(08:03:12) duncanakabetty: I am trying to think of something for you to draw. I'm just not sure what yet.
(08:04:31) duncanakabetty: Could you look up some information on reticulated pythons for me though?
(08:04:43) duncanakabetty: Such as, could I own one ever?

The reticulated python, for those not so herpetologically in-the-know as Ginnie here, is the longest type of snake in the world. Everywhere I'm looking at cites up to 10 meters (33 ft!), but since the longest python in the US has been only 28 ft I'm guessing their average size is probably in the twenties. Besides their length they're also known for their intelligence and beauty (beauty, of course, being all relative among snake-lovers; but they are slender and sleek, and everyone appreciates that).

Sadly, however, their size and intelligence mean they can very much not be legally pets in Illinois, according to the Chicago Herpetological Society. Specifically, they (the laws, not the club, which would no doubt meet you at the airport if you came back from Borneo with one) outlaw "life-threatening reptiles", which the python certainly qualifies as (as a guideline they give "more than six feet"). And they are certainly life-threatening. Gary Larson, yes, Gary Larson of the Far Side, has this to relate:

I won't go into the bizarre details, but I once had a close call involving a rather large Burmese python that I had raised from a baby (the snake). By the time I awakened to the fact that, instead of an interesting and beautiful member of the reptile family, I was no living with a gigantic predator with a very small brain (the snake), one day she attempted to do me in. (I'm sure that's how a lot of people would expect me to check out, anyway.)

I'm worried, now that I've written that down, that you're going to skip right over the "pythons eat people" moral and jump to the "Gary Larson raised one illegally, why can't I?" moral. And it's true, that while keeping one in an apartment might be difficult (pet deposits only go so far), it's entirely possible that if you kept one in your own house the state won't be involved until you make that last, desperate phone call.

So if the life-threatening possibilities of keeping a python don't frighten you off the prospect, and neither do the legal implications, consider the dubious ethical situation under which most of these are caught. This Rainforest search site has this to say on its reticulated python page:

These animals are meant to be in the wilds of their native homelands, not stuck in prisons where they lash out at the person who obtained them.

And while their misunderstood-criminal theory of python-human relations will probably be questioned by anybody not in a herpetological society, the fact is that these animals are indeed wild animals, who are taken by poachers from their native jungles and life and forced into a new life in America, which involves less King of the Snakes and more of being called Schnookums.

At this point you're probably wondering, well, damn, who will fill that 25-foot hole in my life? And I have a suggestion. He's not 25 foot long, but the natural prey of large snakes, the pig, is really about the best pet ever. They're very intelligent creatures, almost always legal, friendly as can be, and they don't sweat. Don't sweat at all! That last one is always listed in pig selling points, and I'll be damned if I know why, but maybe it'll tickle you. The pot-belly variety don't grow all that large, and they're just adorable. I've even got a name for you, if you're crying inside over the snake thing: Ology. Then when someone asks you about it, have someone nearby who can say "it's her pet ology" - and it's like you're a real member of the society.
10:47 AM

(08:35:55) Tsrhynamio : I'm in Houston, and bored!

So here's the deal. You give me a good short-story plot, and I'll write it. You ask me for a card for someone, and I'll make it, and even, if I can persuade my parents to front the cash, send it. Give me a picture, and I'll draw it, though I am not an artist, and it will suck, but it will be interesting! Or any other sort of creative thing you need done. Hell, and I am not kidding, I will seriously consider doing your homework. I'm good at social studies and english and bullshit. This is all free free free!, or at least, free until we're in a bar and I have no money and I want a drink!

I reserve the right to reject lame-ass ideas.

(08:35:55) trivlaka: A man with no past! A boy with no future! A dangerous vixen! Intrigue, suspense, and murder on the high seas! ... well, go on then Alex, write it.


A man is talking to you. He is hunched over.

"I am a boy with no future. Look at me, I'm a boy with no future. Ooohp..." (he says, standing up) "now I'm a man with no past".

"Irrrrrrrrrony" sings his chorus.

Now he's swaying back and forth. "In my despair I have become a dangerous vixen. Am I here to kiss you or kill you? You just don't know."

"Innnnnnnntrigue" sings his chorus.

"Now I'm at sea, and high". (more swaying; greenish colour) "think I might puke"

"Suspense!" screams his chorus

and then some guy gets killed.

"Murder" announces the chorus. Then everybody bows, even the dead guy, who's not actually dead.


The End.




[as a special treat for our Grecian friend I just came across this Ranter Christmas carol from 1650:

They prate of God; believe it, fellow-creatures,
There's no such bugbear; all was made by Nature.
We know all came of nothing, and shall pass
into the same condition once it was,
By Nature's power; and that they grossly lie
That say there's hope of immortality.
Let them but tell us what a soul is, then
We will adhere to these mad brain-sick men.

Not really notable for rhyme or tune, certainly, but amazing stuff to be saying in an era more commonly associated with the great plague than with satirical rationalist carols]

2:02 PM

I need your help. I hear voices. Sometimes they're dead people and often they're telling me to do something. It's only in certain spots, and it's never loud, but if everything is quiet -- I can hear the radio. At home it's usually country, though occasionally classical. The first time I noticed it was after the move, and only in my room, so I always just figured some guy who loved country music (and maybe Bach) died there sometime.

But now I'm in Houston, and I heard first what sounded like an alternative rock song, then DJs/ads. I can't ever make out what anyone's saying, but it's still there, like, you know, when your radio is getting bad reception (which I think would happen if you stuck it in my head). So I'm wondering if I'm picking up reception with the fillings in my teeth. Here's what the Straight Dope says:

That's the story with most 'human antennae'--no one takes them seriously. I went through the medical journals from 1928 to the present and found only a few brief mentions. 'In most cases, where the [radio-generated] hearing phenomena were accessible to controlled experimentation, the effects could be explained as artifacts,' one article notes. But no references or other information were given. I'd write the whole thing off as folklore except for one thing: one of Cecil's associates got to talking about this on (fittingly) the radio, and within minutes got leads on two people who said it happened to them.

Case #1. George, of suburban Chicago, lost a front tooth at the age of 12. A year or so later, in about 1961, he was fitted with a cap that was attached to the tooth stump with what George recalls as a brass wire. Thereafter he began hearing music in his head, generally popular tunes of the day, usually while he was outdoors. The music was soft but distinct. He never heard an announcer's voice or commercials and was unable to identify what radio station, if any, he was hearing. After a year or two of this a new dentist put in a cap without a wire and the tunes stopped.

Case #2. Lois, also of suburban Chicago, says it happened just once, in 1947, while she was riding a train from her home in Cleveland to college in Rhode Island at about age 18. The experience lasted maybe 10 minutes. She couldn't tell what station she was listening to but recalls hearing commercials and an announcer's voice. She has silver tooth fillings but doesn't recall if she'd had one put in just before the event.

Delusions? Maybe, but both George and Lois seemed perfectly sane. Neurologist Oliver Sacks has suggested epileptic hallucinations, but his patients with experiences like this were elderly and the music was loud, whereas George and Lois were young at the time and the sounds were soft.

Now while what I'm having definitely sounds like what George and Lois had, the fact is that their dentalwork was Before Computers, and therefore likely real different than what I have. Even if fillings can cause radio reception, can modern fillings do it? Anybody know much about radio and care to comment? Anybody know shitall about radio and care to comment anyway?

The alternative, I suppose, is that it's a psychiatric thing; an alternative I don't relish, simply because it's real lame. How embarassing it would be to have to say, why yes, yes I am mad, I occasionally hear a very quiet dj admonishing me not to touch that dial.
4:21 AM