"Someday my fat gendered THEM will come"

Most Hollywood productions seem to have gone woke these days with inevitable consequences. We see the debacle that is the latest addition to the Indiana Jones franchise (Dial of Destiny). Typical woke agenda peddled with a pedestrian, addled, befuddled, aged, incompetent Prof Jones being outsmarted by a sassy, smart, strong independent woman. With total production costs reckoned at a smooth $400 million and total box office returns predicted, as of date, to be around $310 million, the film is unlikely to turn a profit. But it gets much worse from a financial standpoint. For the film to enter the true 'profit zone', the production company, Lucas Films, needs to turn in box office receipts in excess of $600 million. This is due to all the subsidiary costs of filmmaking, such as marketing and advertising, etc. 

While I'm mid-rant, why not throw in a couple other cinematic disasters. Disney appears to revel in altering classic, timeless stories for the sake of inclusivity and the promulgation of diversity. Thus it has been revealed that the redoing of the Disney masterpiece, 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves' from 1937, is to feature a brown-visaged Hispanic actress (Hola!) and a coterie of associated mystical forest denizens (wot no Dwarves?). In fact, the new title of the extravaganza is just 'Snow White', and although the production is still a year away, a leaked photo illustrates the characters involved in the screenplay. To be fair, there does appear to be one dwarf lurking among the forest critters. The other companions fulfil the gamut expected from the 'Diversity Checklist'. As they say, a picture paints a thousand words: see below. I would like to suggest an alternative title for this extravaganza: 'Off White and the Seven Gypos'.  Apparently, the producers are running free and wild with this classic 19th-century German tale, and our intrepid/tepid heroine will not be saved by a handsome prince this time.

Shit on a fucking Stick 

"Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to a Safe Place We Go"

And to conclude. The 'Little Mermaid' film of 2023 is shite, but it does have the saving grace of sporting a black Ariel. Here is my rendition of a mermaid-themed story, as related by a renowned West Midland journalist with a silly name.

Breaking news from the beautiful and majestic spa town of Tipton West, incorporating North Dudley and the environs thereabout. This reporter can conclusively report a confirmed sighting of the legendary aquatic mammal, ‘The Mermaid', frolicking in the Tipton canal at closing time. Mr Eli Mugumbo (who else?) relates the story with habitual poise: I had just left the ‘Felching Ferret’ hostelry after a particularly heavy session of imbibing alcoholic beverages. On this particular occasion, I had consumed 15 pints of Tipton Best bitter, 12 malt whiskies, sweet sherry and a magnum of baby sham. As I lurched down the towpath of the Tipton canal, wending my way home precariously after imbibing large amounts of alcoholic beverages which comprised………I digress. Although the light was poor and my vision befouled and bespeckled, I discerned out of the corner of my good eye a splishing and a splashing emanating from the said canal. On further inspection, I distinctly saw a mermaid reclining on a partly submerged fiat uno. It had the lower body of a fish and the upper body of a ferret (surely some mistake). As I approached, it transfixed my visage with steely blue eyes and rasped. “Fancy a good time, sailor?” Although taken aback, I recovered my composure and retorted with fortitude born of extreme inebriation: “Yer my bessie mate, I love ya, can ya lend me 20 quid for a case of Special Brew Extra, burrrrrrrrp".  Afterwards, as if in a dream, I distinctly remember being assailed by a large dorsal flipper which robbed me of my sensibility, and I fell arse (arse) akimbo into the broiling morass. I wrestled with the watery fiend fighting for my life. Luckily at that very moment, I emitted a vast fart, and the bubbles engendered propelled me forthwith upon the very towpath I had recently vacated, nay relinquished.

 Although later, the rubicund and abashed Mr Mugumbo stated that he may have tripped over a dead itinerant, and the flipping flipper may have been a figment of his frenzied imagination. After all, at the time, he was as pissed as a Rhino's arse (Arssssssssse. arse).

Piss Artists Impression of the Watery Tart

Afterwards, whilst encapsulated in a brief moment of sobriety, Mr Mugumbo admitted that he might have seen half a bloater cunningly nailed to a rusty perambulator.

Are merferrets a product of our atavistic and overwrought imagination? A mere fevered wraith of fancy. Or are there creatures lurking in our canals (dead tramps excepted) unknown to science waiting to be flung flapping into the light of day by brave and intrepid researchers, boldly ferreting (steady Shagger) into the dark, dank, slimy, ordure at the bottom of the recesses of our………. (Arse).   

Tarrare

Tarrare, bum te a, tareare bum te a...... Arse!

This rendering/rending is a little different to my usual bollocks. Today's offering is about a human prodigy of a very singular and peculiar type. An individual so unusual that his equal has never been observed before or since. A man imbued with a unique talent of prodigious, nay preposterous, proportions.

Tarrare was born in rural France circa 1772 to a poor peasant family. As a child, it was soon noted that Tarrare had a phenomenally abnormal appetite. Unfortunately, his poor family could not continue to support his gluttony, and he was asked to leave some time in his teenage years. Alas, he initially joined a group of thieves, prostitutes and vagabonds but soon teamed up with a travelling charlatan. Prior to the 'salesman's' pitch, Tarrare would 'warm up' the crowd by devouring various inedible items such as rocks and corks as well as live, viable critters. After a while, he moved to Paris, where he became a successful street performer reprising his disgusting act. It was noted that Tarrare stank. A rank miasma seemed to emanate from every pore, and it was stated that the stench was more profound after a feed. 

Tarrare lived in restless/desperate times. A time when France was revolting. As Tarrare was also revolting, he joined the Revolutionary Army. However, the army rations, although quadrupled, were insufficient to satisfy the new recruit's appetite, and Tarrare resorted to foraging rubbish heaps. His unusual food-acquiring activities attracted the attention of the army medical authorities, and thus he became a willing subject to 'scientific' experimentation. 

The doctors pandered to Tarrare's obsession and provided mounds of food. Initially, the fare was of a conventional nature. However, the good doctors decided to try unconventional fodder such as nutritious puppies, live cats, lizards and crunchy eels. After consuming huge amounts of 'food', our hero would become somnolent and descend into the deep sleep of the righteous. Soon, the army wanted the patient back in order that he complete his military obligations. Due to his unusual talent, it was decided that he would be best employed as a courier to transport information across enemy lines. He was tasked with swallowing a message encased in a wooden box. As our intrepid chevalier spoke no German, he was promptly caught by the opposing Prussian troops. After a brief imprisonment, Tarrare confessed his mission, and the Prussians decided to hang him as a spy. Inexplicably the general changed his mind, and Tarrare was severely beaten before being set free to return to the French lines.     

Tarrare, chastened by his experience, begged the doctors to find a cure. The good docs tried a variety of treatments, including tobacco pills, vinegar and laudanum, but to no avail. In order to assuage his constant hunger, Tarrare would drink the blood from patients undergoing bloodletting. He also developed an unhealthy habit of hanging around the morgue. One day an infant disappeared from the hospital, and poor Tarrare was suspected. While no evidence could be found to implicate him in the affair, it was decided that his stay at the hospital was at an end, and he was ejected forthwith.  

Four years later, Tarrare turned up at a hospital in Versailles, dying of tuberculosis (age 26). At autopsy, it was noted that his stomach almost filled the entire abdominal cavity. In addition, Tarrare's gullet was found to be abnormally wide, and his stomach was a morass/mass of ulcers. Unfortunately, the autopsy was curtailed mid-through due to the stench emanating from his fetid corpse. Sadly, no definite diagnosis could be arrived at.

It appears that Tarrare's condition is unique in the annals of medicine. So, what was ailing this poor, smelly, gluttony-fueled Frenchman? At first acquaintance, I thought he may have been suffering from a chromosomal disorder known as Prader-Willi Syndrome (PWS). This condition is associated with hyperphagia and attendant obesity. However, Tarrare was noticeably skinny and, although described as apathetic, was of normal intellect. The intellect is not to be spared in PWS patients. In addition to the symptoms previously described, Tarrare suffered from lax skin prior to eating, and he was in a state of constant fever and sweated profusely. These symptoms, together with the observation that no matter the amount of food consumed, he absolutely refused to gain weight, indicate a complex physiological series of maladies. Taken together, these diagnostic signs are indicative of a metabolic disorder, perhaps in combination with a disorder of the hypothalamus, which controls satiety.  

Tarrare's case appears bizarre and, as far as I can find, absolutely unique. There is no other recorded instance of an individual with all the features of Tarrare's condition. I suspect poor Tarrare endured an exotic mix of several independent medical ailments. Otherwise, how are we able to explain his singular condition? If Tarrare had been born two hundred years later, our advanced diagnostic tools and enhanced medical knowledge would have certainly enabled a diagnosis and, hopefully, treatment. Mayhap, this strangely driven and tortured soul would have been able to obtain some degree of solace and peace.    

Tarrare ate my baby

The Man with the Golden Nose

                                                    Tycho Brahe Sporting Artificial Appendage 

Tycho Brahe is not a historical character well known outside the rarified halls of astronomy. And yet, in his day, he was a prominent astronomer at a time when the observer relied on his own patience, meticulous record taking and visual acuity. The telescope, as an instrument of macro-inspection, was awaiting to be invented.  

Young Tyche (he was no older than a day) was born to a rich Danish family in 1546. He went on to study law, mathematics and astronomy at the University of Copenhagen. Whilst a student and during a heavy drinking bout, he became embroiled in a heated argument with his cousin over a trifle. The dainty viand in question remained unharmed, however, as the disputants were equipped with side arms, a duel ensued. I have already mentioned elsewhere the noble habit of bearing arms. During the altercation, Tycho received a blow to the nose, and the member promptly fell orf, never to return to its former elevated station. Tycho survived the indignity and soon crafted a nasal prosthesis. There has been much said with regard to the material used in nasal reconstruction. It has been passed down that the nares were craftily fashioned from gold or at least a gold/silver amalgam. Portraits of the man show the prosthesis blending with the wearer's skin tone, which suggests a judicial application of flesh-coloured pigment. Tycho was dug up in 2010, and the nasal bones were examined using the latest technology. Sadly his false nose was absent. This was not the first time Tycho's corpse suffered the indignity of exhumation as he was dug up on the 300 anniversary of his death in 1901. Anyway, the 2010 analysis of the skull fragments strongly suggested that the strap-on was fashioned from brass. Enough about Tycho's wayward, nay fleeting, nossuk.

The man is not just famous for his misplaced allia. Tycho Brahe, in his youth, became enamoured with the heavens after witnessing a total eclipse.  Later, at university, his law studies were curtailed as he concentrated on the majestic nature of the vault above.

In the late 16th century, our intrepid astronomer gained patronage from the incumbent Danish king. The king was exceeding generous and provided Tycho with a lavish observatory on the island of Hven. He was provided with the best scientific instruments of the time, sans telescope and nose. Thus, he was able to exact very precise measurements of the celestial heavens. He was particularly interested in tracking the wandering and inexplicably erratic motions of the planets. At the time, the Ptolemaic model of the solar system reigned supreme and had done so for nearly 2,000 years. According to this system, the sun, moon and planets orbited a static Earth in perfectly circular orbits. In order to account for the apparent haphazard movements of the visible planets, a complex system of epicycles was introduced. The model was extremely cumbersome, but it had the advantage of being approved by the Roman Catholic Church. From his observations, Tycho came up with an alternative model of how the planets moved within the solar system. Although not correct, it was a step in the right direction. According to Tycho, the Sun continued to orbit the Earth while the planets orbited the Sun.

In 1572, Tycho noticed a very bright star suddenly appearing in the night sky in the constellation Cassiopeia. We now know that this rare event documented the throes of a dying star or supernovae. This phenomenon went against the prevailing Aristotlean system, which considered the heavens as static and unchanging. Previously, celestial anomalies would be explained away as atmospheric disturbances. However, Tycho's knowledge of parallax enabled him to determine that the 'Bright Star' was beyond the orbit of the Moon. Therefore, Aristotle's thesis was found to be in error, and as this ancient savant was held in extremely high regard by scholars, this revelation caused a bit of a stir amongst fusty intellectuals of the time. Arse

In 1597, the new king, Christian IV, renounced the royal patronage, and Tycho moved to Prague, where he became the official imperial astronomer. A purpose-built observatory was provided, and he gained Johannes Kepler as an assistant who, after Tychos's death in 1601, used his data to frame his own three laws of planetary motion. His data lived on and was used by subsequent scientists, such as Galileo Galilei and Isaac Newton, to further their own studies into the universe.  

His Demise

It is said that during a banquet in Prague, our hero drank copious quantities of wine. Apparently, it was considered bad form to move from the table before your host, and so, being a polite Renaissance gentleman, Brahe stuck it out. The most dramatic outcome, so it is said, was that Tycho's bladder burst asunder. Although, it is more likely that he developed a bladder and or kidney infection. Regardless, our intrepid hero died 11 days later. Politeness is a killer.

Legacy Akimbo  

Tycho Brahe's role as a pioneer of astronomical observations cannot be overstated. His meticulous and precise documentation of celestial events, along with his innovative use of instruments, established a new scientific paradigm for studying the cosmos. Brahe's work not only challenged prevailing beliefs but also paved the way for future advancements in astronomy. His collaboration with Johannes Kepler and his influence on subsequent astronomers cemented his place in the annals of scientific history. Tycho Brahe's legacy continues to inspire astronomers to this day as they strive for a deeper understanding of the universe.

life II

 Hello Daddy?

How did life first come into being from a dead piece of organic matter?  With this quest in mind, I went forth and reviewed the relevant material and literature from diverse sources. Although serious scientists have applied their scientific and analytical skills for about 70 years now, the results have proved disappointing. From my cursory review, it seems that numerous research groups throughout the world are on the brink of a significant breakthrough. And then I looked back to work conducted in the late 1990s and several research groups working then stated they were on the cusp of a significant breakthrough........

It is to be remembered that conditions on early Earth c3.5 billion years ago were vastly different to today. The atmosphere of that time contained little or no oxygen. This primitive miasma was dominated by the presence of carbon dioxide, water vapour, methane and other trace gasses. Of course, this primitive atmosphere would be noxious and lethal to present-day organisms. The majority of today's creatures, great and small, rely on oxygen for their respiratory metabolism (aerobic). Oxygen levels in our current atmosphere are around 20% and are maintained by organisms utilising the power of photosynthesis. Oxygen is necessary for aerobic respiration, and clearly, the very first life would have had to rely on other means for energy generation.  

The RNA World 

What follows is a highly truncated and simplistic review of how the RNA world is thought to have formed       

All researchers in the field agree that the first life formed in a watery environment. This environment c3.5 billion years ago would be a soup of organic compounds formed from ubiquitous carbon. There are several energetic events that could have been responsible for the synthesis of organic compounds from inorganic molecules. Lightning strikes and thermal energy from volcanoes would have done the trick. At the time of the 'Great Bombardment', meteorites containing organic compounds would have covered the primaeval Earth. It matters not whether the first life appeared in a warm muddy pool or on the ocean floor next to a volcanic vent, there is a fundamental paradox that must be tackled, the ultimate chicken and the egg question. Chains of nucleic acid molecules (RNA and DNA) are required for self-replication, however, this replication can only occur with the help of proteins consisting of amino acids. Both types of molecules are necessary for the propagation of life. What came first, nucleic acids or proteins? Both are required and act in unison for the process of replication. It is hard to imagine that these two exceedingly rare events could happen spontaneously. Perhaps religious folk are correct after all, and a god(s) is/are required to provide the vital spark. One solution relies on the properties of single-stranded RNA molecules. According to this hypothesis, RNA strands act as a template for their own propagation. This process would have to be facilitated by other RNA strands that have folded upon themselves, an innate property of certain RNA strands. These two separate systems would have to spontaneously engage and cooperate to facilitate the replication of single RNA strands with high regard for fidelity. It is to be imagined that open RNA strands would continue to replicate in a milieu of organic chemicals. Competition for free-floating ribonucleotides would then occur. A form of chemical evolution would ensue and ensure that the fastest replicating molecules would dominate and therefore drive the formation of an efficient cooperating replication system. The problem with such a free-floating system is that the replicating RNA strands would be at the mercy of other molecules within the system that might destroy the growing and replicating RNA molecules. Researchers agree that some form of enclosed protective canopy would have had to develop fairly early on to offer some form of protection. Organic lipids in water will spontaneously form spheres. This is due to the molecules having both hydrophilic and hydrophobic regions. That is, one end of the molecule will attract water molecules while the opposite end repels water. The result is that lipids in a watery medium naturally form 'fatty bubbles'. Somehow, the primitive RNA system (I refrain from calling this life) would have had to enter the protective lipid sphere. From there on, the structure would continue to absorb free-floating ribonucleic acids, and the system would continue to replicate. And then, at a suitable time, a portion of the RNA system would bud off and still remain enclosed within a portion of the original fatty domain. And so on, and so on. This model assumes that chemical evolution would drive these primitive systems to become better at replication and at acquiring substrates. Therefore, along the way, most of these competing 'bubbles' would succumb, and at some fine juncture, there would emerge from this chemical deluge a single system that goes on to be refined by natural selection, finally becoming the 'organism' that goes on to beget all life on Earth. If this is the case, then when did the lipid bag of nutrients actually become life. This is moot, I suspect it is analogous to asking when did the first human arise from our ape-like ancestors. Could we actually define a moment and pronounce with absolute rigour/vigour that a particular individual was fully human? And how would we categorise the status of the parents? This proposed continuum presents us with a problem. Could there be a defining moment in the history of our planet when chemical evolution transformed and became life? There is much to ponder here. Of course, all this is pure conjecture, and there are numerous problems with this model. It would be necessary for all the elements to come together almost simultaneously for all this to be feasible. Each step borders on the impossible. The probability that each step in the process could come about and interact stretches probability to unknown realms and, dare I say it, borders on the miraculous. With all that said, it must have happened somehow. The fact that I'm able to sit here and write these words whilst scratching an itch on my twinkle should be testament enough. 

My attempt at explanation is an extremely truncated affair- how could it be otherwise. Also, my limited exposition is only one scenario of how life could have come about. There are alternatives, although many rely on some form of RNA initiation. These alternatives will have to wait another day. 

   

An Old Soldier's Tale

Some Folk Collect Stamps....

I've nearly completed part two of my composition about 'How Life Began On Earth', and hopefully, barring a calamity of dynamic proportions, this post will emerge tomorrow unfettered. Therefore, as an interlude, I will regale my loyal readers with an anecdote concerning my dear departed paternal grandfather. This one is for you, Charles Percival, you nasty irascible dead bastard.

I was rummaging through a drawer the other day in my expansive 'Master Study' when I noted a faint cloying odour. I couldn't place it for a second, although it tugged vaguely at some deep-seated memory. I removed the drawer containing the evocative olfactory stimuli (steady Flaxen, ya starting to wax again) and tipped the contents onto the shag pile. I peered intently at the mound of detritus and shiny things...... And there it was coiled provocatively around an empty container of 'Tic Tacs'. A dishevelled/shrivelled collection on a brown string- twas Granddad's old ear collection, which he bequeathed to me in his will. As I recall, it was: item number 6. Not so much grisly as gristly. I hadn't seen them for a few years, but they hadn't changed much. Twenty-seven ears, all pierced dead centre and threaded onto old-fashioned brown waxed string. Time had not been kind to this assorted allotment of grizzled pinna. Over the years, they had folded upon themselves and taken on a distinct, dark amber hue, very reminiscent of a 'pork scratching'.   

When I was young, my father, bless him, when in his cups, would regale me with lurid tales about his father's wartime exploits during the Great War and would hint darkly about a mysterious relic which never left Granddad's waistcoat pocket. So I was aware of the 'Ear Story' but put it down to old soldier's tales. And so the years passed, and old Gramps finally passed away. His meagre collection of goods was distributed amongst the relatives. My cousin inherited my grandfather's gold fob watch on a silver chain, and I got item number 6 secreted inside an old cocoa tin. And who said the old cunt didn't have a sense of humour.

I never really knew my wicked old Granddad. I can't recall him ever speaking to me directly or taking the slightest interest in me. Which is just as well as he spoke an archaic form of the 'Black country' dialect, which seemed to use few actual English words. My most vivid memory of him was his eyes, which were piercing and bright china blue.

Of course, it is nothing new for soldiers to take souvenirs from the battlefield. My dad had a couple of cap badges and a bugle with a bullet hole taken during the Korean conflict. But old gramps had an ear collection and had passed them on to me as a dark joke. I have considered burying them, but I confess, the ears hold me in their macabre and ghastly thrall. A legacy is supposed to be something to cherish, and it is the only physical item I have to remind me of the nasty miserable old twat. I did notice that some of the ears were collecting a black speckled mould, which I cleaned off with 70% ethanol. So, after a quick spray with air freshener (mountain dew) and a quick rub down with a chamois cloth, back in the drawer, they went.

Uncannily enough, my own son resembles my Grandfather quite closely, even down to the same shade of blue eyes. Therefore, I thought it only fitting that once my span has run its course, I should pass on the family 'Heirloom' to Flaxen Junior. I will have to put an explanatory note in the old cocoa tin otherwise, he might just throw the ears away. Tis a Flaxen tradition, after all. 

My son has had a prior acquaintance with the lugs. Once when he was but a pup, he managed to find the ears in a cupboard. Foolishly I had forgotten to put them back in their 'coffin' after an inebriated fond fondle. Thus encumbered, my 18-month-old son promptly shoved them into his maw. He was enjoying a good chew and had made a good account of ear number three when his mother showed up. Oh, she did laugh. And that is why, to this very day, I sport a scar across my noble temple.

life

   Don't Ask A Physicist

In today's post, I'm writing about something that I actually know about, and that is biology. I am not saying I'm an expert on all the varied topics that make up this most wonderous of subjects. That would just be silly. But at least I have spent a reasonable amount of time in a formal educational setting studying many of the diverse areas that constitute the condition that is 'Life and all that Entails/Entrails'. And at least in one arena of the subject, Human Genetics, I could be considered an expert- whatever that means. Although, I do confess I'm a tad rusty on the rapidly developing technology these days. The point of this diffuse ramble? In this post, at least, I don't have to pepper my introduction with caveats and limitations as is my wont when dealing with topics outside my sphere of expertise. I'm not saying that this post is error-free. But I am saying that my errors are at the very least, informed errors. With the caveat, so stated, allow me to write anew/askew.         

Life, the great mystery:- I've approached this ultimate puzzle, previously, on this very blog, and from several directions. And indeed, there is much to ponder. In today's post, I'm taking a fresh and wry look at the ultimate question.  

Let us look back to when the primordial Earth came into existence 4.6 billion years ago. At birth, and for at least a billion years into its infancy, our planet was a mass of seething, roiling molten rock. During this time the primal Earth was subject to numerous asteroid impacts making the surface extremely bestrewn and chaotic. The energy imparted by these impacts helped to maintain the molten state. It was during this tumultuous era, that a Mars-sized mass slammed into the Earth sending a lump of molten debris into space. Once cooled that 'debris' would form our only Moon. Eventually, the great bombardment would cease and the Earth's surface would cool sufficiently to a point where life could form without the hindrance of 'Thermal Insult'. This occurred about 3.8 billion years ago.

In the scorching interior of Australia, there can be found mounds of fossil bacteria laid down 3.5 billion years ago. This represents the earliest evidence for the presence of living organisms. Thus, we can state that life was certainly present just 300 million years after our world had become 'quiescent'. Now, this might seem like a long time interval but in terms of geological history, this is but a blink of a ferret's eye. And, when we examine the fossil evidence relating to this early organism it is obvious we are already dealing with a well-evolved bacterium suggesting that life on Earth had formed many million years previously. 

So, how did the first life come about? The quest to uncover how life formed from non-life is a post for another day. Hopefully, I will be able to publish, on this very organ, within the next few days, about the thorny problem of Abiogenesis.

But before I begin to tackle this most vexing, and most fundamental of inquiries I would like to jump forward, a step, and address and be propelled to consider the following question, namely, how do we define life? What are the characteristics of life that distinguish it from non-living stuff? This is a deceptively difficult question and it will be useful to contemplate the problems that arise when we try to grasp this particularly slippery ferret by the tail (Flaxen, steady with the incipient waxing, especially ferret waxing). From first principles and intuition, it is relatively easy to list the properties that life, may, or must have, to 'exist'. Students during middle school biology classes are usually taught the acronym MRSGREN, which represents: Motion, Respiration, Sensitivity, Growth, Reproduction, Excretion and Nutrition. Even from a cursory glance, it is clear that not all living things are so well-endowed. Of all these characteristics, a few stand out as universal. Thus, ALL living organisms, irrespective of phyla, must have a means of propagation, regardless of whether it is asexual or sexual, or both. Also, a means of collecting energy, or manufacturing energy, is a universal feature amongst the living. The other characteristics, so stated, are negotiable and dependent upon the biological complexity of the creature in question. For instance, mammals appear to be endowed with the entire collection of life's dynamic qualities. At the other end of the spectrum, viruses, appear to be equipped with nowt, apart from reproduction. And yes, I'm well aware that not all biologists think that viruses constitute life. I'm not going to squeeze into this particular lagomorphic hole today. And anyway, I've already written (x2) about this subject- go seek and be amazed!

Is life special?- this might appear to be a stupid question, but the answer is elusive on mature reflection. Erwin Schrodinger, he of quantum dynamics fame, reduced life to its ultimate base state and described 'life' in terms of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Simply stated, this law describes the flow of energy in enclosed systems. Inevitably, the flow of energy in any enclosed system has a spontaneous tendency toward disorder (entropy). Thus, Schrodinger explained life as an enclosed system that harnesses energy to reverse the process of entropy. However, the laws of the universe are not to be trifled with, or denied, and once the organism expires, the inexorable process that is entropy proceeds unhindered. Therefore, this decisive and reductionist definition of Life can be explained tersely and as follows: A transitory suspension of the Second Law of Thermodynamics within a closed system. Do you find this definition a valid description of 'Life'? Well, this definition is not an exclusive property of life. There are myriad examples of inanimate objects disobeying the entropic principle, albeit for a little while. Consider the car in your garage, for example. What about a guttering candle? And so the list goes on.  

There are those, often embued with a mystical quality, who think that there is an ethereal spark that induces the inanimate to become animate. This mystical force is synonymous with the concept of the 'soul' (perhaps). A force field that is present but departs upon death to go elsewhere. Religions, various, are rather keen on the idea and have been so for millennia. Christians are supposed to take heed of the eternal soul. It used to be thought that the soul was the sole property of Homo Sapiens and that lesser breeds had to make do without. And yet modern genetics has shown that hubristic humans are not that much different from many of the supposed 'lower species'. Even the humble mollusc, especially those of the class, Cephlopodia, have shown traits that we consider intelligent. The 'Soul Concept' is essentially a philosophical question outside the domain of scientific study. Although, I will say, there is absolutely no scientific empirical data to support this notion. Take it as you will.  As said, my next post will consider the question of how life first came about. This is enough for today.                  

A Cut Above the Chest

   Dat gotta Hurt

I'm sure my readership on this esteemed beacon of insanity is aware of the cliched German officer of the past Great Wars: monocle, a proud haughty demeanour and of course, facial scarring. Usually, and in passing comment, these facial adornments are casually described as 'Duelling Scars'. O gentle reader they are much more than just a scar; so much more. Read on and be amazed- or at least, well-informed, a bit.

I am about to enter the fascinating, and perhaps invigorating world, of Mensur. Please note: this brief essay into the combat sport is not supposed to be particularly erudite or even a full exposition. This is, of course, impossible in a short blog post. In addition, I know very little about this Teutonic activity and thus do not expect academic rigour in what follows. After, the usual caveats, I shall begin.

Toward the end of the 15th century, European nobility and upper-class folk began to sport small swords as part of their normal daily attire; as a means of protection and to advertise their status. The general population, that is lesser folk, were forbidden, by law from carrying a sword. Inevitably, squabbles, minor and otherwise, occurred between gentlemen and because they had ready access to sharp pointy things, the problem was resolved in blood, often resulting in the demise of one, or rarely, both combatants. From this contagion, the formal duel evolved. As this post is about something other than 'classical duelling' I will not dwell on the aforementioned topic here. However, I will mention that the peculiar form of Teutonic duelling I'm about to discuss derived from its less stylised brethren.

In Germany and Austria beginning in the 1700s, university students were allowed to wear swords for personal protection. As only noble folk could afford to attend institutions of higher education, this situation did not violate the social injunctions of the time. As noted earlier, the bearing of weapons does not bode well for the wearer and consequently, many a good and potential academic went straight to Valhalla. And yea, behold, the Rulers of the various Teutonic Principalities decided that senseless honour duels were devouring the 'cream' of their respective young men and therefore an outright ban was warranted. However, the banning of duelling did not detract from the martial ardour of the student body and the testosterone-driven and zealous members found ways to overcome meddlesome prohibitions. Therefore, and by degrees, by the early 19th century, a ritualised and formalised system of personal combat evolved, culminating in the practice of Mensur. The name, 'Mensur', is derived from the Latin word, meaning, 'dimension'. I will now describe the event, as it became at its height of popularity in the mid to late 19th century.

Mensur

The fraternities formed in the universities of Gross Deutschland circa 1850 rallied around the usual male brotherhood activities of drinking large quantities of beer and talking in a loud rowdy manner (hurrah/Arse!). Part of the fun was taking part in Mensur. Traditionally, the activity of Mensur would occur between students of opposing institutions. Although this did not stop the occasional bout between members of the same fraternity. 

The bout would involve the protagonists adorning protective leather and padding. The upper torso was protected as also the neck area. In addition, protective padding was added to the fencing arm. Although the face was the main target of the sword's 'kiss', the eyes and nasal area remained inviolate through an elaborate protective mask of metal and leather. It appears that the warrior instinct was not so engrained that the nose should be removed by an ill-judged slice. I am sure my readers are aware of the eminent Danish astronomer, Tycho Brahe (1546 - 1601), who lost his nose during a duel. Apparently, he replaced the displaced member with a prosthesis made of pure gold. Actually, Tycho Brahe is a gentleman worthy of a post. His death is particularly noteworthy/odd, and I will add him to the list. 

Thus adorned, the students would stand stalwart, and but a yards width apart. Each student would hold a thin straight-edged sword honed to razor sharpness. A martial would preside. He would stand close and adjacent to the duellists, sword in hand. His sword's position would indicate the commencement of the bout and intervene as deemed appropriate. The swordplay was directed above the chest area and toward the face. Unlike a duel in the usual manner, the protagonists were forbidden to utilise 'foot play' and consequently were riven to the spot. And then the fight would begin and a rapid flurry of blows would be exchanged. The majority of cuts would be parried, but not all. The bout finished when one of the fencers received a slice to the face, usually on the left cheek. There were no winners or losers in Mensur. The point of the exercise was to demonstrate the student's stoic, courageous nature. A physician in attendance would dress the wound and the resulting scar, or smite (Ger, schmiss) was considered a badge of honour and an indication of a man's steadfast character. Such was the prestige associated with the 'smite' that those unworthy of a university education would pay physicians to slice their cheeks to simulate the enduring mar of the sword's caress.  

At various times, government edicts were put forth to limit or ban the sport but usually, the students managed to continue stabbing each other with undiminished vigour. Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859- 1941) was actually a fan although he was way too delicate to partake. He would much rather use his sword, undrawn, for rattling within the scabbard. Hitler, however, was not a fan and the Nazis chose to forbid the bloody practice. This was not due to any innate revulsion to the shedding of blood. It had more to do with preventing 'Student Associations' from competing with the established brotherhood of National Socialism. The ban proved ineffective and 'Academic Fencing' was driven underground. After the war, student fraternities became overt and the tradition continues to this day. In fact, it is estimated that over 400 academic institutions are involved, in the now, almost bloodless 'sport' in Germany alone. And indeed, duelling scars are virtually unknown. Methinks the woke/wank brigade would approve.        

'The most Dangerous Man in Europe' sporting  a whole  number of duelling scars