Your Unwanted Vehicle Can Help RSDSA

That Jim Broatch is at it again! Remember him? He's one of the good guys! Executive Director of RSDSA -- Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome Association, "Raising Awareness of Complex Regional Pain Syndrome since 1984." I have not been as dedicated as I intended in forwarding to you his various e-alerts to benefit RSDSA members and interested others. This one seems timely, though, as we head into the end of the year and begin thinking about income tax deductions for 2008. It is a win-win situation, and those are increasingly rare these days.

*** ** ***

Your Unwanted Vehicle Can Help RSDSA

Have a great car, boat or RV you can't sell because of a mechanical problem? Don't trade it in for next to nothing, donate it to RSDSA. The Vehicle Donation Program through V-DAC will auction it and send the net proceeds to RSDSA. You receive a tax deduction, and RSDSA receives funding that supports public and professional awareness, education, and research initiatives for CRPS.

RSDSA Vehicle Donation Homepage

You are eligible for an itemized tax deduction of your vehicle's Retail Fair Market Value. Find out more.

This service is totally free and includes convenient pick-up of your car, truck, or RV anywhere in the US. Find out how.

Donate a Vehicle When...

Your vehicle needs repairs that cost more than the vehicle is worth.
A 5 to 12 year old vehicle that has a good body but needs mechanical repairs can be a valuable donation. An individual might not be able to sell a vehicle with mechanical problems but these vehicles sell well at wholesale auctions.
It is easier to donate rather than sell it yourself.
Is your vehicle sellable in the shape it's in? Newer vehicles that have mechanical problems, particularly if not running, may sell for more at wholesale auction than a donor could get selling it himself. The mechanics that buy these vehicles can repair them much cheaper than the average donor.
The dealer gives a low trade-in offer.

Some dealers offer next to nothing for vehicles that have major mechanical problems. If less than 10 years old with good bodies these vehicles may still yield excellent results at wholesale auction, resulting in an above average donation yield.

Donate by December 31 if you would like the deduction for this tax year.

Find out more about the Vehicle Donation Program for RSDSA here.

This E-alert was made possible by the contribution of the members of the Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome Association (RSDSA). To learn more about becoming a member of RSDSA, please click here.

The Communion of Saints

Like most adults, I love Halloween; I love it for the excuse it gives for silliness -- and neighborliness, too. This may be the only time all year that I even see some of our neighbors -- the grown-up ones, I mean, those over 5 feet.


We've been gnoshing on the Trick-or-Treat candy, Fred and I. You know, on the sly. Unbeknownst. In secret. Surrepticiously. But then, you realize, as you take the last Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, that you are leaving a gaping hole in the bowl of sweets, that everyone is aware of your stealth, and that you are not stealthy at all. La Belle Bianca Castafiore giggles at it all, pokes fun. The nerve of her. (She only eats the finest of chocolates and turns up her considerable nose at our commercial sweets. Her dresser at the Opéra, especially, admires --and appreciates -- her resolve.)

I miss partying, though I hate to admit it. The very best parties in my memory are associated with the Día de los Muertos. Those Latin American Studies folk knew how to celebrate the perquisite saints and the souls, which dances to dance in the hilly backyard, hands held in a laughing circle, me done up as a pregnant nun -- whirling, whirling!

It comes down to community -- Halloween, el Día de los Muertos, and the upcoming All Saints' and All Souls days. We remember, not as individuals, but as something... larger.

(As I wipe the tear from my eye... I see Bianca slinking near the goody bowl... She reaches, she grabs, she looks furtively around. Aha! Gotcha, you freakish diva! Gotcha!)

Be safe out there tonight!

Palin pales

Q: Is an abortion clinic bomber a terrorist, under this definition, governor?

PALIN: (Sigh). There’s no question that Bill Ayers via his own admittance was one who sought to destroy our U.S. Capitol and our Pentagon. That is a domestic terrorist. There’s no question there. Now, others who would want to engage in harming innocent Americans or facilities that uh, it would be unacceptable. I don’t know if you’re going to use the word terrorist there.

I apologize for being about a week behind, apparently, on Palin-News-That-Startles-and-Shocks.

Let's see... can she claim, in this instance, to be taken out of context? No.

How about decrying the inherent meanness of the liberal media that whosits represents. Brian Williams. No. It's not that difficult a question, really, nor is its [correct] answer particularly dependent on an ideology. In fact, doesn't it seem a poorly positioned lob, its arc just begging for an overhead putaway? Isn't it a gimme? An easy test of her steely steadiness in the equal application of her Ethic?

{yes, i said "correct"!}

Wow. I begin to regret my Stupid People post -- because I am definitely dumbfounded and stupefied, because with such figureheads, stupid needs constant redefinition, and to thus dedicate my efforts would mean surefired brain death.

How scary is it that she appeals to lots of people?

I need to check myself -- I have an enduring high opinion of "people," making her fame that much more frightening.

Yes, this definitely renders my Stupid People post insipid -- because Palin is far from stupid, because she is crazy like a fox, because John McCain thinks her a worthy president.

Vote early, and vote often.

Bull Crap Bull Skeet of Tête-de-Hergé

Retired Educator here.

A week or so ago, I received my usual hefty packet of health insurance Explanation of Benefits forms from Bull Crap Bull Skeet of Tête-de-Hergé. The trouble was that only one of the enclosed EOBs related to me. The other five reflected insurance use by four different individuals whom I'd never had the pleasure of meeting. Now, however, I knew their full names (and for two, their spouse's moniker), Social Security Numbers, employers, employee ID numbers, doctors' names, and what medical facilities they use. Just by the type of coverage they opted for, and their met or unmet deductibles, co-insurances, out-of-pocket, in-network and out-of-network payments -- it's easy to form a financial picture of my four new buddies. A couple of them are strapped for cash.

Somehow, knowing exactly where they were, what they were doing, and what was being done to them, on a certain day -- well, I think an e-vil person could parlay that into Deceitful Gain. (The term came to me in a dreamscape wherein I walked unseen around the current President of the United States as he stood at a podium, in the proverbial jeans with rolled cuffs, blue shirt with rolled cuffs, cowboy boots, and herniated stance. He was speaking a fiction, talking about "bad guys," those reprobate E-vil Doers, when -- unbidden -- he found himself salivating over the notion of the E-vil Doers reaping Deceitful Gain. He tossed it out to the press like a verbal hand grenade.)

Choo? Choo? Train of thought? Ah, yes. Knowing such specificity, anyone could return to the scene of the ersatz "benefit," posing as:

Celeste S. T. or as her husband Dale A. T. -- I do hope Celeste is recovering from her surgery in early July. Maybe I should contact Dr. Stuff's office to get the date of her next appointment. Without breaking a sweat, I know that Dr. Stuff is an OB/GYN and even that his PA's name is Courtney. I checked him out at the Composite State Board of Medical Examiners, and wow, is he an impressive doctor, currently Department Chair at one of the local medical schools! Oh, a bit of trivia for you -- Dale, it turns out, is a graduate of G. J.'s Comedy Workshops, so he is bound to take all of this confusion with good humor.

or

Doretha A. D. or as her husband Clark O. D. -- he works for PoDunk Seal & Stamp, "a bonafide mover-and-shaker in the world of embossed aluminum products." Now, I don't know if we're talking about the same Clark O. D., although most of the personal information does line up for this, but it looks like this guy was one of the original Gospel Intrepids: "God blessed the group to record their first album "I Want To Be Adored" which became a hit and carried the group around the country with some of the great gospel artists of our time. The group was then signed to a recording contract with Spotless Sounds Records. They recorded six (6) albums during the seven (7) years they were with Spotless Sounds Records." But back to Doretha -- wow, would you look at this! Thank goodness case law is public domain, eh? It turns out that sometime back in the 80s (those were the days...) Doretha and Clark appealed to a Court of Appeals about a Big Bad Creditor's e-vil lien, and they were successful in having the lower court's opinion reversed! Yay, Doretha! Yay, Clark! Hmm, so now I know a great deal more about them, including the fact that their lawyer back in June of 1984 has since become an inveterate ambulance chaser and horrific TV commercial maker! And lessee, what else? Ah, just by doing a little lazy genealogy work, I have found Clark and Doretha's son, L. Heathcliff.

The Fredster just stuck his head down to see what had me tsk-tsking so much, and went pale. Seriously, he turned white as a sheet. Well, white as a *white* sheet. (I have an Analogy Disability.) "You can't do that," he said. "You had better not mess with Bull Crap Bull Skeet of Tete-de-Hergé, Retired Educator, I mean it! And you cannot publish other people's private information, either. You have crossed the line this time." Then he fairly ran away, knowing by my big smile that I am going to proceed anyway -- he didn't even get to hear my assurance that I have made as many changes to my "case presentation" as the sainted nurses and doctors do in their HIPAA-fied blogs. Shoot, probably *more*.

So I guess I will honor Fred and forego telling you about Willie E. J. -- nice guy, works for the state. The great news for Willie is that he only owes $15 on his X-ray bill at County Hospital...

The day these EOBs arrived, I weathered the idiot telephone computer to reach a Customer Service Representative. (See? I can be nice. I did not even mention the word oxymoron.)

Never have I been treated so well! Warm tones, terms of respect, adequate time to present my issue, immediate recognition of the problem, and an equally swift offer of a solution. Solution? Well, no, what was done was done. The questions I had related more to ascertaining whether my personal information, like those of these lovely people that I now knew intimately, was in the hands of someone who did not work for good, as I do, but for e-vil.

Customer Service Representative Number One told me that he had a real, live specialist lined up for me to talk to, and would I mind very much holding just a few seconds? "Not at all!" I crowed.

Hmmm. Customer Service Representative Number Two? Smarmy, very, very smarmy. We danced around a few issues. Like how Bull Crap Bull Skeet of Tête-de-Hergé knew who had received whose information, like how "they" had plugged all leaks, and -- my favorite -- like how they knew that my information had not been compromised. She issued reassurances that *no one* could fulfill and Retired Educator stopped pulling her punches.

"Retired Educator, we will send you a stamped, addressed envelope in which you can return those EOBs to us at no cost or disruption to you!" (Like I had just won the Lottery.)

"Customer Service Representative Number Two? I have a shredder. It's taken care of. So if you will just note that on your little computer? Actually, come to think of it... Might it not be more righteous, and righteous *is* what we're reaching for here, yes? -- Might it not be more righteous for me to contact these poor folks by phone, and then mail *them* their EOBs? They are the rightful owners, you might say! Whaddaya think? Oh, and about your reassurances that none of my EOBs were sent erroneously to some e-vil Deceitful Gainers -- that's what the gol' darn President of these United States of America calls them, you know? Deceitful Gainers. They're out there, Customer Service Representative Number Two, they are out there. Anyway, I need for you to tell me exactly how you know that my EOBs are not in the Evil-Doers, Deceitful Gainers little hot hands, 'kay? Come on, put my mind at ease, Customer Service Representative Number Two!"

"Retired Educator, can you hold?" she whispered. I was wearing her down.

When she returned, she launched a cock-and-bull story worthy of Bull Crap Bull Skeet, all about how they had crosschecked the triplecrosser doo-hicky with the appropriate top secret incantations and by golly, my name remains unsullied. That envelope that she'd mentioned was on its way, and if I would just return those errant papers...

"Right-O," I told her. "I'll get right on it. The shredder is warming up, as we speak. Oh -- do you mind if I blog about this?"

*******************************************************************************

I have indeed shredded the EOBs in question.

Yesterday, I received a notice from BCBS that my personal info had, in fact, been compromised, and so would I please accept a free year's subscription to Equifax Credit Watch (Gold level!).

"Well, that's okay. Yeah. Cool," thought I. I love getting free stuff, even if it is my own financial history. I logged on at Equifax, gave every bit of data requested, then entered my free year's subscription code... and was told that it was an invalid number.

Why am I not surprised?

Stupid People

I have held my tongue. I have quietly rolled my eyes. I have pinched myself to be sure that I was actually sentient -- oh, and awake.

Where do all the stupid idiots spouting off -- invariably in shrill voices, because their voices are not anchored by anything approaching the weight of *content* -- about "sharing/spreading the wealth," "socialism," "communism," and occasionally the backhanded "terrorism" --

Oh, where did my sentence go? Where do all the stupid idiots spouting off... get off? come from? leave their senses of shame?

Given that I am a socialist, I feel fairly comfortable assuring the nitwits that socialism is not in play, but they are pulling their definitions out of the Big Book of Dumbed Down Political Smears. I *wish* we were about to experience a foray into socialism.

Tempered wisdom, often so silly, itself, reminds that these are only "scare tactics."

That almost makes me feel better, except that, as the cacophony swells, one cannot escape the realization that these chronically painful bloggeurs are not tacticians, no -- they truly are just stupid.

Stunted? Incapable of critical thought?

No. Just stupid. Really, really incapable and stupid.

It boggles the mind.

i am not afraid of fire

nor the groundswell that heralds the mob.

[...]

no, i am afraid

of the stupid people.

Take My Support Group, Please!

October 2008: Spotlight On Merlene!

She comes with "goodies," homemade and delicious. Unfortunately, she also comes bearing the stories of what she went through, forever selfless, ever giving, giving, giving. Merlene doesn't bake just for us, her Chronic Pain Support Group, but also for the local fire and rescue, a non-denominational hospice, her five doctors, and the select staff whose favor she curries.

One particularly rich afternoon, she managed to both whip up a few dozen chocolate chip cookies and arrange for the EMTs to pick them up by a timely attack of sudden overall weakness and a terrifying confusion that necessitated a ride to the local Emergency Department, then an overnight stay for observation.

Mother of four, parent of none, Merlene enjoys watching Muay Thai kick-boxing on Spike TV and supports our troops by writing one letter every night before she goes to bed, as she has ever since joining Pen Pals for Soldiers, Inc. -- whose mission is "to ensure No Soldier is Forgotten at Mail Call."

Next month: Spotlight on Chuck!

Origins and Babies: Here is a Brand, Spanking New One

I love babies.

We all do, here at the oft stodgy Marlinspike Hall, deep in the Tête de Hergé. Not that we are getting old, sentimental, or soft in the head. Still, La Belle Bianca Castafiore insists that there be no "répétitions" (rehearsals) of her ear-splitting, inimitable voice and her never-ending aria, l'air des bijoux, from Gounod's Faust, during any of the 2 afternoon hours of TLC's reality shows on birth, babes, and frazzled parents.

Fred is even a greater fan of A Baby Story, a documentary of the actual birth, and Bringing Home Baby, which chronicles the first 36 hours of the infant's triumphant arrival at the homestead.

He even manages to derive a little monetary benefit from his passetemps, overseeing betting opportunities -- such as whether, or when, the birthing woman will scream, "Get it out! Just get it out!"

The felines enjoy the shows, as well, lined up in front of the television screen -- mewling, purring, and swatting. Unfortunately, Marmy sometimes has a PTSD-induced flashback to her traumatic birth experience. At the tender age of 8 months, her huge belly almost dragged the ground, and had The Fredster not guilted me out, she would have likely died, along with her five unborn kittens -- just another ill-tempered stray. Ah, but look at her now! Her lush, long hair -- her tiny, well-muscled body, her fascist, unreasoned ways! See her charge the TV screen, hair blowing in the huff of a self-generated breeze! Bless her paranoid little bones!

My favorite show? Jon and Kate Plus Eight, hands down*. It's not just the cute factor, nor even the unavoidable awe that comes from contemplating eight young children who are well-behaved and happy. It's a little bit appreciation of the occasional parental bickering. It's a lot acknowledgement of the grace and love that kisses the pointy head of each and every Gosselin -- whether in any one of the dozen designated Time-Out corners of their home or sporting plastic purple halos.

Anyway...

"Anyway..."? I don't want Braden of 20 Out Of 10 fame to get a swollen head or anything, but the impetus for this Saturday morning confessional were the pictures of his two gorgeous daughters, the youngest being brand-spanking new**, just a day or so old and the spitting image of her sister***.

Welcome, little one!

###############################################################
*Origin of hands down:

Jockeys need to keep a tight rein in order to encourage their horse to run. Anyone who is so far ahead that he can afford to slacken off and still win can drop his hands and loosen the reins - hence winning 'hands down'. This is recorded from the mid 19th century. For example, 'Pips' Lyrics & Lays, 1867:

"There were good horses in those days, as he can well recall, But Barker upon Elepoo, hands down, shot by them all."

It began to be used in a figurative sense, to denote an easy win in other contexts, from the early 20th century.

**Origin of brand spanking new:

A hot burned wooden stake has been called a brand since at least 950 AD. To brand means to 'make an indelible mark of ownership', especially with a hot stake or iron. This verb usage has been known since the Middle Ages and is clearly derived from the earlier name (we might say brand name - but we'll come to that later).

The earliest citation of 'brand new' is in John Foxe's Sermons, 1570:

"New bodies, new minds and all thinges new, brande-newe."

Terms that are old often come to us with a variety of spellings. In this case there are many variants, notable 'bran new', for example:

John Gay's, The What d'ye call it? - a farce, 1714: "Wear these Breeches Tom; they're quite bran-new."

The Times from 1788: "The liquor fpoiled a bran new pair of fattin breaches."

It is sometimes put about that 'brand new' comes from marketing jargon, where terms like 'brand loyalty' etc. are commonplace. That's about a thousand years too late as the origin, but again, it does have the same meaning as the early form. A brand in marketing terms comes from the meaning of the word as 'a particular class of goods, as indicated by a trade mark'.

So, that's 'brand new'; what about the double form 'brand spanking new'? Spanking is little more than an intensifier in this phrase. The word does have a distinct meaning; unrelated to 'slapping with the hand', i.e. 'exceptionally large or fine'. For example, Fanshawe's Love for Love's sake, 1666:

"What a spanking Labradora!"

Like the variety of spellings there are variants of the intensified form - 'brand span new', 'spick and span new', etc. These citations pre-date any known version of 'brand spanking new':

Henry Angelo's Reminiscences, 1830: "His feet were thrust into a bran-span new pair of fashionable pumps."

The Whitby Glossary, 1855: "Brandnew, Brandspandernew, fresh from the maker's hands, or 'spic and span new'."

It appears that whoever coined 'brand spanking new' did so by appropriating the imagery of 'spick and span', the rhyme of 'bran' and 'span' and the meaning of 'spanking'. That is, it is a pleasant-sounding phrase with some appropriate associations. Whatever the intent of the early users of the phrase, it is in Eric Partridge's meaning of the term, a catchphrase, i.e. it has caught on. It appears to have been coined around the turn of the 20th century and is still in common use. The earliest printed citation we can find is in an advertisement for a bicycle, in the Daily Review, Decatur, Illinois, May 1894:

"Here is a Brand, Spanking New one."

***Origin of spitting image:

One of the very first questions that was asked at the Phrasefinder bulletin board was about 'spitting image'. There have been numerous such queries there since and some ask if the term was originally 'splitting image', i.e. deriving from the two matching parts of a split plank of wood. That's a plausible idea. The mirror image matching of the grain of split wood has long been used in furniture and musical instruments for decorative effect. The technique is known as book-matching and the resulting pattern is called fiddleback - for obvious reasons. The theory has its adherents and dates back to at least 1939, when Dorothy Hartley included it in her book Made in England:

"Evenness and symmetry are got by pairing the two split halves of the same tree, or branch. (Hence the country saying: he's the ‘splitting image’ - an exact likeness.)"

As so often though, plausibility isn't the end of the story. The numerous forms of the term 'spitting image' - spit and image, spitten image, the dead spit of etc., appear not to derive from 'split' but from 'spit'.

Some commentators have suggested that 'spit' may be a corruption of 'spirit', but that appears to be fanciful and isn't backed up by any early examples of 'spirit and image'. The allusion is more likely to be to someone who is so similar to another as to appear to have been spat out of his mouth. That idea, if not the exact phrase, was in circulation by the end of the 17th century, when George Farquhar used it in his comic play Love and a bottle, 1689:

"Poor child! he's as like his own dadda as if he were spit out of his mouth."

No version of the phrase is especially old. The earliest reference is in Andrew Knapp and W. Baldwin's The Newgate Calendar, 1824–26:

"A daughter, ... the very spit of the old captain."

This pre-dates any 'splitting image' citation by a good hundred years, which tends to rule out the latter as the source. 'Spit' or 'dead spit', with the meaning of likeness, appears in print several times in the 19th century. Here 'dead' means precise or exact, as in dead ringer.

Other languages have their own versions of this phrase. For example, French - "C'est le portrait craché de son père" ("He's the spitting portrait of his father") and Norwegian - "som snytt ut av nesen paa" ("as blown out of the nose of"). These are difficult to date and may predate the English version or may derive from it.

Toward the end of the 19th century we find 'spit and image'. In 1895, an author called E. Castle published Lt. of Searthey, containing the line:

"She's like the poor lady that's dead and gone, the spit an' image she is."

Finally, we get to the first known use of 'spitting image' - in A. H. Rice's Mrs. Wiggs, 1901:

"He's jes' like his pa - the very spittin' image of him!"

Sarah Palin: In the Evita Tradition

Betty Bowers' acolyte, Fama Keen, has penned a brave new take on "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina":

It won’t be easy, you’ll think it’s greed

When I try to explain ’bout these heels
That I still need new suits after all that I’ve bought
You won’t believe me, all you will see is a governor you knew
Although she’s dressed up to the nines
With a much nicer handbag than you!

I had to let it happen, I had to change
Couldn’t stay in Alaska in parkas and Uggs
Looking out of the window, trying to spot Russian soil
So I chose Neimans, running around trying everything new
Though nothing quite fit me at all
Spent a fortune on tailoring, too!

(chorus)
Don’t cry for me, Neiman-Marcus
The truth is I never left you
All through the suit racks, the designer shoe stacks
I kept the price tags, you’ll get the clothes back!

(see the complete lyrics here.)

Georges Moustaki: Déclaration

Je déclare l'état de bonheur permanent

Et le droit de chacun à tous les privilèges.

Je dis que la souffrance est chose sacrilège

Quand il y a pour tous des roses et du pain blanc.

Je conteste la légitimité des guerres,

La justice qui tue et la mort qui punit,

Les consciences qui dorment au fond de leur lit,

La civilisation au bras des mercenaires.

Je regarde mourir ce siècle vieillissant.

Un monde différent renaîtra de ses cendres

Mais il ne suffit plus simplement de l'attendre :

Je l'ai trop attendu.

Je le veux à présent.

Que ma femme soit belle à chaque heure du jour

Sans avoir à se dissimuler sous le fard

Et qu'il ne soit plus dit de remettre à plus tard

L'envie que j'ai d'elle et de lui faire l'amour.

Que nos fils soient des hommes, non pas des adultes

Et qu'ils soient ce que nous voulions être jadis.

Que nous soyons frères camarades et complices

Au lieu d'être deux générations qui s'insultent.

Que nos pères puissent enfin s'émanciper

Et qu'ils prennent le temps de caresser leur femme

Après toute une vie de sueur et de larmes

Et des entre-deux-guerres qui n'étaient pas la paix.

Je déclare l'état de bonheur permanent

Sans que ce soit des mots avec de la musique,

Sans attendre que viennent les temps messianiques,

Sans que ce soit voté dans aucun parlement.

Je dis que, désormais, nous serons responsables.

Nous ne rendrons de compte à personne et à rien

Et nous transformerons le hasard en destin,

Seuls à bord et sans maître et sans dieu et sans diable.

Et si tu veux venir, passe la passerelle.

Il y a de la place pour tous et pour chacun

Mais il nous reste à faire encore du chemin

Pour aller voir briller une étoile nouvelle.

Je déclare l'état de bonheur permanent...

*** ** *** ** ***

Avec sa gueule de métèque, de juif errant, de pâtre grec, de voleur et de vagabond, Georges Moustaki n’en est pas moins une des grandes énigmes de la chanson française et internationale. Comment celui qui reste une éloge de la paresse à lui tout seul est-il un des auteurs compositeurs interprètes les plus prolifiques de ces dernières années ? La carrière de Moustaki pose une vraie question en forme de casse tête. Est-il possible d’être paresseux lorsqu’on passe sa vie à chanter la paresse ?

Boning Up on Tadalafil

La Belle Bianca Castafiore is driving me crazy. Indeed, I have Big-Bad Crazy-Ass Priapism -- and believe me, it lasts for more than four hours and occurs without the slightest hint of sexual stimulation. Oh, and what is it that stands so stoically erect? Only my last nerve... My precious, precious last nerve.

Translation in Webdings: La Belle Bianca Castafiore is driving me crazy. Indeed, I have Big-Bad Crazy-Ass Priapism -- believe me, it lasts for more than four hours and occurs without the slightest hint of sexual stimulation. Oh, and what is it that stands so stoically erect? Only my last nerve... My precious, precious last nerve.

Cough. Oh, right. Hello!

Perhaps some of you brainy types out there [*wave*] can tell me the critical standing of BMC journals; Specifically, whether their status is impacted by their liberal distribution policy:


Like all articles in BMC journals, this peer-reviewed article was published immediately upon acceptance. It can be downloaded, printed and distributed freely for any purposes (see copyright notice below). Articles in BMC journals are listed in PubMed and archived at PubMed Central.

As a non-scientist who nonetheless gamely works at comprehension, and as a petrified former scholar, I very much appreciate their policy.

Okay... first, excuse me while I play with fonts. Second, yes, Tadalafil is more widely known as Cialis. It's not too much of a stretch to pair the drug's effect on, umm, let's say, micro-vasculature -- with the want of dilation in cold CRPS. Right?





Here is the abstract of the article -- "Effect of tadalafil on blood flow, pain, and function in chronic cold Complex Regional Pain Syndrome: a randomized controlled trial" -- published in Musculoskeletal Disorders, 20 October 2008:

Background
This double-blind, randomized, controlled trial investigated the effect of the phosphodiesterase-5 inhibitor tadalafil on the microcirculation in patients with cold Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) in one lower extremity.

Methods
Twenty-four patients received 20 mg tadalafil or placebo daily for 12 weeks. The patients also participated in a physical therapy program. The primary outcome measure was temperature difference between the CRPS side and the contralateral side, determined by measuring the skin temperature with videothermography. Secondary outcomes were: pain measured on a Visual Analogue Scale, muscle force measured with a MicroFet 2 dynamometer, and level of activity measured with an Activity Monitor (AM) and walking tests.

Results
At the end of the study period, the temperature asymmetry was not significantly reduced in the tadalafil group compared with the placebo group, but there was a significant and clinically relevant reduction of pain in the tadalafil group. Muscle force improved in both treatment groups and the AM revealed small, non-significant improvements in time spent standing, walking, and the number of short walking periods.

Conclusion
Tadalafil may be a promising new treatment for patients that have chronic cold CRPS due to endothelial dysfunction, and deserves further investigation. Trial Registration: The registration number in the Dutch Trial Register is ISRCTN60226869.


Authors: George Groeneweg , Frank JPM Huygen , Sjoerd P Niehof , Feikje Wesseldijk , Johannes BJ Bussmann , Fabienne C Schasfoort , Dirk L Stronks and Freek J Zijlstra

Conversion

A perfect sentiment for a Sunday morning is rising in me, and it comes from knowing a *bunch* of people who felt compelled to send me the story copied below. Let it be noted, however, that I first read it several days ago on The Happy Hospitalist, site of one of the best medical bloggers around.

Where do I place on the continuum? Well, I *was* a fierce Dog Person, finding in the company of my pet canines a great joie de vivre and tremendous intelligence -- but, best of all, an enveloping love. Unfortunately, Fred is not keen on dogs and has a lifelong fascination with cats. And so it was that I found myself on the road to Damascus.

Fred + cats = something that defies description. The closest I can come is to say that a cat exposed to The Fredster begins to approximate dog behavior. He had Dobby sitting and fetching on command within a day. A regular Pied Piper, is Fred.

It might be a sad commentary to admit that we send each other emails, but please remember that we reside within the Tête de Hergé -- within the vast opulence of the living museum that is Marlinspike Hall -- and that we've resisted the modernizing impulse to install an intercom system. So there are times when I don't feel like rolling myself back to his suite of rooms, just as he feels too lazy to hoof it to mine.

After I read the "nap story" chez The Happy Hospitalist, I emailed it to Fred. I then checked my own incoming missives, only to find that he had copied it to me a few hours earlier. In recent months, he has been making noises about getting a dog, giving as a reason that he wants "as much love as possible" in his life.

Anyway, I received more copies in my inbox this morning, and so I pass it on to you, for so it seems decreed that we should see ourselves in this sweet, tired pooch.


An older, tired-looking dog wandered into my yard; I could tell
from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home and was
well taken care of.

He calmly came over to me, I gave him a few pats on his head;
he then followed me into my house, slowly walked down the
hall, curled up in the corner and fell asleep.

An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out.

The next day he was back, greeted me in my yard, walked inside and resumed
his spot in the hall and again slept for about an hour. This continued off
and on for several weeks.

Curious I pinned a note to his collar: 'I would like to find out who the
owner of this wonderful sweet dog is and ask if you are aware that almost
every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap.'

The next day he arrived for his nap, with a different note pinned to his
collar: 'He lives in a home with 6 children, 2 under the age of 3 - he's
trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?'

An Embarrassment of Sensation

I only have access, at the moment, to the abstract of this article, published in the October 16, 2008 issue of Rheumatology. The reference popped up as the latest item on my MedWorm "CRPS" news feed.

C. S. McCabe, one of the authors, is known to me (giggle) as someone who is at the forefront of investigations into (Step away from this non-scientist's understanding!) how to bridge the gaps between pain sensations, the complex processes of pain perception, and the expressions of pain -- he has written extensively on mirror visual feedback, for example.

Yes, I get the rolly-polly poly-semy of expression.

D. R. Blake is unknown to me, though from looking over his work, as represented in PubMed listings, he seems more oriented toward microbiology and his study of sensory/motor incongruence takes place more often at a cellular level (That was an attempt at clever levity. Quite successful, I'd say.) He also seems to have an intense interest in Chlamydia. (Ar!)

Both hail from the Royal National Hospital for Rheumatic Diseases in conjunction with The School for Health, University of Bath, Bath, UK.

Here is the abstract:

An embarrassment of pain perceptions? Towards an understanding of and explanation for the clinical presentation of CRPS type 1
October 16, 2008 (Rheumatology)


Complex regional pain syndrome (CRPS), a fairly common problem in rheumatological and orthopaedic practice, is an allodynic pain state of uncertain pathology often variably and unpredictably responsive to treatments. Although published diagnostic criteria are available, in the reality of clinical practice these do not appear to encompass the wide variety of symptoms that a patient may present with. This leads to scepticism on the part of the clinician and confusion for the sufferer. This article aims to provide some explanations for an often bewildering clinical picture. We provide a construct for the plethora of symptoms that we have entitled ‘the embarrassment of pain perceptions’. With the aid of a case report we examine recent research that suggests how peripherally based symptoms and signs arise from changes within the central nervous system, with particular attention given to the control function of the motor–proprioceptive integrative system. We speculate how these changes within the central nervous system may provide the patient with CRPS the ability to access complex layers of lower level perceptions that are normally suppressed. We propose that such a system may explain some of the clinical puzzlements seen in this condition and suggest that the complexities of CRPS may provide an insight into brain development through evolution, which is a fruitful area for interdisciplinary clinical and scientific research.


KEY WORDS: Complex regional pain syndrome, Pain, Motor control system

This goes far toward explaining (because in an acceptable format, because provided by acceptable people) the often off-putting richness of pain vocabulary chez someone with CRPS.

Cough. Of course, I am not fooled by the seemingly haphazard use of "interdisciplinary" -- a quaint word in an ugly code.

But then, I haven't read the article yet.

For Today, At Least: Thank you, Google; Thank you, Milliken

At this moment -- 7:21 pm on Thursday, 16 October -- GOOG sits at 390 in after-hours trading. I am profoundly grateful that my inability to make a decision has not been met, for today, at least, with disaster.

I am also amazed at the antimicrobial silver dressing, specifically SelectSilver by Milliken, which is wicking, at an unbelievable rate, unwanted swampy microbes from a bad foot ulcer. It remains to be seen if it will bring healing or not but it is, without doubt, another very nifty gift to medicine from industry.

And so it is that I pray Google will hold its value, and maybe even hit the yearly target of my dreams, thereby paying for all the antimicrobial silver dressings by Milliken that I will have to use in the coming weeks and months.

Of these small, odd things I sing.

Married to the Sea: "The Champagne of Comics"

marriedtothesea.com


Maybe it is because I just won the Nobel Prize, I dunno. Whatever. But when I stumbled upon the cartoon siteMarried to the Sea: "The Champagne of Comics," I found it tickled my now elite funny bone.

Before winning the Nobel Prize, I might not have "gotten" this sort of highbrow humor.

That's not to say that winning the Nobel Prize has changed me in any meaningful way. No, I am still the same simple girl that I have always been.

It's just that now I have a Nobel Prize.

Anyway, here's the gist on this funny endeavor:

Married To The Sea is a comic created by Drew and Natalie Dee. Drew's other comic, which also updates daily at midnight, is Toothpaste For Dinner. Natalie's other comic is Natalie Dee. No historical accuracy is implied or intended in Married To The Sea comics.You may put one or more images from this site on your own website / livejournal page / myspace page / blog, as long as you also provide a link to this site, next to the comics. You may not use the images in advertisement(s) or content for your own projects.

Now, *that* is generous, no?

Not to be outdone, I have seen fit to use my influence -- as a Nobel Prize winner -- to encourage the various committees in Oslo to contract with MTTS in the creation of mugs, Tees, and refrigerator magnets bearing my funnified commemorative image.

All the hard work pays off

Hey! Guess what! I won the Nobel Prize!

I gotta give the guys in Stockholm a call back, though, because we were disconnected before I could hear the field for which they had chosen to honor me. I mean, take your pick.

Among the diverse areas acknowledged last year?

2007

Aviation: Patricia V. Agostino, Santiago A. Plano and Diego A. Golombek, for discovering that hamsters recover from jetlag more quickly when given Viagra.

Biology: Johanna E.M.H. van Bronswijk, for taking a census of all the mites and other life forms that live in people's beds.

Chemistry: Mayu Yamamoto for extracting vanilla flavour from cow dung.

Economics: Kuo Cheng Hsieh, for patenting a device to catch bank robbers by ensnaring them in a net.

Linguistics: Juan Manuel Toro, Josep B. Trobalon and Nuria Sebastian-Galles, for determining that rats sometimes can't distinguish between recordings of Japanese and Dutch played backward.

Literature: Glenda Browne, for her study into indexing words that start with the word "the".

Medicine: Dan Meyer and Brian Witcombe, for investigating the side-effects of swallowing swords.

Nutrition: Brian Wansink, for investigating people's appetite for mindless eating by secretly feeding them a self-refilling bowl of soup.

Peace: The Air Force Wright Laboratory in Dayton, Ohio, for suggesting the research and development of a "gay bomb," which would cause enemy troops to become sexually attracted to each other.

Physics: L. Mahadevan and Enrique Cerda Villablanca for their theoretical study of how sheets become wrinkled.