Debra of Wolfesblog reports:
the federal government (you know, the guys who swear they’re doing ‘everything possible’ to protect the beef supply) does not allow such private testing for mad cow disease.
Perhaps that should read “to protect the beef suppliers“.
On February 29, I whacked my shin on a truck’s tow-bar, making a deep dent but drawing almost no blood. Today, six weeks later, the scab came off. (The dent is still there.) I wonder, did the wound heal more slowly because of the relative scarcity of blood on the front of my shin? (Russell says yes.)
November: The spot is still discolored.
September 2005: Guess it’s permanent: the first of my scars to be so precisely dated for posterity.
Hey Hillary, it could be worse:
Scotland now spends more of its national income on health than any other country in the developed world. While this has led to higher hospital staffing levels, Scotland’s life expectancy remains the lowest in Europe.
(Link from David Farrer (Freedom and Whisky))
So it looks like the Chinese pneumonia may be the newest mutant of the common cold. Maybe a vaccine for the latter will emerge from efforts against the former.
I’m now taking Wellbutrin @ four dollars a day. Full dose since Friday. Sleep slightly disturbed. My housemate says I’m less irritable.
I’ve had just one depressive episode since I started on half-dose (the previous Friday); normal average would be three or four, I think, in such a period. And it was an odd one. Typically they come on in the evening, and I obsess for an hour or three about my bleak future. Sunday morning, in a dream, I cried “It’s all so damn disappointing!” – and then woke up; and that was my theme of the next couple of hours: that I haven’t learned a fistful of languages, bedded any large number of exotic beauties, earned fame for my technical ingenuity, or even experienced microgravity.