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At least opioids don’t bite
Remember that song about the old lady who “swallowed” a fly? Well, what if the fly were actually a poisonous snake? And what if she didn’t really swallow it? And what if we stopped asking so many questions? A 33-year-old Indian man who was addicted to alcohol, tobacco, and opioids in the form of raw opium and “puppy husk” (we’re thinking it’s poppy husk, but the case report clearly said “puppy”) heard about something new: letting a poisonous snake bite you on the tongue.
He found some nomadic snake charmers to provide the snake (possibly a cobra, but he’s not sure), and the snake’s bite provides him with an hour of jerky body movements, blurred vision, and unresponsiveness, followed by 3-4 weeks of heightened arousal and a sense of well-being that is “more intense tha[n] the state of high experienced … with any dose of alcohol or opioids,” according to the Indian Journal of Psychological Medicine (2018;40[3]:269-71). Plus, he doesn’t use nearly as much alcohol and opium. (Yes, he has done this more than once. You’re rude to ask.)
The old lady in the song, of course, dies after “swallowing” a horse. Fortunately for this guy, there’s no such thing as a poisonous horse.
Ride out the kidney stones
Disney World, the happiest place on earth – unless you’re a kidney stone. A professor from the College of Osteopathic Medicine at Michigan State University, East Lansing, was inspired when one of his patients told him a recent trip to the Magic Kingdom had successfully dislodged a kidney stone. Armed with a silicone model of the renal system, David Wartinger, DO, spent many grueling hours atop various theme park rides. And, one can only assume, many more grueling hours exploring Cinderella’s Castle.
Dr. Wartinger discovered that the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad was more effective than Space Mountain or the Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster at rattling around the rider and thus shaking out those kidney stones.
The brave professor’s tireless work has earned him one of 2018’s Ig Nobel prizes. We salute you.
In Russia, bear cures YOU
They do things a bit differently in Russia. Who else but a group of Russians would stare a freshly caught and presumably very angry Siberian brown bear in the mouth and think, “Hmm, yes – the perfect source for new and exciting antibiotics!”
Somehow, they managed to make it work. In an article published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, Russian scientists demonstrated a new technology that rapidly tests the microbiota within bear saliva for potential antibiotics to use against antibiotic-resistant infections such as Staphylococcus aureus. In one of the thousands of samples taken, all introduced S. aureus bacteria had been eliminated, and further analysis showed the presence of amicoumacin, a previously known antibiotic.
And this is just one bear. Who knows what new and exciting goodies lie in the mouths of other bears? Now, we feel it’s important to note that the saliva of any sufficiently wild animal would have sufficed. But when in Russia, if you can think of an excuse to catch a bear, then by God you had better go catch a bear. Anything less would be an insult to the Motherland!
I need a hug
Don’t we all. A new study from the department of psychology at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh examined whether hugs actually do anything to improve a bad mood. Unverified rumors purport that the study was commissioned by a cuddly red monster named Elmo.
Researchers concluded that consensual hugs are beneficial after some sort of conflict or negative event during the day and that they positively affect the hug-receiver. Researchers also concluded that hugs given by teddy bears or red pandas are the most beneficial, but human hugs will do if those aren’t available. Despite their bactericidal qualities, hugs from Russian bears aren’t encouraged.
Next slide, pleazzzzzzz
Picture a world in which your smartwatch counted backward. In which the room WiFi is a black hole. In which space-time’s zipper seems hopelessly stuck, with a loose string – or, in fact, PowerPoint slide #14 – wedged into its interlocking teeth. That’s right: You’re in a session at a medical conference.
Now, one meeting attendee has boldly researched what many an attendee has wondered before: Do boring speakers really talk for longer? Taking one for all humanity, that intrepid time traveler endured an inhumane, institutional review board–unapproved study design of 50 12-minute meeting sessions. After 4 minutes, he determined whether the speaker was, scientifically speaking, “boring” or “not boring.” He then clocked the time each speaker took to wrap it up.
Spoiler alert: “Not boring” also meant “done sooner” – in a mean time of 11 minutes and 42 seconds versus 13 minutes and 12 seconds for those oscillating in the dullness duality’s boring state. So, if the 4-minute marker heralds a soporific session? There’s more schwag and better WiFi in the exhibit hall.
At least opioids don’t bite
Remember that song about the old lady who “swallowed” a fly? Well, what if the fly were actually a poisonous snake? And what if she didn’t really swallow it? And what if we stopped asking so many questions? A 33-year-old Indian man who was addicted to alcohol, tobacco, and opioids in the form of raw opium and “puppy husk” (we’re thinking it’s poppy husk, but the case report clearly said “puppy”) heard about something new: letting a poisonous snake bite you on the tongue.
He found some nomadic snake charmers to provide the snake (possibly a cobra, but he’s not sure), and the snake’s bite provides him with an hour of jerky body movements, blurred vision, and unresponsiveness, followed by 3-4 weeks of heightened arousal and a sense of well-being that is “more intense tha[n] the state of high experienced … with any dose of alcohol or opioids,” according to the Indian Journal of Psychological Medicine (2018;40[3]:269-71). Plus, he doesn’t use nearly as much alcohol and opium. (Yes, he has done this more than once. You’re rude to ask.)
The old lady in the song, of course, dies after “swallowing” a horse. Fortunately for this guy, there’s no such thing as a poisonous horse.
Ride out the kidney stones
Disney World, the happiest place on earth – unless you’re a kidney stone. A professor from the College of Osteopathic Medicine at Michigan State University, East Lansing, was inspired when one of his patients told him a recent trip to the Magic Kingdom had successfully dislodged a kidney stone. Armed with a silicone model of the renal system, David Wartinger, DO, spent many grueling hours atop various theme park rides. And, one can only assume, many more grueling hours exploring Cinderella’s Castle.
Dr. Wartinger discovered that the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad was more effective than Space Mountain or the Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster at rattling around the rider and thus shaking out those kidney stones.
The brave professor’s tireless work has earned him one of 2018’s Ig Nobel prizes. We salute you.
In Russia, bear cures YOU
They do things a bit differently in Russia. Who else but a group of Russians would stare a freshly caught and presumably very angry Siberian brown bear in the mouth and think, “Hmm, yes – the perfect source for new and exciting antibiotics!”
Somehow, they managed to make it work. In an article published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, Russian scientists demonstrated a new technology that rapidly tests the microbiota within bear saliva for potential antibiotics to use against antibiotic-resistant infections such as Staphylococcus aureus. In one of the thousands of samples taken, all introduced S. aureus bacteria had been eliminated, and further analysis showed the presence of amicoumacin, a previously known antibiotic.
And this is just one bear. Who knows what new and exciting goodies lie in the mouths of other bears? Now, we feel it’s important to note that the saliva of any sufficiently wild animal would have sufficed. But when in Russia, if you can think of an excuse to catch a bear, then by God you had better go catch a bear. Anything less would be an insult to the Motherland!
I need a hug
Don’t we all. A new study from the department of psychology at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh examined whether hugs actually do anything to improve a bad mood. Unverified rumors purport that the study was commissioned by a cuddly red monster named Elmo.
Researchers concluded that consensual hugs are beneficial after some sort of conflict or negative event during the day and that they positively affect the hug-receiver. Researchers also concluded that hugs given by teddy bears or red pandas are the most beneficial, but human hugs will do if those aren’t available. Despite their bactericidal qualities, hugs from Russian bears aren’t encouraged.
Next slide, pleazzzzzzz
Picture a world in which your smartwatch counted backward. In which the room WiFi is a black hole. In which space-time’s zipper seems hopelessly stuck, with a loose string – or, in fact, PowerPoint slide #14 – wedged into its interlocking teeth. That’s right: You’re in a session at a medical conference.
Now, one meeting attendee has boldly researched what many an attendee has wondered before: Do boring speakers really talk for longer? Taking one for all humanity, that intrepid time traveler endured an inhumane, institutional review board–unapproved study design of 50 12-minute meeting sessions. After 4 minutes, he determined whether the speaker was, scientifically speaking, “boring” or “not boring.” He then clocked the time each speaker took to wrap it up.
Spoiler alert: “Not boring” also meant “done sooner” – in a mean time of 11 minutes and 42 seconds versus 13 minutes and 12 seconds for those oscillating in the dullness duality’s boring state. So, if the 4-minute marker heralds a soporific session? There’s more schwag and better WiFi in the exhibit hall.
At least opioids don’t bite
Remember that song about the old lady who “swallowed” a fly? Well, what if the fly were actually a poisonous snake? And what if she didn’t really swallow it? And what if we stopped asking so many questions? A 33-year-old Indian man who was addicted to alcohol, tobacco, and opioids in the form of raw opium and “puppy husk” (we’re thinking it’s poppy husk, but the case report clearly said “puppy”) heard about something new: letting a poisonous snake bite you on the tongue.
He found some nomadic snake charmers to provide the snake (possibly a cobra, but he’s not sure), and the snake’s bite provides him with an hour of jerky body movements, blurred vision, and unresponsiveness, followed by 3-4 weeks of heightened arousal and a sense of well-being that is “more intense tha[n] the state of high experienced … with any dose of alcohol or opioids,” according to the Indian Journal of Psychological Medicine (2018;40[3]:269-71). Plus, he doesn’t use nearly as much alcohol and opium. (Yes, he has done this more than once. You’re rude to ask.)
The old lady in the song, of course, dies after “swallowing” a horse. Fortunately for this guy, there’s no such thing as a poisonous horse.
Ride out the kidney stones
Disney World, the happiest place on earth – unless you’re a kidney stone. A professor from the College of Osteopathic Medicine at Michigan State University, East Lansing, was inspired when one of his patients told him a recent trip to the Magic Kingdom had successfully dislodged a kidney stone. Armed with a silicone model of the renal system, David Wartinger, DO, spent many grueling hours atop various theme park rides. And, one can only assume, many more grueling hours exploring Cinderella’s Castle.
Dr. Wartinger discovered that the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad was more effective than Space Mountain or the Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster at rattling around the rider and thus shaking out those kidney stones.
The brave professor’s tireless work has earned him one of 2018’s Ig Nobel prizes. We salute you.
In Russia, bear cures YOU
They do things a bit differently in Russia. Who else but a group of Russians would stare a freshly caught and presumably very angry Siberian brown bear in the mouth and think, “Hmm, yes – the perfect source for new and exciting antibiotics!”
Somehow, they managed to make it work. In an article published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, Russian scientists demonstrated a new technology that rapidly tests the microbiota within bear saliva for potential antibiotics to use against antibiotic-resistant infections such as Staphylococcus aureus. In one of the thousands of samples taken, all introduced S. aureus bacteria had been eliminated, and further analysis showed the presence of amicoumacin, a previously known antibiotic.
And this is just one bear. Who knows what new and exciting goodies lie in the mouths of other bears? Now, we feel it’s important to note that the saliva of any sufficiently wild animal would have sufficed. But when in Russia, if you can think of an excuse to catch a bear, then by God you had better go catch a bear. Anything less would be an insult to the Motherland!
I need a hug
Don’t we all. A new study from the department of psychology at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh examined whether hugs actually do anything to improve a bad mood. Unverified rumors purport that the study was commissioned by a cuddly red monster named Elmo.
Researchers concluded that consensual hugs are beneficial after some sort of conflict or negative event during the day and that they positively affect the hug-receiver. Researchers also concluded that hugs given by teddy bears or red pandas are the most beneficial, but human hugs will do if those aren’t available. Despite their bactericidal qualities, hugs from Russian bears aren’t encouraged.
Next slide, pleazzzzzzz
Picture a world in which your smartwatch counted backward. In which the room WiFi is a black hole. In which space-time’s zipper seems hopelessly stuck, with a loose string – or, in fact, PowerPoint slide #14 – wedged into its interlocking teeth. That’s right: You’re in a session at a medical conference.
Now, one meeting attendee has boldly researched what many an attendee has wondered before: Do boring speakers really talk for longer? Taking one for all humanity, that intrepid time traveler endured an inhumane, institutional review board–unapproved study design of 50 12-minute meeting sessions. After 4 minutes, he determined whether the speaker was, scientifically speaking, “boring” or “not boring.” He then clocked the time each speaker took to wrap it up.
Spoiler alert: “Not boring” also meant “done sooner” – in a mean time of 11 minutes and 42 seconds versus 13 minutes and 12 seconds for those oscillating in the dullness duality’s boring state. So, if the 4-minute marker heralds a soporific session? There’s more schwag and better WiFi in the exhibit hall.
