American

This blog is a big fan of music and of literature, and it's an odd day when the two end up at pitted ends of this blog's opinion scale.  Alas, losing sleep does not behoove this blog, so let's clear the blog air on an entirely personal-beef, arts soapbox topic--the conceptual rubber-match: hip-hop artist, Dessa v. author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. 

Dessa's 2010 album, "A Badly Broken Code" struck me, rhythmically, lyrically and creatively.  I also respect that she's a she in a game that's almost entirely all he's.  After several loops of her album and humming along, certain segments began to surface.  For example, in her song, "Matches to Paper Dolls" she says "Now we're lost/Between love and cholera/Saccharine read.../Such a sentimental novel/Give you cavities"...lyrically it flows, it's clever, and it sounds good.  But stop the Dessa train right there.  I'm a Gabriel Garcia Marquez fan, and she just took some pretty heavy swings at, perhaps his most infamous novel, Love In the Time of Cholera.  Of course, we're all entitled to our opinions, but, Dessa, dear Dessa from Minnesota even if you went to Columbia, I think your red white and blue stripes bleed perhaps a bit ignorantly.

#1: The English language severely lacks in words, terms or phrases that address emotions and feelings.  Just in using the word "emotion" there is, literally, figuratively and culturally, baggage that is attached to it.  Considering that GGM's work is Latin American in origin, the original language was one of the Romance category, and not as a justification, excuse or explanation, I proffer that perhaps the tone was "lost in translation" on dear Ms. Dessa.
#2:  The author of the book Dessa's lyrics deem so distastefully sweet is practically, if not, solely responsible for the genre "magical realism".  Your literal cavities are holes to your brain, Dessa, if that aesthetic is really so lost on you.

It seems ironically trite that in a song titled, ironically and tritely, "Matches to Paper Dolls", the verbiage of the lyrics makes blatantly American use of the problematic term "sentimental" on a piece of work that is neither American nor literal.

Life sometimes can be American.
  American: --adjective
of or pertaining to the United States of America

Acrocephalosyndactyly

Apert syndrome is a congenital disorder; characteristics include skull malformations and fusing of the hands and feet.  Eugene Apert is the French physician who, in 1906, first documented patients presenting symptoms of this syndrome.  The BBC reported on "Finley", a one-year old, who underwent skull surgery for his Apert's.  The surgery was described involving removal of the skull and, like a 3D puzzle, breaking it apart and putting it back together again.  With Apert's the sutures that typically enable the skull's brain growth get fused together in utero.  So, Finley had a bit of a horn effect because the plates weren't allowed room to grow around his brain, so they moved up and out.  Yet, skilled surgeons corrected this in about four hours.

The disorder is thought to possibly be autosomal, which means that the mutation is a trait which hangs out on the X and Y chromosomes (these combos being the place where sex is determined).  While the sex-determining chromosomes are thought to be the loci for the trait, males and females are equally affected.

While Finley will need additional surgeries in the future as his facial features require room for growth, it is admittedly pretty amazing that in the span of a little more than a century, when Monsieur Apert first "documented" the disorder and perhaps could best advise a beret to hide the atypical bone growth, to now when his physician successors can literally remove the skull and reconfigure it--simply, remarkably a human puzzle, which, of course, we all are, pieces upon pieces of ourselves, unique and alike simultaneously.

Life sometimes can be acrocephalosyndactyly.
acrocephalosyndactyly:  --noun
  a congenital syndrome characterized by a peaked head and webbed or fused fingers and toes

Ironic

If you're a lobster, welcome to the seventh ring of hell.  The below is an up close of a lobster vending machine.  If you're a lobster, presumably, there are several man-made contraptions you hope you never see, like wire cages, over-sized pots, and, of course, the lobster vending machine.

As should be evident from the graphic, the lobster vending machine works much like its stuffed toy in arcades counterpart.  Whereas, a clawing attempt to win your sweet a fuzzy bear may cost a few dollars, if your sweet has champagne taste and wants a lobster, a try with the claw will dent you 20 bucks, and that's assuming you catch it.  One would think the water factor complicates things. 

Supremely, if you are among the lobsters awaiting the inevitable, you sigh relief every time some overzealous hotshot comes up with empty claws.  Yours (your claws), of course, are rubber banded.  You are dually precluded from challenging the metal claw or from succumbing and hitching a ride out voluntarily.  A fate worse than death?  Just ask a lobster in a lobster vending machine; they may be practically boiling over with the irony of it all.

Life sometimes can be ironic.
Ironic: --adjective
  containing or exemplifying irony

Zoonotic

It's a bad time to be an armadillo.  In fact, it's a bad time to be friends with an armadillo, especially according to the latest findings in the New England Journal of Medicine.  Roughly 20% of the U.S. armadillo population are infected with leprosy.

The last time I thought about leprosy was when I saw Ben Hur, and discussions of the recently charted trend admit that it is commonly considered an ailment from "biblical times" (additional discussion of this term will be relegated to another, much longer, blog rant).  Leprosy can be transmitted from armadillo to human, and there has been an influx of examples, especially in the Southern part of the country, that demonstrates as much.  This makes leprosy zoonotic, meaning that it is a disease that can be transferred one one species to another.  Other examples of zoonosis include rabies, Lyme disease and ringworm.  About 150 cases of armadillo related leprosy have been documented, and caught soon enough, a typical round of antibiotics addresses the symptoms.  So, not that with that armor shell and all they had an especially cuddly image to maintain, but it's definitely a bad press day for the armadillo; although, they seem generally to be taking it in stride and have yet to lose their heads over it.

Nuclear

In 1986, the USSR was still an Eastern European entity, and this blog never existed (because this blogger was 5yro (and blogging wasn't yet cool (yes, I just called blogging cool; deal with it))).  So, all the references to Chernobyl got this blog thinking that some further digging might be educational.  Especially in light of the "New Safe Confinement" (NSC) structure slated to send a steel rainbow of preventative safety over the existing Chernobyl nuclear sarcophagus.

Scientific American  cites the new structure's dimensions as being taller than the Statue of Liberty, extending 3 footfall fields, and weighing more than 29,000 metric tons.  That's a significant structure.  It's significant because it is designed to entomb the site of what is referred to as the "worst nuclear disaster in history".  The current structure, known as the "Shelter Object" (a less glamorous name than its anticipated replacement), is composed of 7,000 metric tons of metal and 400,000 metric tons of concrete.  Don't let those hefty figures throw you though; the structure was erected so rapidly in response to the disaster that, subsequently, it's assembled much like a house of cards.  Cue the NSC.

Fire up the time machine: on April 26, 1986 at 1:23am, a catastrophic power increase elicited an explosion at the core of reactor four at the Chernobyl plant.  This resulted in dispersing huge amounts of radioactive fuel and core materials into the atmosphere.  One blast lead to another; a highly combustible graphite moderator was ignited (bad news); significant "excitation" occurred...at about his point the "SCRAM" alert goes off which is the emergency shutdown of a nuclear reactor.  Thus, "fallout" has initiated; fallout being the bright red term for "residual radiation hazard".  Fast forward 25 years (yes, it's the anniversary of), and it's time for NSC to keep all that potential residual radiation hazard on lock-down.  Any questions?  (Let's hope so.)

Toxic

California Watch reported at the end of last year that one of the most hyped up beauty crazes may be synonymous with super high levels of a potent carcinogen.  It's no beauty secret that women are notorious for extreme measures when it comes to beauty and seeking products for aesthetic perfection.  So, when the Brazilian Blowout trend (a solution that salons began to implement for extreme hair straightening) peaked not so long ago, women were chomping at that bit faster than a Sister could say a rosary.  The Center for Research on Occupational and Environmental Toxicology at Oregon Health & Science University discovered the prayer answering solution was less than pure.  In fact, the solution, which is mixed up in a North Hollywood facility, was found to contain 10% formaldehyde.  Yeah, the same stuff that fetus kitties with six legs and the monster eyeballs are floating in.  That's the stuff that's been seeping into countless women's heads in the name of straight hair. 

The President of the company, Devin Semler, must really like straight hair because he was unwilling to acknowledge the toxicity.  In fact, Mr. Semler was quoted as saying that he is "unable to control every bottle..."  Apparently, the chain of command works differently at President Semler's company.  No word yet on whether a more conclusive response is forthcoming from the mail room.

Coincidentally, Mr. Semler also runs a tequila company and is affiliated with Malibu Family Wines, which distributes Saddlerock and Semler labels, which begs the question of whether Mr. Semler can control every one of these bottles, (and it may be fair to assume they have quite the extended shelf life).  It will be interesting to see how Mr. Semler chooses to preserve his image in light of the assorted agencies seeking answers and running tests on the potential cancer in a bottle he's been brewing up. 

Life sometimes can be toxic.
Toxic:  --adjective
  acting as or having the effect of a poison; poisonous

Fickle

This week's current (very relative and just as fickle as any other preferences) Favorites Of No Particular Denomination Or Theme:

The combo: Eggs and wine.  (Better as dinner than breakfast.)

The vegetable: Arugula, this perky lettuce holds strong for its second week.  (Augments the eggs better than it does the wine (the wine can stand alone).)

The song: The White Lies latest single, "Bigger Than Us".

The juice: Any scandal that a Conde Nast pub reports on.  (The "Wired" article on crazy murderous Amy Bishop is a nascent example and a sage reminder that scientists earned the moniker "mad" for a reason.)

The animal: Anything with antlers.  (Seems like antlers may be going the way of the waffle maker...a very clever device of cabin-settings past.)

The bonus: As a sixth (i.e., the asterisk), tall, balding, > middle age men who can do yoga better than you can.  (It seems inappropriate to say any more.)

So, Reader, once again, the challenge is extended: take the pick your current five random favorite things challenge.  See what you like this week (but let's keep tall, balding > middle age men doing yoga like Gandhi* out of it).
 
Life sometimes can be fickle.
Fickle: --adjective
  not constant or loyal in affections

*This blog can no better confirm than it can deny whether Gandhi was a yogi, but this blog is pretty sure he was not tall, and entirely positive that he was balding.