Friday, March 8, 2013

How much more reasonable could this rationale be? None. None more reasonable

Of course you have to boil urine. How else is one to reduce the volume? There is only so much space in the basement, and only so many mason jars, with half of those already occupied by bits of Masons. A totally plausible explanation but it was wearing thin with the relatives.

Imagine the relief, then, when the "endogenous schizogen" or "auto-intoxication" school of psychiatry came along, with (a) its idea that some people are differently-sane because their metabolism has gone cattywampus (compounded by dietary deficiency) and is secreting its own drugs; and (b) a new rationale. "Oh, that saucepan full of slowly-simmering urine? I am merely concentrating metabolic by-products."
Is it about a bicycle?
This approach also gave us a series of colour-coded chemicals -- adrenochrome, ceruloplasmin, the Mauve Factor a.k.a. kryptopyrrole -- each heralded as the cause of schizophrenia. Although the Mauve Factor sounds like a minor movement of rebellious fin-de-siècle poets; or an early-80s art-school band that once played as the warm-up at a Durutti Column concert. Its alternative name Malvaria was later used for the mute female assistant in the third Doctor Phibes movie, engendering the copyright issues and lawyering-up that are responsible for the movie remaining in legal limbo to this day.


Then there was Taraxein, discovered in the blood serum of schizophrenics by Dr Heath (whom god preserve) of Tulane. Sadly, taraxein was evidently colourless, which limited Heath's acceptance by the rest of the endogenous-schizogen crowd. Also he did not share their enthusiasm for curing mental illness through dietary improvements and vitamin megadosage, instead pioneering a treatment regime involving injections of bovine brain extract (I am not making this up).
Bovine brain-extract therapy
not without side-effects
No-one else succeeded in isolating taraxein. Here at the Riddled Research Laboratory and Sheep-Drench Emporium we are inclined to blame a secret society of thrill-seeking vampires -- accustomed to preying on schizophrenics for their psychedelic experiences -- for suppressing the discovery by corrupting the evidence. We yield to none in our admiration for Heath, given his willingness to challenge obstacles to the acquisition of knowledge such as 'ethics committees' and 'informed consent'. He was implanting brain electrodes long before it was popular or profitable the techniques for doing so safely or accurately became available, making him the inspiration for a Michael Crichton novel in addition to a Terry Southern story, which counts for more than mere Nobel Prizes in the eyes of the cognoscenti.

Meanwhile adrenochrome proved to have few psychedelic effects in the hands and syringes of other researchers, while the Mauve Factor was likewise too evanescent and pH-sensitive to be replicated by others. And yet it lives on, put forward now as the etiology of autism. The band has reformed! It only remains to convince the Frau Doktorin about the inspissation excuse for using all the saucepans!
"In the history of Riddled, which post has attracted most visitors?" asked tigris. "That would be the one about aberrant webs and drugged spiders," I replied, momentarily unclear on the concept of "rhetorical question".

18 comments:

zombie rotten mcdonald said...

with half of those already occupied by bits of Masons


umm, which bits? Just curious, you understand. But if I ever visit, I may want to have an understanding of the location of snackables.

ckc (not kc) said...

...secret bits - why do you think they wear those silly aprons? (Think twice if they ask you to join.)

zombie rotten mcdonald said...

Hey, look the picture of Smutty shows up again! I approve.

the more we publicize his visage, the safer everyone will be.

zombie rotten mcdonald said...

I WISH TO OBJECT.

The capcha gave me the bog-standard squiggly letters, and an accompanying set of pictorial numbers.

However, the number part was total blurs with nothing else. So I put in a random three digit number, and THE DAMN CAPCHA ACCEPTED IT!

Someone is being hosed here, and I suspect it is thundra, and that Obama is behind the whole thing. Wouldn't be surprised it a drone was targeting my location right n

Anonymous said...

schizophrenics + urine. that's a tough row to hoe. I can't count how many times I've been chased down the street by a "patient" with a mason jar full of sample.

mikey said...

I keep my pee in ketchup squeeze bottles. But I give my poop to the neighbors. They seem so...needy...

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

I long ago figured out that you don't have to get the Riddled captcha right, zrm.

Doghouse's place, on the other hand, is murder.
~

OBS said...

Little known true fact: Dr. Heath's research into taraxein did have one beneficial effect -- development of the Heath Bar.

wiley said...

Don't forget injecting them with oil and sulfur.

But what really works is seeing a clue--- like you see a particular kind of a flower, and that flower reminds you that you killed your mother, then it all makes sense and you snap out of it.

Smut Clyde said...

However, the number part was total blurs with nothing else. So I put in a random three digit number, and THE DAMN CAPCHA ACCEPTED IT!

Oh yes, the blurred-number part of the Capcha is obviously a cunning plan to digitise street numbers and add them to the Man's database -- cheaper to crowd-source the work under the guise of spam control than to write reliable blurred-number-reading software.

It is not only possible to type in wrong numbers, but your duty.

Big Bad Bald Bastard said...

But I give my poop to the neighbors. They seem so...needy...

Those fecal transplants are therapeutically warranted.

mikey said...

It's all quite fuzzy now, but I seem to remember the good Dr. Gonzo writing glowing revues of the effects of Adrenochrome. I would be deeply disappointed to discover that he was merely repeated a myth, or even a mythes...

tigris said...

What's up with rhetorical questions?

Also: you must type in the right number so when the zombie apocalypse comes they can find everyone via zomboogle maps.

Smut Clyde said...

that flower reminds you that you killed your mother

Wiley is triggering me.

Substance McGravitas said...

kryptopyrrole

Yay! This was also the chief ingredient in serial-killer brains or something in some lurid true-crime book I read somewhere. So if you see someone ordering kryptopyrrole at the Heath Bar look out for a MEAN DRUNK.

Smut Clyde said...

MEAN DRUNK ZOMBIE potential.

Jennifer said...

Not helping...

Narad said...

I can't count how many times I've been chased down the street by a "patient" with a mason jar full of sample.

I have read of a fellow who had his 24-hour stool collection stolen when he dozed off while riding a bus to the hospital.