Burble Burble Y'all

Hey everybody!

First off, as I'm sure you've noticed on the Facebook or some other means by which I've been spamming this out there, my lab from the summer is up for a MAJOR AWARD!

No, not that, unfortunately.

We do some imaging of cells and such, and we're up for national consideration for one of our images. There's not really anything in it for me (as far as I'm aware) beyond bragging rights for being in the lab. That said, you should totally vote. There are 20 days left, so you have time, but as they say, "Vote early. Vote often."

Here's the link to the contest. We're under "High Content Analysis" with the caption, "Image description: HEK293 cells expressing fluorescent GPCR (green) and β-arrestin (red) fusion proteins with DNA staining (blue)." Because we get to do these sorts of thing. No big deal, y'all. No. Big. Deal. I would show a picture of the image, but I'm not sure how much of it is GE property and such at this point. It's a type of image that I know only all too well.

However, despite all indications to the contrary, I'm not here tonight to talk to you about how my lab is up for a MAJOR AWARD, nor how the INNUENDO SAUSAGE is still amazing, and don't you wish your boyfriend - could - cook - like - me.

Well that was a close one. Thank goodness for the auto-save function in Blogger, because otherwise, you would have lost ALL that bloggy goodness. No, not boggy goodness, because if you're having a boggy feeling, you should see a doctor. I'm not sure what exactly a boggy feeling would BE, but I assume that it would be neither fine nor goodness.

Back to the point at hand. No, I have bigger fish to fry. Oh, Rob. You and your ability to subconsciously use idioms and clichés to better transition to the point at hand. That's right.

We're talking about potatoes. I blame Chantal, but it should be fun anyway. Besides, I've killed at least a few hundred words on my initial ramble. Three hundred and fifty-five, to be exact. Now I just have to handle the other one thousand four hundred on that topic.

For you, Chantal.

Well, let me tell you- there are quite a few fun facts for potatoes. For one, you can not only boil them BUT ALSO MASH THEM AND STICK THEM IN A STEW. These are true statements, folks. That's at least THREE (count 'em, THREE) ways in which you can prepare potatoes. And hoo boy, rest assured, there are others. But we'll get to that in a bit.

First, in honor of the dear Chantal, who so graciously provided me with this topic, I would like to say a few words (or, rather, borrow them from Wikipedia) about Irish potato candy.

Before tonight, I had no idea this existed. Tonight is full of possibility.

Ahem. "Irish potato candy is a traditional Philadelphia confection that is not Irish and generally does not contain any potato." There you have it, ladies and gentlemen- the Irish potato candy is made by lying Philadelphians. Since we know that Will Smith cannot tell a lie, this is clearly the doing of the nefarious Pennsylvania Dutch. I mean, come on. First you wacky Germans are blaming your hijinks on the innocent and noble Dutch. 

The Dutch in what I assume to be their natural state.

Now you're blaming the Irish for your weird coconut filled candy. What's next? Being up to no good and starting to make trouble in the neighborhood? This sort of tyranny must stop. Dutch for the Dutch. GO DUTCH FOR THE DUTCH! Or something. Not that I'm insisting on the abolition of certain gender roles (because I do love the game of getting the check first, and I have come against several worthy adversaries in my time). I'm just saying that maybe the Germans are being shifty, and we should maybe purchase weapons for our protection against them.

Last weekend, I was told that I somewhat resemble Jason Statham. I don't see it, but thanks?

Did you know that potatoes are deadly? It's true! They contain several toxic compounds called glycoalkyloids (namely, solanine and chaconine). These are apparently used as a defense mechanism, especially in green potatoes, to ward off insects and fungi. (Funny story- I'm in a bar, and this thermophilic dimorph comes in and says, "Hey, can I get a beer." I say, "No, you can't. We don't serve your kind here." He says, "Why not? I'm a fun-gi!" To which I respond, "First of all, sir, our establishment reserves the right to refuse service to any customer. Second of all, your kind is responsible for a wide variety of skin and respiratory diseases that can debilitate those without a properly functioning immune system. Given that it is a bit chilly outside and those in the bar are drinking, I would prefer not to expose the other patrons to the possibility of severe illness or death. Third of all, that was a terrible pun. I SAID GOOD DAY, SIR.") However, for reals. You should cook your potatoes, because high temperatures will usually break down these things.

This nasty looking little bugger's full name is (breathe): beta-D-Glucopyranoside, (3beta)-solanid-5-en-3-yl O-6-deoxy-alpha-L-mannopyranosyl-(1-2)-O-(6-deoxy-alpha-L-mannopyranosyl-(1-4))-chaconine. But you can call him chaconine for short. He will cause weakness and confusion, and if Pokémon taught me anything, that means that you'll hurt yourself in the confusion.

 Also, another fun fact. You, of course, knew that potatoes grow in the ground (I hope. God do I hope you already knew that. I'm not in full "science educator" mode tonight.), and you surely knew that they're harvested somehow. But, see, during the harvest process, you have to separate the potato itself from the plant. One of the ingenious devices they use for this purpose is called a "Flying Willard."

Apparently the Flying Willard is quite elusive, so here's Crispin Glover as a Willard that will hopefully never fly. I think the TSA won't allow it.

 "But, Rob," you may cry, "you're just telling us about the harvest of potatoes. We want to know some fun and interesting historical tidbits about potatoes. We won't rest until you give us our due. We know how to find you, yes we do." Well, that got creepy in a hurry. I suppose it is only just after last night's extravaganza. Sure, I'll give you some history.

According to my erstwhile ally Wikipedia, the potato originated in western South America, but once it was introduced to Europe, it was responsible for a quarter of its population growth and urbanization from 1700 to 1900. This, I can only imagine, is due to the potato's many eyes, which allow it to see what it's doing from multiple angles, thereby allowing it to be an effective stockbroker as well as an unparalleled architect. By investing and designing the proper infrastructure, the potato was thereby able to house the growing European population and still make a tidy profit.

Seen here with Antoine Parmentier and its early comrades corn and wheat, the potato received its first big solo break with Parmentier's publication of Examen Chymique des Pommes de Terre in 1774. This brought attention from the French aristocracy and the funding (and freedom) to pursue its own ends. Always popular with the populace, the potato provided a needed foil to Marie Antoinette, and, upon his arrest in 1793, he reportedly said, "Yo, they can eat ME!"

Unfortunately, as its wealth grew, so did its hubris, and its later years were spent laboring on an expansive manse in Ireland. As discontent grew within the Irish population, he retreated from the public eye and became more sedentary (entering what is now known as "The Lumper Phase"). Critics at the time called the potato "bland, wet, and poorly resistant to the potato blight, but yield[ing] large crops and usually provid[ing] adequate calories for peasants and laborers."

The potato originally uttered this phrase, popularized by Alan Moore. He has nothing to do with the rising popularity of the Grumpy Cat.

As we see throughout history, the Irish equated "adequate" with "unacceptable," and, in 1845, attempted to employ an Italian mercenary group, known as "Phytophthora infestans" to eliminate the potato. Despite a long conflict, the potato was able to summon his reserves and rise proudly again.

The potato now is known for his work in oils and pottery (because, see, you bake pottery. It's an attempt at humor, you understand.). While he may be found in the occasional stew, he prefers a nice massage with some butter and garlic. Hey, I never said that he hadn't acquired some odd tastes over the past millenia. He's the goddamn potato. He will end you, and all you love. You just have to eat enough of him to accumulate toxic levels of those aforementioned glycoalkaloids. He's very big in Africa and Canada (but not Candida, due to his dallyance in the same kingdom as the dreaded Phytophtora infestans, against whom he still holds a powerful grudge).

While he was once lauded as a powerfully nutritive vegetable, potato has recently taken a backseat to his old friends from the New World- namely, rice, wheat, yams, and sweet potatoes. He will still gronk to a funky jam with other crunchy vegetables, but as a solo artist, he leaves something to be desired. Collaborations with cheese, bacon, green onions, and even remixes of tomato (colloquially known as "ketchups") have gained significant popularity.

The Dutch (the real ones this time) have even been known to accompany them in a white greasy oil. Okay, maybe the Germans should keep impersonating them, because that is just ridiculous.

Throughout this long road, potatoes have taught us many lessons (food for thought, if you will), and they may yet teach us many more, if we will but listen.

And, yes, you can boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew.

Well, thank heavens for that, old chap.