Welcome !

This first page is supposed to make the selective reading of these causeries easier. Along with a link to each of them, there is a short but vague introduction to the content. Those who don't like W. Shakespeare should study them carefully. Those who do, do it anyway.

Now it is August 2017, and the last three years, being distracted by other doings, I've been lazy with this project. Of course, using "distracted" in this context may be somewhat misleading as busying myself with other activities has been completely intentional. 

Another evening it occurred to me that perhaps it is the time for a line or two as so much has happened since my previous "discussion with myself". The curtain literally went down back then. Coming up from silence and coming up with a new story require inspiration, and getting it in my case is only a matter of hard work. Yes, I am stubborn also in that sense, but anyway surprised as it happens. I'm so obvious, so obvious (quoting D.Trump). Well then, now as I've also changed the picture above, my evening chores seem to be completed.  As soon as I've inspired myself I'll let you know.

...and these would be the older stories:

29)  Discussions before the curtain goes up might in someone's eyes be just "out there". But, on the other hand, those five short entries only show how some things are actually wrapping up. For political reasons it reads better in English than in French.

28) Ranting around is a praise of commuter trains. Now as I have, at least for now, left that phase of life behind, it's time to tell something that I learnt over the last seven or so years. We in the mature middle-age have to be prepared for the future.

27) There are so many things I always would have liked to teach, but never had an opportunity. In the Word Anatomy Course # 101 I'm finally able to forward the message of a simple technique for understanding what the people really mean when the say it, even if they didn't know it themselves.

26) Although the title might mislead the reader into taking Long arms required for X-rated selfies as a medical advisory, it may still work as a therapeutic tool for those who are afraid of losing their eyesight or sense of humor. For some reason this entry has gained quite a bunch of readers over the last weeks.

25) Short for "compromised old" is "cold" has nothing to do with W. Shakespeare, although the main characters in this story have already lived almost ten years longer than he did. I just wonder if W.S. ever suffered from Trochanteric bursitis. 

24) In Shopping for a car is like getting a wife, my intention is not to materialize anything, anyone or any unmentioned gender. It's only that young people need a manual for doing important decisions. 

23) Plump and Circumference is not a direct quotation from the Shakespearean English. It rather acts as a working horse or an excuse for dragging some heavy material for digestion. This something is all around us. 

22) Communication may become a problem if you take it too seriously. The communication gap between the sexes could solve the overpopulation question of our planet. Did William Shakespeare have the answer? This is what you'll learn if you read Sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying. 

21) My name is Richo took much time as I was busy with other kind of work. It is a story about a minority. About 10% of all people have this trait, but so many don't talk about it. However, they are one influential lot. Yes, they are. 

20) Symbiotic Honolulu birds is a full bloodied, nature related story from Honolulu, Hawaii, spiced with some symbiotic birds, Pearl Harbor and the Superman. Without the help of The United States Pacific Fleet and some other major contributors, this story would never have been completed. 

19) Chewing gum modified town planning: An environmental analysis deals with an issue that continuously irritates most city dwellers, Singapore as an exception. This writing follows the common sequence of scientific publications with: Introduction, Material & Methods, Results, Discussion and Conclusions sections. 

18) Among these stories, A scrappy biking review has surprisingly collected the highest number of web hits. I suspect that the key words "biking" and "scrappy" together have attracted people from US as in American English "scrappy" means "aggressive"; and in British English "incomplete" or "fragmentary". Still the story only is a haphazard collection of bike pictures, and a loose environmental (Oh no, not again) comment. 

17) Maasai men en route; the longest leg is a story playing with words related to botany. It is about a bunch of Maasai men; some of them soldiers "because they make good weapons". Some familiarity with British TV characters and horticultural terminology helps reading it. 

16) Things happen may in the beginning sound dull, but eventually a forbearing reader will come to know that it deals with issues to scratch - literally. Some have told me that reading it a second time is even better. Quite recently, after reading it myself the seventy-sixth time, I considered it the best little story in this set. 

15) The Sun, galaxies and cockroaches perhaps partly belongs to the group of educational stories, but then it also is a political statement, predicting a bright future for some insects with a chitin shield. 

14) What are the nights good for was initially inspired by August 2011 riots in London and Manchester. However, it became a story about the different uses of day and night time, and escalated to a somewhat hypothetical (?) discussion and interesting suggestions. 

13) Are you a swooper or a basher blatantly utilises Author Kurt Vonnegut's division of writers into two categories. This may sound a bit far-fetched as stationary biking is here the actual vehicle for maintaining the train of thought. There is no intentional nit-picking involved although punctuation has an active role. 

12) Comédien avec moi will be something for those who use to watch Come dine with me on the British TV4. The story is perhaps only fictional, i.e. it doesn't have anything to do with reality although it could have happened. Well, this was the best description I could make up without telling too much. Do you fancy sausages? 

11) Are all birds from this world deals with some paranormal phenomena that may or may not have been explained by today's scientists. The cross-disciplinary approach of this review mainly deals with birds and ghosts, revealing their geographical connections. The truth is right here. 

10) Crawling is a down-to-earth activity is something for all those looking for a new way of exercising in the nature. Although, some equipment introduced in this story may sound uncomfortable, making all sports as safe as possible can't be ignored.

9) Who has the power is a survival story of a family in the middle of Montreal Ice-Storm in January 1998. It is not a political comment, but plainly explains what happened, and what could have happened if the schools had been closed another two weeks. 

8) A hole in the Horizon is a narrative of a car trip in Gaspe Peninsula in Québec, eastern Canada. This is a laid-back thing to read although there may be some who don't share my opinions about driving a minivan or French language in Québec. 

7) Spending times between other moments is another story about hobbies. In my case, most of them have seemed and seem to be related to sports, more or less. Renovating an old house is a sport, and so is idling if you take it seriously. 

6) Moulin Rouge, the centre of its surroundings doesn't tell everything my wife and I experienced in Paris, but it is inclined to. We had a small hotel room some 150 metres from the Moulin Rouge, and you can imagine the rest. Once, Pigalle was called "Pig Alley"; we don't agree. 

5) Barcodes reveal expiry date and else is something that perhaps could have remained unwritten. Its cross-disciplinary grip doesn't hold, and the generalisations stink. A friend of mine, a professor in his field, once told me that (in this story, sic!) my argumentation is hard to follow. You have to read it. 

4) About smoking is an autobiographical revelation of my still existing habit, enjoyed with a cup of coffee. It is a tale about how it started, and about why it hasn't ended. If you have no idea what heather bushes have to do with it, find out. 

3) Autumn in human colours explains all that a layman should know about the Munsell Colour System. The examples are from everyday life, and can be applied to everyone. Find yourself, and tell your friends their value. 

2) James Bond spinning stationary bike was written after another spell on my bike. If you read it, you understand I was somewhat exhausted. James Bond...ouch! 

1) Squash the kids came up at some point in 2011, and perhaps for that reason the things that happened over 30 years ago were so clear to me now. My ex-wife likes this story very much. 

Out of square, but proud of it!

Shuwaikh Port, Kuwait 

With regards, Isak

Copyright © 2011-2016 Isak Lee

Discussions before the curtain goes up

Il n'est pas approprié de servir l'histoire "Des discussions avant que le rideau se leve" en française, parce que on ne veut pas ruiner la réputation gastronomique des Français à leurs propres yeux.

In a theater, lots of things happen before the actual show is due to begin. And such is the "real" life too. As it happens, most of us have only two eyes, and momentarily we can only see the action that takes place around us. But, before the real-life-show actors are brought before us, there have been things happening just around the corner, and actually all that fuss has taken place only to prepare another live act to be run before our very own eyes.

If you follow the media, or still happen to read newspapers, you definitely know that corporate food industry is a magnificent playground, where profits go easily before the benefits of the consumers. What is happening behind the curtains of the food procession stage will most likely never be completely unveiled. However, if you mobilize your imagination and use it in a logical manner for going backwards from the outcome in direction of the beginning, it might be possible to see something very different from what you expect. As the curtain is still between us and the actors, we can only hear their voices..., but reading between the lines is an excellent tool.

And here we go...

Two pigs are whisking flies with their tails and talking. There are others too, and they all have some good time in the backyard of an old meat processing plant. They are standing knee-deep in the water. But it is not just any sort of water as it is very aromatic and very different from the usual pigsty stuff. The bigger of the two has an apple, but the other doesn't like his demeanor. As a matter of fact, the big one is not eating, but only holds it between the teeth in an open mouth. "You make me fret", says the first pig, "I know your sarcasm has no boundaries, but the Christmas is still another six months down the road. Why couldn't we just enjoy ourselves and this nice foot bath. It's not our time yet, although I've been feeling a bit weird lately. I just wander if it has anything to do with these bath salts they been pushing to us?" Somewhere in the distance, you can hear the rattling sound of an approaching truck with a tasty text "Charcuterie" on its side.

Two mussels or, as they are so very small, should I say cockles, live in a cavernous place that they have been calling their home for a very long time. They have rooms of their own, but separated by a thick "block head": "Can you hear me...? I've been trying to reach you for decades, but this stupid host just always turns you in the wrong direction. When we were younger, I could hear you at least somehow. It must be the crickets's fault, also they have disappeared. Do you know what? I'm just wondering why it's been so quiet quite a while. This place has been pretty dead for weeks, and these new fluids get everywhere. Before, there always was some noise and talk and chatter from around, but then it abruptly ended with a thump. I don't think the cauliflower at the door is well either. Wow..wow.. wow, what's happening now.. I'm out and in a... jar; there's light everywhere. Perhaps, after all there is an afterlife".

A very small slim girl in a tiny bed talking to another alike: "How do you feel about changing your name? Don't feel bad, I'm also going to Scandinavia, and I think it's just great. They like our dark skin up there. The men, especially the older men do. I've heard some of them make orders on us on the Internet.  So many girls find it better to move abroad, as they hope for a better life even if it were a canned sort one. Up there, they just love us; you don't have to be an anchovy by birth. And now we can forget that the real ones don't talk to us. "You are such a sprat", and other obscenities they so often throw at us. However, although we were sprats in our native sea, now as we've passed the customs, we have officially been wedded to the family of the Anchovies".

One of the turkeys is different. He's calling himself a clairvoyant, but has a speech disorder, and the others do not like him. His muttering: "glug, glug, glug" is rhythmic and has a appealing cadence, but the staccato is almost overwhelming, and there is no sense as the significance is completely incongruous. The others find it just aggravating as otherwise the days are bright and peaceful. There is lots of food, and the farm in the Champagne region is cozy. The speech impeded one tries harder, and with some effort he manages to spit out a miserable but generally understandable "cluck". Thanksgiving is only a few weeks ahead. In the afternoon, all the turkeys are gathered in the anteroom of a small but clean looking building. The turkeys are picked up one by one and taken into the back room by an old man with an axe in his belt. And then, this repetitive sound begins; it is not so rhythmic, but the staccato is clear although the pace is slow. Cluck.......... cluck... Only "I got it right" has time to flash through in the last milliseconds of awareness of the speech impeded one, before it is his CLUCK.

It was an early morning in the Marseilles harbour, and two hungry vacationing foreign legion privates had a serious talk. "You know, French hot mustard and sausages are an explosive combination sometimes with far-reaching consequences", told a private to another. "Our chaplain told me this whole history about how his line of work was started. You see, still a couple of years ago, not far from here, there was a snack-stall, and the poor owner got those sausages so hot the whole stall exploded. One of the sausages ended up on a cloud, and an angel just found it dangling on the edge about to fall back on earth. He didn't know what it was and took it to Saint Peter for identification. Well, Saint Peter didn't know either, but deduced perhaps Virgin Mary would know as she had more expertise on secular issues. First, Virgin Mary pretended just as ignorant as St.Peter had been. Anyway, as the angel was insistent, her demeanour finally softened: "I wouldn't swear and I could be wrong, but if it didn't have those ropes attached to the other end, I would call it the Holy Ghost." There was a moment of silence, but finally, shrugging their shoulders the privates decided to mind just their own risky business. No clouds in Marseilles harbour today.

And finally, for crowning a great meal...

Sheila, Maria and Carmen, who worked in a sausage factory, had a break. Maria was a girl with meagre composition and envied the better "equipped" two. For sounding nonchalant, she had just cited something she had recently read about the official escalation of language when discussing breast sizes: "The smallest are "cute boobs, then come "nice tits" followed by "great jugs", and finally we arrive at "major hooters" (Ed McBain, Hark!). The other two paid no heed to her as, according to the protocol, the girls had to finalize the shape of the sausages between their breasts, and that is why their talk often related to these essential tools. But what followed then was to be written in the histories of the Opera Music and Tobacco Industry. "Hey Maria", uttered Sheila, "Could you roll one of those joints for me and Carmen too. You do it so niftily between the boobs, and see all that grease, it holds all the stuff together. I just wonder if we could use them and these (pushing up her own) for something bigger too... baseball bats, cigars?" After a moment of consideration she went on: "But Carmen, you know the guy who has a cigar factory, don't you...? At least he comes to your place every Saturday afternoon, doesn't he. Just show him how to do it... no, no, I mean rolling a major cigar between your hooters. I can already see you as a technical adviser in his shop, and your voice is not do bad either."

Nous ici dans les pays nordiques ont appris à aimer nos voisins. C'est pourquoi je ne veux pas préciser l'historique de la poutine, le plat national du Québec français.

Ranting around

"This is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing". - W. Shakespeare

Taking a bus or train is always invigorating. You see all these people, and as an extra serving you’ll come to know lots of their families and neighbors, their likings and dislikings and their favorite civil servants. If you end up eavesdropping elderly co-travelers, you’ll hear the latest news about their grandchildren, what the weather has been like the last days and century and then you’ll definitely hear what’s wrong with the physician they saw last week and the young people these days. The physician was one them. He couldn't tell the difference between a hurt toe and a blueberry.

The young people I have met, or just listened to, move too fast from one topic to another for my liking. However, every time their doings sound very much the same; only the venues change, or the someones they did it with. If you try to find some logic, it is so easy to get lost. Their jargon is like a hockey game; attacks from one end to another follow in fast succession, and random shots of obscenity are made in order to woe the crowd. The shooter will beg for applause with a rapid glance at the yes-men. The elderly do not care; they always got it right. Moreover, the youngsters have a dialect I hardly understand, or then my comprehension filters haven’t been updated. So, for being able to provide you with accurate quotations, I have to confine myself to the talks of the not-so-much-teen-aged as I'm myself approaching the so called mature middle-age. Darn... who is talking: is it me or THEM!

As I mentioned, commuting is an excellent means for seeing people. Quite a few have eyes in the back of head, but nowadays there is a solution also for that deficiency. Cell phones, that once upon a time were only for exchanging the latest gossips, nowadays have a camera for taking selfies. I've discussed the actual essence of the selfies in another writing, but in this case it's the opportunity to take an over-the-shoulder shot that attracts me. When seemingly taking a shot of something in front of you, you actually are able to videotape (sound included) all that's taking place behind you. In a commuter train, this is an extra advantage for memorizing the peoples' talks for later processing - and ranting. Some might call it "interfering in individuals' privacy", but I call it "trying to hear what they are talking about".

Quite clearly, the weather is an all-time favorite. After this long, dark and warm winter, we're supposed to expect something different, but who is ever happy. Listening to the elderly people is something we should do carefully as they have a long experience of being uncomfortable with the weather, and they do know. Whatever the weather is in summer, there's always something to complain about. If it's not the actual temperature, there's always the unfit clothing, bugs, too bright sun, and sour milk. Sweating may become a problem if there’s any of it left, and the luminous nights may compromise your sleeping rhythm. I don’t even start talking about the annual moving into the Daylight Saving Time. We in the mature middle-age should know almost as well as those over-something-years, but we still have some of our good memory left, and we’re able to see the bright side of the coin as well. Unfit clothing is called “out of fashion” or "laid-back", the bugs are almost like the “crickets in the Mediterranean” (if we still hear them), too bright sun is simply a good reason to have new shades, and finally we don’t drink milk. Sweating is called perspiration as it sounds more sophisticated, and it's only the sign of some remaining vigor. The DST doesn't bother us because most of us do not have cows, and we don’t milk them. Sleep deprivation is only for constant complainers and hypochondriacs. But wasn't it exactly us baby-boomers who modified the world we live in!

Perhaps we baby-boomers really did polish the present computerized way of living, but we definitely had nothing to do with some of the contemporary music styles. Computers and other such gadgets have become niftier and lighter, but contrary to that much of the nowadays' music is heavy - literally. The young in these days often complain how hard it is to carry the load their fathers forwarded to them on their shoulders, but I'd say that the "heavy" music alone will make a half of it. Why do the young so seldom complain about the DST? Perhaps it's because of the heavy eyelids they have.

Then of course there are those who do nothing but sit and stare in a commuter train. They hardly have the energy to have a look at the morning papers strewn about the seats and floor. On the other hand, there is a chance they're doing the same as I do, but with no other recording device but their memory. In my opinion, trusting on pure inborn memory is a huge liability. Forwarding slanted or completely false information may entail dire consequences, of which there's lots of hard evidence. It's even worse if the data is randomly collected, and retrieved from the memory only if required. The complete opposite to the previous is (presumably) a council clerk, whose conversation can be heard in the next car:

(Melody from Also Sprach Zarathustra)

"...Yes, it's me... I'm on my way... I can't speak, there's people around!"

(Distant murmur from the cell phone.)

"...Well, we do know her credit rating... but I can't talk about it here!"

(Distant murmur from the cell phone.)

"...Of course, definitely, she's such a prominent figure in the village, with all that red hair and good looks."

(Distant murmur from the cell phone.)

"...What do you mean... really! That's bad!"

(Distant murmur from the cell phone.)

"... And the other councillors may not have a clue... Now, don't shout, someone may hear you!"

(Distant murmur from the cell phone.)

"... Tell them, but we can't talk this on phone, the line could be tapped..., see you soon!"

In the near future, there might be even more middle-aged people from that village just staring at the back of the seat while planning to move to another village. Anyway, the younger wouldn't care. They'd rather be happy to have another reason for moving to a big city with concert halls and a decent dialect.

Commuting is one thing, but long distance trains are a world of their own. Having someone to come sit right next to you for six or ten hours is always a chance. Nowadays, I use trains mostly for long distances, and I know this lottery has a somewhat strong impact on how entertaining the travel will be. The time you'll spend sitting side by side with someone may lapse in many different ways as at some point there definitely will be some exchange of words. If the companion belongs to the granny/grand-pop group, the conversation hopefully will turn into a monologue, and my main task will be to keep my lines short and non-informative (for not confusing the granny). I always have some books, packed lunch or other disguise at hand. Anyway, if the neighbour asked something personal, a catholic "of course" should pretty much work. In case I really had something to say, I would lower my tone and use only passive voice. The other choice would be to pretend choking on my sandwich. If the "someone" were not an actual "granny", and the travel were to be long, I would most likely ask if we'd met somewhere before, and smile my eyes out. There would also be an extra sandwich if the "someone" were "just a little bit hungry". Old people are such opportunists.

Privacy is of course a relative concept. If all the others on the same train or bus have a hypothetical disorder, it is easy to talk freely. Comparing the nuances and bragging about who's had the most "horrendous one" will create a sort of peer-group-solidarity that only few less worldly matters can beat. But, woe betide an outsider ending up sitting there in the middle of something. Also the youth can be regarded as a self-curing disorder; you've had it once and it'll never return. Immunity is 100% although some persistent traits may remain. For this reason, also the young like it in peer-groups. Bragging about who's had the most "horrendous one" sounds familiar, and the worldly matters seem so distant.

But what about us in the mature middle-age? We're no more that young, and on the other hand, most of our disorders are still looming on the horizon. I know there's plenty of those who listen to the same music I do, but if my destiny is to get old, perhaps it is time to start practicing. Anyone else with a blueberry?

Word Anatomy Course # 101

In this basic Word Anatomy Course #101, we'll have a look at some of the most common attributes describing people. Some idioms that the most of us take for granted do not necessarily contain the idea that we believe they do. Unveiling their hidden nature may become as a surprise for many of us. Especially, the message of some descriptive words about human behavior and characteristics may change completely when the anatomy of the expression comes under close scrutiny. Nowadays, a growing number of people would like to know what they really are saying, and why are they doing what they do. Perhaps for this reason the course has gained such an unprecedented popularity that the material has already been translated into French, Swedish and German, and the work on the Mandarin language has been recently started.

Introduction and examples 

The true nature of a single word is exposed when the actual character string is dissected, fixated, cut, politically dyed and displayed between two transparent video screens. The separated random syllables are then analyzed under a high magnification internet microscope. The consistency of the results is confirmed by making an extensive literature review. An educated individual might see this processing just as unscientific as any cutting of a random rat, but these skeptics will most often be returned back to earth as they come up with the results, and compare them with the real life. Even in professional circles this method is often mixed with "word rooting" although by using this method, the original common meaning is in many cases completely rooted out. Anyway, let's start this course by disassembling the simple word "optimist". 

Optimist: Many of us would like to call themselves optimists, but only few dare. Is there a problem with the others seeing optimists naïve, or is it only that the actual word in its written form doesn't tell it all. So, let's start with the basics. If the opt-prefix is related to vision, and we all know what mist is, an optimist, as optical mist, sounds and looks suspicious. Especially an optimistic visionary wouldn't like to have any attributes of compromised vision appended to the context. On the other hand, opt as optional and imist as someone who possibly prefers having (at least or only?) minimal professional safety training doesn't feel good either. So, finally we'll come up with the definition: An optimist is a potentially insecure person with bad vision, and should be considered a liability at work. No wonder that only so few are brave enough to talk about it; they're not sure if it's safe.

Visionary: What about the above mentioned visionaries? They should represent those who are able to see the forest for the trees; discern an overall pattern from a mass of details. However, if you take the word literally, vis as in vis-à-vis, ion as a very small particle and finally aries as a stubborn animal, you'll have a sample of individuals who are all the time hardheadedly facing problems with the details they, according to the supposed definition, avoid seeing, but actually are not able to take into account. Or are these guys just myopic optimists who think they know what is right there under their nose, but never bother to check. Show me a visionary, and I'll show you a real liability.

Articulate: Some people are called more articulate than the others. But when we use the word, is there room for a misunderstanding, or can the adjective be used for even a refined and intentional mocking. As we usually see it, an articulate person speaks fluently and articulates distinctly, and his or her demeanor provides an impression of an educated and reliable character. However, if we dissect and analyze the word into artic that means informal, ul that in HTML language is an "unordered list" and ate, we'll get something very different. In a restaurant, an articulate individual tends to, with no regrets, devour not only the portions he ordered, but also those he didn't order. There is a chance that an articulate person's clear articulation is simply forced by the circumstances; it is hard to speak with your mouth full of food. On the other hand, you need to be, in a twisted way, somewhat polite in order to snatch all the plates from under the noses of your fellow diners.

Perfectionist: An articulate perfectionist would speak in high tones at dinner, and finally clean the next of kin's plate with a piece of bread. Perfectionists can at times be deadly annoying, but I would like to know if any of the good textbooks in Psychiatry have ever gone deep enough into the true essence of a perfectionists mind. Now, if we disassemble the word into per (by means of), fect (make), ion (in web-language short for "I don't"), and ist (having a steadfast belief), we may finally end up with something revealing: Literally, a perfectionist is in a strong belief that by means of his own efforts he's not going to make it. He's a dude who tries to finish all the jobs (if it's building an Interstate or just digging nose) as well as possible, but as a matter of fact is afraid of that the anticipations set on him have been overly optimistic (ho ho, see above), and/or his talent simply doesn't comply with what's required for the task. Whatever he does, he does carefully because he is afraid*. In other words, a perfectionist is an insecure person going through life with faltering steps and scared to death by even potential mistakes. In his case, common sense isn't common at all, unless he'll meet an optimist, who is also afraid, but doesn't see it. 

*) BTW, "Afraid" as Afr-Aid refers to the funds being sent to African famine areas and as educational support. One of the recipients is Senegal, and a city named Diarfa ("afraid" reversed).

Tantalizing: Then there are words that in their common implication are pretty accurate. Let's finish this introduction with one. In spoken language "tantalizing" means "things arousing desire or expectation for something unattainable". There are men who dream of faraway but eager Philippine female gymnastic athletes. Our rules apply more accurately if the particular females are especially tanned, or have happened to acquire a liver disease, as tan is yellowish brown, tali is an artistic and athletic girl and zing means enthusiasm and liveliness. These girls can also after the dissection (of the word) be called tantalizing. 

Conclusions 

So, what's the use for the mutilation of all these well established and nice idioms. As in all fields of life, having sometimes an alternative perspective will help to avoid misjudgments. It could help envision the doings and not doings of the people around even if they themselves didn't realize why they're doing things. This applies especially to the optimists who don't see, and the visionaries who are a liability. Although splitting words may sound a bit unscientific and "out there", the technique is under development, and it's been recognized as one of the most rapidly evolving branches of the Science of Art. Alone last year, our projects received funding from some distinguished sources, and then the OECD. Secondly, this at least is a pretty good try. 

A cirrhotic liver usually undergoes dissection in the autopsy.

Long arms required for X-rated selfies

An original subsurface x-ray image of the Loch Ness Monster (complimentary from Isak). There aren't any recorded selfies taken by the monster.

Confusing x-rated, ex-rated and radiological terminology could result in lots of awkward misunderstandings. In common talk, x-rating of course refers to a publication or a performance requiring parental advisory. Ex-rated, on the other hand, could be something that your "ex" (as an ex-partner) has commented or criticised or, as by being an ex, has been allowed to take an experience of... and rate it, him, her. Playing with these words may sound dull, but still I take it seriously as Radiology is a branch of The Medical Science, and the well-advised users of x-rated or ex-rated stuff are either enthusiasts of The Science of Art, or they just appreciate a second opinion. 

In order to alleviate the discomfort created by the starting statement, I'll tell you a true story (some of you may have heard about it, but it was his fault): So, I had just finished a golf round near my place with a friend, and he stayed over night as the way home was long and dangerous. In the morning my friend asked me if I had any pain killers or suppositories for hemorrhoid pain. I offered him some, but the point here is that I just forgot to mention something very essential. Earlier, I had occasionally tried to cover the smell of beer in my breath from my wife with garlic. I used to scale and slice garlic cloves in the toilet (and then mix in balsamic vinegar with a raw egg, but that's another story). Extra garlic cloves I hid in a box of hemorrhoid suppositories. Already then, my friend was pretty far-sighted and didn't wear glasses in the morning. The morning was sunny and clear, and I can still hear his scream reverberating in our bathroom with pretty blueish tiling.

I don't know if, after the incident, my friend's colon was x-rayed or otherwise rated by anyone's ex. However, I can say that if the whole episode had been taken on film, quite likely the actual toilet action and definitely the aftermath would have been some tough x-rated material. Recently he has developed an aversion to all Russian food.

But then, let's get back to the theoretical discussion. The radiologists use softer x-rays for imaging soft tissues as they are more "transparent" than bones, and the term "soft" is also an attribute to borderline x-rated filmography. Obviously, that compartment is all about soft tissues and transparency. On the other hand, xxx-rated magazines (hard core) and especially videos are nowadays a common source of information, and the more Xes are prefixed the more reliable the info is. As well do divorced people have exes, ex-exes or even more. However, these two categories differ in one fundamental way. The xxx-rated stuff maintains its effectiveness and function as the ex-exes do not. The increasing number of x- or ex-prefixes entails inverse correlation in this case. They do not simply work in the same department. I don't know if the radiologists use the term xxx-rays for harder beams they use, but the outcome of handling xxx-rated material could definitely be measured using the Rockwell test, and if that pair existed, the correlation would be direct. 

Talking about the radiologists and their tasks, writing an interpretation of an x-ray (radiograph) is an essential chore for providing the clinician with some good information about the subject (patient). X-rated magazines consistently also have "a story" that provides the reader with essential details about the x-rated "clinical" pictures (who is the patient?). The x-ray interpretation tells the clinician almost all that is necessary, but the x-rated material is first ex-rated by ocular means, and only after some positive feed-back studied in writing. These two procedures have a marked difference also in that the first interpretation is definite and is provided by an outside source, but in the latter the impact of the reading experience is ultimately up to the readers own imagination.

Taking selfies has seemingly swept over the social media as an enthusiast would go for non-radiological journals. Technically, xxx-rated selfies are relatively hard to take as even the full extension of arms is only sufficient for a good shot of one's own ear or the partner's plumber's crack. So, these selfies would fall in the one-x-category. Recently, I read about a selfie-taker who caused a serious traffic accident. Quite often the aim is to awake publicity, and is there a faster means for that than to put some soft tissues on display in social media. Hanging them up in a tree shortly after will boost the impact. For the medical staff, who is trying to reconstruct an accident victim, it is of course easier if there is a recent photograph available. Now if the manufacturers were really clever, they would also include an x-ray script in the selfie-apps. Reconstructing the bony jig-saw puzzle is not always so easy with no decent manual.

Once in a while, imagination plays a role in everyone's life. Having a research report published in a scientific journal requires some imagination too. A submitted paper has to go through a peer review process, and thus has to be accepted, except by the editorial staff of the journal, by two to four experts of the same discipline. For gaining some more credibility and impact factor, should also the x-rated "journals" have a peer review system? But which criteria should be used for selecting the reviewers; the duration of the magazine subscription or perhaps police records (depending on the number of Xes)? The same could be applied to ex-partners. Should the priests or magistrates intending to join previously divorced couples in marriage require a peer review done by the ex, or even an ex-ex-spouse; could ex-boy or ex-girl friends be included in liberal congregations? Perhaps in remote congregations and Louisiana, siblings and cousins would be eligible? What about the radiologists. Should their sweethearts first be screened (trans-illuminated), and the x-rays be nailed on light boards in town halls. Well, you shouldn't take this ranting too seriously. I didn't really mean what I said about the radiologists. On the other hand, the Loch Ness monster above didn't have any peers, didn't get married, and hasn't been seen for a while.

Well now, let's get serious; there's always room for true stories. A sorry misjudgement may occasionally be like laughing through tears, and it literally applies to the garlic incident above. However, sometimes the events simply get out of hands, and the laughter comes but later. Some ten years ago, during the Second Gulf War, one Sunday morning I was playing golf (again) in Q8. The local airfield wasn't that far, and we saw an XXL-size US Air Force cargo plane approaching at low altitude. Suddenly, two bright flares were fired from it, and the plane forcefully waved its wings. For a fast passing moment we thought the plane was going to emergency land on the golf course, but it just disappeared behind the hills. However, as soon as its roar had reached some nearby bungalows, a male military person in his 20's came running out from one, and hid in the bushes. He really did misjudge the situation. Perhaps he thought the house was on fire, they had been attacked, or the C-17 pilot's untrue wife had used a flash. Probably, in near future they both would qualify for ex-raters. We of course never got to know how the things turned out, but most likely the pilot did have some beforehand intelligence, or just had stumbled on some old x-rated selfies taken by his wife. Also, if his timing was perfect, the wife was just seeing fireworks, but didn't take them as real. Is it easy to recognise someone else's plumber's crack in a snap shot?

Theoretically, taking selfie x-rays is possible, but sharing them won't provide what so ever satisfaction. There is a chance that an ordinary selfie reveals more about the subject's cerebral wavelengths (i.e. the way of seeing him/herself, friends, life, society, politics, pimples on nose etc.) than any radiograph or an MRI image ever could. On the other hand, the term MRI (e-Mailed Rear Image) is quite well-known also among selfie-takers.

Good imagination is a source of plentiful joy, and it may even enrich the discussion about non-radiological issues. Still some time ago, old people made us believe that reading non-radiological journals would make us blind, or at least make us lose the sense of humour. Although I can't brag about being an enthusiast in that sector, I'm convinced that reading any kind of material from cereal packet covers to Shakespeare will improve our rating ability whether it concerns garlic cloves, ex-girl/boy friends, objects of selfies, or the Loch Ness Monster. Or then not.

P.S. Earlier in this talk I mentioned something about awkward misunderstandings. If some of the readers now think that I'm a radiologist, they are so wrong.