Model Minority

I love the Science Section of the NY Times.  Say what you will about the liberal bias of the Times or its over-exposure, the Science section is a nice source for idle conversation.  And then sometimes, in a moment of journalism verite, articles seem to talk right at you.  It’s like their extraordinary personal relevance shines out like that scene with Russell Crowe in that movie where he gets a Nobel Peace Prize for being an insane asshole and banging Jennifer Connelly.

Ahem.

So in this week’s Science Section, there are two articles that caught my eye.  One that pretty much supports my long-lasting belief that “being in love” is a certifiable brain disorder.  Check out this opening paragraph:

“New love can look for all the world like mental illness, a blend of mania, dementia and obsession that cuts people off from friends and family and prompts out-of-character behavior - compulsive phone calling, serenades, yelling from rooftops - that could almost be mistaken for psychosis.”

Amen.

And apparently the psychosis is spreading.  It’s 2005 and I find myself in another year full of love and marriage.  One of which I’m looking forward to with great enthusiasm (even if its later in 2006 or 2007), another one I’ve gotten invited to by being in a sufficient degree of separation, yet another from one of my few law school friends (although I’m expecting that invitation to be rescinded), the fourth is a childhood friend who surprised me with his plunge into the vortex of matrimony, and finally a possible fifth one from someone who could have ended up as a character from Great Expectations.  Poor gal had the unfortunate luck to be in a long engagement that abruptly ended.  New guy seems okay though.

But back to the article…look at that gland.  That gland is supposed to be responsible for the tempest of emotion you feel when you realize that you’re in love with someone.  F*ck you gland!  It’s like a little tumor of angst and obsession…pumping unknown quantities of hormones and bio-pheromones all with the single terrible goal of making you look like a jackass in front of the object of your affection/obsession/all-consuming loin enraging lust. F*ck you Caudate!  Thanks for making high-school rejection even more unbearable.  Thanks for ruining that date in 2^nd year in college!  And thanks for the criminal record!  I hate you you stupid f*cking gland!

But as crazy as first love can be…it’s nothing compared to the current hypothesis circulating regarding the demise of our favorite rabid marsupial, the Tasmanian Devil.

Now apparently, these poor critters are suffering from an epidemic of a vicious form of face tumor.  I’ll spare you the horrific details of this awful disease except to say that it’s killed half the known 115,000 population.  Now I’m hardly an animal activist in fact you can say that me and Nature have a bad relationship.

That vicious b*tch has had it out for me since Year One.  Feral animal attacks.  Poisonous shrubbery.  Toxic sunlight.  So no…I don’t really care too much about animals but I’m even more of an opponent of tumors whether it be malignant, benign or this variety.  Plus, I am a huge Taz lover.  Grew up with that slobbering spinning fur covered ball of Id watching Warner Brothers cartoons.

However, whenever I look at Taz like here…

…I’ll be thinking of this bit of scientific revelation…

“Devils got their name from early European settlers who heard spine-chilling screams and thought that Satan was surely in the backyard. "Devils do make weird noises," Mr. King said. "When they first arrive at a carcass," he said, "they make a recognition signal - whorf? Are you there? Then they start hissing from the stomach. Growls turn to whines and flow into screeches. They sound like a groaning witch." 

Devil sex turns up the volume. In March and April, males engage in vicious, blood-soaked combat, said Dr. Menna Jones, a wildlife biologist who also works in the environment department. Females select "big butch dudes," Dr. Jones said, and allow themselves to be dragged by the scruff of the neck into a burrow. There they scream and fight for several days, mating many times for hours at a time. At the end of such bouts, the male thrusts his sperm into the female every two minutes.”

OhDEARGOD…what is wrong with scientists and their need to get into the bedroom antics of all god’s creatures.  I was brought up with the every healthy and respectably old fashioned notion that sex is something intimate and private to be shared between two people for love or $140 dollars/hour…Out-Call of course.

Anyway, scientist don’t really know whats causing thise disease, but theorize it could be a blood disease thats been transmitted by the violent blood orgy.  I’m not going into the possible right wing parable someone’s going to draw from this.

So there you go…love is either a psychosis or can lead to awful face tumors and kill your species…Why did I start this blog in the first place?

This BLOG was brought to by Blind Willie Johnson’s "Dark was the Night"

Random Sang Trivia: Actually this one’s about Blind Willie.  One of the best slide guitarists ever and one of his songs is encoded on Voyager One which has just left our solar system. 

This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 31st, 2005 at 3:57 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.