Merry Christmas!

Picking a winner

About a month ago I wrote a post about the upcoming movie Cowboys & Aliens. Well, the other night while waiting outside the theater to see TRON (future post), I saw this poster.

And then I looked again...

 

Wow. Wranglers are meant to be tight (see Where have all the cowboys gone?), but they were never meant to do that. 

Soda Solution

Problem: FINALS WEEK

Solution: DR. PEPPER

Enzymatic Promiscuity

The number of unsavory human characteristics that enzymes portray has always impressed me. The first to catch my attention was the idea of enzymatic bullying. Enzymes prowl around intracellularly picking on wimpy substrates that are foolish enough to get in their way. They grab the sorry sobs and twist and contort them and put them in very uncomfortable positions. Sometimes the poor substrates even suffer an embarrassing public dephosphatation or have a stranger’s phosphate thrown at them.  The enzymatic bullies are complete in that they also have little toadies. With enzymes they take the form of co-enzymes; little guys that are not big enough or capable of pushing substrates around on their own. So, until we can stop those raging enzymes, our substrates will continue to live in a sad, cruel world.

The most recent unsightly human characteristic that has been brought to my attention is that of promiscuity. Some enzymes go around and have relations with only a specific type of substrate and engage in enzymatic 'yada yada yada' with just that one type for their entire microscopic existence. Others, however, will engage in inappropriate interactions with multiple partners, occasionally one right after another. It does not matter what the substrates look like or where they have been. I say that someone needs to stand up for our sorry substrates. It is simply wrong for those barbaric enzymes to treat them so poorly and discompassionately.    

Something has to be done. I need to stop them. I don’t know how yet …maybe dynamite.

The Wasted Space

Hi. First of all, Thanksgiving was awesome. Thank you so much for asking. Second, I just wanted to take a short break from my studies and tell you about what I call the 'wasted space.'

I am currently about 14 weeks into medical school. I am shocked and amazed at the amount of information they have crammed into my gray matter in such a short time. I am under the impression though that they will have to pick up the pace if I am to become a competent doctor in the next 3 and a 1/2 short years. How will they do it? I don't know. But maybe, if I could free up some space in my biological hard drive, they would have a little more material to work with. I am positive that vast tracts of brain space are currently consumed in the maintenance of useless movie quotes. I have entire movies almost memorized. They are, to name a few, A Night at the Roxbury, Zoolander, Princess Bride, The Secret of Nimh, Labyrinth, The Wizard of Oz, and Land Before Time. Not only do these movies occupy much needed space, but they could prove hazardous if they came out in clinical practice. Observe:

Patient: "Doctor, am I dying?"
Dr. Chestnut: "Nooo."
Patient looks relieved.
Dr. Chestnut: "Yes!" (laughs) "Gets them every time!" (high fives the air) (Doug and Steve Butavi "The Butavi Brothers" from A Night at the Roxbury)
Patient laughs at first (recognizing the quote), but then stops abruptly, realizing what it means. He looks downtrodden and then becomes very, very angry.

You see! Hazardous! The material is useless and potentially dangerous. The quotes consume me. If only I could erase that useless stuff and cut and paste something important in its place. "Would that this desk were a time-desk so that I could correct my past mistakes... and ride dinosaurs..." (Community Season 2, Episode 9).

So, my message to you is, "Don't be like me, Esse. Don't live in regret" (Bubbleboy).

Good ol' Cowboys versus Indians

Wait. Scratch that. Cowboys &  ALIENS. As I have said before, I love it when filmmakers match up unconventional combinations of people/things to fight each other. (See Hey Michael. Sorry your movie sucks.) The ingenuity of pitting Cowboys against Extraterrestrials boggles my mind. It has the potential to be ridiculous/hilarious or it could be completely awesome. I know what you're thinking. You're asking, "But Bob, it sounds so absurd and unorthodox. How could it possibly come out on top?"

For one, we are combining Western with Sci-Fi. Both are phenomenal on their own. Who is to say that they won't blend well. Maybe they'll synergize and make all of our minds explode. Maybe this is cinematographic PB&J in the making! The result could be legendary. I'm just wondering why it hasn't been done before.

For twos, producers include Steven Spielberg and Ron Howard. Hollywood's greatest, right? I mean, Spielberg has his ups and downs, but Ron never let's me down. With their powers combined I imagine that a pretty high baseline will be set.

And three, the acting talent. That's right, friends. Sam Rockwell, Olivia Wilde, Harrison Ford, and Daniel Craig. I know, right? How can you pack so much awesomeness on to one screen in just two hours? I don't know. Again, my brain is imploding.

All the ingredients are right and I'm hopeful. So we'll see if this pans out to be PB&J (Peanut Butter + Jelly = Heaven) or fruit cake (fruit + cake = nasty crap).

If it's yellow, let it mellow

On several nights out of the week I study in the Physical Therapy building. It is close to my home and I have access because our cadaver lab is in the basement. Tonight I went to the bathroom and all the urinals were unflushed. Now I would expect that kind of thing if it were a chiropractor building (hypopthetically speaking of course, because most 'chiros' in training meet in the woods) or something holistic like that (burn), but I expected more from the PT students. I have two H words for them. First, Hygiene. Practice it. Second, Hydration. If it comes out brown, drink more water. (And if it comes out bright neon green, drop the multivitamin.) I guess the argument could be made that the PTs were trying to conserve water. I would answer by saying that if they really wanted to conserve they should have all shared the same urinal. You know, four to five guys per flush. Or, I heard that urine can be recycled without becoming toxic for humans for at least a few days. So they could just use a reusable bottle.

To mourn in vain

That's right, James Earl. Seven years ago I was told that he died of cancer. Previously I had been an outgoing and happy individual, but on receiving that news I drew back into the inner most recesses of my mind. I became a recluse. I shut out the world and became obsessed with Field of Dreams and The Lion King; anything that could remind me of how things used to be. As the years of seclusion and depression slowly rambled by, I began to forget my pain. Then one day I heard that J. E. Jones was still alive and a quick search online confirmed it. How did I feel about that? ...Well, I can't let him hurt me again. I can't let him into my heart. I am glad that he is alive, but can't forget the emptiness I have felt inside. I'm sorry, James. But the sun has set on our time together.

A dream is a wish your heart makes

First of all, I'm pro nuclear power. I thought I should get that out in the open. It would help us get this 'Global Warming' myth under control so that we could focus on more rewarding activities, like shark wrestling.

I had a dream last night about a terrible doughnut shortage. I really like old-fashioned doughnuts and I guess I fell asleep hungry or something because I went from one place to another looking for just one heaven sent, glazed bit of happiness . Everywhere I went there was a 'Sold Out' sign and a plate with a few crumbs left on it. It was depressing. I woke up craving a doughnut for breakfast. I told Michelle about my dream and she began to tell me about the dream she had last night. She was a gymnast competing in the Olympics. She won a gold medal. That was her dream.

Do you see it? Do you see the difference? We both have aspirations, but Michelle's are higher than mine. She's an Olympian and I'm Homer Simpson. The upside though is that mine was an attainable dream. I wanted a doughnut, so I went out this morning and got us some doughnuts and they were DELIGHTFUL!

Ol' Running Zorak

I used to run and run. "Ol' running Zorak" they used to call me. Then one day I developed the worst bunion on my left little toe. My running days were over.

So I started CONQUERING GALAXIES!!!

Pic of the Day

Why I really started medical school

Some do it for the money and some do it because they care. But as for me. Why did I do it? Well, I did it for all the free food they keep giving me. And I don't care that most of it is Little Caesar's pizza (like that ever killed anyone). I am a red-blooded american man! That means my heart, my head, and my stomach are pretty much synonymous. I love food. It's wonderful. And when it is free it becomes even better. It becomes magical! Food. Food. Food. And the occasional Cafe Rio, Indian, Thai, Panini, and assorted breakfast foods are just icing on the cake.

Interested in medicine?... Jump in, boys. The water's fine!

Study Break!

So there I was in the library, muscling my way through the embryonic development of the heart and minding my own business, when Murray's voice popped into my head. I could not continue without taking a short break to watch this clip Murray's Song a few times. Please enjoy.

Get rid of those pesky speedboat speed bumps

Too many manatees ruining your summer fun? Those 'cows of the sea' spoiling your boat party? Well, say no more. Now, for just 15 small cents, you can clear the way with this state-of-the-art, handy dandy Manatee Eliminator 3000.

Waterways too packed with wakeboarders, surfers, and skiers? No problem. Make the water safe again with our special crowd control mode. Gain recognition and respect and maybe even a cool nickname like 'Monarch of the Sea' or 'The Beach Master.' The nickname possibilities are really quite limitless. And they better give you a good one or you'll go totally ME 3000 on their butts. No one will ever kick sand in your face again, especially none of those manatees.

(goggles not included)

(yes, we built this out of old garden tillers)

Dear Future,

Hello Future,

Yes, it's me. Listen, I'm not here to argue. I just want to talk and ask you one question. Just one. I hope it isn't a bother. Cause we both know how busy you are. Right now. At this particular moment. In the present. What's that? Oh, that's right, you are too lame to exist in the present. Pathetic. You disgust me. That's my problem with you. You are never there. Just like they say in that Cake song. Oh you don't know that one? That's right, it took place in the past, you jerk.

Here's my QUESTION!!! (that sentence just escalated to full on yelling). Why are you always so bleak? I mean, I've heard other people talk and say how 'bright' and 'fruitful' you are. But to me, you just look dark, empty, and BLEAK. And since we both know that it is you who obviously has the problem, I think you should be the one to fix it. I don't know, maybe fill yourself with good fortune, wealth, health, and happiness for once. I'm not saying you should change yourself completely. I mean, you do you. But maybe you could just try it on and see how it feels. And if you like it, keep it. I know a lot of us sorry souls would really appreciate it. And this isn't 'You Planet,' you know.

Thanks for nothing,

Bob (the annoyed)

It's a trap!

This makes me laugh and feel like a nerd. ...Chase that feeling.

Dear Future,

Hello Future,

It's me, Bob. You know, Bob Chestnut? From the past... ring any bells with you? (Oh yes, I know that you still have bells.) I know a lot about you and I dare say that I'm undeniably disappointed in you. First of all, what everyone is asking, where are all the FLYING CARS?!!! I mean we gave you all the time in the world and you still come up with nothing?! Then what good are you? Why do I even bother to waste my time dreaming about you?! Laying down every minute, one by one, in anticipation of your 'blessed' arrival?!!!

Next up, moon/mars colonies. Wow. Can I say that you really blew that one? We learned a valuable lesson in our couple of weeks on the red planet, "It's all fun and games until we run clean out of oxygen." I wonder how you're gonna explain that one when 'all is said and done.'

Last, for today, Robot Holocaust. How many movies, man? Hundreds! Literally hundreds. All of which had one "subtle" message, "STAY THE HE** AWAY FROM ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE!!!" Why couldn't you just listen?! Learn from the past, Future!!!

This is not respectfully submitted,

Bob

I can't take it anymore!

Occasionally I get very excited for a movie to come out that I have no intention of seeing. It happens when I get tired of seeing the preview over and over again to the point that I want to claw my eyeballs out.

Adrien Brody, what have you done?

How to churn butter ...in your mouth

Platinum and palladium can both be used as catalysts in chemical reactions. The reactions remove double bonds from mono- and poly-unsaturated fats. So, I wonder if someone with a platinum grill could experience this phenomenon in their mouth. Could an individual with a mouth full of metal put a spoon (normal metal) of olive oil in their pie hole (lined with platinum) and have it congeal into saturated butter before it’s even swallowed? I’m not sure, but yes.

Shogun's Syndrome - Tears or Acid Rain?

Shogun Syndrome is a complex disorder, thus it would be impossible to name every single characteristic. There is, however, one symptom that is definitely worth mentioning, the inability to produce tears. Actually, more correctly put, the absence of tear production. Many believe this to be due to malformed tear ducts and glands, but they are grossly mistaken. A Shogun's tear ducts, like every other physical, mental, and spiritual aspect of the Shogun, are developed to utmost perfection. In fact, a Shogun's glands would likely produce tears that are super concentrated, with either sadness or joy, that could fire out of their ducts at the velocity of 'feeling' and 'caring' (proposed to break the sound barrier) (We don't know though, because we've never seen a Shogun cry, not even for the sake of science). Thus concentrated, their tears would burn their enemies as if acid. So, simply put, it is not that they cannot cry, but rather that they choose not to. And it is for your own good. And mine.

Shogun's Syndrome

I recently came to the conclusion that I "suffer" from a specific set of symptoms that can be collectively classified as a distinct complex, Shogun's Syndrome. The following are characteristics of myself and others with said syndrome.

An irrepressible desire for power.

Always ahead or in control of everyone, “You only think that because I wanted you to think that.” or, “It is raining because I want it to rain.”

Secretive. I probably should not even be talking about it.

Honor dictates that I keep my cool; maintain the void. But if needed, I could disable you and your cronies quicker than a hummingbird, on steroids, could flap its wings. A single flap!

I see weapon-like properties in everything. A blade of grass or even a breakfast bagel, for example. I could also disable you with my bare hands. With my eyes closed. And blindfolded. Upside down. FROM ONE HUNDRED METERS! (I also stick strickly to the metric system, doing my part to bring about universal harmony. And lately I have been pushing Kelvins, too.)

When I jump in a river I do not get wet. The river gets Shogun-ed.

I live, happily, outside the natural laws of physics.

I am destruction, rage, honor, glory and fury incarnate. …oh, and friendship.