As Mad as a Bucket of Frogs in Vinegar. Part Two

Due to circumstances beyond the control of mortal man, this second post concerning my mental health has been a long time coming. I was hoping to put forth this post weeks ago. However, real life intruded, and I was subjected to a series of life events that prevented my mind from concerted application. 

I have now entered a period of mental serenity, and I have achieved temporary respite from the world's ills and the stifling oppression that previously crushed my very soul. 

In my last post, I revealed that I had been diagnosed with ADHD. At the end of my first session with the psychiatrist, he revealed that in addition to ADHD, I suffered from an additional mental malady; apparently, I also have moderate autism. I confess, I was shocked at this supplemental diagnosis. At no time during my existence have I considered autism as a possibility for my manifest neurodivergence. 

I left the good doctor's office mightily confused. That evening, I researched symptoms, signs and the diagnostic criteria associated with autism. First off, the preferred moniker is Autistic Spectrum Disorder (ASD). Recently, much research has been directed toward unravelling the mysteries of ASD, and there has been a paradigm shift in the overall comprehension of the condition. No longer is this highly complex and diverse neurological condition(s) understood in terms of the classical model of 'Functional Deficit'. Today, rigid diagnostic labels are no longer applied, and the repertoire and gradation of symptoms uniquely associated with ASD are being recognised. I'm not going to provide an exhaustive list of attributes considered diagnostic. However, I will provide my own individual experience and some of the problems and positive associations I have experienced throughout my life and the coping mechanisms I have applied to ease my troubled mind.

After extensive research, it became clear that in many regards, I am textbook ASD. The irony: Toward the end of my career, I worked on identifying the various genetic markers associated with the condition. Even though I was aware of the diagnostic features of ASD, I failed to make the connection concerning my own mental condition. This failure to 'connect the dots' is a common feature correlated with ASD. Only when it is pointed out by a third party does the link become obvious. Rigidity of thinking is a characteristic of the ASD mind. However, before my diagnosis, I knew I had a tendency to comprehend concepts in terms of 'black and white'. Therefore, I tried hard to inject nuance and subtlety into my thinking where appropriate. This was one of my many coping strategies that I had adopted to combat the perceived negative consequences of my unyielding thought processes. Clearly, insight is not always a sure guide to success.  

ASD individuals often have areas of focus or downright obsessions. This is undoubtedly the case with regard to myself.  My interest in archery borders on insanity. To date, I'm the proud owner of 35 bows of all types, brands and financial outlay. This dedication to the hobby is not normal behaviour. As can be imagined, most archers do not expend this extreme degree of allegiance to their leisure activity. Not only am I blessed with an inordinate amount of archery equipment, but it takes little prompting to bring forth a prolonged monologue on the topic. My poor family are well aware of this proclivity and know when to walk away. This might seem disrespectful, but I barely notice when in the full grip of reverie. This brings me neatly to the next point.

Problems with social interaction and the formation of relationships are well-known features of ASD. This can be crippling for ASD individuals. I have been spared some of the extreme aspects of the condition. Throughout my life, I have acquired very few true friends. I possess only one true friend in New Zealand, and I met him 40 years ago in England. I have lived 25 years in New Zealand and have not made a new friend during that time. This bothers me not a jot. I do not actively seek out interaction with my fellow humans, and I spend a great deal of my day either in my voluminous shed communing with my many bows or ensconced within my study reflecting on the good fortune of voluntary solitude. I do not crave fellowship. On the flip side, when on those rare occasions I am thrust into the social whirl, I do not eschew social interaction. On the contrary, some poor bugger will attract my attention and will be subject to my rather bizarre, and often socially inappropriate sense of humour. Some folk will go with the flow, while others will look perturbed and offer an excuse to be elsewhere. Occasionally, I will bag someone who is too polite to end the interaction. They stand, transfixed, as if by a penetrating, sharp object; looking pained and frightened in equal measure. On rare instances, I have the delight of finding someone who is equally strange. These sublime moments are spent in mutual admiration and intelligent intercourse (the non-messy variety). There are some very odd folk out there, and I do have a talent for ferreting them out.

I have droned on enough, and thusly, this post is at an end. Nuff said. 

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Mad as a Bucket of Frogs in Vinegar

                                                                 Predictable, Flaxen

I am about to reveal personal information to my readership that is known only to my doctors and close family. I am unknown to all who linger here, and long shall it remain. Please keep it a secret.

Mental health acronyms are everywhere, and everyone has one. PTSD is very much in vogue. In years passed, this was called 'shell shock' and was the sole preserve of those affected by their combat experience. Now, however, the condition has seeped into civilian life and is awarded to those who didn't achieve a merit badge back in the day when they were in High School. I'm being flippant, but I don't want to denigrate the horror, distress and misery mental illness causes. I should know, or know better, as my family has been marred and blighted through the generations.

My mother, at age 21, shoved her head into the gas oven in a serious attempt to end it all. By luck, she was found in time. Back in the 1950s, piped gas was generated from coal and contained significant amounts of carbon monoxide. My poor mother was sectioned and sent to the local Mental Health Facility. I could never determine how long she spent there, as the family considered the matter taboo. My maternal grandmother strenuously denied that we had that 'sort of thing' in the family. The irony: she also experienced a 'mental episode' when young. As regards the incident, all my mother would reveal was that she was subjected to electric shock treatment, which filled her with horror; she raved about the treatment until the day she died. 

The doctors diagnosed my mother as suffering from paranoid schizophrenia and placed her on medication, and she was eventually released into society.

Schizophrenia can be highly debilitating and destroys lives. However, she responded well to the strong meds and father, whilst alive, skillfully managed her delusions and prevented a recurrent episode warranting readmittance; this all changed when he died. 

From an early age, I knew I was 'different' from others my age. My thinking always seemed off-centre, and I was often careless and inattentive. As I aged, odd behaviour and thinking became more apparent. By young adulthood, I realised that I had cognitive blank spots. Certain actions and behaviours that appeared natural and easy to others were extremely difficult for me. Subsequently, I developed coping mechanisms to help ameliorate the symptoms and to hide the problems from my peers and adults. As for why I was neurodivergent, as they say in the modern medical parlance, I ascribed my issues to aberrant genes from my mother. I learned that schizophrenia has a strong genetic component, and many contributing genes are responsible. Exceeding a 'bad gene' threshold results in the condition.  I reasoned that I had received a goodly amount of the aberrant genes, but not enough to present the condition. I was spared true schizophrenia, but I wasn't untouched by the genetic taint. My mind could be in turmoil, with rolling/roiling and cascading thoughts that blazed throughout my brain with chaotic glee. On the plus side, I seemed endowed with a degree of creativity and spontaneity that was denied to most. It is the muse that drives my blog content and provides it with its singular character. My self-diagnosis seemed fair to me, and as I aged, I accepted my idiosyncrasies and the perception of being different with indifference and got about the business of life. 

Coming to modern times, my two grown-up children, male and female, experienced mental health symptoms that developed with age. Eventually, they were both seen by psychiatrists for help. Both had to rely on private treatment, as the public mental health system is but a name, unless you are a juvenile and virtually impossible to access as an adult, as the bar for acceptance is set impossibly high. Unfortunately, this is not a cheap route, and Kiwis with mental health problems are left to wallow in their mental abyss due to cost.  And so it transpires that both of my beautiful children are affected by ADHD and have been prescribed the stimulant Ritalin. The outcome for both my children has been good, and they have attained a degree of peace, calm, and focus. I've noticed my daughter, who was burdened with inactivity and lacked motivation, has since become 'awakened' as if from a dream of lassitude. She now makes jewellery and trinkets and is opening her own business. As for my son, who experienced severe bouts of doubt and mental tumult is now an esteemed professional. Not only does he work full-time, but he also runs two businesses of his own design. One of his enterprises is starting to become lucrative, and he is working toward making the dizzying leap to full-time businessman. I wish him luck in his endeavours and vow to support him in his hard-fought/thought ventures. 

With two children with ADHD, likely, one or both parents are thus affected. The spotlight deservedly fell upon me, and I became concerned that my self-diagnosis (never a good thing) was in error, and so I sought medical counsel. I will not linger on the process, which in my case proved challenging and a long time a coming. Eventually, I was booked to consult with an eminent psychiatrist with a special interest and expertise in ADHD diagnosis and treatment. Like my children, I trod the private road. A toll road well worth the access fee.  

The initial session with the doctor was helpful, informative and deeply revealing. I filled in tests akimbo, and in the final part of the 2.5-hour consultation, I was diagnosed with ADHD. This came as no great surprise. However, the good doctor was not finished with his professional verdict. It transpires that I have a comorbidity. I will not reveal the additional mental issue in this post as it has started to veer into 'too long, won't read' territory. Suffice it to say, it was a shocking revelation to me and for a while, I was thrown into mental turmoil. Perceptive and long-time visitors may be endowed with the powers of psychic divination and thus can discern my cohabiting malady with grace. It was no surprise to my daughter- she knew all this time. Insight was denied to this blogger, and I had to wait nearly 70 years for disclosure.

A second post is warranted and is coming soon.  

 

 

Madame Guillotine

                                        Halifax Gibbet, Looking Mean 

I recently asked one of my readers, 'Would he rather I write about the Guillotine or Hanged, Drawn and Quartered' as a punishment?' To date, he hasn't replied, so I have decided to force the issue- I have powers beyond the ken of mortals. By the power of divination, I have picked (drum roll), the Guillotine.

The Guillotine as a form of capital punishment is forever linked with the French and, notably, the French Revolution. During the 'Reign of Terror' (1793- 1794), it is estimated that over 15,000 folk faced decapitation by this technique. This execution method was not exclusive to the French and was not first introduced during the French Revolution. Read on, gentle reader, and if not entertained, at least be enlightened.

One of the earliest mechanical beheading devices, 'The Halifax Gibbet', saw service from 1286 to 1650, in the sleepy Yorkshire town of Halifax. It was considered a more humane method than manual beheading with an axe. The device consisted of an axe head attached to a weighted block. The block and axe were fitted in grooves in two upright beams of 15 feet in extent. The block was hoisted by rope and pulley until it rested at the top of the beams. The block was secured by a pin which, when released, sent the block and axe hurtling down to sever the miscreant's noggin. This way, about 100 people were sent to paradise, purgatory, hell or oblivion, depending on the viewer's preference. Of the choices, I prefer the latter. In those days, stealing was the most common crime punishable by death. The condemned would remain in custody for three market days. During this time, the poor man was displayed to the public in the stocks as an act of humiliation and to deter others. The Scots were not to be outdone by English ingenuity, and in the 16th to the 18th centuries, 'The Scottish Maiden' in Edinburgh was readied to sever a criminal's head. The construction and execution of the device were similar to the English version, although a mite cruder.   

The German version of the mechanical kopf removal device was first used in the Rhineland in the late 18th century. By 1871, it had become the most common method of execution throughout Germany. Like the English variety, it used an axe head for the butcher's work. It differed from the French array as it was constructed of metal, unlike the Guillotine, which was built of wood. Also, the drop was decidedly short, and to compensate, the axe and block were made to be extremely heavy. Death by fallbeil became very popular during the Nazi regime (1933 - 1945), with nearly 12,000 prisoners executed by this means: rest in pieces, Sophie Scholl.  

Before the execution by machine, decapitation was often carried out by a headsman with an axe or, less commonly, a sword. The ancient Romans used the gladius to send German tribesmen to Valhalla. In the Middle Ages, decapitation was reserved for noble folk as it was considered more humane than hanging, which was the fate of the rabble. King Henry desperately wanted to marry his mistress, but unfortunately, he was married to Anne Bolynn. So trumped charges of infidelity were manufactured. Poor Anne would die because of a passionate whim of an unstable king. However, the king did not want his former beloved wife to suffer and therefore engaged the services of a highly skilled headsman from Calais. The headsman responded to the call and cut through Anne's slender neck with a single swing of a sword as Anne remained kneeling (1536). Not all headsmen exhibited this level of professionalism, and the skill of the headsman varied enormously. Nobles executed during the French Revolution would give the headsman gelt to encourage a clean and efficient cut. Not all beheadings went to plan. Behold, Margaret Pole, whom King Henry executed for political reasons. Her crime of 'Last of the Plantagenets'  was a grievous offence to the king, and surely her head must go. Sadly, the axeman was not up to the task, and several clumsy attempts were necessary before her bonce rolled orwf.

Most folk would like to know whether residual consciousness exists after removing the head. The cut is clean, the brain is undamaged, and oxygen will remain within the structure to support cognitive behaviour.  Without continued oxygen input, it takes several minutes for the brain to die. Imagine the existential horror of knowing that your head has been removed from your body, and you are still able to frame coherent thoughts several minutes after removal. This could be an argument against the humanity of this form of execution. Indeed, a medical doctor, during the French Revolution, tried to determine whether this was the case. My personal opinion: I suspect that loss of consciousness is instantaneous after the cutting of all the blood vessels supplying the brain. What is not considered is the catastrophic loss of blood pressure following head removal. Low blood pressure alone can foster unconsciousness, so imagine the effect after the complete loss of blood pressure in a millisecond. It could be argued that an unconscious dream state might intervene for mayhap a minute or two, but I can't imagine that full consciousness exists after decapitation. The neurons would still fire until the oxygen is exhausted, then true death would intervene. I hypothesise that an internal reverie would happen without awareness of the external world. Perhaps the dark tunnel would be experienced with the bright light at the end, then oblivion. Of course, I could be wrong, and, of course, there is no objective way we could test my musings. Regardless, I'm intensely interested in the opinions of my readership. I await, my mind agape- is there a neurosurgeon in the audience?

Murder

Never More (wrong species)

I've written about ravens before, but never crows. In a previous post, I wrote about a humorous interaction between Octavian (later Augustus) and trained ravens. Check it out here. Post: Edit

Today's post is dedicated to the ravens' cousin, the crows, to redress the balance and preserve the Earth from impending Doom.

Crows are part of the Corvidae family and belong to the Corvus genus, which also encompasses rooks and ravens. Corvids are survival specialists encompassing over 120 species. The common crow is ubiquitously found everywhere (double positive). Folks oft confuse crows with ravens because of their similar physiognomy. However, these species can be distinguished based on size and feather configuration. Ravens are larger and are endowed with a pronounced feathered ruff/scruff. Ravens have a peculiar gait due to their oversized wings spanning 56 inches. In contrast, crows are embued with a modest wingspan, averaging 35 inches in extent.

Today, I will focus on crows and eschew any discussion concerning their equally fascinating cousins, ravens. Crows are very smart. Scientists who bother to put forth effort consider crows as smart as a 7-year-old child, and there is evidence that their smarts exceed that of the pongids. Not only can they fashion simple tools to obtain food, but they can also contemplate complex concepts and solve subtle problems. They have been known to place nuts in front of cars and then return to partake of the tasty kernel within the now-shattered shell. Why are they so smart and adaptable? It comes down to brain mass. They have the highest brain-to-body ratio of any bird. Owning a crow is illegal in the US, as they can be trained for nefarious purposes. Prison inmates have been known to foster crows and exploit these clever birds. Perhaps 'exploit' is too strong a word, as the crows are richly rewarded with tasty morsels. Crows have been trained to ferry in contraband such as drugs and are compensated with a delicious treat- at least crows like prison food..  

As implied in the previous paragraph, it is possible to foster a relationship with crows. Patience is a must, as crows are naturally wary of humans. Forebearance and perseverance are qualities that will pay dividends with time. Keep to a time regimen. Place unsalted peanuts, with or without shells, on the ground within sight of your chosen murder. Your soon-to-be friends will swoop down for a tasty treat, but don't get too close initially—fostering trust at this early stage is essential. Don't try to force an initial interaction. Return daily at the same time.  The crows will venture closer as time passes. The feeding should be accompanied by a whistle or a natural vocalisation. Crows will soon learn to recognise their new found friend and can even discriminate between individuals.  After many months of constant feeding, individual crows may come close and even feed from your hand. Beware, crows can harbour a grudge; if you impinge negatively on their sensibilities, expect the crows to gang up on you. A single crow that has experienced harm will communicate its ill will to others. Prepare for mob warfare. However, if you treat crows with respect and tolerance, you may receive small, often shiny, items the crow has harvested from other humans. You will truly be favoured if they deliver carrion. You have now made a friend for life, don't be put off by the smell.    

Crows, like the order of psittacines (say that after six pints of best bitter), can mimic human speech. They have a complex range of vocalisations for communication with other members of the murder; perhaps they are plotting assassinations. If only crows could tell. They share this ability with other members of the family, Corvidae. They can convey a series of complex messages and emotions using the avian speech organ, the syrinx.   

Many cultures, ancient and modern, associate crows with sinister intent. Crows are associated with dark omens, messengers between the world of the living and the dead. Crows are tricksters of the avian world and thieves of man's trinkets and baubles. There is a reason that the collective noun for crows is a 'Murder'. Crows are opportunistic omnivores and will eat what is available with gleeful gusto. They were known to follow armies with maleficent intent. The aftermath of a battle provided a bounteous feast of sumptuous carrion. The eyeballs of the fallen were devoured with particular relish. A hellish repast of bountiful proportions/portions. Unsurprisingly, this imposing, slick, black and intelligent bird is linked with a host of doleful symbolism. Their deep black eyes denote intelligence, their gaze is knowing, and the cock of their head understanding. No wonder in some cultures they are connected with wisdom. In Norse mythology, Odin sacrificed an eye for the rare quality of wisdom. A quality not earned in the classroom or bestowed with diplomas. Wisdom comes hard with years of hard living. A quiet quality not to be bestowed on all. Odin is accompanied by two crows (or sometimes ravens), Huginn and Muninn. They perch on Odin's shoulders in the morning before flying orwf to scout the world. They return, whispering to Odin about the lay of the land and the intent of man, dead or alive. 'Nuff about birds, Flaxen

BBQ

Several months ago, I attended a BBQ- yes, we occasionally have clement weather in the Wairarapa in late Autumn. I talked to a High School teacher about career prospects for her students. During the conversation, she asked what advice I would give to her students concerning education and career paths they may be contemplating. Presumably, she considered the grey hairs amongst the blond as a sign of accumulated wisdom. The problem with this presumption can be summed up by an old adage: 'There is no fool like an old fool'. Anyway, even though the question belongs to the devil himself, I decided to rise to the challenge and was promptly arrested- this last bit didn't happen. So here goes Flaxen's perceived wisdom after nearly 70 years as a sentient being (Not a ferret).

First, it is impossible to compare the current 'life' situation with when I was eighteen, 51 years ago. The world has undoubtedly changed beyond comparison, socially, economically, technologically, geopolitically and industrially, and these changes have radically impacted the job market, and not necessarily to the good.

At 16, I was about to graduate from High School (Stew Pony Secondary Modern). At that time, the British educational system was split into two categories: Secondary Modern and Grammar schools. Grammar schools were designed for pupils considering university training, while secondary modern schools focused on less academic careers. Regardless, most students in my class contemplated entering the trades, such as electricians, plumbers, builders, etc. And of those who applied, the vast majority managed to enter into an apprenticeship of their choice. One of my friends applied for a diesel mechanics apprenticeship while another became a draughtsman. Two other, older friends of mine job-hopped with ease. Admittedly, the jobs were basic, unskilled manual factory work. They obtained three jobs in one week and finally settled for Monk's pie factory, Brumagen. The point is that jobs and training programmes were plentiful. In addition, those exiting Grammar School education at 18 with A levels were qualified to enter the 'Hallowed Halls of Education', commonly known as universities. There, they could seek more cerebral pursuits and study toward a degree. At the time, about 5% of the UK population went forth to higher education. Contrast that with today's statistics, where 36.4% (2024 UK data) of pupils seek a university education. Universities are no longer venerable and venerated institutions of higher learning. Universities are thriving businesses touting degree courses to clueless students, knowing full well that the job prospects for vast swaths of students are grim. No matter how many students are engaged in useless degrees, the more that do, the more money the university makes. So, they produce glossy brochures exhorting the career prospects for students graduating with a Gender Studies degree. The secret: Any degree containing the word 'studies' is a scam. Also, the glossier the brochure, the worse the prospects for a job, unless you really want that McDonald's position; students, take note.         

So what advice can I offer those fresh-faced and earnest 18-year-olds contemplating critical life choices? First, a fundamental truth needs to be stated boldly. University is not the giggle it once was. There is no 'free' ride as experienced by the 'Golden One'. Loans are required for expensive tuition and living expenses, and interestingly, fees have increased exponentially since the 70s- funny that. A degree circa 1970s was a passport to the professions, even those deemed useless today. Employers considered it a stamp on your academic respectability. Of course, entry and success in the best, as in high-paying, vocational professions have always been ring-fenced. Anecdote time: Entry into medical school in the UK has always been difficult and required the highest exam results. In the 70s, I worked as a trainee in a biochemistry laboratory. One day, I became involved in a casual conversation with a colleague. The individual had recently graduated from high school and was working in the lab for a year before attending medical school. Generally, three A levels at grade A are required to gain admission to med school in the UK. As the conversation developed, my erstwhile colleague let it be known that he had gained three A levels with the commonplace grade of three Cs. Usually, the bearer of such results would be ineligible for entry, especially in the prestigious Birmingham University Medical School. He eventually proffered the information that his father was Head of the Medical School- the scales fell from my eyes. The story underlies a vital life lesson: Life is easier with connections, and specific, usually high-paying professions have a tendency to be inherited.

Let's drive the point in further and take a look at the uncontroversial figure of Hunter Biden. He passed the Bar in 1996 after a stint at Yale. He subsequently entered the gravy train and held multiple positions with varied financial returns, including consultancy, lobbyist, co-founder of various firms, and executive vice president. After being convicted of his second felony in 2024, Biden was facing potential gaol time of up to 25 years. But not to worry, his father, the president, conferred a full pardon on all his federal offences between 2014 and 2024. This benevolent presidential largesse even extends to possible offences, not yet known, committed during these ten years. Of course, Hunter is simply an incredibly gifted man, and all the 'fruits' endowed are a consequence of his intellectual brilliance and flawless moral standing. And then those of a cynical turn of mind could argue.... Those favoured few in this life, irrespective of innate gifts, are given a substantial 'leg up' in this crazy topsy-turvy thing we call life. Life is unfair, and never has it been and never will be. For most of us, there is no 'Golden Spoon'; we must rely on our own wits and steel to thrive in a capricious and uncaring world. Usually, the privilege exerted is not as blatant as exhibited in the 'Biden Affair'. In this instance, the facade crumbles, and we get a rare/raw glance of the shameless, unabashed exercise of power and grand nepotism run amok. 

The career opportunities for those currently seeking employment, degree-endowed or not, will be incredibly challenging. We are already witnessing a blood bath in the computer sciences. Computer-related programming and coding careers were previously viewed as lucrative career paths. The reality is that Google, Meta, Microsoft, Amazon, and others have been shedding tech jobs akimbo! The effect is the same whether due to AI or a downturn in the market. So, in all this carnage, I must return to the question first posed at the beginning of paragraph four. After all, up to this point I've just been spouting/sprouting word scree, commentary and scene setting. So, here goes: The answer can be stated in a few sentences: Be born in the West to a highly wealthy and influential family. That being the case, you should be okay. As for the rest and especially the poor, good luck, you will need it.

My integrator seemed mightily unimpressed by my answer and consigned me to the 'crazy old man category'. She stormed off to leave me alone with my delicious homemade burger with fried onions (sans ketchup).  

Crucifixion

A Piece of the 'True Cross'. You can tell because of the Made in China sticker on the base.

Just a quick and morbid post from me. And what could be more morbid than the topic of crucifixion?

Crucifixion is a very nasty way to go. It is forever immortalised due to Jesus' death by this method, as meted out by Roman law. Few execution techniques match its cruelty and ingenuity. Off hand, I can think of three execution techniques that match or exceed crucifixion's unremitting horror, that is, 'Flaying', 'The Boats' and 'Impaling'. I've written about the latter two techniques in this very blog- search if you dare.

The Romans were not the first to use this mode of inflicting judicial death. The Persians were fond of this execution technique, and the Carthaginians were known to crucify their unsuccessful generals. And if you have ever read accounts of the first and second Punic wars, you will become aware that the Carthaginian overlords had goodly reason to be vastly displeased with their lacklustre war heroes, Hannibal excepted, of course. The Romans probably became aware of the practice through contact with the Carthaginians and began to adopt it as a form of killing miscreants. The practice's origins go back to the Bronze Age and the Assyrians, who were overly fond of this mode of execution. Pain and humiliation were not the only purpose of this gruesome method of execution. For the Romans, this display went deeper than mere physical torture. It was foremost a psychological display and a gruesome means of propaganda. Anyone witnessing a crucifixion would get the message: 'Fuck with the Romans and die horribly, horribly'. Crucifixion, as meted out by the Romans, was not for anyone. It was generally reserved for the most heinous crimes, and Roman citizens were exempt. But the exclusion of Roman citizens from this barbaric practice would not last. In the second century AD, the punishment was extended to Roman citizens, but was restricted to the very poor- ain't that the sad truth. Crucifixion was eventually outlawed by the first Christian Emperor, Constantine, as it was deemed too barbaric (no shit). Crucifixion was replaced by the relatively merciful hanging by the neck.

After Crassus defeated Sparticus in the Third Servile War, he had 6,000 of the slaves crucified along the Via Appia (73BC). A stark lesson to anyone thinking of taking up arms against Rome. The grisly spectacle did not end with death as the bodies were left to rot on the cross to be consumed by creatures from the wild - wretched scarecrows that laid bare testament to the brute atavistic power of Rome. 

Time for a Digression

In 75BC, a young Roman nobleman was on the way to Rhodes to further his rhetorical education. Whilst sailing, he was captured by pirates. At this time, piracy was rampant in the Mediterranean. Generally, the pirates seized the vessels' goods and enslaved all on board. However, Caesar (for it is he), as a Patrician, proved to be an exception. In such cases, a hefty ransom would be demanded. Once the ransom was received, the wealthy captive would be released. The pirates initially asked for 20 talents, not an inconsiderable sum. On hearing this, Caesar laughed and haughtily stated that a man of his station was worth at least 50 talents. The pirates readily/greedily agreed. Members of Caesar's entourage set off to various places in Asia to raise the money. Caesar was left with a friend and two attendants who joined him in captivity in the pirate's lair. During his stay, Caesar acted as if he were in the ascendant. The pirates were asked to be quiet when Caesar wanted to rest. He would regale his captives with his own Elegiac and Lambic poetry, and when their praise was scant, he would berate them and call them illiterate barbarians. Indeed, 'Pirate School' hardly taught such dainty fancies and was firmly concerned with issues such as epaulette cleaning and maintenance following all day parrot presence, how to screw on your wooden leg and how to vocalise, Aarrrrrrssse...... 

Caesar's demeanour was generally imperious (how appropriate) and overbearing. He would join in the piratical games and jokingly threaten the pirates with crucifixion when released. After 38 days, the money was raised, and Caesar and his companions were released true to the piratical code of honour. Caesar quickly raised a fleet at Miletus and left for the pirate den. He captured most of them and all their spoils, including his ransom money. He imprisoned the pirates at Pergamon and hurried off to see the governor of Asia, Marcus Junius, in order to seek permission to punish the pirates. However, crafty old Junius stated that he needed more time to review the case. Caesar was not a patient man, and after several rebuttals, he decided to act with celerity, a characteristic that would come to define him in his later years. He hurried back to Pergamon, and as promised, he ordered the pirates to be crucified. Apparently, Caesar had a sentimental streak as each pirate had his throat cut prior to crucifixion- thus, they were spared the prolonged agonies of the cross. Back to the gist/grist of the post......         

There were a variety of ways crucifixion could be conducted. The wooden cross setup, so beloved by Christians, was a favoured technique. Variants existed; sometimes, a single upright may have been used, and if the executioner was feeling lazy, a local tree would have served. There was variation in how the culprit was fastened to the cross. Jesus is depicted as having his hands secured by nails, whilst a single nail fastens both feet. Experiments with cadavers have shown that hands secured in such a way tend to tear through due to the 'dead weight'. And so it was reasoned that this was never a method, and victims were nailed through the wrists to prevent tear through from happening. And again, experimentation concluded that this was a stable and viable technique for securing hands. However, the recent discovery of an ossary in Israel has confounded this view as the bones clearly show that the bones within the box show clear evidence of nails through the palms. Thus, by placing the arms over the crossbeam and then placing nails through the hand, the support afforded by the overlapping arms would prevent the hand from ripping through. In addition, extra support could be provided by tying the arms to the beams. In fact, it is a rare event to find nails in the 'tomb' of a crucifixion victim. The nails used in this barbaric process were viewed as having magical healing properties and were sold on to merchants by the soldiers. The nails were often ground to make a mystical healing balm.   

Manner of Death

Crucifixion was an extremely unpleasant method of execution. The position of the body meant that whilst hanging free, a great deal of pressure was placed on the chest and diaphragm. This posture impeded breathing, and a breath could only be stolen by placing weight upon the hands and feet as a means to pull up the body to ease the restriction. Only then could the crucified individual draw breath. This move placed great pressure on the secured arms and feet, causing searing pain. This position, therefore, could not be maintained for long, and the body would soon slump. For the victim to breathe, this cycle would have to be repeated endlessly until exhaustion took over and the individual suffocated. Also, the inability to conclude the breath sequence led to a buildup of carbon dioxide in the blood, further provoking the agony. It is said that a strong man could last three days before succumbing. The torment engendered by this form of execution is unimaginable. The bible relates that Jesus died after a scant six hours. This is entirely plausible as Jesus had been scourged before crucifixion and was already ensanguinated and weak at the time he was fixed to the cross.    

Here endeth the lesson/lesion

Darwin: Introduction

Alfred Russel Wallace sporting a beard you could lose a ferret in

I am a great proponent of evolutionary theory, which Charles Darwin expounded 166 years ago. Although there have been debates about trifling aspects of the theory, the solid bedrock of 'Natural Selection', resulting in the transformation of species over a vast span of time, remains. Until some other theory comes along best fitted to the data, Darwin's fundamental insight remains unsullied.  

I'm about to embark on a series of posts regarding Evolution Theory with a particular emphasis on its Natural History. This is an ambitious series. Darwin and his theory are often studied in isolation. Darwin's theory appears in biology books as accepted dogma, and the author moves on. Of course, science books teach science and often leave out the crucial historical steps leading up to a seminal discovery. However, Darwin did not live in an intellectual vacuum. Evolution was in the intellectual 'air' and ripe for discovery in the mid-19th century. All the pieces of the puzzle were present; however, it required the genius of Charles Darwin to put them together in beautiful accord. Intriguingly, his contemporary, Alfred Russell Wallace, independently developed the theory, although he quickly stated that Darwin's analysis was primary. Poor Wallace has been lost to history's wasteland; few remember him today. 

Darwin rushed ' On the Origin of Species' to print after he received a letter from a fellow naturalist, Alfred Russel Wallace. At the time, Wallace was engaged in biological research in the jungles of Borneo. The letter was a shock, outlining evolutionary processes resulting from differential survival and reproduction due to natural selective forces. Darwin and Wallace's concepts were similar but differed in several crucial regards. While Wallace emphasised selection at the 'group' level, Darwin envisaged the 'individual' as the unit of selection. In addition, Wallace envisaged environmental factors as paramount in the selection process. Although Darwin acknowledged the importance of the environment as an evolutionary force, he also emphasised the importance of predation and intra-specific competition within the species. A final point of difference between the men concerns the importance of 'Sexual Selection'. Darwin correctly noted the critical importance of sexual selection or mate preference as a force for individual change. Darwin's conception of the theory, with its provision for additional complexities, has been shown to be fundamentally correct. 

Wallace's independent discovery spurred Darwin into a frenzy of writing. Secluded in his study, Darwin wrote his seminal work in just under nine months. He had planned a much larger tome with an exhaustive, and to his mind, a complete exposition of his theory, making it watertight. The 490 pages of the first edition were a compromise and left out much of his research. Regardless, the book became a best seller, and the first run of 1,250 copies was sold out on the first day, prompting a second run of a further 1,500 copies.     

As said, Evolutionary Theory was in the air in the mid-19th century. And as Darwin was about to discover, after the publication of 'Origin' in 1859, a number of individuals would come out of the woodwork to claim credit and primacy for developing the theory. This would cause Darwin great distress as he had to examine each claim for credibility and validity. Of course, he attracted his fair share of cranks and charlatans. However, in the deluge of mail Darwin received following the book's publication, there were credible scientists with something important to say. Apart from Wallace, however, none of the claims seriously threatened Darwin's fundamental insight. On a different note, Darwin received criticism for not citing innovative thinkers from the past who had the intellectual honesty to publish evolutionary ideas. This was fair criticism and acknowledged by Darwin. His omission was a consequence of the rushed nature of the work.

Wallace's letter forced Darwin to a rushed publication. Darwin was a meticulous researcher who sat on his theory for twenty years. Over the intervening years, Darwin's friends beseeched him to publish his results, but Darwin's painstaking nature prevented him from rushing into print.      

Darwin was arguably the greatest scientist of the 19th century. He unlocked the last great puzzle facing humanity. Before Darwin, theists' best argument for the omnipotent, omniscient supernatural deity was undoubtedly the answer to the perplexing question: How was it possible to produce the complexity of the natural world, that is, the elaborate intricacy of organic organisms, by natural means? Even the most basic bacterium is an immaculate web of biochemical majesty. How could this complexity come about by natural processes? The alternative: God did it. Thoughtful men acknowledged the obtuse absurdity of the problem. They knew that relying on the theist argument involving an invisible supernatural entity acting by means unknown, causing natural 'things' to come into existence, was intellectually unsatisfying. However, how could this degree of complexity observed in nature occur naturally? No wonder intelligent, educated folk relied on supernatural intervention. But here is the rub and the deadly dichotomy. Those same smart, educated folk were well aware that the theist explanation was no explanation at all and tantamount to superstitious magic and wand waving. Surely, there must be a naturalistic, fundamental explanation devoid of supernatural content.

Darwin's genius lay in the assemblage of the diverse puzzle pieces to provide a naturalistic and intellectually satisfying answer. And the answer turned out to be deceptively simple. It was so simple, in fact, that no one had thought of it before. Natural selection operating over aeons could modify the simple to the complex with remorseless, unrelentless force and potency. The irony: Darwin was not a trained biologist. In fact, his MA degree gained at Cambridge University was a prerequisite for entry into the clergy. Before his Cambridge education, he had spent two years at Edinburgh University, supposedly studying medicine. It is here that Darwin was exposed to a smattering of biological, chemical and geological training. However, given his shotgun approach to science and the curtailment of his clinical studies, Darwin never received a formal qualification in medicine or science.

The next post in this series will be an askew glance at the men who influenced Darwin, the men who provided the puzzle pieces. Darwin quickly remedied his error of citation in subsequent editions. Some of the men I mention were omitted from Darwin's survey. Their influence on theory was indirect due to their impact on later thinkers, and therefore, will be included for completeness. I suspect this work will require several posts, as there is much to cover. So, hold on and hang on to your hats. Tis is going to be a wild ride with a few hot gypsies thrown in, Hola!