The stork of scientists

I was debating today whether or not to post another short story, but then I looked at the pile of death threat letters, and thought better of it. Still, if you want to read another one, cast your vote at the “Comments” thingy below.

In other news, things are rolling as usual: Work, work, and more work. At least it seems that we are making some progress, and I think I saw a flicker of a light at the end of the tunnel, but then I had to go back to the lab.

Your autoclave bin is brimming!!!

Speaking of labs, next Thursday our Department – nay, our entire School (of Life Sciences) is undergoing a routine inspection by a Safety Regulations committee from the Home Office. In other words, The Man is coming to check us out. Which means that most researchers are going to make themselves scarce that day.

So everyone’s trying to do their bit, but there’s a lot of fear in the air, and we all know that the government can sense fear. No surprise really – the HO can shut us down just like that if they feel that we are not abiding by the Code. So I guess we should lock up all those radioactive mutant frogs that can play chess and listen to Enya. Seriously.

I’m also in the painful process of trying to put my Thesis together, and I’m discovering that writing a Thesis is nothing like a writing a paper (there’s more space) or writing a novel (there’s more boredom). What’s ironic is that doctorates demand that the hapless candidate work his or her proverbial behind off for three or four years, so that they can produce a huuuge document (up to 100,000 words) that will be read by a maximum of four individuals: Two supervisors (most times one), and two examiners. Out of these four, the supervisors already know what’s in it (or they should), and the examiners will forget it right after they’re done with it. Oh, I forgot: Some parents might want to read it too, but they don’t count since generally it could be in ancient Martian for all they knew (“it looks lovely, dear”).

Then the candidate sits through an oral examination (a viva) where he/she sweats it out with the examiners (one external, one internal) to end up in either of five places:

  1. Pass (“Congratulations, Doctor“)
  2. Pass, but needs minor corrections (“It’s good, just fix the typos”)
  3. Pass, but needs major corrections (“It’s good, but you can do so much more! Go do it”)
  4. Fail (“You suck”)
  5. Death (“You still suck”)

… and that’s where scientists come from!


Tune in tomorrow to learn all about writers.

News of the Worlde

Over here, the fort holds together, with work piled up as usual.

Over there, in the great Outside, well, there is no fort. Was just browsing through the news, only to find that things have changed rapidly. First, that thwarted terrorist attack story; it seems now that the JTAC feels that the possibility of an attack is still high but not imminent, so the UK threat level has been moved down today, from “Critical” to “Severe”. (They both sound equally scary to me if you ask me, but you won’t.) And this means that thousands of stranded Bri’ish tourists can hope for a slightly easier journey to their holiday destination. Good for them, it’s like 10 degrees here in Bradford in the middle of August, and we’re in coats and umbrellas (rain, not sun). In August. Hurray for the Atlantic.

Next, the Mid-East ceasefire. Huh boy. After 34 days of bashing eachother’s heads in, Israel and Lebanon are asked nicely to put their guns down before any more people get hurt. About time, if you ask me (but you won’t): Lebanon’s dead had passed 1,000 and counting. I also went through the UN’s text, which sounds nice and strict in paper. Let’s see how they enforce it now – those Hezbollah guerillas stuck behind Israel’s lines probably haven’t even heard of the resolution yet. Lots of pissed-off people with guns ‘n’ ammo – they’re probably tempted to use the ceasefire for toilet paper.

We’ll see.

Anyway, I thought I’d write something, and with all the stuff I have to do, regurgitating things you can read on any news site is always good material. And then you can top it off with a paragraph explaining it.

Newsflash

Hello ye all.

I think that this is by far the longest no-entry time since I started this blog. My days are so full and busy now that I can’t tell morning from evening anymore; I’ve mentioned a few times that my PhD is trying to kill me, so you can understand.

The problem is that, right now, I can’t tell exactly when I’m going to finish with this project, so currently I’m working as much and as fast as I can to get out of the lab as soon as possible. But in the same time, I’m also very thankful to the Lord for putting a real angel in my life two months ago, without whom I would be utterly unable to cope with all this chaos.

Other exciting news – we’re finishing our study on the Letter to the Ephesians this Saturday, and I get to teach on the last, wonderful chapter 6. I like it particularly because it is here where the apostle Paul, chained to a Roman soldier in prison, instead of bemoaning his troubles (prisons weren’t as luxurious as they are today), he uses them to teach some of God’s greatest truths: he looks at the Roman soldier (probably the most evangelised soldier in the Roman Empire), and parallels his armour to create a powerful metaphor of the Christian’s spiritual armour. The result is life-changing; a natural effect of God’s Word.

And that wraps it up. I promise to have fewer baby photos next time – oh, I’m also VERY slowly writing another short story, which I might post here, so, you know, watch this space…

Scientiam vitae propagare. And photos thereof.

Well, I’m back from the EHRS conference in London (Imperial College), I gave my talk, and now I can go back to fighting the clock in the lab. I wasn’t particularly happy with my presentation; a bit rushed, it felt, and it didn’t roll as smoothly as I’d like it to. But at least I got to wear a tie.

It was actually a good conference, a lot more relaxed (yes, scientists can do that, but they have to attend a course first) than last year at Zurich, where we seemed to be crammed up like sardines at every venue. This year, the traditional conference gala was onboard the Dutch Master, which took us up and down the Thames and I got some sweet pictures to share with you.

There seemed to be a good chunk of interest in follicular stem cells (quite fashionable in modern Biology), and I also had an exciting conversation with a research group from Durham University that “accidentally” turned stem cells into mycoradial pacemaker cells, which actually developped a heartbeat! And given my own fascination with brain tissue regeneration and development, I think I spent more time talking to these guys than anyone else. And before you all freak out and accuse me for supporting abortions and all that little issue, we’re talking about stem cells from fully grown, mature hair follicles – aka “dermal papilla cells”.

Well, enough with the Science stuff. It’s picture time!

Good to see the Greeks honoured. At least the ancient ones.
Natural sunlight: The researcher’s lethal enemy.

The HMS Belfast, in sunset glory. We’re on the Thames now.

Mr Ben. Known among friends as “Big”.

You can’t travel around London at night and not indulge in shots like this. Slow shutter speed all the way.

London Bridge at night. Looks very, very nice.

When the Man comes around

Following their recent emergency council, the World Health Organisation (WHO) has finally published a long and comprehensive report on what it considers to be the “most dangerous, virulent and corrosive threat to the planet”: Neo-Hippies.

Yes, friends, there is no doubt – that old form of pot-smoking, foul-smelling, tree-hugging, know-it-all, smug species has unfortunately mutated into a new breed after lying dormant for a couple of decades now. It now appears that we have been deceived into thinking that the original Hippie form (see figure) has been confined in protected habitats like Paris, Amsterdam, San Fransisco and Israel, posing no immediate threat following its 60’s-70’s epidemic that left thousands permanently afflicted with Abruptus Disillusionus and Dopus Smokepotius – both enormous burdens on society and international economy.

But we were wrong; lulled into a false sense of security and capitalism, while newer types of the Hippy virus (also known as the John Lennon disease) have now been confirmed in areas where such cases were previously unthought-of. The Neo-Hippy viral strain (NHV; aka Michael Moore disease) is now a progressively global phenomenon.

As a course of action, the WHO has proposed the tracking-down and quarantining of “cluster points”; regions where NHV infestation is highest. Preliminary data suggest that regions with an average index of 750 milli-Hippies (1 Hippy = 1,000 milli-Hippie’s or 2 Bob Dylan’s) and above are in danger of becoming “breeding nexi” of NHV. A good example is right here in Bradford, UK, where the University of Bradford’s Peace Studies Department (NHV Index = 0.43 Mega-Hippy or 36.4 Woodstocks) has attracted an enormous clustering of individuals already affected with NHV or in high risk of contracting it.

NHV carriers are harder to spot than their predecessors. For example, their scent is often similar – and often better – to that of healthy individuals. Clothing has also been camouflaged to blend in with the unaffected population – gone are the red shades, flower-power coveralls, bare feet and joint-behind-the-ear fashions. No, NHV patients cannot be spotted with ease, but, fortunately, some distinguishing marks still remain. Here is a list, adapted from that compiled by the WHO:

  1. Neo-Hippies, much like the original type, tend to live in clusters and avoid solitude.
  2. NHV clusters will also cause a decrease in environmental IQ.
  3. Love for bad music still remains – listen for anything promoting “rebellion” (Gwen Stefani), “standing up to the Man” (Marilyn Manson) and general stupidity (Gwen Stefani).
  4. Watch for elevated levels of smugness – a classic sign.
  5. MTV is the new Woodstock.
  6. Though not definite, generic filth and bad odour can be trusted to lead to Neo-Hippies, especially in student areas. Be careful though, as most students smell bad too.

A novel type of NHV-carrier, the Know-It-All (KIA) Neo-Hippy can be spotted in Starbucks cofee houses, usually consuming soy lattes or something vegetarian and “fair”-trade. Look for smart dressing, goatees, berets, “ethnic” dress-up, and the presence of “sophisticated” literature (Marx, Nietzsche, Chuck Palahniuk, Bret Easton Ellis, Harry Potter) in the immediate vicinity. (NOTE: KIA hippies actually need to undertake some form of undemanding education beforehand, about which they will whine and brag incessantly. Further research is underway.)

So now the war is brought to us. What can those still unaffected by this horrid disease do to prevent the wild spread of this plague? Clearly weapons of the past (pictures of Nixon, Vietnam recruitment pamphlets, Jon McCarthy) are no longer effective, since the NHV has shown increased resistance to any form of historical lessons – however, because the original genetic material core has not been altered, there is hope that similar, contemporary means can be of use.

As a biologist, it is my solemn duty to give you some tips in this battle, drawn from long experience. Here they are:

  1. If you come into contact with an NHV-carrier, close your ears and hum a national anthem – any will do, but the US one seems to be most effective.
  2. In cases of large infestation, use of “angry” heavy-metal music (Marilyn Manson, Slayer, Justin Timberlake) has been shown to disperse even the thickest drum circles. Alternatively, “evil corporate” music (Madonna, Sugababes, Marilyn Manson, Slayer, Justin Timberlake) might also work, but the effects are inversely proportional to the NHV’s age.
  3. Do not, under any circumstances engage an NHV carrier in political conversations of any kind. Especially avoid the Middle-Eastern, Israel, the US, the UK, Martha Stewart, Iraq, Big Brother and Dan Rathers – in fact, don’t engage them in conversation at all.
  4. If you come across distraught or angry NHV’s (a very common state), don’t say things like “Oh, you look sad… do you want a hug? ‘Cause there’s some trees out back.” Your chances of survival are slim.
  5. If possible, immunise yourself against NHV by undertaking a PhD in Science – though not exempt from contamination, Science is still “too real” for NHV’s.
  6. When surrounded and ONLY AS A LAST RESORT, scream things like “George W. Bush is the best thing since Nixon” or “I support the war”, or “Long live the Establishment”. Again, such action should be reserved for the utmost time of need, although admittedly, it is fun to watch them MELT.

We can only hope that, in time, we shall overcome. Because I had a hammer, and I heard something and, stop, listen, what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s going ’round.

Peace out.

This message was brought to you by The Man.

The Man: I’m still here, and Johnny Cash ain’t. Who da man, Johnny? Who da MAN?