Dog Brain

I have simply GOT to reduce the number of things in the world that interest me. I doubt I invented the concept of "rabbit trails," but if not I'm certainly the poster boy for them.

Rabbit trails are, of course, those poorly-defined tracks off the main path made by the local wildlife. For those of you who are dog owners, they are the main reason it's tough to get from one end of the trail to the other. Your dog, that simple-minded wad of randomly distractable neurons that you've elected to let off the leash, runs off the main trail about every 15 seconds and stays gone for anything up to a half hour chasing down every single branching of every single trail or scent lead that runs off the main path. 

When, hoarse from yelling, you finally run out of patience and follow the faint barking to get him back under control, you wind up on the other side of the woods, hip deep in a swamp, and twice as far from where you were going as you were when you started, leashing a mournful animal who didn't MEAN to be a pain in the ass.

My brain is that dip-wad dog..

I originally started out here to discuss some new hard-experimental findings in quantum field/gauge theory which have frankly astonishing implications for the nature of reality (it is even less real than thought,) with perhaps an expanded side-note on how this all fits into some understanding of consciousness, self and individual identity (not very well.)

Fascinating stuff, and no bullshit, with vast implications, and wide-ranging philosophical questions engendered - you know, the usual.

But while reading through a bunch of stuff on it and following links to other, related esoterica, I shortly found myself instead reading up on the Southern Grasshopper Mouse (Onychomys torridus) which apparently lives out in the desert in the general vicinity of Gekko's home stomping grounds.

I've never even heard of this thing before, and I already love it. 

It is the only carnivorous mouse on the North American continent. It is born with a killer instinct, and literally begins killing everything around it when it's still a pup. Its degree of viciousness depends on its family arrangement - those raised in a single-family "mommy-only" unit are still killers, but less aggressive and lethal than those raised in "mommy/daddy" arrangements.

They're mice, after all, which means they aren't exactly taking down mule-deer or anything. But they'll kill and eat bugs, beetles, tarantulas, centipedes, and, singular to this species, other species of mice. In fact, they live exclusively in burrows that used to belong to other mice, whom they will drive out, if necessary.

They particularly love scorpions, utterly ignoring the pain of multiple scorpion stings in order to get to the juicy bits. In fact, the neural mechanism they use to sidetrack the pain signals is currently under study for use in pain management in humans. And when they kill, they like to howl at the moon.  No, really.

Think You Got Game? Bring It!

What's not to love? If I knew an embroidery artist who was good enough, I'd get a patch for my leathers showing this little dude standing in the wreckage of a disassembled scorpion, baying at the moon. How cool would that be?

Muad'Dib would be proud. (If you don't get that reference, you are dead to me.)

In Our Next Episode: I get distracted again.