From Discovery News a breakthrough to explain the "Dancing Plague" of 1518 and several other incidences of unusual, and sometimes fatal, occurances.
Dancing Plague
Mass psychogenic illness manifests itself during periods of extreme and prolonged psychological and physical stress. This phenomenon primarily manifests itself in cultures which are underlaid by superstition and supernaturalism. Primal belief held in common with the majority of society can lead to a cascade effect when a society is placed under intense and insupportable psychological stress. As in the instance in 1518, one person can be a trigger which activates a commonly held belief that leads to a snowballing effect on a segment of the population.
I would very much like to read John Waller's book.
There have been instances of this in very recent history. A school evacuated because someone smelled something odd then began feeling ill. Others who did not report smelling anything also began feeling ill. The effect spread until a number of students were affected by whatever it was that made the first student feel poorly. Taken to the hospital, there were no unusual test results. All was normal.
Good article on mass psychogenic illness:
MPI
Saturday, August 2, 2008
fuhgedabodit
The carpet cleaning, I mean. I am now done.
Fini.
Through.
Kaput.
Terminus ad quem.*
This crap is as clean as it will get for now. Even with the air on I have been sweating bullets and am sopped to the skin.
It is quite a few shades lighter and smells better, too. There are a couple of places that are stained but the stains are not coming out. I have no idea what caused those and I don't care to investigate further.
I have moved on to the whirlpool. Since Himself took a temporary job until his employer called him back he has been getting dirtier than any person has a right to get. This means he has been making a horrible mess of his clothing, the tub and surrounding walls.
The walls aren't a big deal. They're glazed tile and come clean quickly. The tub is another matter entirely.
I filled it all the way up to the overflow**, poured in a whole bottle of Mr. Clean Summer Citrus (pew pew pew pew pew) and turned the old girl on. This normally works quite well when I'm using Lemishine to do this particular job. Just pout the stuff in, turn it on and let it run for 15 minutes or so.
It never occurred to me for a second that Mr. Clean foams.
A lot.
Now the tub is not clean and I have all that Very Hot Water that has turned into lovely white foam.
And smells to high heaven.***
I suppose I will break down, get the toilet brush out and use that to scrub the tub. Ok, ok, ok. I know. Yuck, but it is the only brush I have that has a long enough handle to do the job without reaching down into the noxious mess, putting my skin in peril.
On the other hand, I suppose I could crack a beer, sit back for a couple of hours until the water cools, drain the tub and then scrub.
* OK, so I didn't use it properly and it isn't the end of the line for the carpet. Yet.
** That's 18" so we're talking a LOT of Very Hot Water.
*** What was wrong with the way Mr. Clean smelled before? I can't make up my mind whether it smells like a Turkish cathouse or rotten fruit.
Fini.
Through.
Kaput.
Terminus ad quem.*
This crap is as clean as it will get for now. Even with the air on I have been sweating bullets and am sopped to the skin.
It is quite a few shades lighter and smells better, too. There are a couple of places that are stained but the stains are not coming out. I have no idea what caused those and I don't care to investigate further.
I have moved on to the whirlpool. Since Himself took a temporary job until his employer called him back he has been getting dirtier than any person has a right to get. This means he has been making a horrible mess of his clothing, the tub and surrounding walls.
The walls aren't a big deal. They're glazed tile and come clean quickly. The tub is another matter entirely.
I filled it all the way up to the overflow**, poured in a whole bottle of Mr. Clean Summer Citrus (pew pew pew pew pew) and turned the old girl on. This normally works quite well when I'm using Lemishine to do this particular job. Just pout the stuff in, turn it on and let it run for 15 minutes or so.
It never occurred to me for a second that Mr. Clean foams.
A lot.
Now the tub is not clean and I have all that Very Hot Water that has turned into lovely white foam.
And smells to high heaven.***
I suppose I will break down, get the toilet brush out and use that to scrub the tub. Ok, ok, ok. I know. Yuck, but it is the only brush I have that has a long enough handle to do the job without reaching down into the noxious mess, putting my skin in peril.
On the other hand, I suppose I could crack a beer, sit back for a couple of hours until the water cools, drain the tub and then scrub.
* OK, so I didn't use it properly and it isn't the end of the line for the carpet. Yet.
** That's 18" so we're talking a LOT of Very Hot Water.
*** What was wrong with the way Mr. Clean smelled before? I can't make up my mind whether it smells like a Turkish cathouse or rotten fruit.
Carpet cleaning Day II
This is the s3econd day I have been working on the carpeting in this room. Earlier this summer I threw out the chair mat that had been in place for 4 years.
Ewwwwwwww. Off white bounded by greyish-tan uckyness.
So. There were 2 choices:
Remove the carpet.
Clean the carpet.
Choice #1 is much favored but, while DS3 and I could tear out the existing carpet, we probably would be well-advised to not try laying the laminate floor. Sure, Himself could certainly do it. Uh huh. The problem with that? He never, or rarely, finishes anything. We would almost certainly have a nekkid floor for an undetermined length of time. Or until I got so sick of it that I laid the floor myself* or hired someone to do it.
So I am in process with choice #2. And cleaning and cleaning and cleaning it some more. Right now I am taking a break because I put down more soap-stuff and I'm just waiting the prescribed time before going back over it again and sucking all the stuff up.
It's more likely than not that the sucked up stuff will still be black so I will put down more stuff and keep that up until it is, at worst, grey sucked-up ickys.
I despise carpeting. Really I do. It collects dirt and dust and stains and stinks and all kinds of vile crap that makes my allergies nigh to intolerable. That's why, last year and the year before that, we ripped out the bathroom carpet, hall carpet, living room carpet and all the stuff downstairs. During the process I had to leave the house entirely because the dust and yuck in the air was making me ill. Once all that was gone, replaced by laminate wood and tile, my allergies improved almost overnight.
Once we actually manage to get rid of the floor-gross in here and the bedroom I predict a real improvement in the allergies and sleep quality for both Himself and me.
Now, back to sucking vileness. Ta-ta!
* With help, of course. Most likely DIL and DS2.
Ewwwwwwww. Off white bounded by greyish-tan uckyness.
So. There were 2 choices:
Remove the carpet.
Clean the carpet.
Choice #1 is much favored but, while DS3 and I could tear out the existing carpet, we probably would be well-advised to not try laying the laminate floor. Sure, Himself could certainly do it. Uh huh. The problem with that? He never, or rarely, finishes anything. We would almost certainly have a nekkid floor for an undetermined length of time. Or until I got so sick of it that I laid the floor myself* or hired someone to do it.
So I am in process with choice #2. And cleaning and cleaning and cleaning it some more. Right now I am taking a break because I put down more soap-stuff and I'm just waiting the prescribed time before going back over it again and sucking all the stuff up.
It's more likely than not that the sucked up stuff will still be black so I will put down more stuff and keep that up until it is, at worst, grey sucked-up ickys.
I despise carpeting. Really I do. It collects dirt and dust and stains and stinks and all kinds of vile crap that makes my allergies nigh to intolerable. That's why, last year and the year before that, we ripped out the bathroom carpet, hall carpet, living room carpet and all the stuff downstairs. During the process I had to leave the house entirely because the dust and yuck in the air was making me ill. Once all that was gone, replaced by laminate wood and tile, my allergies improved almost overnight.
Once we actually manage to get rid of the floor-gross in here and the bedroom I predict a real improvement in the allergies and sleep quality for both Himself and me.
Now, back to sucking vileness. Ta-ta!
* With help, of course. Most likely DIL and DS2.
OMG
Uh, the whole bunch are certainly likely to be Darwin Award winners or, at the very least, nominees. Where do these people come from and why are they being allowed to reproduce? Looks and sounds like a bunch of adolescents or college-age kids who need a nanny. Or a brain.
Some of the stuff you can find on youtube just floors me.
Some of the stuff you can find on youtube just floors me.
eh?
Would you open your door if this man were ringing your bell?
I wouldn't.
That's a British game show host called Bruce Kingsley. I think he looks rather like a pastiche of Vincent Price, Peter Cushing and Walter Winchell. Scary.
I wouldn't.
That's a British game show host called Bruce Kingsley. I think he looks rather like a pastiche of Vincent Price, Peter Cushing and Walter Winchell. Scary.
I've never thought about this...
Marina Hyde on "warnings:"
Guardian
She does have a point. I like this bit particularly well:
That's true. Regardless of an evidence to the contrary, I am of sound mind. Therefore:
* I concede that this might be a good warning to have and probably the only one on the list that really is necessary.
Guardian
She does have a point. I like this bit particularly well:
"...there is so much unsolicited advice on how we should be making other people's journeys more pleasant that our own journey somehow feels much more uniquely unpleasant than it ever was before."
That's true. Regardless of an evidence to the contrary, I am of sound mind. Therefore:
- I do not need signs on the freeway telling me "Don't Enter - Wrong Way." No shit, Sherlock! Anybody who purposefully drives into oncoming traffic for whatever reason should be taken out and shot. Summarily.
- I do not need signs in public lavatories informing me that hands must be washed. Good heavens, of course they need to be washed.
- I also do not need signs in public lavatories advising me to not flush feminine care products. Really?
- The warnings printed on frozen food containers just infuriate me, too. "Cook before eating." Isn't that obvious? What kind of idiot eats frozen pizza or cold, raw fish sticks?
- "Not a beverage. Do not drink." It's dishwashing liquid, you know. Sounds just yummy.
- "Caution: Contents may be hot." I certainly hope my coffee is hot. I didn't order iced coffee, now, did I?
- Alcohol is flammable, right? Lest we forget: "CAUTION: CONTENTS FLAMMABLE." Sure, I intended to light up while spraying my hair.
- "WARNING: For External Use Only." Anyone who has ever taken a good look at, or smelled, Absorbine Jr. isn't likely to drink that stuff. Maybe a small child but it would seem that some people can't be trusted to keep bad things out of children's reach.
- From the pull-off top on a soup can: "WARNING: edges may be sharp." That's beating a dead horse, too. Anyone who has ever opened a can knows those edges are sharp. If I am stupid enough to intentionally run my finger or other parts of my anatomy around the top of an opened can, I deserve whatever pain I inflict on myself.
- Last escalator I saw had a sign that stated something Like "WARNING: these stairs move1" I don't remember exactly what it said but, gee, who hadn't noticed the steps are going up or down?
- As for the "Electrocution hazard" warnings on electrical appliances? Anyone over the age of 6 or so who plugs an appliance in and the dunks it in water shouldn't be let out without a keeper.
- What are propane torches used for? They make fire, right? Warning of "Flammable Gas: Explosion hazard" probably are vital so people don't mistake them for logs and toss them on a campfire.*
* I concede that this might be a good warning to have and probably the only one on the list that really is necessary.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Imaginary friends (work in progress)
I was moved today by the arrival of a package from Moray, Scotland, to think some about my "imaginary friends."
There is Elaine, from Toronto. Fast friends for 4 years now, via the internet. We were fortunate in that we had a chance to meet a year ago and spend 4 days gabbing and laughing, shopping and eating and laughing some more. Although our backgrounds are as different as they can be and she is some years older than I, we are, in some manner, kindred spirits.
There is Randy from Aquitaine (Chalabre, FR, actually.) An American, she was born and bred in LA, where she met her husband, Jean-Marc, a French-born copyright attorney. They returned to France in 2004. She is a darling and we have exchanged packages of goodies and various bits and pieces over the course of the last two years. This all courtesy of the internet.
Karen is also from France. A professional chef, she was born in South Africa, has lived in Singapore, Australia, the U.S. and has owned her own eatery in Crete. Now she and her husband, Malcolm, another attorney, live in maritime France and own a B&B. Here, too, thanks to the internet.
Eileen, who really isn't that far away. A woman with a will of iron and a heart of pure gold. She has a dark sense of humor that I understand and a curiosity and desire to "know" that far outreaches her physical self. Again, the internet.
Mick who is from upstate New York. Another member of the Cranky Old Broads Society. She makes me laugh and is always ready with good advice or just an ear. Yup, internet.
Michelle and Barb, one from Pennsylvania and the other from Georgia. What can I say about those two? They are completely off the wall. It's hard to tell just what they will come up with next but it's bound to be good. Internet.
There is Lindsay in Scotland and Joy in Wales. Intelligent, incredible women, one a chef, the other retired. Zurie from South Africa, Chrys from Australia... so far apart but so similar, sharing thoughts and troubles, frustrations and joys.
How would I have learned to make a killer cassoulet without these people? Who would make me laugh and cause me to cry as I look into a mirror that reflects my own feelings, doubts and experiences, as these far-flung people have? Who would I debate the pros and cons of Dr. Sultan's thesis on Islamic fundamentalism if not for them?
The Blue Nowhere is a dangerous, vast place and large as the human imagination... Out there, though, are friendships to be found that are as valuable as those experienced with face-to-face people. Other backgrounds, experiences, cultures can give a perspective on the human condition that can't be gained otherwise.
Maybe, hopefully, I will be honored to meet those "imaginary" friends scattered around the world. If that is not how it is to be, so be it. I will still call them friends.
There is Elaine, from Toronto. Fast friends for 4 years now, via the internet. We were fortunate in that we had a chance to meet a year ago and spend 4 days gabbing and laughing, shopping and eating and laughing some more. Although our backgrounds are as different as they can be and she is some years older than I, we are, in some manner, kindred spirits.
There is Randy from Aquitaine (Chalabre, FR, actually.) An American, she was born and bred in LA, where she met her husband, Jean-Marc, a French-born copyright attorney. They returned to France in 2004. She is a darling and we have exchanged packages of goodies and various bits and pieces over the course of the last two years. This all courtesy of the internet.
Karen is also from France. A professional chef, she was born in South Africa, has lived in Singapore, Australia, the U.S. and has owned her own eatery in Crete. Now she and her husband, Malcolm, another attorney, live in maritime France and own a B&B. Here, too, thanks to the internet.
Eileen, who really isn't that far away. A woman with a will of iron and a heart of pure gold. She has a dark sense of humor that I understand and a curiosity and desire to "know" that far outreaches her physical self. Again, the internet.
Mick who is from upstate New York. Another member of the Cranky Old Broads Society. She makes me laugh and is always ready with good advice or just an ear. Yup, internet.
Michelle and Barb, one from Pennsylvania and the other from Georgia. What can I say about those two? They are completely off the wall. It's hard to tell just what they will come up with next but it's bound to be good. Internet.
There is Lindsay in Scotland and Joy in Wales. Intelligent, incredible women, one a chef, the other retired. Zurie from South Africa, Chrys from Australia... so far apart but so similar, sharing thoughts and troubles, frustrations and joys.
How would I have learned to make a killer cassoulet without these people? Who would make me laugh and cause me to cry as I look into a mirror that reflects my own feelings, doubts and experiences, as these far-flung people have? Who would I debate the pros and cons of Dr. Sultan's thesis on Islamic fundamentalism if not for them?
The Blue Nowhere is a dangerous, vast place and large as the human imagination... Out there, though, are friendships to be found that are as valuable as those experienced with face-to-face people. Other backgrounds, experiences, cultures can give a perspective on the human condition that can't be gained otherwise.
Maybe, hopefully, I will be honored to meet those "imaginary" friends scattered around the world. If that is not how it is to be, so be it. I will still call them friends.
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