Friday Science: Gamers and Foldit

Recently, there was a much to do about Gamers finding a cure for AIDS, Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.  That is the way I heard the story.  I am sceptical of those kinds of stories so I waited a week and then read up on the deal once the press finished with it.  I think a major portion of the population consider gamers as hermaphroditic neo-Nazis.  They are placed up there with Julian Assange, hackers and the Oslo killer, Anders Breivik.  The mainstream populous does not understand and therefore trust computers, video games or online stuff.  Technology is moving very fast and acceptance of things not understood is slow. 

 The process by which living beings create the primary structure of proteins, protein biosynthesis, is reasonably well understood, as is the means by which proteins are encoded as DNA. Determining how the primary structure of a protein turns into a functioning three-dimensional structure—how the molecule "folds"—is more difficult; the general process is known, but predicting protein structures is computationally demanding.
Foldit is an attempt to apply the human brain's natural three-dimensional pattern matching abilities to this problem. Current puzzles are based on well-understood proteins; by analyzing the ways in which humans intuitively approach these puzzles, researchers hope to improve the algorithms employed by existing protein-folding software. In 2008, the Foldit project submitted solutions to the CASP protein structure prediction contest; results were announced in early 2009.
Foldit is a mix of crowd sourcing and distributed computing.  -- Wikipedia

The real import accomplishment is that there is a highly sophisticated game that solves real problems and top notch gamers want to play it. There is a host of "game" software out there that are deeply involved in the chemical and scientific world.  There is software that can predict chemicals compounds and formulas based on inputs of building block chemicals.   Software predicts the impact of the tsunamis, oil spills and hurricanes.  A person with a gifted mind no longer has to join big business, big brother or political action committees to develop his talents.  He can start his own career and give the fickle finger to the establishment.  The accomplishments of the gamers and hackers reach far beyond this event.  Science is great.

Hair Cuts

I am always very happy after I get a haircut.  Most women I know are never happy after a haircut.  My head is lighter and cooler.  Why not be happy about it!  Where I get my hair done includes a wash, a quick head massage and a nice cut.  One of the great joys is seeing all the hair fall down on that apron they put on us.  There seemed to be more hair on the floor than could have possibly come off my head.

 My dad's stepfather was a barber, well, actually he was a bootlegger but cutting hair had a nice store front.  He made a big deal out of that apron setup.  He had a paper ring that he placed tightly around my neck.  He then snapped that apron on as it floated across my little body.  It had snaps and folds that seemed to have no purpose.  It even had a pocket that hair would fall in to.  He would ratchet me up to eye level with a foot pedal and then he would get out the clippers.  I was old enough to know that clippers were not used for styling.  I would yell, Mr. Smitty, mom does not want me to have a buzz; she says I am too cute for that "Deliverance" look.  I could never understand what Smitty was saying anyway but he laughed and put the clippers away.  He cut my hair with the scissors and he kept mumbling about "damn women" and "tellin him what to do". 

Finally he said, "Now, I think you are old enough for your first shave!"  Shave, I was seven years old and had been waiting for hair on my pocket monster, not my face.  I had watched him shave many people from the tiny half window in the living room back in his house.  Through this window you could see the entire barber shop.  It was his lookout for the revenuers I guess.  Smitty was recovering from his third major heart attack.  He could not stand for long periods of time so he leaned on the chair.  His hands shook a great deal.  My shave started with  the lather.  This was some mystical junk that he mixed up in a cup and with the first brush the Fuller Brush Man ever sold.  He would slather it on my face, up my nose around my ears and under my chin. Then out came the razor. No stinking safety razor for Smitty, nope, it was a straight razor.  I was four inches from cold blue death and his hand was shaking like a paint mixing machine at Walmart.  I could feel the air currents generated by the twitching of the blade.  He said, "Do this with your mouth" and he pulled his chin down and made a circle with his lips.  I thought this was so I could not scream in his face while I bled to death.

As the blade touched my skin, his hand miraculously stopped shaking and I could feel the pressure from the blade running across my skin.  As he paused or changed areas, the blade would start twirling like a helicopter but once on the skin, it was smooth sailing again.  Trying to get at the hair inside my nose and ears was an experience of facial distortion and trust.  He said in a gruff voice, "I always had trouble with chins.  I hate chins".  I said, how do you feel about seven year old boys?  "Never had much use for kids of my own, but as long as they stay still, they are OK." 

Smitty really did not have much use for kids.  I think he had a daughter somewhere though.  He liked me I am told.  He said I was different.  My mom said, "That is for sure".  I told my older brother about the hair cut and the shave but he must have been jealous because he did not say anything.  I enjoyed those haircuts and running my hand through my brother's buzz cut.  Thanks Smitty.

The Constitution: The Twenty third Amendment

Section 1. The District constituting the seat of Government of the United States shall appoint in such manner as the Congress may direct:
A number of electors of President and Vice President equal to the whole number of Senators and Representatives in Congress to which the District would be entitled if it were a State, but in no event more than the least populous State; they shall be in addition to those appointed by the States, but they shall be considered, for the purposes of the election of President and Vice President, to be electors appointed by a State; and they shall meet in the District and perform such duties as provided by the twelfth article of amendment.
Section 2. The Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation.

This is the first Amendment created after I was born and it is the first one that sounds like double talk.    I am surprised the people of DC waited until 1960 for representation in the presidential elections.  The old taxation with out representation thing may apply here.  It is only for the president and vice president.  It does not feel like something the founding fathers would write.  The style is wrong, the flow of the verbage is weak.  I loved the pen in hand of the Jeffersons and the Adams family. 

I cannot help that this amendment came out of the Civil Rights movement.   Everyone was all on edge about rights and representation and having a voice. 

My Favorite Fascist

Fascists seek to purge forces, ideas, people, and systems deemed to be the cause of decadence and degeneration, and to produce their nation's rebirth based on commitment to the national community based on organic unity, in which individuals are bound together by suprapersonal connections of ancestry, culture, and blood.  from Wikipedia.

I cannot decide if this more accurately defines to a tea some of the political movements in this country or if it more acutely defines some politicians.  The answer is BOTH.  I was watching a former big Whig on television and he seemed to be nice enough but  he is old he and just trying to get into Heaven now.  Before, he was trying to get into the White House without having to go through security until he found out the White House was actually Hell.  It was fun for sure and ordering all those wiretaps and tortures were the next best thing to the bomb but dealing with the whiners from Congress all day, every day was too much.  The press conferences alone take an hour and that would cut into his bowling time.

Being the head man of a government agency could not funnel enough money into Halibut Seafood (a family owned business) but as a Hot Snot he could encourage a police action in Huntahunta land and have his buddies run the whole shooting match.  He bought some land in Paraguay (a non-extradition county by the way, which means not even the UN War Crimes guys can get him there) and set his sights on being the twentieth century's best fascist.  He only made it to Junior Fascist though..  His "Anything Goes" war strategy and his Extermination through Hunting policy put him up there with Benito Mussolini and Mubarak.  He just does not have what it takes to reach the lofty loins of Hitler and Stalin.  You know those two actually gave Fascism a bad name. 

He is my favorite because of that smile of his while planning to manipulate the entire free world.  It is sort of a Dr. Phibesish smile.  Anyone with that much gall and attempting this sort of endeavor should be hailed.  History will eventually tell the whole story though I will wait for the paperback edition.

Growing Older

Most people think I look younger than I am.  I do not know why exactly.  My hair is graying, my belly is growing and those rungs are forming under my eyes.  People ask, "How old are you?".  Then they say, "I would have guessed early forties."  I check their perspective meter by asking, "Who is funnier, Larry Storch or John Banner?"  If they answer at all they are about the same age as me and I really do not care what they think about my age. 

Now that I am getting fatter, I have fewer wrinkles.  It stretches the skin.  If  I was to keep my hair and face trimmed and colored Moca Blonde, I would look about forty.  I would look fatter but younger.  I actually could not care less about how I look.  Naked is scary beyond all reason so that is not a choice.  Other than that, I just try not to embarrass the kids or the wife.  Age has some bit of leniency for men. Grey hair can show experience like the commercials say but mostly it means lowered testosterone levels or high alcohol consumption. 

I do not have the split level stomach though.  This is the type of stomach that seems to make men wobble like a Weeble.  The stomach starts under the chin and reaches its apex somewhere in the crotch area.  I have to be careful about making light of this kind of thing.  It is sort of like my wife saying "I will NEVER........" because she always eventually does.  I cannot tell you the times I have physically restrained her from finishing that premonition.   If she said, I will never work as a janitor's assistant and sleep with wolverines!  I will start watching Michigan football and make sure she gets her Hepatitis B booster.  Anyway, age seems to add fat in men until they are about sixty years of age.  After sixty, with all the medicine, forgetting to eat and extra walking to find the bathroom, men lose weight. While the body is redirecting hair from the head to the eyebrows, they become thin again.  They can see their penis and toes at the same time although neither of them is of any use by then.

Old age brings pains everywhere, the shakes for no reason and spitting while talking.  Even though my grandpa spit on me while he was talking, I did not know it was from age related autotrophy of the lip muscles.   When I go to the doctor he asks me if I have any pain in my chest or legs.  "Shit yes" I interject before he even finishes the question.  He tries to get more specific about the type and location of the pain.  I tell him, all across here, and it lasted for a day or so.  I think when I was under the lawn mower looking for my allen wrench I pulled something.  It could be when I fell from my grandkinders play house and landed on the pile of bricks. My ass hurts most of the time and I now have only two toe nails that are not ingrown.  If I could see past the front of my car I would drive it into a bridge pole.  As I leave the doctor's office, his nurse says, "You look great for being 53, hang in  there."

My age is irrelevant to me.   I think like I did when at the university.  I can still move pretty well and looking at a nice butt is still as big a thrill as it ever was.  My grandkids want to know how old their dad was when I was a kid.  They are really young.