brain donation

The Best Perfume Insults

I love people’s writing about perfume, because it’s forced to be so creative.  Scent is hard to talk about, so people have to resort to stories and metaphors, all of them intensely personal to the writer.

And when they don’t like a perfume, that creativity gives forth some of the best insults.  I have here curated my favorites from Perfumes: The Guide by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez.  The list is long, but trust me, they’re all worth reading.

A disclaimer: The same thing that makes perfume reviews fun to read also makes them super subjective.  I have never found less of a consensus on anything than on perfume.  In other words, if you find your favorite perfume on this list, please don’t take it personally (and don’t blame me- I haven’t smelled most of these myself!)

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Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 7- Free Choice

I was recently inspired by this post made by @mychakk about how things could have gone if Molly simply never picked up the phone during that scene in TFP. I came up with a somewhat angsty idea of how things might have played out in that scene and also for Sherlock afterward. Hope everyone enjoys it, and happy final day of Sherlolly Appreciation Week!! :D


Unsaid

John watched as a final scream of pain ripped through Sherlock’s body. He staggered backward, his back soon colliding with concrete and causing him to slide down to the floor with a strangled sob. The floor was littered with shreds of the cheap wooden coffin. The practical choice, for someone unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. John had wanted it ripped apart almost as badly as Sherlock. The truth was that none of them wanted that coffin to be a reality.

None of the three men wanted to think of the fact that Molly Hooper was now headed for one just like it.

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Photographs of William W. Keen’s successful operation to remove a brain tumor from a 26-year old patient, 1887. The patient was a carriage maker who exhibited symptoms of severe headaches, seizures, and partial blindness; he also had a history of a head injury and was prone to aphasia.

Owing to Keen’s demands at that proper antiseptic measures were taken for the operation (including removing the carpet and cleaning walls and ceiling), the tumor was removed after a two hour operation. Despite some complications with wound closure and cerebrospinal fluid leak, the patient lived for thirty years, even donating his brain to his surgeon for anatomical study.

Journal of the American Medical Association, 1918.

anonymous asked:

Why do you think so many teens here fake being mentally ill? I can't decide whether it's a cry for attention, a result of the teenage identity crisis, a way to infantilize themselves out of fear of growing up, an attempt to get away with shitty behavior, or all of the above. I just take it very personally, because they contribute to the stigma and myths around mental illness.

All of the above, plus rationalising their self-hatred and trying to fit onto the “right side” of identity politics.

Remember: if you’re mentally ill, that means that you’re automatically a better person as well as more oppressed than non-mentally ill people.

It’s a fad, to be frank with you, and because those teenagers read up on actual mental health issues, apply them to themselves liberally and then exaggerate their “symptoms” so others will feel sorry for them, it’s an awful cocktail.

The thing is, when they fetishise mental illness, not only do they damage the image of people that really do have that illness, they trivialise other mental illnesses. 

Anxiety is romanticised, but depression isn’t a “real” mental illness, according to them. (Despite the fact that scientists recently appealed for more people with the likes of depression and PTSD to donate their brains for medical research, as they’re wired differently to “normal” brains.)

There’s this desire to be seen as special, as unique. Where teenagers used to just get upset and complain that no one understood them, now we have teenagers that are desperate to have mental illnesses to convince themselves that their teenage issues, mood swings and the rest caused by puberty and the rest are something that no one else can understand – as well as turn themselves into victims instead of ordinary people growing up.

Unfucking Dungeons & Dragons

The concept of some humanoid or near-humanoid species being naturally inclined to evil is a racist one, and, unfortunately, a prevalent one in Dungeons & Dragons, exacerbated by the fact that these “evil species” are frequently the “ugly” ones. Drow are a particularly glaring example - “made black because of their ‘evil’”?! Fuck you - but the duergar - “the slaves … learned only to enslave, really makes you think don’t it” - and the orcs - “they feel the CALL to evil in their Gruumshy HEARTS” - are also super not good. (There’s also a fair degree of ableism, with “insane” monsters - in such cases, I honestly think “unaligned” would be a better description for “too far gone to understand morality”. Evil implies a choice.)
Honestly, I wouldn’t mind so much if these weren’t supposed to be naturally-occurring species - always evil demons or fey are fine, because they’re made of magic and stories, although care should of course be taken not to make them look like naturally-occurring species - but elves are really just fragile pointy-eared monkeys, and they have excuses.
However, these evil humanoids are also genre staples and often quite aesthetically good. To that end, I offer the Unfucking D&D Guide, which provides what I think are solutions to this problem. (It should be noted that I am whiter than plain yogurt, so my ideas should be taken with a grain of salt and definitely not take precedence over the ideas of non-white folks. If I’ve said something fucked-up in this, please let me know and I’ll fix it.)

  • Duergar. Keep the “enslaved by illithids, made grim & psionic” bit, toss the “learnt evil from them” part. The duergar are joyless, or can appear so - you can play them either as gloomy and fatalistic or as eccentric and unreasonably concerned with “corruption” - but despite whatever mood they possess, make sure that they are thoroughly dedicated to making sure the horrors of the Underdark stay in the Underdark, and are as righteous and honorable as their hill and mountain cousins.
  • Derro. The derro are an “insane” species; I bring them up only because I saw them confused with duergar in one post about racism in D&D. Their lore has not been constant - the current lore is “dwarves enslaved by illithids, tortured into madness, and now they’re eeeeeeeevil”, which is ableist, not racist - but their metatextual origin is among the detrimental robots, or Deros, of pulp author Richard Sharpe Shaver’s stories (or possibly delusions). “Born from the dreams of a mad author” would actually be good lore if you can make that author a tragic sufferer of schizophrenia in a time before it was understood rather than an ~*~eViL mAdMaN~*~, but in any event, change their type to construct, fey, or fiend, and, most importantly, don’t take them seriously. The derro are pulp villains, and their evil is grandiose and nonsensical. They ought not to be seen as realistic; they ought to be seen as Snidely Whiplash, Commander Claw, or Heinz Doofenshmirtz. “Reasons” are for other genres.
  • Drow. Return drow to their mythical roots as trow, nocturnal hunters, tricksters, and magical artisans dwelling in the hollow hills. There’s high and wood elves; dark elves can find a niche. Lolthite culture is good villain fodder, but make sure that you can handle an “evil religion”, and make sure that all types of elves participate.
  • Goblinoids and trolls. Make them fey, and abandon Tolkien for Rossetti and folktale. Goblins make cruel bargains; hobgoblins attend faerie courts; bugbears hide in closets and create electricity from feed on children’s screams; trolls lurk under bridges and love riddles. As fey, they’re not evil, simply alien and lacking in empathy towards mortals.
  • Gnolls. If you use the Volo’s lore, change their type to fiend and be done with it. If you want to have them be natural humanoids, go read Ursula Vernon’s Digger for the best-written hyaena-furries in literature and base gnolls off that once you’re done crying.
  • Kobolds. Kobolds are already draconic cleaner wrasses in lore; there’s no reason that metallic dragons can’t enjoy them as well and influence some populations to good.
  • Illithids. The mind flayers certainly have great potential as villains. However, there is nothing about their psychology that impels them thither. Their biological requirements could easily be met by feeding on those close to death, whom I might imagine would willingly donate their brains as food or tadpole incubators in exchange for a painless death and the surety that their memories would live on in the illithid. Also, create food and water spells exist.
  • Ogres. Ogres are wilderness-dwellers who prefer to maintain their personal territories through fear instead of actual force of arms; the idea of the monstrous, anthropophagous ogre is a deliberate sham. They are actually capable of great heroism, even if they aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed and okay to be honest I started out trying to build up to a Shrek joke but I think I’d take this over canon lore.
  • Orcs. Orcs are an easy fix; all you need to do is remove Gruumsh from the equation and they don’t have a bullshit “call to evil”; in Eberron, without objective gods, the people of the Shadow Marches believe that half-orcs are the proof that orcs and humans are one people, so there’s even in-game precedent for orcs as members of society.
  • Yuan-ti. There are two ways to do this. One is to dump all the lore and just have sexy snake cults, although don’t dress them like Asian or Aztec stereotypes like a lot of the art does. (The 3.5 Monster Manual yuan-ti pureblood looks like she’s constantly accompanied by an inappropriate bamboo flute riff, I swear to Istus.) A sexy snake cult (and I am including malisons, abominations, and anathemas in the term “sexy”, not just purebloods) should be fun for everyone.
    • The other way is to keep their personalities and dump everything else, because if you keep that, you get truly excellent villains. I mean, these fuckers. How dare they drag something as pure as snakes into their Ayn Rand bullshit. Villain yuan-ti should be something transformed from willing or deluded humanoids (histachii raise the sacred snakes and the children of the yuan-ti, who possess their parents’ original race at birth). Couple that with the fact that since snakes very definitely have emotions, yuan-ti logically should as well, which means that they only think they’re above emotions. Now you have Objectivists roped into a magical pyramid scheme, which should offend no-one who doesn’t deserve it. You can mourn for the beings they once were, or just laugh in their dumb faces. Also, the sexy ones all look like Ayn Rand.
American Gods s01e03 and some mummies I met once.

I work in customer service at a science museum.  Usually I don’t spend any time around human remains.  We do have a preserved brain from someone who donated their body to science.  Looking at it makes the back of my neck tingle, but I don’t feel any moral discomfort because that brain has ended up in a place that it wanted to be.  

Recently we had an exhibition with six Egyptian mummies and being around them made me go a little strange.  

These six people spent their entire lives on one continent and went to great pains to preserve their bodies for full reincarnation in the afterlife, and they almost pulled it off.  They were in their tombs for hundreds, nearly thousands of years, and then some colonial dickwads stole them and they ended up in the British museum - a place full of stolen shit that the organisation refuses to give back.  

And these six mummies were some of the LUCKY ones - have you ever wondered where the game ‘Pass the Parcel’ originated from??

Anyway, for a couple of months, these six mummies came to my museum. At first I was excited - Egyptian mummies! What exotic curiosities! When they arrived I walked through the exhibitions and learned their ages, sexes, and if they suffered from any diseases.  We knew the names of three of them - Tamut, Ithorru and Nesawedjat.  The names of the other three were forgotten.  

A colleague of mine who studied Egyptology told me that it was a funerary practise for the morticians to say the name of the deceased over and over as they were mummifying the body.  I tried it one morning. It was my turn to check the gallery, and there was no one there, so I slowly walked through and said their names.  I tried to greet the nameless ones warmly, politely, as if I was meeting someone at a friend’s birthday party and hadn’t learned their name yet.

I felt a little silly, like I was having some sort of white girl mystical experience, but I figured that these people believed in this stuff.  If they knew that their bodies would be snatched by thieves and treated as commodities for the rest of their deaths, then a bottom-of-the-rung worker trying (self-consciously) to reproduce the correct etiquette from their culture would have been pretty far down on their list of concerns.  So I kept doing it.  Wandering from show case to show case in the mornings, uttering their names.

It became a habit. When it was my turn to do the morning checks I would go through and say:

Good morning Nesawedjat (a wealthy lady)

Good morning Tamut (a chantress)

Good morning Ithorru (a priest)

Good morning Chantress (a few days before the exhibition closed I was mortified to find out that she was not actually a chantress, but a temple singer. I apologised to her profusely)

Good morning baby (he was two or three years old)

Good morning dude (a Roman guy in his early 20s.  I got an MRA vibe off him and I think he would have preferred it if I called him ‘sir’ - that wasn’t going to happen.  Sometimes, if I was feeling generous, I would call him ‘Mr’ - it felt like were were compromising) 

When I thought about the lost names of the last three mummies it gave me a little pain in my solar plexus.  

I cleaned their showcases obsessively - neglecting the other cases that contained mere artifacts. I started to think of the mummies showcases as surrogates for their outer coffins.  I muttered their names under my breath as I spritzed and wiped, even when the exhibition was full of customers.  When I’d finish I’d say something like ‘that’s better.  Now you can see out.’ Pretending that I was making a joke - I sort of was.  They’re dead.  They can’t hear me. Some customers smiled awkwardly.  Most ignored me. 

Some customers would try to be nice and say something like, ‘oh that’s a neverending job.’ There was no way that I could explain that I wasn’t doing this because it was my job.  I was doing this for the mummies.  I would smile and shrug and wish they would leave us alone. 

The temple singer (the one who I’d been calling ‘Chantress’) had her feet detached a long time after she’d died - they were still inside the cartonnage.  One sideways and one upside-down.  I asked a curator why.  They didn’t know. All they could say was that she’d grown very fragile over the centuries.  I imagined her spirit returning to her body and finding that she wouldn’t be able to walk. 

Tamut had a beautiful face.  I knew that it was just a decoration on her cartonnage, that she wasn’t really that young and pretty when she died, but I have to admit, I cleaned her showcase the most.  I felt guilty for having a favourite.  I felt silly for feeling guilty.  They’re dead.  They don’t care that you have a crush on Tamut.  Why the fuck do you have a crush on Tamut?

The exhibition had to end.  I can’t actually remember if I said goodbye.  But I told my colleagues that I was going to miss them - and I smiled as if I was making a joke.  Some of the other gallery officers nodded knowingly.  I wondered if they had formed their own connections.  

At the end of the final day, the gallery was closed and the conservation team came in with their blue gloves on to pack everyone away.  I felt that little ache in my solar plexus. 

And then I forgot about them for a week or two.  Until I sat down to watch American Gods s01e03.  I saw the scales - I knew what was going to happen before Anubis produced the feather.  My heart was pounding and if I hadn’t stopped myself I might have cried.

Why did I feel this way?  I guess it was the mummies.

Brandenn Bremmer was a child genius. He had an IQ of 178, was reading books aloud by 18 months and graduated high school when he was 11 years old. He became a gifted pianist from the age of 3, and composed several classical pieces of his own. When he was 14-years-old, Brandenn committed suicide and nobody knows why. There was no note and he hadn’t shown any signs of depression or any other mental illness. After his death, his organs (including his brain) were donated to science. His mother said “It’s all he ever wanted.”

Not to be cold-blooded though, but just imagine if all the untreated transsexual people that committed suicide had donated their brains to science, how many more samples there could be to improve research on this subject.

So today in I need to reevaluate my limited perspectives news:

So I was reading an article about Japanese vs Western concepts of death and specifically of brain-death and how that plays into how little traction the concept of organ donation and especially organ donation from brain-dead donors has got in Japan.

This is something I already knew vaguely (in the sense I knew organ donation was very limited in Japan, and nothing else) largely because there’s an arc about it in Tokyo Babylon (feel free to insert any jokes about anime fans you feel appropriate at this juncture).

What I did not really grasp, in my manga reading, is that donation from brain dead donors was only legalized in 1997, while Tokyo Babylon was pointedly making a pointed point about it in about 1993.

So yeah, I need to seriously reevaluate exactly how political that manga is.

Not that it isn’t a legitimate criticism of brain sex theory, it’s perfectly valid and we definitely need more research with larger sample sizes, but some people really don’t understand just how difficult it is to get those. In his book, dr. Swaab explains it took him two decades to find the sample material he used for his research. It’s just that impossible to get their hands on. Not a lot of people that donate their brains to research after they die, and how many of those are going to be gender dysphoric, untreated and clarify that they suffered from such?

There may be another way to research this further, though. The other way around. Biological women that identify as women, but have been treated with hormones. Detransitioners. Those angry radfems that now despise all transgender people and would love nothing more than to prove their brain sex theory wrong. So go on then. Donate your brains to science. Let’s see if that prolonged exposure to testosterone influenced your brain at all, and how, or if there are parts that remained within feminine ranges nonetheless. It would be the only time you used your brain for something useful.

anonymous asked:

the lady who runs that channel you were talking about has a couple of videos where she talks about wanting to raise money to build a complex in florida for her animatronics which are implanted with 'the brain of god'

I’ll donate to her cause

Last month, it was revealed 76 of the 79 deceased football players who donated their brains to research showed evidence of chronic traumatic encephalopathy. While the NFL has gone to extraordinary lengths to contain the crisis, the link between football and brain trauma is now beyond dispute. It’s not unlike the research into dementia pugilistica, once known as “punch-drunk syndrome,” which undercut boxing’s supply line and helped marginalize a sport that once commanded America’s attention.
I know Yan-dev won’t see this or anything but it would be so cool

Club tasks that involve murder
Think about it
- Making custom paintbrushes for the Art club out of a rival’s hair
-Stuffing a body into a bag and using it to practice punches and kicks in Martial Arts
-Giving the Cooking club a slab of flesh when they run out of meat
-Creating a ‘realistic-looking’ crime scene for a play with the Drama club
-Fertilising the gardens with a corpse
-fixing wind instruments with bones and teeth for Music
-donating a brain to study in the Science club
-face it, you’re going to need blood for Occult club rituals
The possibilities are endless! For every rival you take something can be kept as a trophy to use later on for these quests. Maybe doing these tasks will make the club members trust you more, maybe defend you with an alibi. The perks from the clubs could level up more with each task you complete.
It would be so satisfying to express the conniving murderess that Yandere-chan is by giving it to other students willingly with a smile. Having your sadism spread right under everyone’s nose.