A DREAM COME TRUE

Years ago two colleagues went down to Central America on an industry-related jaunt. About which I found out far too late to sign up on, so I spent the two weeks before they left looking up every darn tropical parasite and disease they ran any risk of catching and describing these in great glowing detail to them. They came back completely healthy.
They had had a great time. It had been wonderful.

They ate like kings, smoked like chimneys, drank like fish.
Oh, I should have gone, they said.
Bastards.

This morning I read about trypanosoma cruzi (chagas disease, trypanosomiasis), which the medical establishment alerts us is now endemic in parts of the United States, mostly places where I would not go with a ten foot pole. So I don't even need to visit Central America.

As a total aficionado of the ickinesses, I am of course overjoyed.

Heck, I could go to Texas. Or catch it in my backyard.

Meanwhile, there is the sound of heavy machinery from the street in front of my building. On behalf of the city, workmen are digging up an ancient evil. The pipes of our sewer system are being uncovered and replaced or something, which will improve San Francisco, eradicate drug use and pavement dwellers, and make us beautiful for the tourists again.

So far they haven't found Jimmy Hoffa. But they will.

We've flushed down so many things over the years that they're bound to find King Arthur's sword and the Ark of the Covenant. We live in interesting times.

Remember the seventies when any knock on the door was the cops and people promptly dumped their stash of narcotics in the crapper? There are encrustations in the tubes below the surface that will induce hallucinations and possibly seizures. Imagine men with hardhats seeing strobe lights and strange creatures, foaming at the mouth and eyes rolling back in their sockets. Soon they'll start screaming, like that floating head in Apocalypse Now, the horror, the horror! Rosebud.


Yeah, okay, I woke up far too early. It's doing things.
The second cup of coffee is taking effect.
Bath, lunch, bank, shopping.
Need to get out.



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THREE TIMES NINETY CUPS

Bob had gotten there before me, and endeavored to communicate his extreme ire that the small size cup was smaller than before. Which it absolutely isn't. And because I failed utterly to understand or sympathize, he ranted about it for ten minutes trying to force me to grasp that this was a crime against humanity. Then Stephen arrived, and I heard it all over again.

When Russel got there the subject changed to prime rib. He says he should have gotten the medium rare. Which is fascinating oh boy yes totally but at least we were no longer talking about the cups.

We also talked about Fong Fong, which was before my time. Right where the Peking Bazaar is now on Grant, just past Clay Street toward Jackson. It existed from 1935 to 1974.
Ice creams, sodas, floats, sandwiches, juices.
Hamburgers and hot dogs.


This related in some way to mooncakes.


Hello, guys? That was over fifty years ago. Many of the people we know had not even been born then. Even though the veal cutlets, gravied swiss steaks, and baked porchop-rices were SO much better. Good lunch counter chow is NOT conducive to friends and acquaintances being alive at that time. Don't know what it is. Bob mentioned inflation. Perhaps that's why.

It was too warm today to even think of Swiss steaks with gravy. Naturally, when I got home, my legs hurt like hell (circulatory issues) and I started thinking about water-borne illnesses. As one would.

Such thing were much more common in the old days. No doubt that is what it meant by the phrase "a kinder, gentler time". When you're exhausted from dehydration and stomach cramps, you lack the energy to be a rightwing Alpha-male hosebag or influencer.


Heck, RFK ('Bongo') Jr. hadn't even graduated from college yet.
And was years away from wishing us all dead.
Still a stupid teenager.

Now just stupid.



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DON'T WIG-OUT, JUST MOVE ALONG

Woke up this morning to the statement that birds are quite a bit more interesting than Dutch American males, why everybody wants to look at them, much more than some antiquated geezer, heavens, why the thought even. That goes double for dead Hollanders! This per a voice from the kitchen asking me to please move two of the pictures in the teevee room.
Self portrait of Vincent Van Gogh BEHIND the etching of a vulture.
So that we can see the handsome bird.

Far be it from me to disagree with a household consensus. Majority opinion.
Domestic tranquility is my watchword.
I have done it.


Probably the most vibrant data from recent reading is that necrotizing fasciitis can affect all parts of the corpus, but it is much more common in the extremities, perineum, and genitals.
Vibrio vulnificus, the causative agent, is present in tidal pools, estuaries, and at the beach. One more reason to avoid those places. It is related to the cholera bacterium, and likewise has a cell envelope consisting of a thin peptidoglycan cell wall between two membranes.
Most often infections will cause severe abdominal pain.
It can become quite nasty.

Key words: invasive sepsis, septic shock, and necrotizing infections.
Probably best to avoid raw oysters and undercooked fish.
Do not swim with open wounds in warmer waters.
Women are slightly less at risk.

Estrogen may have some protective effect. No, I shall not share that datum with my apartment mate. It might give her a false sense of confidence.
It has not been proven yet, in any case.

One of the people with whom I associate likes to head to the beach on sunny days with his spouse. Shan't mention any of this to him, or his significant other either, the next time I see him, as deaths from vibrio vulnificus are fairly rare, and occur more often in warmer waters further south. Neither of them are environmentally paranoid and likely to panic.

Severe flooding after hurricanes increases infection risk.
Florida and Louisiana have had more cases.

Global climate change has probably been the reason why the border zone of infections has moved north about thirty miles each year along the East Coast. And per the Rightwingers, global warming doesn't exist. I sincerely doubt that many rightwingers can read, or are even aware of scientific articles and disease statistics. Besides, science, common sense, and all health precautions, are strictly for woke lefties. Red-blooded Americans don't need that.


Nor will I myself actually worry about it, anyway.

I don't swim in the Gulf Of Trump.



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TAHOE ROULETTE

Three related bacteria are in some ways too familiar to human beings: Yersinia Enterocolitica causes yersiniosis, an animal-borne disease occurring also in humans. Most creatures recover from the disease and become carriers, potential sources of contagion showing no signs of illness. The symptoms often include minor inflammation of the lower intestinal tract, sometimes with loose stool. It doesn't last too long, and is over fairly soon. Consult your veterinary physician. Yersinia Pseudotuberculosis, occuring in both humans and animals, marked by fever and abdominal pain. Called Izumi Fever or Far East scarlet-like Fever. Lasts one to three weeks. It's particularly risky for the immuno compromised, and it may require treatment with antibiotics such as ampicillin, aminoglycosides, tetracycline, et autres. Please consult your doctor. And lastly, Yersinia Pestis, which is an over-achiever, the star player of the family, responsible for the plague and mass-deaths, as well as lessening the tourist impact in the Lake Tahoe area. Get help. Seriously.

The plague is now most common in forsaken hellholes like the Congo, Madagascar, Peru, and Nevada. Rodents are often the carriers; marmots, prairie dogs, and rats.
The Brown Rat, a friendly animal, often has fleas that are infected.
Infected humans can spread it through respiratory droplets.
Asymptomatic Republicans will through procreation.
They're often overly friendly, like Mormons.
Avoid all bars in the Tahoe area.
As well as missionaries.
And churches.

This blogger likes rats. They're intelligent and sociable.
Republicans, overwhelmingly, aren't,

Rats make clever and affectionate pets.
Republicans do not.


I cannot say enough about Republicans.



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THE MAJESTIC GASTROTICH!

Who is that galloping across the fine sedimentary bottom, leaping over algae and presumably roaring its fierce battle cry? Why, it's the imposing gastrotich!
I've never seen anything like it!

Actually, I haven't. It's too small. They are seldom more than a millimetre. And I am seldom focused on sedimentary garbage at the bottom of streams and rivers. Besides, the little fellas do not hold up large signs saying "hey look at me" or slogans of a revolutionary nature. And although they suck mightily (their muscular pharynx 'inhaling' minute organic particles for food), I have never noticed them, because I rarely visit slow moving bodies of water, my reading specs aren't strong enough for something that tiny, I've never actually looked for them, and I believe they might be rather shy.

While I was drawing this one (I'll call him 'Jack'), a person identifying herself as "Meghan from PGE" called. She too is rather shy; that probably wasn't her actual name OR real employer (she had a heavy Indian accent), and when I spoke in Cantonese asking her why she had called, she hung up. Many Indian phone scammers are fearful of Cantonese.
It flummoxes them. They don't know what to do next.

With precisely three exceptions, all phone calls I receive are spam. The three exceptions are, in fact, Cantonese language familiar individuals, who would likely interrupt me to mention cardiologists appointments, regular care physician's appointments down at the clinic or something else health care provider related, or my apartment mate off-site possibly reminding me of something medically connected or suggesting impending doom.

Many gastrotiches are less than a tenth of a millimetre long. So adding a banana for scale, as is the American standard, would be somewhat ridiculous. Besides, bananas are not usually placed at the bottom of streams. So Americans looking at this will no doubt be baffled. Indian scam artists, smarter than the average American, would be confused at seeing the banana and consider the Americans stupid and wasteful for putting it there.


I am not berserk. Therefore I shall NOT add the banana.


Someone on social media mentioned the gastrotich. Which spurred my sudden interest and the drawing of the illustration above. I do not normally consider the gastrotich. And do not want one as a pet.


Another internet poster mentioned Phoenician inscriptions in Cyprus. In connection with a chart of Semitic languages ancient and modern. Which naturally caused a dumpster fire, because the internet has a large population of strongly opinionated morons.
I did not feel like illustrating that.




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THE GORMLESS

Several of the people whom I encounter when at work are fervent fans of the rich fat orange pedophile. I do not speak with them if at all possible. Even hearing their nonsensical ranting rather turns my stomach, and as you can probably guess their discourse lacks even the intellect of a collection of sock monkeys.
Three years ago we banned the gentleman who occasionally had bathroom accidents. Just too damned senile. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

It probably should not surprise you to hear that some of my favourite creatures are, actually, sock monkeys. Remarkable creatures. And considerably more intelligent than Trump voters.


I'm off for the next few days.


One or two important tasks tomorrow, but otherwise plenty of time to look up viruses, bacteria, amoebas, and slime molds. And such things as vectors, symptoms, rates of infection, complications, medication, and fatality rates.

These are subjects which I find interesting and stimulating, but it turns out that at least one of the fellows is rather creeped out by all this. Desperate to change subjects.

Even something so innocuous as slime molds.
Which are strangely beautiful.
They have charm.


Gormish.



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THE POISONOUS SOW

Decaying stumps, logs, and rotten leaves. No, not an alternative life-style, but a home that a slime mold can love. Which I should have interjected into the conversation next to me, but I'm afraid my Mandarin just isn't good enough to stand even a chance of shutting the mainland mother haranguing her adult son over his many failings down. 绒泡黏菌属 (Physarum) as catalogued by Persoon in 1794, among the 變形蟲門 (amoebozoa).

Oh I say, old lady have you considered shoving your head into some rotten leaves? 哦，我說，老太太，你有沒有想過把你的頭埋進一些爛樹葉裡？(Ó, wǒ shuō, lǎo tàitài, nǐ yǒu méiyǒu xiǎngguò bǎ nǐ de tóu mái jìn yīxiē làn shùyè lǐ?)

Some mothers are parasites.

Some are poison.

But not my business. It's up to her patient college educated son to tell her where to get off.
I shall merely hope, fervently, that mildew eventually eats her brain.

Chinese family relationships are sometimes berserk.
Codependency enabling and toxic.

Surprisingly, the bus driver didn't holler back at her to shut the F up and stop being a bloody nuisance to the other passengers. On those crowded busrides back to the city I will still make space for passengers rather than keeping my bag on the seat. And I'll continue to pretend that I am both unable to understand a word if I have plausible deniability, and not at all bothered by some old bag ranting like a rabid dog at her relatives.


I shall be glad when the tourist season dies down.

Less chance of harpies.



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THE LITTLE CHILDREN!

Several years ago a coworker had to organize a child safety seminar. So I posted a helpful list (see here: "safety" which may not have been precisely what he needed. But it still holds, the rules still apply. More than ever.

Friend of this blog Spiros commented "I have childproofed my house, and yet somehow the little buggers keep getting in." Which highlighted a recurring problem with children.


I have childproofed my house, and yet they keep getting in!


Cattleprods, roach spray, and a bug zapper were all mooted in the comment string.

The major problem with the little buggers usually being that they've drunk too much cappucino and want a kitten. Especially if left unattended.

I'm a doctor. I can say these things.

Children can be gainfully employed doing laundry and mining coal, for less than it costs you to hire a grown-up. They'll work long hours and also happily pick your agricultural crops as a school outing or outdoor adventure. And, because they're malleable and parts grow back, you need not pay workman's comp insurance.

Plus in many parts of the country they can be locally sourced.

Particularly in Kentucky and Tennessee.
As well as the Carolinas.
West Virginia.



As always, terms and conditions may apply.
Do not employ near heavy machinery.
Keep away from an open flame.
Check with your doctor.
Banana for scale.



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ABOUT HEMMINGWAY ...

Almost like they're aware of what I post, the algorithms have started scattering nasal relief and nostril spa treaments in my social media and news feed. They really, really want me to shove liquids and gels up my nose. Somewhere out there marketing types think that doing so will solve all my problems and lead to a greater sense of peace and harmony in my universe. Surely congestion is affecting my love life? Don't I passionately wish to inhale the rich aroma of olive oil roasted garlic in it's karmic fullness? My life is incomplete without the deep, deep clarity that sterile lightly medicated sprays will be bring!

At the moment it smells like pipe tobacco and freshly brewed coffee in here. When an adult wakes up, that is really all he needs to smell. A mature and civilized spectrum of fragrances.

[The tobacco is Rattray's Marlin Flake, which is very similar to McConnell's Folded Flake, and might actually be the same product. Medium, somewhat on the mild side. A good solid product. Minor inclusions of Kentucky and Perique as condimentals. It's what Hemmingway would have smoked if he hadn't been such a macho poseur.]


Wet grass, wood polish, a bowl of lemons, tannins from a distant bog, roofing tar, the salt fish perfume of a Chinese grocery, overripe fruit in the neighbor's orchard, grilled fatty pork with a touch of lemon grass ....


The best smell in the city during summer is the complete absence of people on the street outside the apartment building. The oldsters that cluster at the bus stop shortly after seven have all headed across the hill to Chinatown for breakfast, the bums sleeping in two or three doorways have woken up, scratched themselves, and gone in search of cigarettes and a bag of cheetos, and the joggers and dog walkers have done their necessary defecatory acts, bagged it all up, and are at work. Peace.

You smell that, son? It smells like freedom. We have no tourists on this part of the hill, not a single stinking one. We don't need any napalm.


À propos of nothing at all ...

Sadly, there are no iguanas either. I like iguanas, but hell will freeze over before I ever go to Florida, even for that. Life is too short to put up with elderly racists and dirty A-shirt wearing slovenly Turmp voters doing stupid stuff. That's ninety percent of the people there, yes?

That more or less describes the entire Red State area. Bucket loads.
Hundreds and hundreds of miles of dunder heads.
A vast expanse of Placerville.



Ernest Hemmingway had a pet iguana named Abdul. Who would have much preferred it if the old bastard had smoked Marlin Flake instead of those rancid Cubans. Heck, any one of the fine VaPers by Ratrays. Brown Clunee, Hal O' The Wynd, Marlin Flake, Old Gowrie.
Iguanas hate the smell of stogies. This is well-known.



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THE INTERIOR OF YOUR NOSE

While at the bakery for tea time I had a sneezing fit (pollen) which may have been spurred by taking the amlodipine besylate fifteen minutes earlier (relaxation and expansion of bloodvessels, consequently greater nasal sensitivity). That's just a theory.

A few days ago I had a discussion with an adherent of natural healing crap, who disparaged the benefits of medicines like amlodipine (a calcium channel blocker) which gives far better stroke prevention than, let us say, many other hypertensives, and buckets more than apple cider vinegar and/or manuka honey. Also, it knocks healing crystals out of the water, quite.

But there are certain side effects, that not everyone will experience equally.
In my case upper back pain and bitchiness.
Which you might not notice.


GRANULOMATOUS AMOEBIC ENCEPHALITIS

Naturally the sneezing fit called brain-eating amoebas to mind. Balamuthia mandrillaris being one such. An infection (skin lesions) does not inveriably end in death unless it migrates to the brain. Early intervention by dosing with flucytosine, pentamidine, fluconazole, sulfadiazine, a macrolide antibiotic, and trifluoperazine (per Wikipedia) seems to have cured patients.
There are other promising medications.

The amoeba is found in both soil and water, and occurs largely in the temperate regions. Flushing the nose caused one infection (International Journal Of Infectious Diseases -- Brain Infection, Improper Nasal Lavage article December 2018, and sounds rather nasty besides.
Do NOT rinse the inside of your nose with tap water to get rid of pollen.


In point of fact, I had never even heard of nasal rinsing before.
It sounds like a very Protestant thing to do.


"Unclean noses lead to masturbation and weak impulse control. Fortunately Wesson's Patented Nasal Douche, now with barium, prevents that. Use daily to prevent lax morals!"


Available at natural healing stores everywhere.



By the way: Ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine are almost certainly useless.
Just like prayer and the laying on of hands by preachers.
But go ahead, whatever twizzles your gasket.



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HAEMORRHAGIC FEVER

Yesterday's final illustration of icky things was a haemorrhagic fever virus. Several hours after doing the pink slime mold aethelium, and the typhoid fever bacteria.


Haemorrhagic fevers are mostly tropical, and occur on all continents. Very few are 'temperate' zone ailments.


Tropical zones have exceedingly much to recommend them. Exciting locales, interesting native populations, fascinating local cultures, and some mighty interesting cuisines. Plus wrenching poverty, high crime rates, frequent bloody civil wars, and mind-bendingly nasty assaults on your very physical survival from humans, animals, plants, and diseases.

Life can be cheap and brutal there.
But the food is often stellar.
Well worth a visit.
Great photos!

Just think of your friends' reactions when you tell them you spent several weeks in the hospital and almost died there! They'll be so jealous! Such an adventure!


"No, I can't remember a darn thing about the food, I was deathly ill and had visions while in the ICU. The hospital staff had given up on me, but then the local witchdoctor treated me with apple cider vinegar and manuka honey, and I recovered. I have found the meaning of life."


You stopped eating meat while there, and are now much more spiritual.
It was like a whole body cleanse. People pay for that.
Sometimes you still sing deliriously.
Flashbacks.



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IT MIGHT BE HUMAN

A posting on Facebook got me all excited about pink slime mold. Which is a myxogastrid amoeba that occurs worldwide. It is not a fungus. The aethalia (singular: aethelium) develop on wet rotten wood from June to November. Orangeish pink through pale pastel purples, to brownish golden blobs. I like blobs. They can exude a pinkish slime before fully ripe.

Pinks, lavenders, rusty reds, and diverse rubicund hues.
A lovely blobbity blobness.

Before maturity, single celled specimens locomote as masses of reddish protoplasmic amoeba-like particles that swallow bacteria, fungal spores, and organic nutrients.
Then form fruiting bodies of a warty bobbled appearance, soft and spongy.
The microscopic spores are ashen-grey.


Though not in any way similar to me personally, despite what you might think, or may have heard from misguided individuals, I can see myself in that. It speaks to me.
The feurige drang nach lebenslust.

Round red rude thing.

There you are, a small happy insect with an elegant hard shell, wandering around your native environment filled with fragrant rotting wood and good things to eat, when you encounter this large spherical thing. You extend a foreleg tentatively. Can it be moved?
Is it edible? Is it alive?

It is indeed edible. But it ruptures offensively at you.

And, oh horrors, there are more of them clustered in the softest soggiest part of the log, where the best food particles are. What utter evil! It's a whole mob of them!

You need a drink and a smoke after this, to calm you down.
You thoughtfully fill your Comoy Lovat with flake.
Possibly Recency or JackKnife Plug.
Nature is abhorrent.
Mmmmm!



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POSSIBLE COMPLICATIONS

My morning reading today was about typhoid, one of the most exciting diseases with great historical resonance. One must automatically think of Burma and prison camps during the war. As well as horrible tropic conditions. By the time the disease has progressed, severe and possibly fatal complications may result: respiratory infections that make full use of the weakened patient, intestinal haemorrhage, delirium, metastatic abcesses, inflammation of the gall bladder, plus of course spleen and liver enlargement and sensitivity.
Acute and chronic dehydration is a constantly recurring problem.

Pensively I take another sip of my coffee. Second cup this morning. This man is not likely to dehydrate anytime soon, as I swill caffeinated beverages throughout the day, and often need to get up and micturate even into wee hours.

In areas where the drinking water is not sterilized, such as prison camps in tropical swamps, contamination by faeces is not uncommon. Fortunately coffee and tea require boiling the water. Conclusion: caffeinated beverages lead to good health and increased life span.
Republican fascist influencers should kindly take note.

Treatment for abcesses can be problematic. I'm not at all sure that our ICE goons in Florida are trained in drainage OR antibiotic dosages, and in any case pennicilin allergies are not part of their knowledge sets.

Besides, all their experience is on the brutality end of prison camps. The therapeutic side is not their concern, and the Republican Party is anxious that that not be in the programme.


If you did not bring the water for your coffee or tea to a full roiling boil you may find yourself dying of a completely avoidable disease in Burma or Florida. Before travelling in the Deep South, whether voluntarily or otherwise, read up on fluoroquinolones, cephalosporins, azithromycin, and carbapenems. Chloramphenicol, ampicillin, cotrimoxazole.

If you get sick, drink lots of liquids.
Don't share food with natives.
And avoid the alligators.
Plus Republicans,



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IT'S SEMI INTERNATIONAL!

Having worked for a few days in a cultural cesspool (Marin County), I needed sustenance. Broad wheat flour noodles, chopped sausage, peanut sauce, chilipaste, and a deglaze that also involved mushrooms and fish paste. Delicious. While eating I entertained myself by reading about RFK Jr.'s brainworm. From which I segued into diseases caused by poor sanitation and insufficient clean drinking water, such as might be an issue at 'Alligator Alcatraz', Kristi Noem's fantasy playland. Or is it Stephen Miller's wet dream?

Never mind. It's obvious that brainworms are in play here. The entire gubmint is probably infected. How else do you explain Trump going to Alaska, getting bloody bupkes from Putin, throwing a tempter tantrum so awful it made poor little Karoline soil her panties, and everyone treating it as some great diplomatic success?

Brain worms. Just tape. Nothing special.
Probably undercooked victim.

You saw it here first, folks, this administration is possibly more likely to catch kuru than any other regime in history. But RFK Jr's worms will get them first. Plus cocaine and adderall.

Years ago a coworker became convinced that I utilized black magic to influence what was on her teevee after I described kuru, it's route of transmission, symptoms, plus progression and inevitable outcome. In juicy detail. She desperately found somewhere else to work not infested with a Dutchman PDQ. And I'm still rather chuffed by that entire episode.

There were also other popular ailments I detailed for her. Made her resolve to avoid travel.
Sick foreigners speaking "languages" weren't her bag.
All those horrid diseases!

She was in international sales. I wouldn't be surprised if she's working for the administration now. A real talent.

Probably as a prison guard at our new detention centres.

She could spell 'Florida'. Difficult words.


Very white bread.



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AMOEBIC NASTINESS

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's ... a protozoon! But it's nasty and mean. Samuel suggested I look up naeglaria fowleri, of which he had only encountered one case in his years of practise. And that was enough. And reading about it has permanently discouraged me from swimming in the warm water of industrial cooling systems as well as any swimming pools that don't massively reek of chlorine.

In actual fact, I've avoided swimming pools successfully for decades now.
Largely because of the effluvium of my fellow humans.
Juices! They're covered in juices!

Amoebic meningoencephalitis is almost always fatal.

The Wikipedia article is fascinating. I shall have to reread it a few times. While staying out of warm aquatic environments. It would appear that the British were on to something with their cold baths.

I heartily recommend British Public Schools for that reason alone. The birching and cricket not so much. An added benefit is that your sprog may end up speaking Latin too, albeit with an irritating uppercrustian English accent. Very useful if you plan to visit Pompei.
You'll probably need a translator.

Stay out of the baths.

What really added a surreal touch was that my apartment mate, while I was reading up on this, decided that she really likes the word 'moussaka'. Moussaka! People should name their kids 'Moussaka', it would be unique and musical. Moussaka! Has anyone named their pet Moussaka? Moussaka! She herself is thinking about changing her own name, Moussaka!
She really like the sound of it, Moussaka!

She uttered the word moussakka several more times.

She may have had a stressful week.

Work is getting to her.



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BETTER THAN A PHONE CALL

Like almost everybody, this blogger has had an abiding fascination with slime-molds since early youth. Well, fairly recently. This week. Since yesterday, in fact. They are fascinating animals. Creatures. Plants. Organisms of some kind.

With fruiting bodies. Often on stalks.
Inhabiting damp places.

Sort of fungi.


One of the most thrilling polysyllabic aggragates has to be "non-amoebozoan slime molds". That is one heck of a word. I can't wait to casually drop that into a conversation.


Yesterday I saw a picture of cribraria (a genus of slime mold first described by Christiaan Hendrik Persoon in 1794) which struck me as beautiful. So I looked up other images, and drew one. It looks space-alien-like.

Amoebozoa - Mycetozoa - Myxogastria - Liceida - Cribrariaceae - Cribraria.
Specifically, in this case, cribraria vulgaris.

This was far more interesting than the final benefits spam calls I received while drawing, from recorded entities variously named Hannah, Doris, Dorothy, and other nice white appellations, female, and sounding reassuringly Anglo American. To all of which I responded venomously in Cantonese before either they or I hung up cursing. An esteemed colleague, who is quite aware that I only receive garbage calls ninety nine point nine nine nine percent of the time, encourages me to carry my cellphone wherever I go. She may simply be as fascinated by foul language in Cantonese as I am by slime molds.

In Cantonese, slime molds are 篩黏菌屬 ('sai nim kwan suk'). In Dutch: slijmzwammen. The latter is probably easier to drop into one's daily speech, assuming one is conversing with Dutch speakers, than "sai nim kwan suk", which may not make any sense at all to the average Cantonese speaker.

One of the phone calls was from Louisiana. Should have called her a sai nim kwan suk and told her to inhabit a damp place (去住潮濕嘅地方啦！'heui jyu chiu sap ge dei fong laa ').
Oh wait. Louisiana. Probably filled with slime molds.



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RING OF FIRE

Yesterday evening I showed my apartment mate a few of my recent virus drawings. She shuddered slightly and said "okayyyy ... ". You could hear the dot dot dot in her voice.
She looked at me askance.

Kind of the same reaction the bald degenerate had when I showed him the artistic interpretations of burning cyber trucks.

Not as extreme -- at one point he nearly shouted that the FBI should investigate me for being a commie terrorist liberal, it was unAmerican, dammit -- but sort of in the same general vein. Disquieted drawing away in distaste. This from a person who deals with medical records all the time. I think both those types of illustrations are lovely.


The bar is set high on this. Trust me.


The other day a neurosurgeon with whom I get along very well suggested I should look up the tobacco mosaic virus as well as bacteriophages, as I would find them visually interesting.
So I did. Oh my heavens yes. How very charming!

I showed her the bacteriophage.
She said it looked evil.

For some reason it reminded her of Johnny Cash singing 'Ring of Fire', which she thought was about haemorrhoids. I always assumed a superior hot sauce. Sort of a Southern thing.

Apropos of nothing at all, why aren't there any great rockabilly songs about Spam?
Surely everyone from Tennessee or Arkansas is spamophagic?
It's a crying shame, tell ya wut.


Spam tastes great with superior hot sauce.
Can't get more Southern than that.


For about half an hour she was singing 'Ring of Fire' sotto voce while browsing the internet after that. I did not say anthing. Sure, she was probably thinking of haemorroids (see aforementioned medical records), whereas I dreamed of Sriracha.
It is rare that I think of haemorroids.



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A TIMING ISSUE

What kept me up till two o'clock was pangs twinges twitches itches and aches in my legs. And I got up at shortly after five. So I was probably a right pillock during the day. As well as being high as a kite on caffeine. Yes, I am looking forward to the peripheral angioplasties on the lower extremeties. Which will happen after my next cardiology appointment (which is in early September), scheduling another scan of the limbs in question (last one was around four years ago; things have changed), then the actual procedure itself. Which given the simplicity of the thing is not an emergency or urgent, and consequently won't be high on the front burners until it actually happens.

My half sleep was marked by rubicund visuals while dreaming. That probably had very little connection to the legs, but was caused by measles. I'm not infected, but I've been reading about the disease, specifically the virus. So I'll blame curiosity and Texas for that.

I've been fascinated by viruses recently. Many of them are visually entrancing. They'd make good trademarks or, for that matter, tattoos for the people who go for that.
More meaningful than 'Mom', or anything religious.
Sort of a sick butterfly.
Or anchor.


Please, someone do it.

Imagine this lovely image glowing on your arm, or one of your glutei. In living colour.

Morbillisviruses are a class of illnesses that infect humans, dogs, cats, cows, seals, and cetaceans. If Cojo or Fluffy is sick, have him or her tested for canine distemper.
Fortunately there are vaccines, and there is treatment.
Well for the human variant at least.

Probably should mention that dogs, in this context, includes coyotes, foxes, wolves, plus bears, ferrets, raccoons, and pandas, as well as primates and several other animals.

Sofar no Texans have been diagnosed with distemper. Yet. To the best of my knowledge.
Rabies yes, distemper no. I think that's good news.



The twinges twitches itches and aches are caused by circulatory issues. Probably magnified a bit by amlodipine besylate which I take around teatime, which seems to cause upper back pain beginning around two and half hours afterwards and continuing for a few hours.
Imagine what the bus ride home from Marin to San Francisco is like.
When I was still taking it upon waking I hurt by ten.



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TOO MUCH TIME, TOO LITTLE

Because I spent so much time with superpaint yesterday, I failed to do my laundry and did not go to the bank. So that's what I'll have to do today. See, the restaurant where I head for lunch on Wednesdays closes at three, and they prefer not to have too many people come in close to that time. Which, having been in the restaurant business myself, I can understand. So instead of doing laundry in a timely manner before lunch, I continued drawing an illustration of a virus till after one o'clock. I'm a bit obsessive that way.

Lunch, pipe smoke, errands, shopping, tea at a favourite bakery.

Crystal pears (水晶梨 'seui jing lei') for the Indonesian woman downstairs, and some big Toishan filled buns (台山大包 'toi saan taai baau') for my landlady. Neither of them get out to Chinatown much, I fear. Plus two types of odd Asian potato chips for my apartment mate, as well as a toisaan bao for her. She, too, doesn't get down to Chinatown nearly enough.

By the way, all three of them are ethnically Chinese.
And presumably they are seriously into food.
And I'm a Brabander. So naturally I am.

The above is not yesterday morning's virus. I drew it after returning home to relax. Along with some birds, and two landscapes. Did I mention obsession? Viruses are elegant, sometimes, and their pictures could very well be company logos or cigar band illustrations.
"Smoke Rotavirus Nicaragua Perfectos! People love Rotavirus!"
Or Chikungunya Hondurans, maduro panatellas.


You know, there are good reasons why I am not in Marketing. And I really loved S. Frog's advertising campaign for Conquistador Instant Coffee, name changed to Conquistador Instant Leprosy. As featured on Monty Python's Flying Circus.


"Conquistador Coffee brings a new meaning to the word vomit!"


A free dead dog with every jar. Conquistador: the tingling fresh coffee which brings you exciting new cholera, mange, dropsy, the clap, boils and athlete's foot.

Brilliant. Could really make coffee drinkers stop and think.
And they'll finally know the name Conquistador.


Perhaps you don't want Rotavirus.
At least not in your mouth.


You know, I would be keen to try Conquistador.
It sounds exciting and hip.



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THE WALLOP

A few years ago my doctor recommended another vaccine. Which, being generally speaking, quite trusting of my medical professionals, I readily agreed to. One must be selective of the advice one takes, especially regarding health. The people who were telling me to dose with manuka honey, apple cider vinegar, and extra ginger and turmeric, and to also avoid gluten, were too dingbattish to take seriously. The person who told me to speak firmely to my doctor and get off the trailer park medicine, as well as do chair yoga, ditto. And the fellows who were convinced that the Covid jab was poisonous AND had nano-chips that were spying on me for the government were of course entirely off their rocker, and I'm extremely surprised that two of them are still alive.

[Manuka honey etc.: turns out it was circulatory issues and ischemia, necessitating a coronary stent. For which honey and cider won't do diddly. Avoiding gluten does squat. Trailer park medicine: That's clopidogrel (plavix) apparently. Which had been prescribed to keep the stent from clogging up. Quitting it would have killed me. Quite irrespective of the benefits to my imaginary chakras and aura from doing chair yoga. Covid jab nano-chips: Do NOT take any advice from adherents of Republican conspiracy medical theories. And wear your damned mask.]

So anyhow, that recommended extra vaccine was the RSV jab. Per Wikipedia: "having chronic heart or lung disease is also a risk factor". Additionally, weakened immune systems, doddering old age, and being around infectious hippie-dippies who self-medicate with crap like honey and vinegar, with or without ginger and turmeric, also come into play.

And I'm glad I got it.

Those people who advocate magic vinegar and honey, gluten avoidance, chair yoga, and similar feel-good nostrums should kindly shut up. And please swallow bucket loads of panchagavya, because it's potent juju and mighty spiritual. Thank you.


By the way: chiropractic and naturopathy are codswallop.
I'm priggishly pleased that I ignore all of that.
And I'm still alive, too.



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