From: tkim@lynx.dac.neu.edu (Tae H Kim)
Subject: Re: Nothing Tasteless In My Life
Date: 16 Jan 1995 16:55:14 GMT

JCDAVY (punque@netcom.com) wrote:

: ObClosestICameToTasteless: I was sick last week with this cough/cold
: thing that has been going around. I was wondering how it is possible
: for the human body (ie:the sinus cavities) to produce so damn much
: snot in such a short period of time. I must have blown 10 gallons of
: snot out within an 8 hour period. How is this possible? Tae?

Sorry, Julia, but for such mundane - yet, tasteless conditions such as
an Upper Respiratory Infection, one must consult a physician ... Sonya?

As far as I can recall, the influenza virus, which causes colds, comes
in so many different strains that 1) catching a cold is quite easy,
since you cannot possibly produce anitbodies for _all_ strains, since
mutations occur constantly, 2) When dead antibodies accumulate, they're
expelled from the body in the form of mucus. 

The copius production of mucus could be attributed to a well-adjusted
immune system working overtime. Environmental factors should not be
overlooked, as cold, dry air helps in drying the nasal passages, which
in turn produce more mucus to coat it's lining.

Someone please correct me if I'm wrong.

: Wish me well in my quest for tastelessness.

Always.

ObT: Over the weekend, two dead bodies were discovered in the city of
Lowell, MA. As my partner and I were driving around the city, looking
for the 'ultimate' donut, a '10-53' - 'dead body' call went out over the
air. Having nothing better to do, we signed-on and told the disptacher
that we'd go over to 'check things out.' The body was discovered near a
local breakfast place, where I swear they serve the most dangerous
breakfast sandwiches - grilled hamburger bun topped with a scrambled
egg, ham, bacon, and sausage, *plus* home-fries. The 'Three-Meat Boot
Mill' sandwich. Deadly. But I digress.

A large crowd had spilled out of the normally filled to capacity
restaraunt once the discovery had been made, so my partner took the
opportunity to go inside and place an order for both us - only to
discover that the cook was outside too, observing the scene. Apparently,
the unseasonably warm weather lately melted enough snow off the body for
someone to recognise it and call the cops. The body was at the bottom of
a recently drained river, some fifty feet below any surface roads, so
recovering it proved to be challenge. When the fire department finally
got to the body and flipped it over onto it's back, a small gasp and
murmurs errupted from the crowd, as all they'd been able to see prior
was a vague snow-covered back. Forty-ish year-old male, and by the looks
of the way the head lolled to-and-fro as they loaded it onto a Stokes
(chicken-wire) basket to haul up, he'd probably broken his neck.

As a winch slowly raised the basket up to the watching crowd, I noticed
that both his wrists were fractured - possibly an indication that the
man had been conscious as he fell, and tried to 'brace' his fall with
his outstretched arms, resulting in the bilateral fractures as he
impacted. His face was slightly bloated, and a mottled blue, but the
cold environment prevented the formation of gasses in the body, leaving
his features relatively intact and bearable to look at.

The murmur rose in volume as the body got closer to the crowd. Several
late-comers crossed the yellow-taped 'police-line' to try and get a
better look. My partner and I were standing at the edge of the
riverbank with a full view of the proceedings - to the envy of the rest
of the crowd. 

'Hey,' I said to the crowd, half-jokingly, 'you can stand here with us -
but it'll cost you a dollar.'

The dollar bills began to wave at me from the front row. Sick fucks.

The other body discovered that day was at the end of a dead-end alley.
Again, the warm weather and recent rain storms helped uncover it from
it's snowy blanket. Another crew was responded to the call with us, and
as we stood there while having a cigarette, waiting for the cops to
arrive, one of the newer guys pointed out the 'scratches' on the man's
face.

"He must've been in a fight or something," he ventured.

"Nah. You see how regularly shaped the scratches are - almost
triangular?"

"Yeah?"

"Those are from rats getting a little snack."

The boy blanched and decided to wait in the truck, while the rest of us
remained in the alley. It was a hell of a nice day.

- Tae