Skip to main content

mental health mondays :: i'm sick and my cats will never be schizophrenic

i've somehow managed to come down with a horrific cold/ flu/ cough/ end times plague, which means that my brain isn't functioning well enough to think about brain function. i thought of running a repeat mhm today, but then i found this fabulous article: 

http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/why-don-t-animals-get-schizophrenia-and-how-come-we-do/

[in case you were wondering how sick i am, i'm too sick to sit in front of the computer where i could have put that in a nice embedded link like a human being in this century.] 

basically, i got to wondering about animals and mental illness. it's been established that many animals feel undue anxiety. animals in captivity exhibit all sorts of anxiety spectrum disorders. and they can become depressed as well. they can develop addictions [we study them to learn about our own addictions]. but i didn't ever recall seeing a study  about animals and schizophrenia. 

so i did what any first-worlder would do and googled "do animals get schizophrenia?"

it turns out that, no, they don't. and the fact that they don't might tell us something about how schizophrenia works. we know that it's a heritable condition, which means that its secrets are buried in our genes. in fact, it seems linked to all the other genes that make us the very special kind of animals we are. the things that make us human- speech, for instance- seem closely linked to the things that make us schizophrenic. 

so if you've ever wished that your furry [or scaly] companion could speak to you, you've really been wishing that they could develop paranoid schizophrenia, you monster. 


p.s. :: he sat on me for hours like that, despite the fact that my coughing must have felt like an earthquake. that's the sweetest kind of crazy ever. 

Comments

as long as you're here, why not read more?

wrong turn

as some of you are aware, i have a long-term project building a family tree. this has led me to some really interesting discoveries, like the fact that i am partly descended from crazy cat people, including the patron saint of crazy cat ladies, that a progenitor of mine once defeated a french naval assault with an army of scarecrows, that my well-established scottish roots are just as much norwegian as scottish, and that a relative of mine from the early middle ages let one rip with such ferocity that that's basically all he's remembered for. but this week, while i was in the midst of adding some newly obtained information, i found that some of my previous research had gone in an unexpected direction: the wrong one.

where possible, i try to track down stories of my better-known relatives and in doing so this week, i realised that i couldn't connect one of my greatĖ£ grandfathers to his son through any outside sources. what's worse that i found numerous sources that con…

dj kali & mr. dna @ casa del popolo post-punk night

last night was a blast! a big thank you to dj tyg for letting us guest star on her monthly night, because we had a great time. my set was a little more reminiscent of the sets that i used to do at katacombes [i.e., less prone to strange meanderings than what you normally hear at the caustic lounge]. i actually invited someone to the night with the promise "don't worry, it'll be normal". which also gives you an idea of what to expect at the caustic lounge. behold my marketing genius.

mr. dna started off putting the "punk" into the night [which i think technically means i was responsible for the post, which doesn't sound quite so exciting]. i'd say that he definitely had the edge in the bouncy energy department.

many thanks to those who stopped in throughout the night to share in the tunes, the booze and the remarkably tasty nachos and a special thank you to the ska boss who stuck it out until the end of the night and gave our weary bones a ride home…

eat the cup 2018, part seven :: oh, lionheart

it all seemed so magical: england's fresh-faced youngsters marching all the way through to a semi-final for the first time since 1990. everywhere, the delirious chants of "it's coming home". and then, deep into added time, the sad realization: it's not coming home. oh england, my lionheart.

now, if we're being really strict about things, my scottish ancestors would probably disown me for supporting England, because those are the bastards who drove them off their land and sent them packing to this country that's too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. and indeed, shops in scotland have sold through their entire stock of croatian jerseys, as the natives rallied behind england's opponents in the semi-final. however, a few generations before they were starved and hounded from the lands they'd occupied for centuries, my particular brand of scottish ancestors would have encouraged me to support england [assuming that national football had even…