had my last genetics class with teacher angélica today
it was on epigenetics, which is a subject i’m really interested in and that is the current “future of medicine” or something (it’s absolutely fascinating)
i really liked her classes and she was like super fucking smart but boy i sure am glad to not have to depend on a raging, religious fanatic homophobe for grades anymore lmao
This week struck me as a particularly exhausting one when it came to that certain brand of provocatively-headlined-but-probably-not-what-you-think-it-is science news that we know and love hate.
As usual, it’s the science media click-machine that’s to blame, which is a polite way of saying that there exists a gaping void of careful, cautious, skeptical, dare I say scientific science writing out there amidst the great internet knowledge machine. It’s desperately hard to get people to read your articles or watch your videos, but that doesn’t mean that it’s okay to disengage the gravity of reason and drift off into the aether of just-so stories.
PHD Comics has summed up this vicious form of the science news cycle very well:
It’s not all bad, of course. There’s some real diamonds that we can regularly depend on to shine through amid the soiled throngs of pseudointellectual beggars out there, and I, along with others, try to highlight their work regularly. I shall do so again here.
Here, I present two cases of “science things that were badly reported” and some links to better explanations. As usual, the defendants come from that tenuous intersection of neuroscience and behavior, because studying the brain is hard stuff, folks.
1) Mice Can Inherit Memories: No they can’t. Well, maybe they can (although I doubt it), but that’s not at all what this widely-reported paper in Nature Neuroscience says. The poor authors of that study are probably at home, drinking, wondering how, after years of hard work, their paper about how mice may pass on sensitivity to smells got so twisted. Headlines ranged from declaring this the source of human phobias to saying that Assassin’s Creed is based in real science.
What the researchers did was to condition some male mice to associate a smell (cherry blossoms) with a mild electric shock, which is mean, because that’s a nice smell! Naturally, the mice began to avoid the odor. The weird part is that their offspring, even two generations down the line, also seemed to avoid that specific cherry blossom odor, without ever encountering it before (and without their dads showing them). The dads’ noses all had more of the cells that smell that odor, as did the noses of their offspring. This did not happen with female mice and their offspring.
These kind of things aren’t supposed to be possible in a single generation. A mouse dad shouldn’t smell something, become afraid of it, and then be able to pass on a change to his kids. That’s precisely the kind of thing that got Lamarck and his giraffe necks laughed at more than a century ago. But it is possible that these mice were transmitting some sort of epigenetic change.
It’s possible that there was an epigenetic change passed down. But it’s not for sure. Beyond that, the way that statistics are applied to mouse behavior studies make it possible that the differences they see are just due to sample sizes, or not including certain controls, or some other random factor like that the humidity on a particular day happened to make the mice very jumpy. There’s also the fact that there is no known way for nerve cell changes or chemical responses within the olfactory bulb to be communicated to the testes, where sperm are made (there’s literally a blood-testis barrier to prevent that kind of thing).
Read this instead: At National Geographic, Virginia Hughes goes through the research in great detail, including comments from several people in the field who remain, shall we say, less than convinced. Extraordinary claims call for extraordinary evidence, and that’s lacking, at least in part. “More work needed” as they say!
2) Men and women’s brains are wired differently, therefore men are better at reading maps. That’s almost a verbatim headline from this news outlet. It speaks of “hardwired differences” (our brains are not hardwired) and is loaded with brainsplaining and neurosexism. This story is frustrating notsomuch because of the science, which is so-so, but because it is being misapplied by the media to reinforce cutsie-pie stories about what men are good at and what women are good at and never the twain shall meet and boy is it funny how men and women argue over getting lost?! GUFFAW!
Read this instead: At Discover, Neuroskeptic explains why the spatial resolution of the techniques used are like making a road atlas, while on the moon, using a pair of binoculars, and how the only real difference here may be that men’s brains are just slightly bigger than women’s (which doesn’t account for any noticeable difference in abilities, but can mess with scans a lot). And if you’d like a nice introduction to the idea of neurosexism and pigeonholing gender-based brain research into outdated social molds, might I suggest you read this article at The Conversation?
The fact is that men and women are mostly the same when it comes to their brains, but “Everyone can probably become pretty good at reading maps whether or not they are male or female, suggests common sense, not needing to be backed up by neuroscience” doesn’t make a very catchy headline.
None of this is to say that any of the results presented in the scientific papers are patently or provably false. But as we communicate the vagaries of Science In Progress, we must include the Don’t Knows and the Possiblys and all the other fine (and frustrating) forms of cautious optimism. It doesn’t kill the excitement. It just comes with the territory. I read it on a map somewhere.
Okay so I found my dead grandfather’s journal from 56 years ago. This is some old stuff, okay, and I was like yeah I’m gonna read a page or two.
Basically he wrote down this road trip he did with a friend of his (name is Giulio) but at some point it gets so weird.
I’ll try my best to translate it from italian to english (english is not my first language) and well, I’m also having a hard time trying to read my gandpa’s writing cause he wrote like a drunk snail.
Now, beware, my grandfather was an italian man dedicated to work, church, work and work, who believed in the traditional family and all that Jazz. But at some point I reach this part where he writes: “yesterday me and Giulio slept in the same tent as mine was stolen at the gas station. As it was really cold, we slept close. In the middle of the night I realized that the warmth next to me did not belong to my Nadia (his fiancé at the time, my grandmother). It was the most intense feeling I’ve ever felt”.
And I was like allright that’s some weird no homo bullshit but who cares.
BUT THEN IT JUST GETS WORSE.
“I was having a cigarette whilst Giulio was asleep in the car, having a nap before we hit the road again. In the midst of the smoke of my tobacco, I saw his face and thought that the woman who is going to marry him will be lucky”.
Grandpa, what the hell?
BUT OH NO IT JUST GETS BETTER.
“We shared a bed. Old motel did not have spare rooms, it was awkward at first. Then I started thinking that the warmth of Giulio’s body is somehow becoming more familiar to me then Nadia’s.”
Now, I have like seventy more pages of this goddamn journal but I am pretty fucking sure my gandfather had the worst crush over his best friend.
Due to popular demand I have translated some highlights cause damn it gets gayer and gayer.
So at one point my grandpa kind of stopped talking about Giulio and I was like (there we go, denial. Been there done that).
Then out of fucking nowhere, date 23 of may 1960, my grandpa writes:
“We finally reached Palermo. It is a beautiful city, full of art and good food, tomorrow we will visit some of the churches. I am now writing in our hotel room, a cheap place that still looks lovely in it’s way. Giulio is taking a shower. The noise of the water is keeping me awake, although I suspect that’s not the only reason I can’t shut my brain down”.
First of all, my grandpa wrote like a fucking professional writer. Second of all… grandpa, you can’t sleep cause your best friend is naked in the shower?
Anyway, they visit Palermo, everything is nice, they hit the road again and tHEN THIS HAPPENS.
“We stopped in a little bar. We ate something, chatted with the bartender and asked him directions for our next stop. We then had a few beers to celebrate our good times. A young girl then sat on the stool next to mine: she told me her name, Enrica, and she was pretty and lovely in her dress. Yet I did not make conversation with her and dismissed her after she made her intentions somewhat obvious. The main reason is, of course, my devotion and love for my Nadia. The second reason is that Giulio was watching me.”
AND HE JUST SWITHES TOPICS TALKING ABOUT THIS MOTEL THEY FOUND AND FOR FUCK’S SAKE GRANDPA YOU CAN’T JUST STOP THERE CAUSE THIS IS SOUNDING LIKE A GREAT FUCKING FANFICTION.
My granfather was totally pining after Giulio.
Now, there are like fifteen pages where he doesn’t really say anything about Giulio, he talks about cities they want to visit and that their car broke down in the middle of the street and got some help from, and I quote, “a handsome young man, probably not older than 16″. Like, really grandpa?
This is the last thing I read.
“I believe Giulio will have my back no matter what happens. He made that much clear.
-What happens after this trip? -he asked me at the reastaurant where we had dinner.
-We go back to our lives, I have my workshop to look after.
-And Nadia. You are going to marry her, I hope.
-Of course. -I answered, as my love for Nadia is strong -Will you be at the wedding?
-If you want me to.
-Of course I do.
-Then I’ll be there. By your side, as usual. That much wont ever change
I am now realising that I’ve never felt such intense feelings for anyone before, because my love for Nadia is strong but yet this is a different emotion. He is my brother, my friend and a half of my heart. That will never end. It almost seems like I am enamoured.”
And he then starts talking about the food of the reastaurant.
MY GRANDPA TOTALLY WENT INTO BRO MODE. I AM DYING INSIDE CAUSE WTF AM I DISCOVERING?! THIS IS SOME PARABATAI BULLSHIT
I am so going to translate the whole thing and publish it changing the names.
And the journal it’s not even over.
I will buy 10 copies of this book and nominate it for a pulitzer
turns over and lays on my stomach with my hands under my chin to better hear the bisexual grandpa diary tale.
North American cinema is the only true weapon of mass destruction. It has achieved to convince the audience not only that it’s the best possible cinema, but that it is the only.