Hope for me yet?

Why Do Heavy Drinkers Outlive Nondrinkers?

The sample of those who were studied included individuals between ages 55 and 65 who had had any kind of outpatient care in the previous three years. The 1,824 participants were followed for 20 years. One drawback of the sample: a disproportionate number, 63%, were men. Just over 69% of the never-drinkers died during the 20 years, 60% of the heavy drinkers died and only 41% of moderate drinkers died.

These are remarkable statistics. Even though heavy drinking is associated with higher risk for cirrhosis and several types of cancer (particularly cancers in the mouth and esophagus), heavy drinkers are less likely to die than people who have never drunk. One important reason is that alcohol lubricates so many social interactions, and social interactions are vital for maintaining mental and physical health. As I pointed out last year, nondrinkers show greater signs of depression than those who allow themselves to join the party.

This is entirely weird. I'm not going to suggest this says anything positive about the habits of drinkers, except that I'm not liable to be a daredevil because as a practised toper I know my limits, and know very well it's hard enough to play pool and imbibe, let alone skydive or participate in parkour. But those straight edge folks are always up to something, thanks to the feelings of health and well-being they enjoy in the morning (what's that gag--"I feel sorry for those folks who don't drink 'cause when they get up in the morning, that's as good as they're gonna feel all day long"--probably Dean Martin). This lets them believe that climbing mountains and crossing streets are perfectly normal activities one should take for granted.

A practiced drunk takes nothing for granted. The floor could move. Furniture could decide to plot against you. Your e-mail account could be hi-jacked by the absinthe fairies. Shit happens. Naturally one wants to guard against it by staying in poorly-lit rooms away from loud noises and stupid people whenever possible. One wants to reconnaisance any new environ for potties and exits. And one looks for soft landings. It's educational--drinking is.

And if there is any truth to the idea the religious have of repentence being good for one, the biologically mandated repentance of the hangover at least makes your dedicated boozer more of a homebody than not. You don't decide to take up jogging, which is what did in Jim Fix (pounding the pavement is unhappy for throbbing heads) or fiddle about with steroids, since your liver is already tender. You are disinclined to especially overeat, it taking away from valuable alimentary real-estate that could fit a few beers, and the result of overeating having probably been broadcast against shining porcelain on a few occasions, anyway. One's taste for going a-roving diminishes apace, and although some take to fighting when in their cups, the majority of drinkers find a peace that passeth understanding, shantih, shantih.

And I'm not even sure that this post is entirely smart, or just a tribute to Kingsley Amis, or what, since I have, after all, been drinking. And in the interest of furthering my art and my health, I subscribe to the likelihood that I will at least have another before bed.

Random Meat--this is so wrong.

Meat meet feet? Feet, meat. Meat on feet? Not very neat. Would socks help? (Maybe if they were sausage casings....)

New turtle species discovered in US river

FLAGSTAFF, Ariz., Aug. 25 (UPI) -- Scientists have announced the surprise discovery of a new turtle species -- not in some far-off exotic location, but in the southeastern United States.

Northern Arizona University researchers say finding the new turtle in a familiar environment proves that even in a country considered well explored, more new species could still be awaiting discovery, a university release said Wednesday.

Discovered in the Pearl River that flows through Louisiana and Mississippi on its way to the Gulf of Mexico, the newly named Pearl Map Turtle had until now been mistaken for one native to the neighboring Pascagoula River, scientists said.

UPI.com

Nice and small and green. Squee-worthy.

SQUUEEEEEE!

Wee froggies!

Okay, I think these are adorable. Also, it's always fascinating to me that we are still discovering new species. Now, these little guys were seen before--

I saw some specimens in museum collections that are over 100 years old. Scientists presumably thought they were juveniles of other species, but it turns out they are adults of this newly-discovered micro species.

Neat!

There is an obvious connection between vagina-trees and the Lotto.

If only you will look for it!

(I'm obviously posting the picture for scientific interest.)

According to the story the this picture comes with, the tree somehow picked winning Lotto numbers.

Right. Because a tree that looks like recumbent lady-business is only really interesting if it can pick the lotto....

Dear God, Texas is even frying the cocktails, now!

I am in awe of the Texas State Fair, and one year, I will journey to Texas, probably because I'll eat anything, and they, bless their hearts! will fry anything. And each year they find new things to fry.

They've gotten through all manner of meats, buns, candy-bars, donuts. And now, they've begun frying beverages. I'm fascinated by this description of a fried margarita:

Deep Fried Frozen Margarita - Sweet and creamy funnel cake batter is deliciously coupled with margarita ingredients. Fried, dusted with a tangy lemon/lime mixture and lightly spritzed with south of the border flavor, it’s served in a salt rimmed glass. 21 and over, ID required.

It's boozecake! Booze--and cake! Only fried!!! Since they've long been deep-frying Coca-Cola in dough, can the deep-friend Cuba Libre be far behind?

What will Fry-o-later technology come up with next?

The Majestic Plastic Bag--

I have a thing about plastic bags. I try to use a bunch of recycled plastic or canvas, more permanent types of non-disposable bags, which many stores sell now, for shopping. This short is clever, but sad.

Random meat--you know it would also make good aromatherapy--

MMmmmmmm, bacon smoking on a hot lightbulb.....

Damnit folks, I'm a dreamer.

"The Expendables"--oh my, my, oh hell yes!

I'd been looking forward to this one from the first moment I caught a glimpse of the movie poster--Stallone, Li, Statham, Willis, Lundgren....

I thought I died and went to action-movie heaven. The promise of a movie that also squeezes in Schwartzenegger, Roarke, Eric Roberts as a bad, bad man, and Randy Couture, Steve Austin, and Terry Crews, and oh by the way, also has kickboxing's awesome Gary Daniels (not a big enough part) and Charisma Carpenter who I adored on Angel (I have unresolved feelings about how her character got handled, is all....)

It's like Christmas! (Um, that's actually the Jason Statham character's name. Although Stallone's "Barney Ross" is a normal enough name, we have Randy Couture as "Toll Road", Mickey Roarke as "Tool", Jet Li, somewhat awfully as "Ying Yang", and Terry Crews as "Hale Caesar"....yeah. These aren't names, they're wrestling handles. Although Randy Couture wins by having such a great name in real life. It's what I would totally name a lingerie store, if I were gonna start one.) There is no way in the universe that such a movie could ever suck with so many awesome people in it, I found myself thinking. In fact, even if it was brainless action nonsense, I would love that it was the quintessence of the genre of brainless action nonsense. More, bigger, faster, things exploding, muscles pumping, dialogue getting chewed up and spit out like a used, whatever those gun cartridge-thingies are called.

And then I saw it, and it was actually good.

Now, by "good", you could be thinking all kinds of things; it was a good action movie. It was a meta-action-movie, also. We begin with a vision of how the "expendable" team works as they bloodily handle a hostage situation involving pirates. It's there that we learn, by way of terse dialogue and loads of action, who the team is and what the character's specialities are. Ross is the leader. Christmas the cocky one with the blades, and Lundgren's Gunnar is a bit of a head-case. But it isn't until the most meta scene in a church where Bruce Willis (or, "Mr. Church") offers a mission in a South American fictional place to Ross's team, or to his rival Trench (fun cameo by Arnold) that the movie is really "set". The Schwartzenegger character immediately thinks the job smells like bad news and exits, and this leaves Ross ready to take up an ugly job with his band of mercenaries.

I'm going to elide over all the plot-bits. You can go watch the movie if you want to know about them. The things I want to point out are that there are some pretty good scenes by Roberts and especially Mickey Roarke. There's this one scene where the camera just focuses on that beat-up face as he goes on about how a life of violence makes you lose your soul--that was deep. Also, a scene I found provocative was where the courageous and dissident daughter of the General of the country where the Expendables are charged with wreaking their havoc is water boarded by the bad guys. To me, this was almost like a statement that this is the kind of thing bad guys do. I don't know if because of my biases I read more into it than was there.

Things blow up, massive quantities of ammo gets used, males bond over smoking, drinking, and getting inked, women are rescued from bad men and there are some pretty righteous fight scenes. Dolph Lundgren and Jet Li get into it in a scene that demonstrates why size isn't always an advantage, and thankfully, there are two good fight scenes with Steve Austin--one with Stallone, which was pretty good, and the one I was waiting for, with Randy Couture, that had some awesomeness but unfortunately, probably because of the tight timing of the movie, couldn't have been longer. That was the match-up I'd have wanted to see more of, just as a long-time wrestling fan.

Anyway, although the violence is ridiculous, the plot could be seen as contrived, and the characters for the most part remain sketchy--I think for your summer action movie dollar, you're really getting bang for your buck. There's some good jokes and if you like machismo or just watching muscle-y guys shoot and/or blow up stuff, which is apparently a fetish I have, you'll enjoy the hell out of this. I sure did.


Although I will say, I sat through a half-hour of adverts before the movie, which almost put me in the wrong mood. Hey--cinema-people! I am not interested in buying a phone or having a Coke. By all means show me previews of similar movies to insure I come back for another motion picture, but don't subject me to such a downer of adverts that I am almost too irked to like the movie once it starts--

Grr! I brought in outside drinks, fools. I wish I brought candy, too! Think about that next time you want to rob me of my experience; I will not eat your nachos, no! Those overpriced nachos are being paid for with what? Cell-phone ads? Adverts for HBO shows that aren't even the demographic of the movie I came to see?

What? I'm sharing my outside candy, too. I'm going to pass out M&M's. And you won't stop me.

No, I kid. I don't share candy. That was just me with my testosterone up from this kick-ass action movie....

Eating Stuff that is or isn't food.

I've eaten ridiculous things in my time, which I recently was reminded of when I responded to a thread at Shakesville regarding what food one could not be paid enough to eat.

I eat anything. I seriously mean, anything. And this lead me to look back at a Democratic Underground post I wrote on the same:

I ate a "Rio Snapper". That's the brand name for a little thingie they sell in playing-card-size boxes around Independence Day--you know, the little bit of gunpowder and sawdust wrapped in a spit-ball sized wad of paper and you throw it and it goes, "BANG!" or "SNAP!" when it hits the ground? Or like, if you step on it?

Well, I got dared to *bite* one when I was ten or eleven. You have to know, I was a bit of a tomboy, and a dare was a meaningful debt drawn upon my honor, so I had to pay in full. My problem is being, if you'll allow the oxymoron, a "closet exhibitionist"; once all eyes were on me I had to elaborate upon the deed. I took the "snapper" between my teeth, inhaling so as to suck my teeth dry and then drew back my lips as far away from the snapper as I could. I bit down, causing it to "snap" weakly, which should have been enough, but for an imp of the perverse that let the snapper then fall back upon my tongue.

Whereupon there was nothing left but to roll it about in my spit until soft and swallow. Naturally I displayed my empty mouth in pride.


I have naturally eaten paste, Elmer's glue, wax (as in "wax teeth"), and the brownish, syrupy glue known as "mucilage." I have undoubtedly swallowed countless gnats. On impulse, I have sample cowslips, dandelions, sliver of a jade plant, grass, and acorns. Acorns are a little bitter. Was *not* impressed, not much like filberts, really.

I once ate an entire rotisserie chicken, including most of the bones to unnerve an uptight relative. The bones were softened by the slow-roasting process, so it really was no problem. The spine and ribs I mostly balked at, but the wing-bones were barely there. Drumsticks were impossible, but I left them extraordinarily clean. In Italy, I downed two-and-three inch smelts, heads, tails, bones and all, having taking my husband's advice regarding "picky eating" (this was four years ago, when he didn't yet know me as well) to the extreme.

All of which is actually true. I've licked buttons and amber jewelry. I have a bias that the tentacles is where all the flavor is in calimari, and I really don't understand picky eaters. I've swallowed the bitter choke of artichokes and downed my share of scales, claws, bones, and hair.


And I suspect there are more true omnivores out there--people who can easily discuss the merits of licking envelopes and sampling papier mache, and can confess to even swigging the odd cologne or licking especially food-like soaps.

I hope. Unless I'm a complete lunatic. Which I've also expected.

Sesame Street--Gimme FIVE!

This is so awesome that if you were not about during the '70's and early 80's, you totally missed out--



I think more modern sounds prevailed in the late '80's etc.

That sound was down. This was a great way to learn. I'm ridiculously pleased that was something I saw and learned from as a kid.

Easy Reader (aka Morgan Freeman) from the Electric Company--

With Rita Moreno! We didn't know back then the awesome talents who decided to teach us how to read and learn phonics and sound things out. I know I should be tickled with some of Morgan Freeman's recent serious roles, but for me, he won't do a thing cooler than Easy Reader. That was the bottom line of cool when I was a kid learning to read, and I'm still mightily enamoured.

Fred Rogers About PBS

Fred Rogers was the man when I was a small child watching television. I think he taught and demonstrated compassion and understanding, and set a positive example of managing feelings. He understood what being a kid was like and how to talk to us. I really liked feeling I was part of his neighborhood when I was a kid.

I saw a sanitation truck, and was reminded I'm in one of the great cities--

I'm from Philadelphia, City of Brotherly Love. We are ridiculously diverse, culturally rich, gifted with theater, art, music, and we have a reputation for being especially rowdy sports fans. But I saw a pretty trash truck that reminded me what I really love about my city:



That's one of several sanitation vehicles that have been made into art here in the city. This article misunderstands the point, but shows the pictures--

Philly’s Mural Arts Program partnered up with The Design Center of Philadelphia University to transform 10 city garbage trucks into pieces of movable art. Sadly, the murals do nothing to disguise the trucks awful fucking smell.

Garbage is what it is--but why can't we have trash trucks that are beautiful? They do a necessary job, and that part is beautiful. There are a few million households making trash in this city, and none of it smells nice, not even the garbage of the guy who commented on the "awful fucking smell"--hey, stupid--there are people who work on those trucks who put up with the awful fucking smell of our garbage everyday. But when I saw the artistic truck, I felt a little lifted--this is a Philadelphia thing. I know Japan pretties up their sanitation trucks, too, because I looked into it. But it's useful art. It surprises you with a new possibility. It reminds you there is room for beauty anywhere.

And that's something my city has learned. The mural program is a thing I really think is smart--where there is urban blight and grafitti, why not make art that everyone can respect and really enjoy as part of the community?



The best thing about this is how it tells the stories of our neighborhoods, and how thoughtful the placement of the art often is. We are like a tattooed city. Just like people might have tattoos that cover scars or tell the stories of their lives--we have art that fills the interstices, that describes our people and covers over the fraying nature of all human endeavor--

And then there is the personal art--the art of specific space:



This mosaic form is found here and there and especially in South Philly, not just on South Street. And it, too, has a story. But where you see the mosaics, you know people are representing an ideal--the uniqueness of Philadelphia and its art. And there is pride to be drawn from that--

The ugliness of blight is fixed with native creativity. The creations made reflect our diversity, and remind us of our strengths. They reflect the individuality we have as citizens who are creative and quirky and real--

And all of that makes me like my city a little more. Although there are mysteries regarding us--artistically. We are a great jazz city, but have no jazz radio station. We have a vibrant foodie culture and several microbreweries--but I worry about the availability of righteous beer. We have Monk's. There's Iron Abbey just outside Philly. But more restaurants need to take up the banner of promoting better beer. Grey Lodge does a great job in promoting local beers and beer diversity--more of this, please! (I will vouch for the really awesomeness of their jukebox, etc. This is a bar par excellence).

I have a city where we bother to paint the trash trucks. Where we have an awesome beer culture, where you can eat ridiculously well, for a not ridiculous amount of money. And where we decorate to commemorate. Where "sacred space" (such as corners where people met with accidents or violence) is made creative space (where art performs the function sometimes of explaining, healing, commemorating). And the price of admission is only your desire to look.

Random Meat Picture of the Week--

Meat baby--yours maybe?

So round, so firm, so fully messed-up. I like the idea of the meat-poppet. It's a meat dish that doubles as a centerpiece, alarms the alarmable, and it just feels right when you season it to perfection and slam it in the broiler. Be sure to call dibs on the part of your choice!

If we wiped about mosquitoes, they'd never be missed.

I have no love for mosquitoes, but they love the crap out of me. Well, to be more precise, they love the blood out of me. When I go out in my backyard lately, I get ambushed. Right now, my legs are a hive-y mess that remind me vaguely of when I had chicken pox when I was six. I'm torn between a desire to not scratch, because it only triggers a new wave of horrible, skin-crawling itch, and to basically claw my skin open until I look like raw meat.

Even pain is preferable to a maddening itch.

Now, when I was a little kid, mosquitoes left me the hell alone. I saw them literally hover by me, and take off like I was nothing. Not even chopped liver. What changed? Eh--I got fat and I drink. No, seriously. The way I see it, I'm a big target, exuding lots of CO2, and my skin is probably tasty with cholesterol and uric acid from a pretty burger and beer diet.

So, I know why they like me according to the science, but, here's a good question--why does the world have mosquitoes? I mean, what niche do the serve in the world's ecosystem? I know fish think mosquito larvae are pretty tasty, but really--

Couldn't we do without the little blood-sucking bastards?

It turns out, maybe we can.

There are 3,500 named species of mosquito, of which only a couple of hundred bite or bother humans. They live on almost every continent and habitat, and serve important functions in numerous ecosystems. "Mosquitoes have been on Earth for more than 100 million years," says Murphy, "and they have co-evolved with so many species along the way." Wiping out a species of mosquito could leave a predator without prey, or a plant without a pollinator. And exploring a world without mosquitoes is more than an exercise in imagination: intense efforts are under way to develop methods that might rid the world of the most pernicious, disease-carrying species (see 'War against the winged').

Yet in many cases, scientists acknowledge that the ecological scar left by a missing mosquito would heal quickly as the niche was filled by other organisms. Life would continue as before — or even better. When it comes to the major disease vectors, "it's difficult to see what the downside would be to removal, except for collateral damage", says insect ecologist Steven Juliano, of Illinois State University in Normal. A world without mosquitoes would be "more secure for us", says medical entomologist Carlos Brisola Marcondes from the Federal University of Santa Catarina in Brazil. "The elimination of Anopheles would be very significant for mankind."

I know, just because we don't see any unintended consequences doesn't mean there wouldn't be any. But on the other hand, after watching these spindly-legged rat finks pierce my epidermis despite DEET, OFF! Patchouli oil, citronella, and a host of other things, stinky and pleasant, trying to ward them off, I really could contemplate biological warfare.

Damn. I'd probably have malaria right now if it wasn't for the vodka tonics.....

Glow Sticks + Toilet = High Art

(H/T HuffingtonPost)

Wow man, the colors!