching her count out her payment, four quarters at a time, and couldn't help but think she was an old lady stereotype. I was a touch annoyed.

But as I was leaving the store after making my purchase, I saw her again. She was returning the store's shopping scooter. She parked the scooter, stood up, then jogged to her car. No a brisk walk, not a rapid shuffle - a full on jog. It was awesome. She instantly went from annoying-old-lady to awesome-old-lady. Anybody who rides a Rascal just for the hell of it is okay in my book. She probably strolled in, saw the scooter, and decided today would finally be the day she went for it. The day I'm old enough to commandeer a scooter without being questioned about it is the day i really start living.

Customer 4
That was me!

Overall, an interesting trip to the store. but next time I think I'll shop at Fairsley. Come in with your kids, leave with your kids. That's the Fairsley difference.

On an unrelated note: why the hell did it get so cold? Who's trying to kill broccoli?



*I used my computer's dictionary to make sure I was using the word "scour" properly, and one of the definitions it gave was "diarrhea in livestock, esp. cattle and pigs." Good to know.
**I wrote "Patient 1" initially, later noticing and changing it. Sad...
***I did it again. So very sad...
****Nailed it this time! who's house? Run's house!

Let us cavort like the Greeks of old! You know the ones I mean.

Last week we had a most excellent talk on childhood obesity. As a matter of fact, obesity is a subject that comes up constantly in medical school. But this makes sense, since obesity is usually cited as the second leading contributor to morbidity and mortality behind smoking. The main difference between the two is that overeating in public won't make everybody think you're an asshole.

So we spend lots of time talking about obesity: how it effects health (did you know it can cause incontinence?), what causes it (did you know that overeating and inactivity can lead to weight gain?), and how we can prevent it. And it's always that last one that turns out to be the most tricky. Obesity rates are constantly rising, and most anti-obesity programs end up failing. It's a problem without an obvious solution.

But the boys at the Montgomery Road Institute of Health Sciences (NAMBLA) have devised a solution. A success where all others have failed. A solution guaranteed to end all concern about the "obesity epidemic." A solution easy enough to be implemented with no cost to tax payers. A solution so simple it can be broken down to one word:

Hedonism.

That's right, hedonism. From dictionary.com:

he·don·ism [heed-n-iz-uhm] –noun
1. the doctrine that pleasure or happiness is the highest good.
2. devotion to pleasure as a way of life

If we as a culture were to embrace hedonism, all of our concerns over obesity would disappear. You're not "overweight," you just "know how to live well." In fact, concerns about most things would disappear. Life would be good.

Think about it for a minute and I'm sure you'll embrace my ideology. Childhood obesity is diagnosed based on weight percentile. As a doctor I'd be proud to say, "your son is around the 50th percentile, which is totally normal," even when he weighs 350* at age 8**. It's hard to tell a kid he's overweight when all his friends have got him beat by a buck fifty. It'll finally be a good thing to be "below average."

And all that social stigma associated with obesity would disappear. It's hard to mock the fatty when you're staring down a half ton of man meat. Packs of chubs would roam the playgrounds, hunting down the skinny kids. You know, until they get winded and have to take a Cheetos break.

And it's not just kids that would benefit. Adults would have tons (no pun intended) of free time, since they no longer have to exercise. Oh wait, that's already true. Well, they'd feel better about themselves anyway. Skinny models would be banished to the pages of Mad and Cracked and Big Game Hunter. People would stop judging each other based on appearance.

And think of how good the public health statistics would look. People would say, "Before Montgomery came around, HIV was killing 0.05% of the population every year. Now it's only killing 0.0000001% (by volume). He's a hero!" Plus, they'd be too busy scarfing down fries to realize it's because people are falling dead of MIs before the HIV can finish its work. Muahaha!

Hedonism can solve more than obesity, mind you. With everybody out having a good time, most of our problems would disappear. International violence? Gone. School shootings? Nope. Unemployment? Constant consumption means constant job demand. Cancellation of Futurama and Arrested Development? Not if I have anything to say about it! But I'm speaking out of my element. I'll leave that assessment to my colleagues in economics, agriculture, politics, and broadcasting.

We'll all live like kings. Fat, smelly, disgusting kings!

Just think it over, would ya? If you'll excuse me, I've got a deep fried Twinkie™ to re-fry...



*kilograms
**months

Mind Bullets!

The following is a true story...and a warning.

The other day, I was driving around Tucson minding my own business. Well, technically I was throwing garbage at school children and listening to The Bangles at an obnoxious volume. But I certainly wasn't disturbing other drivers...unless you consider randomly slamming on my brakes and swerving between lanes to be "disturbing." Which you probably do. Okay, so I'm a horrible person and an even worse driver. You happy now?

But this time it wasn't my fault! I was trying to get into the left turn lane as I approached an intersection when the pickup behind me pulls into the lane. He then proceeds to speed up and drive past me, making it rather difficult to get into the lane.

Understandably upset, I proceed to yell,"You're a jerk!" at my closed window. Yes, I do swear like an 8 year old girl, thank you. Anyway, at the instant I finish saying "jerk" I hear a loud pop and see that the guys tire has blown out. He pulls into a gas station as I drive away, laughing maniacally.

Don't get me wrong, I never intended to destroy that guy's wheel. Sure I'm glad it happened, but it wasn't intentional. I didn't know what kind of power I possess. Specifically: the power to jinx people, which may or may not require use of the word "jerk."

And the more I think about it, the more I realize I should have figured it out sooner. Let's look at the facts:

November 2000 - Dubya wins the election, and Montgomery asks, "People voted for him? When did our country fill up with jerks?" The country quickly gets run into the ground by an inept government.

February 2002 - After seeing Crossroads, Montgomery remarks that Britney Spears is a jerk for making such a crappy movie. Brit quickly turns from nationally-adored teen sensation to nationally-abhorred white trash frustration.

May 2003 - Montgomery says that the Southampton Football Club has a bunch of jerks as players. They are defeated, and Arsenal wins the Football Association Cup.

June 2003 - Montgomery remarks that "buttholes are jerks" (nobody knows why). Lawrence v. Texas rules that anti-sodomy laws are unconstitutional, dooming buttholes for all eternity.

March 1841 - Time-travelling Montgomery attends William Henry Harrison's inagural address. during the second hour of the address, Montgomery asks a Whig, "Can you believe this jerk?" The Whig sees Montgomery's digital watch and suffers a fatal heart attack, Harrison dies one month later.

March 2007 - Montgomery (in tears) asks, "Why won't that jerk return my letters?" Captain America is then assassinated by Crossbones, at the behest of Red Skull. May he rest in peace...sniffle...

That's just a handful of examples. As you can see, I have a long history of cursing people who get on my bad side (must be my gypsy heritage). And I won't hesitate to put the hex on you, too. I can kill a yak from 200 yards away with the power of negative thinking, and I'm not the type to use my powers for good.

But I will use them for a profit! If you'd like me to jinx anybody, just let me know. I'll quote your price based on complexity of curse and type of target. I can even keep using my old business cards. I just need to change one word...

Montgomery Road - Bedazzling Bedeviling your enemies since 2007.

MvP

If you’ve been reading this blog for an appreciable amount of time, you know that my five greatest fears are as follows:

1. Zombies
2. Robots
3. Aliens
4. Heights
5. Abe Vigoda

Although number five probably shouldn’t count, seeing as how it is a combination of numbers 1-3, with a hint of 4.

The way I figure it, the best way to face your fears is by preparing to face them with days worth of planning and tens of thousands of dollars in expensive products. I’ve had books describing the proper response to zombie and robot attacks for a while now, and “heights” isn’t the kind of thing you can combat…except maybe by living underground. But I'm in no mood to deal with the mole people - they know why. And if Abe Vigoda has your number, you’re screwed no matter what you do.

Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to come up with plan of action in case of alien invasion. Unless you consider “hiding under a pile of socks” a plan of action. So you can imagine how excited I was to see the following book being published:

To Catch a Predator, by Chris Hansen

Sure it’s only one species of alien, but it’s nigh impossible to have an attack plan that covers every species of alien. So this book is a good start.

I’ve seen those documentaries by Carl Weathers and Danny Glover dozens of times, but they were woefully lacking in descriptive details about strategy. I tried calling Carl Weathers, but he just said “It was a movie, kid.” And now he’s hanging out at my house asking for food and he won’t go away. If you’re reading this, Carl, you need to leave. Please! It’s hard to poop with you standing there.

So I buy the book and what do I discover? Almost no help in catching predators! Talk about your false advertising! How am I supposed to steal its technology if I can't even catch it? Here’s a brief list of things that should have been in the book, but weren’t:

1. Predator anatomy and physiology
2. Predator technology
3. Predator attack methods
4. Predator defense strategy
5. Predator weaknesses
6. Predator prevention
7. Methods of avoiding predator vision
8. How to get Carl Weathers out of your damn house

But I didn’t get any of those things. Chris Hansen…you’re on notice!

So what is the book actually about? Using the internets to get pedophiles to come to your house. Man…you can order anything on the internets!

How does this help me, Chris? Huh? Tell me that! Who actually wants pedophiles at their house? What am I going to do with them? I’ve already got Carl Weathers there, I don’t need a bunch of freaky sex perverts asking for Eggs Benedict, too.

Although I guess they could be useful. I could use them as predator bait. With the predator distracted by my cadre of weirdos, I could slip out the back (exactly the opposite of what the pedophiles wanted to do). Also, they might be willing to help out around the house before and/or after the predator attack, unlike that lazy Carl Weathers. Yeah, I know you’re reading this. Just leave! If you don’t, I’ll sick my pack of sickos on you! Try asking them for food – all they’ll give you is sausage!

That’s actually a good idea. I’ll use what I’ve learned from “To Catch a Predator” to form a gang of pedophiles, then order my gang to bully Carl Weathers out of my house. Then call the cops and get all the pedophiles arrested. Problems solved!

So I’m sorry, Chris Hansen. You’re no longer on notice. Sure your book didn’t solve my predator problem, but it did solve my Carl Weathers problem, which is just as good. You’re welcome at my house any time, Mr. Hansen. We’ll have tea. I’ve got a well-trained staff of pervert waiters ready to serve us. Just don’t bring your kids.

Let's get out of here before one of those things kills Guy!

Blargh. Blargh! Blargh, I say! Today I'm down with the sickness, so I'm not feeling particularly creative. So I've decided to hit you with a blast from the past.

Last August, I decided to do something completely random. I know, I know - everything I do is completely random. But I was more random than usual this time. I decided to keep track of the number of students wearing red shirts in my class. I later decided to expand this to red, orange and yellow shirts for variety.

The Rules
1. Fellow students could not become aware of my research, or the results would be skewed.
1a. The one exception is D-Rock. He was my helper. Plus, his shirt is normally too filthy to determine color.
1b. I shouldn't count myself.
2. It had to be done early, before basketball season caused a jump in red shirt popularity.
3. Mixed color shirts would be classified based on the dominant color.

The Data


Analysis
I entered this experiment expecting a completely random distribution of data, and this was true for orange and yelow shirts. But much to my surprise, a distinct pattern emerged in the red shirt population. Over the 4-week study period, the number of students wearing red shirts peaked every Wednesday. It was very bizarre. Like clockwork, I could expect a peak in red shirts on Wednesdays. It was like everybody got together without me and decided to make Wednesday the official Red Shirt Day.

Discussion
What does this mean? Several things. First, there's probably some kind of conspiracy going on. The Wednesday Red Shirt brigade probably knows something about Lincoln's Gold, and I aim to find out what. Second, if a terrorist plans to attack our medical school by releasing a bull or herd of bulls into the building, Wednesday is the day to do it for the greatest amount of damage. But be warned, terrorists! Your plan will fail. I've had anti-Bull countermeasures in place since November '05. Third, we have the least number of students eligible for gameplay on Wednesdays

Finally, and most importantly, if the class of '09 is ever assigned to a dangerous mission on a foreign planet, we'll suffer the greatest losses if the mission occurs on a Wednesday (see the research of Roddenberry et al). On the plus side, I stand the greatest chance of survival on that day. Unfortunately, a Monday mission means I'll totally get murdered by Armus on Varga II. I hate mondays...

Further Research
Changes I would make during future research:
1. Keep track of all shirt colors, including blue, green, and fuchsia.
2. Keep track of class attendance, to get a per capita shirt number.
3. Get paid for my research.
4. Kill Philip.
5. Grab Legal Counsel.
6. Go to the Winchester.
7. Have a nice cold pint and wait for all of this to blow over.

How's that for a slice of fried gold?

Alcohol and coffee beans

100 minutes until my last test before Spring Break. So instead of an actual post, you get a fun music video from an awesome band.

"Dog Problems," by The Format.



Legal Counsel likes it because she thinks it's about her. I don't have the heart to tell her otherwise.

The brain?! Oh, dear god...

In our microbiology test yesterday, I had a total brain fart. The question described a kid returning from a camping trip with all the classic signs of Lyme disease: migratory bullseye rash, fever, malaise, joint pain...pretty much every clinical indicator possible, which is totally how patients present in real life.

Immediately recognizing it as Lyme Disease, I prepared to mark that answer. But the question instead asked:

What is the cellular morphology of the organism causing this disease?
a. cocci
b. bacillus
c. spore
d. spirochete
e. Klein bottle

And I totally blanked. In retrospect, it was an extremely easy question. But my brain just wasn't working. Maybe it was the lack of sleep the night before or the 700mg of DMT coursing through my body, but I just couldn't think of it.

So I sat there and focused, trying to recall the answer. I mentally flipped through my notes: nothing. I thought back to lecture: nada. I scanned through the answers tattooed on my inner thigh: zilch. But then it hit me. I thought of a professor so talented that nobody can forget his teachings. A teacher so wise that all look upon him in amazement. A mentor so awe-inspiring that hundreds of millions of people have seen him speak. Who was this sophic sage?

Ralph Wiggum.


Season 2, Episode 7F19 - "Lisa's Substitute." Ms. Hoover contracts Lyme disease; Mr. Bergstrom (Dustin Hoffman) fills in as substitute teacher and touches Lisa...metaphorically of course, you sickos. Also, Bart runs for class president.

Why is this relevant? In the episode, a concerned Ralph Wiggum writes a letter to Ms. Hoover. It reads:

Dear Ms. Hoover: You have Lyme's Disease. We miss you. Kevin's biting me. Come back soon. Here's a drawing of a spirochete. Love, Ralph.

And thus my answer was chosen, all thanks to one Mr. Ralph Wiggum. D-Rock and I have been quoting that one all week, so thankfully it was fresh in my head.

So that novelty poster I bought was right: all I really need to know in life I learned from watching television.

The end.

And if you're curious: Ms. Hoover's Lyme disease was actually psychosomatic, and Bart lost the election because everybody who would have voted for him was too busy eating the cupcakes he brought.




...at least I hope it was Lyme disease.