Today is Tuesday June 1. I think the next Tuesday, June 2, is in 2015. I'll mark my calendar.
Today is Monday. I know because I didn't go to work yesterday and nobody called to yell at me.
I didn't go to work yesterday until someone called me at 3 to ask why I wasn't around. The answer was that I had just woken up at 2. This is a weird week.
Wednesday, June 2nd. Today would be more difficult, as we are not in New York.
I am very sad to miss it! But I will continue to insist that someone order a French Pearl.
Wait, the second day of the workweek isn't a Tuesday? Anyway, fixed.
Woohoo! I, for one, am very likely to order a French Pearl.
I am not quite as sure that our presence is worthy of basking, but trust the lizard, I guess.
And, to be clear, intend to be there and basking tomorrow. I'm a little intimidated by the menu, though -- left to my own devices I drink beer or whiskey.
Things will continue after 8, will they not? Should we plan a next location now, or assume latecomers can check in with Sifu's liveblogging?
10: There's a regular old bar, too. I don't know about beer, but maybe you can sneak some up from the Mexican joint downstairs.
I'll be there. It'll be an early birthday celebration for me.
13: It seems silly to go to a place known for cocktails and drink neat whiskey, so I'll order something complicated. I'll just complain about it beforehand, because I don't have enough real problems to keep me amused.
15: and then you'll taste it and your face will light up with mildly bewildered joy, and all will be celebration.
I don't know from cocktails, so I'll be relying on self-hating WASP Sifu Tweety for drink advice.
mildly bewildered joy
Indeed, one of my favorite emotions.
8,9: I'm an American, I bask for no man or woman. (It's like dipping the flag, right?)
13: It seems silly to go to a place known for cocktails and drink neat whiskey,
Sillier to go there and order vodka tonics, which is what several douche-looking people were doing the one time I was there.
22: perhaps they were doing user interface testing.
It must be for prosodic reasons that we say "vodka tonic" rather than "vodka and tonic". Perhaps elision is in order.
I'm not sure how I feel about drinking at a place with an ethos. On the other hand, I like that they sell bitters. The travails of hipster-spectrum disorder. I will see y'all there tomorrow evening.
1. Todd Bridges outlives Gary Coleman.
2. Bill & Hillary Clinton remain married while Al & Tipper Gore get divorced.
3. ???
It'll be an early birthday celebration for me.
Is your birthday Thursday? Then we'd have to reinfeiern.
Did we/do we need to call and reserve? Looks like we've got at least 7.
I believe Mister Smearcase will be attending as well.
32 cont'd: ... and the reservations people weren't there yet, but are supposed to call me back.
34: When they call back, try to work in the old "only about the veal" joke. I'm guessing that is the highlight of their day.
I accidentally gave my real first name, and will have an uphill climb convincing them they misheard and I'm actually named "Mutombo".
Mutombo is his last name. Or technically his second of six names.
37: that doesn't make it any more likely to be my name.
"I know I said my name was Jeff. Jeff Mutombo. It's Ukrainian."
(delete if Sify's name really is Jeff)
China bans coerced confessions, U.S. Supreme Court says they're okey dokey.
Come on, they did no such thing. He was read his rights and said he understood. He then remained "mostly silent" and was answering some of the questions. I haven't read a single account yet of any threats or behavior that would amount to coercion.
I really don't see what the big deal is here. If you're not going to talk, don't talk. If you don't want to get asked any questions, say "I want a lawyer", or "I refuse to answer questions". What you don't get to do is get informed of your rights, state you understand your rights, answer some questions, but try and take back one of your answers with "see how I got all quiet before you asked me that? That was me invoking my right to remain silent."
A reservation has been made and Pegu, under my real name.
Mister Smearcase is indeed attending unless this cold doesn't go away, but I have explained to all the tiny fauna laying siege to my person that Pegu has an ethos and you don't want to mess with that. Errors in grammar and sense in this posting may be taken up with the tiny fauna, also.
(I'm not sure if a cold virus is properly to be called fauna. I had a coach for biology. If you went to a public school you may know what I mean.)
I'm going back to bed. Perhaps I will put on Debussy's Prelude a l'apres-midi d'un Microfaune in which a cold virus, represented by the piccolo, hits on a pack of nymphs, who ignore him, because he is microscopic.
44:In my interpretation of the amendment and Miranda, it isn't that the suspect has a right to remain silent...during 5-12 hours of sustained subtle inducement to talk, about the weather the Celtics, you have the right to remain silent, do you like the President, the price of milk sucks, and oh by the way, where is the body.
It is that the police have no right to talk to a suspect. At all. Ever.
Sotomayer is right, this turns Miranda upside down, in part because Miranda was unclear and not forceful enough.
It is that the police have no right to talk to a suspect. At all. Ever.
The key word in the fifth is "compelled", and I guess we're differing on the meaning there.
If a state wanted they could just pass a law banning all interrogation of suspects by the police.
I will be there as well, to Ice Sifu at the bar.
I totally used the device in 27 today during my opening lecture for one of my courses. The board would have looked hilarious to the next instructor had I not very carefully erased it.
What I have been wondering is the need for semantic difference between "suspect" and "person of interest". Does "suspect" have a particular legal definition, rights etc. that a "person of interest" would not? Because if it is just for the court of public appearances, it doesn't matter one bit.
Perhaps I will put on Debussy's Prelude a l'apres-midi d'un Microfaune in which a cold virus, represented by the piccolo, hits on a pack of nymphs, who ignore him, because he is microscopic.
yay! (this is also related to today's lecture)
I will be there as well, to Ice Sifu at the bar.
You're not supposed to tell him in advance, dammit. Honestly, AWB, sometimes I doubt your commitment to the Church of Bros.
Telling him in advance might cause Tweety to bring a bottle of smirnoff ice with him to the Pegu Club, which would be far more embarassing than the actual icing ("Is that a bottle of smirnoff ice in your hand? sir, we can't let you bring that in here. Oh, yes, we're sure you do want a French Pearl and would know how to appreciate it, Mr. Smirnoff Ice. We're sure."). AWB knows just what she's doing.
Ice Chicken is a lot like Gay Chicken.
It is that the police have no right to talk to a suspect. At all. Ever.
Unless his name is Gates?
"Excuse me, ma'am. Could you tell the guy holding your purse to freeze? Thanks. Now tell him to drop the knife."
59 is why tasers were invented. I have talked people into dropping knives and lowering guns, and at the time I thought it was crazy and stupid to try.
58 What a silly trivial contentious dispute to hold a long grudge over. I'm sure that cop would have paid good money to get Gates to STFU.
gswift, being the pro, nailed it instantly in 50. It's the practical interpretation of "compelled." We have much more sophisticated tools than truncheons nowadays.
60.3 is part of the problems I have with various Gitmo torture discussions. I know very well there are extremely smart well-trained intelligence professionals who say they don't need no stinking water torture or stress positions, just give them a little time to develop a rapport and they can get that Afghan taxi-driver to confess to killing Jimmy Hoffa.
I believe them.
just give them a little time
WE don't have a little time, bob! Now pull the trigger!
Gitmo aside, Bob, you don't have to sit and get questioned for hours. Precedent is already clear that once you ask for a lawyer questioning has to stop.
61: I'm sure intelligence professionals are as trustworthy and accurate in that as in all other things.
I should be used to it, but the thread drift in here keeps leaving me briefly concerned AWB is intending to taser me into confessing at the meetup.
65: Poor Tweety. I think bob will class you with Gates. Fucking Cambridge preppies.
55: That was the bit that confused me about the whole "Iceing" business: If someone tries to bring any outside alcohol in here, we stop them, confiscate their drink/s*, and maybe let them in. If we catch them drinking something they've brought in inside, they're 86'd, at least for the night. That's what you have to do to keep your liquor license. So that whole "I told the bartender to hold the Smirnoff Ice while my bro was walking in" bit just sounded stupid. Of course, at the kind of places those guys drink, maybe anything goes.
*Which the bartenders then drink themselves later, at home.
67: perhaps the gentleman telling the anecdote in question bought the Smirnoff Ice at the bar, and then asked the bartender to hold on to it until his bro tried to order a beer.
If someone tries to bring any outside alcohol in here, we stop them, confiscate their drink/s*, and maybe let them in.
My aunt, on being told that she couldn't bring her drink into the hotel restuarant, downed a low ball glass of whiskey on the rocks before the hostess could take it.
I'm thirty years younger than she was at the time and I couldn't drink that fast.
68: That or maybe the bartender bent the rules out of brolidarity.
68, 71: Well, it's probably a good chance that he bought the Ice there, but the way it was described originally, it sounded as though these guys were walking around with Ices in their back pockets, waiting for a chance to Ice a bro. Brolidarity is thicker than water.
Is that an Ice in your pocket or are you just glad to see me for sound heterosexual reasons?
"Hey, Chas? I know you're busy 'tending and all, but can you do me a brolid?"
The states of matter are plasma, gas, liquid and brolid. Ice is a brolid.
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Huh. What with all the hoopla this weekend, I missed the NMM news about Peter Orlovsky. Sad. I mean, it was all sad, from Burroughs' horrible childhood to Kammerer's murder to Cassidy's prison terms to Kerouac's drinking himself to death to Corso's marginalization and Ginsburg's silly apotheosis (and of course the fact that all the women wind up in parenthesis or shot to death). There's a reason they called it "beat" after all. I wonder how people will look at that scene when the last contemporaries of those guys (and women) finally shuffle off? Is it all just going to seem like another facet of the spectacle? Does it now? What did any of it really mean, anyway? If it was all basically narcissistic, it was a hell of an evocation of narcissism. All other things being equal, most of them probably would have been better off following Nanao's example, but that's a tall order in itself. Hmph.
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77:I don't much like any of the beats, at all, but I think they meant a lot for a while, especially as precursors of the hippies and various liberation movements.
(Reminded of the Mad Men episode where Don gets rolled and Peggy gets laid. Captures some of the 50s).
But I think it has been lost again for a while, that spirit of America Twain shows at the end of HF, the part that says it is ok to Fuck it all just take off and go.
Literally or metaphorically.
Narcissistic? It's like in negotiations, if you can't walk away from the table, you are going to lose. Living-in-society must be a free choice, not a moral duty. Maybe being beat is simply feeling the choice, that freedom, existentially, taking responsibility by saying it is ok to split, but I'm staying.
Like I said, lost for now, The kids are all so fucking social.
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And will no one think of the lawns?
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For Witt: All 27 outs of Roy Halladay's recent perfect game.
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I think I actually may have masturbated to Orlovsky once or twice, for reals.
Living-in-society must be a free choice, not a moral duty.
How about a plain fact, like breathing or occupying space and time?
Silly rob. There are no plain facts here. Everything must be judged.
I just wanna go someplace where there aren't any Greasers or Socs!
Sometimes I find myself judging the plainest of plain facts. Like time. For most of my life I have been against the existence of time, but more recently I've been reconciling myself to it.
Over the same stretch of time, I've also been developing a grudge against objects. I'm beginning to think that the world should not be composed of objects. Even if it is the case that now the world is a totality of things, it should be a totality of facts.
Wait, tomorrow is Wednesday? I need to remember this, because they do street cleaning on Wednesday.
I probably won't make it up to New York tomorrow, much as I would like to have tasty cocktails and meet you all. Or, if I do show up, it will mean the harebrained project I've committed myself to spending this week on crashed and burned and I desperately need a drink.
88: They clean your streets in Canada? Socialism.
Street cleaning is known in the US as well.
As a potential owner of several private streets, I'm outraged.
I mean, I might. In some distant future. Hence the outrage.
Comment #95 is a big hit at standpipe's other blog, bee tee dubs.
It would have been great if they cleaned the street where I parked all last fall. The leaves and dirt piled up behind the wheels every time it rained; I parked my car at a different point along the block every time I drove just to allow the water to wash away the debris left where I'd parked the last time.
What's so strange about a flea market under an interstate? Elevated freeways in urban areas are often built above parkingish lots.
What's so strange about a flea market under an interstate?
Nothing, really. Like Korean propaganda speakers, it makes perfect sense in context.
In what situation would "Under the Interstate" be a specific enough direction?
In what situation would "Under the Interstate" be a specific enough direction?
In a neighborhood containing only one interstate and only one nearby underpass.
The sign in 91 contains much more specific directions than "under the interstate," of course.
Wait, what? You're buying streets?
Not only that. He's planning to build a hotel on Park Avenue.
Wait, what? You're buying streets?
He needs three. It's the only way he can get a house.
(I will be there in a mink coat at this rate, internal thermostat somewhat fuxxored. Also: pockets for bottles of a beverage not to be named so as not to blow any strategic advantages.)
27: 1. Todd Bridges outlives Gary Coleman.
2. Bill & Hillary Clinton remain married while Al & Tipper Gore get divorced.
3. Using your position as a priest to abuse children gets you cover for years from the Catholic hierarchy; making a difficult* life or death decision in your official capacity as a nun at a Catholic hospital gets you quickly excommunicated (don't be confused by the "Irish nun" in the headline, it is the Arizona case (the nun was Irish-American) --the write-up in the Irish Independent just happened to be one of the most comprehensive that I found.)
*Actually, hardly difficult by almost any standard, woman with 4 living children given an abortion to save her life, but given her position and personal beliefs I thought it a fair characterization.
(and of course the fact that all the women wind up in parenthesis or shot to death).
The Beats were the original band of bros-in-brolidarity. Cassidy would've iced a bro in a heartbeat.
I'm beginning to think that the world should not be composed of objects.
"No ideas but in things," as Dr. Williams remarked between babies.
Cassidy and Cassady probably had an intense reality.
110.last: "Thoughts are Things." Epitaph on Prentice Mulford's gravestone.
Pre-bro-up liveblogging: I'm on a bus!
Are you wearing your flippy-floppies?
I'm not, but the honest-to-god bro sitting next to us who keeps sticking his nasty-ass feet all over the place is!
I am, however, wearing my bus terminal-themed pashmina afghan.
the honest-to-god bro sitting next to us who keeps sticking his nasty-ass feet all over the place
Sounds like somebody needs an icing! You are holding, I trust?
You've been iced, Blandings! Take a knee and consume.
Wow, that's even more likely to make you puke.
109.3: Christ, what an asshole that bishop is.
Hey, due to a last-minute rescheduling, I am going to be able to stop by tonight! [And the people rejoiced.]
When you are walking there from the train -- if any of you indeed walk there from the train -- you can see if this BP sign is still delightfully vandalized.
We are here!
And the liveblogging begins!
I don't yet see any flippy-floppies, but the French pearl is reputed to be as good as advertised.
130: Boo.
129: Would I lie to any of youse?
the French pearl is reputed to be as good as advertised
No matter how hard I try, I can't read "the French pearl" as anything other than a euphemism.
Liveblogging cont'd: there's a crowd and people seem to be enjoying their drinks.
Craziness!
Has anybody grabbed anybody else's ass yet? What about knifefights?
We're trying to figure out if the lesbians down the bar are on a blind date or a regular date.
Tonight, they're on a date with destiny.
The bathroom doors in this bar slide open! How weird is that? In other news, Jackmormon has arrived, and Yawnoc now knows about my sinister history as a computer hacker.
No sign of teo yet. Teo! Teo! We miss you!
Who is there, Tweety? Aside from you and JM and Yawnoc (and, presumably, Blume, who's not rude enough to be on her iPhone).
the French pearl is reputed to be as good as advertised
Ok, so it's advertised as being yea good, and it's reputed to be yea good, but is it yea good?
141: it is!
140: bave, teraz, jm, lb, awb, smearcase, yawnoc, blume, sifu, blandings, washerdreyer.
Now there are guitarists, who are great, but my deaf ass can't hear a thing.
Teo! Teo! We miss you!
Aw. I miss(ed) you guys too. Next time, maybe try a bar that isn't literally impossible to find.
None of us can hear over the admittedly lovely music. So basically I have no idea who any of these people are or what they're on about. Fortunately, its mutual!
Apparently karaoke may be on the agenda after all.
144: wait, you actually came out?!? It's the doorway that says "Pegu Club" at the listed address.
teo, getting a fellow attendee's phone number ahead of time doesn't fall along the Ask/Guess distinction. You really do have to explicitly ask, unless you're super-duper lucky or the person's name is Jenny and had a song written about her.
The internet tells me the doorway looks like this, for future reference.
Yeah, I really should have gotten someone's number ahead of time. I just didn't think of it. I was worried about something like this happening, but I never thought I wouldn't be able to find the place at all.
Stick a knife in someone, grab their ass, or throw a drink in their face, and you'll get to learn what they're about right quick.
152: Sorry to press you on it, and tell me to lay off if you don't wanna get into it, but you didn't ask around or anything? I mean, you'd come in from another state and all.
I mean, just in case the conversation is going awkwardly.
Sorry to press you on it, and tell me to lay off if you don't wanna get into it, but you didn't ask around or anything?
I did not. There may well come a time in my life when I'm comfortable doing something like that, but now is very much not that time.
Is it one of the storefronts in the building with the brightly colored tile facade? I walked by there but didn't see it.
157: Yeah, it's -- I think -- the first one past the Mexican restaurant on the corner.
Maybe we should start a fund to get teo a phone with which he can post comments like "help! I'm stranded on Houston St!"
158: Huh. I only walked down that block once; I probably should have gone back to look at it again before giving up. Very few of the buildings had obvious address numbers, which was frustrating, but maybe I just wasn't looking in the right place for them.
That sucks. I should have remembered to say that one would be looking for just a door -- since the bar itself is upstairs.
I was basically looking for just a door, but I guess I wasn't looking hard enough.
I knew the bar was upstairs (it's right there on the website), but what's underneath it?
We just ate slices and I think are heading towards karaoke? Hoo boy.
163: there's a Mexican place next door, but not exactly downstairs is like a nail salon.
I don't remember exactly -- I'm pretty sure it's the first door in that jade-and-red-vaguely-Chinese-themed-building east of West Broadway. So the corner of West Broadway and Houston is the Mexican restaurant, and Pegu is the first door east of WB that isn't the Mexican restaurant. As to what's under it . . . is it the fancy Japanese lingerie store?
Yeah, I saw the Mexican place. I didn't really look closely at the places in that other building; in retrospect, it seems totally obvious that that's where it would most likely have been. Oh well.
Bave is the reincarnation of Neil Diamond!
mike d found us somehow!
Yawnoc does a masterful Alanis Morrisette... Er did. Okay now it's a group effort.
Pro tip: don't do tambourine on the mic using your beer.
So sad I missed the karaoke. I'm a loser and have to go to sleep.
I ♥ Sifu's liveblogging.
Yeah, it's the next best thing to being there.
LB about to rock some violent femmes. Wait! Cancel that "about to".
You are all very sad you missed Blume doing Dolly Parton and Bave doing Julie Andrews.
I am sad. But I'm with you in spirits.
174: Your fellow loser am I. Home with the cat while Bave is apparently singing Julie Andrews? I shall have stern words indeed with the microscopic wretches helling around in my upper respiratory region.
Karaoke has turned into kind of a whole bar song-a-long with some random strangers. But really competitive? I think they might all be high.
I'm not completely sure, but I think 180 is Yoda speaking in haiku.
Descending into Nabakov by the last line, I guess.
with some random strangers. But really competitive? I think they might all be high.
Maybe it's the rival blog, fnudeggo.
Yep, I think they're super high. We all just sang Hey Jude together.
You could be too, with a little help from your (new) friends.
Did you sing all four minutes of nah nah nah &c.
I would be surprised if they hadn't.
These guys put their whole asses into karaoke.
Bon Jovi is up! Crazy high kid has an unplaceable accent.
Quote: "your red tie vs. my red dog penis"
Turns out maybe Bon Jovi is my karaoke metier. Who knew!
Why is this version of American Pie at half
tempo? And who picked this terrible song, anyhow?
Up next: Alice's Restaurant.
Yawnoc KILLS the Black Crows! Yow!
Now there's a guy here by himself doing "That's What I Like About You" for the second time tonight. Things have taken a turn for the very strange.
Kobe would stab him twice.
Needless to say things have degenerated.
Sounds like knife fight time to me.
Bad Romance for the second time = time to go!
203: Sounds like time for a Rad Bromance! Who's got the crappy, warm, malt-liquor drink?
Too late. There was a lot icing back and forth tonight, though. Believe you me, hone.
Blume turns out to be the best country karaoke singer in the North-East Corridor, if not the world.
I cannot second 207 strongly enough.
Good meetup. Nobody got stabbed, except with my eyes.
There was vomit, but as far as I know, it didn't belong to us.
I believe vomit is classified under the common law as an abandoned chattel, and thus does not truly belong to any man.
This sounds like so much more fun than my band practice, which consisted of three-quarters inane Israeli-Palestine arguing and one-quarter a cool new song. At least I made pizza.
211: Jetsam, surely? And another wow to Blume's karaoke. She was awesome.
Can anyone's Karaoke top Fleur's? Fleur said that she was supposed to be getting a karaoke set as a gift. I'm looking forward to the meet up possibilities.
207: Blume and Fleur together rule! I want a duet.
This was the first karaoke bar I'd ever been to with this song. (Song starts at about 1:30.)
I have been waiting my entire life to sing that song at karaoke.
Other songs as of yet unmentioned that were rocked by Bave include "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys" and "The Love Boat."
"Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys"
This is stuck in my head this morning, which isn't making the hangover more pleasant.
"Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to drink a bunch of cocktails with things like genever in them and (barely fortified by slices of pizza) subsequently head to a goofy Korean-style Karaoke bar where they proceed to drink too much of something-or-other while belting out rousing choruses of Super Freak" doesn't have the same ring to it.
Hangovers just don't make sense. I went out for a friend's birthday last week and had two drinks, and was unhappy all the next day -- headachy and queasy until I went to bed. After last night, with a broad spectrum of bizarre and complicated cocktails, topped by a bunch of beers, I'm a little short on sleep but otherwise fine. Maybe the off-key screeching I was doing had some protective effect.
Yeah, I'm surprisingly not dead this morning. The Advil trick may have helped.
the song (and video) in 218.1 are great.
Seeing the elvis impersonator makes me think that this might have karaoke potential.
The Advil trick seems to have worked swimmingly for me; I feel swell. Go figure.
The goal of a prostitute with arthritis?
A couple of Advil with a glass of water before bed, and then again when you wake up. I actually forgot, but felt fine anyway.
My drinking friends say that a glass of Emergen-C before bed helps a good deal.
In my experience, the most important element in any of those tricks is actually the water.
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If you're still masturbating to a Golden Girls episode, you probably ought to to change the channel.
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222: I've had the same experience of feeling shitty after a couple of drinks and fine after several. For me, it seems to be more about how tired and stressed I was before I started drinking than how much I drank.
I'm pretty sure it was the off-key screeching. Something about the vibrations denaturing the alcohol.
denaturing the alcohol
Isn't that usually a way of saying "poisoning the alcohol?"
I'd try that, but people wouldn't let me continue long enough for any protective effects to be significant.
You can't "denature" alcohol. That word only applies to large molecules like proteins which have what's called a secondary structure (basically, the way they are folded). Denaturing causes them to stop working because it returns them to a structure that is more like a long chain.
On the other hand, there does appear to be a thing called "denatured alcohol" using a definition of "denatured" I've never heard before, that is to say, #234. Sorry.
Now we know who has never tried Sterno.
238: This is, of course, absolutely correct. I was looking for a techno-gibberish sounding way of saying 'render the alcohol innocuous'. Also, screeching offkey probably wouldn't actually work to fend off a hangover if someone else tried it.
HA! WE CAN DENATURE ENTIRE OCEANS.
In case ari's around and read 242, here ya go, buddy.
243: Seeing that really reminds you how much Apo's kitten sucked in comparison.
For enzymes, denaturing means rendering them innocuous. For alcohol, denaturing means rendering it deadly. Fantastic.
Hey, that kitten was doing the best it could under the circumstances.
I really think that "denatured alcohol" is the more common use. Maybe somebody should warn scientists not to drink rubbing alcohol, Sterno, and the like.
Aren't enzymes usually(always?) proteins? I believe that would have been better phrased as "Proteins other than enzymes are also denaturable."
Yeah, I'm surprisingly not dead this morning. The Advil trick may have helped.
Helped destroy your liver!
It could have been that enzymes are the only proteins that are denaturable. Whatever.
Cheese on an office microwave is the most denatured protein.
I can never keep that straight either, and the liver is one of my favorite organs, so I stick to aspirin.
255: I've heard that denaturing aspirin renders it unsticky. So try that.
Actually, aspirin plus alcohol significantly increases stomach damage, IIRC.
I can never keep that straight either, and the liver is one of my favorite organs, so I stick to aspirin.
I think ibuprofen is also not great to mix with alcohol. I don't think it will liquefy your liver like Tylenol. Aspirin is the only OTC analgesic that doesn't interact poorly with alcohol as far as I know.
M/tch seems to disagree though so someone should whip out an iPhone and settle this.
Actually, ibuprofen is apparently the best of a bad lot, so I take it back.
I heard that ibuprofen was the best of a bad lot from an actual med student!
257: Only if you take the alcohol orally.
Two hard-partying doctor friends told me about Advil to prevent hangovers. They said it's looking like a lot of what's going on in a hangover is due to inflammation, and ibuprofen is a good NSAID. These friends have pressed Advils into my hand at the end of a night of drinking.
A bit of googling suggests ibuprofen + alcohol can increase the risk of stomach bleeding, but there's very little about liver toxicity.
A bit of googling suggests ibuprofen + alcohol can increase the risk of stomach bleeding, but there's very little about liver toxicity.
Yeah, from the little searching I did just now it looks like acetaminophen increases liver toxicity and pretty much everything else increases the chance of stomach bleeding. Most of the problems seem to be with people who are using the drugs over an extended period of time with high levels of alcohol consumption. A couple of Advil or aspirin after one night of drinking probably not going to be a big deal.
You know what hangover cure REALLY doesn't work? Hair of the dog.
Menudo does work pretty well.
Didn't Bertie initially hire Jeeves because of his all powerful hangover cure?
some secret recipe involving tabasco and raw eggs, I think?
266: He did! "It is the Worcester sauce that gives it its colour. The raw egg makes it nutritious. The red pepper gives it its bite. Gentlemen have told me they have found it extremely invigorating after a late evening."
"I would have clutched at anything that looked like a lifeline that morning. I swallowed the stuff. For a moment I felt as if somebody had touched off a bomb inside the old bean and was strolling down my throat with a lighted torch, and then everything seemed suddenly to get all right. The sun shone in through the window; birds twittered in the tree-tops; and, generally speaking, hope dawned once more."
Uh-oh. Someone is wrong about biochemistry on the internet.
Enzymes are nearly all proteins, but not always. Some naturally occuring RNA molecules (e.g., ribosomal RNA) are also enzymes, as are a number of totally man-made RNA and DNA molecules. Many proteins are enyzmes, but plenty aren't.
Whether or not a protein or nucleic acid is an enzyme, it'll have a properly folded native state. Denaturation is, as Cryptic ned said, about unfolding, disrupting the long-range non-covalent interactions that hold the native state together; contra ned, what comes out is not in general just a linear molecule, but rather an ill-defined and tangled goo. Denatured molecules are still capable of making long-range non-covalent interactions,* but they make a whole mess of interactions, rather than just the subset that gives you the native state. Depending on the molecule, it may or may not be possible to revert from goo to native state.
/humorless pedantry oh who am I kidding.
Someone is wrong about how to spell "enzymes" on the internet. Dammit.
270: I gave this exact lecture to LB and the assembled company earlier that evening, GB. It doesn't "take."
Well, the play we came down to NYC to see turns out to be awesome. Everybody should go!
"Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson". Dude was so. emo.
I thought it might be that show. A good friend of mine is it in, playing Monroe.
276: your good friend was sick tonight. His understudy was totally on-point, though.
