I read a study about rumination this week stating that anxious or depressed patients who spend time thinking about their problems are actually worse off in the long run. There was also evidence that when people force themselves to think about other things, they end up associating those alternative thoughts with their original ruminations, making it more likely for the cycle to continue. This made me sad for cows, probably the most consistent of all ruminantors…

Lee enters the mind of a Holstein. (Wayne’s World alternate ending music)

Betty the Cow: Sigh…My rumen. I wish I knew what was wrong. Maybe the bacteria just aren’t breaking down the cellulose anymore. It seems like every time I chew my cud, there’s more and more raw plant material. You know what? Screw my rumen. If there’s something wrong, there’s something wrong. Farmer will notice sooner or later and get a vet out here. I’ll just think about my reticulum, instead. Yeah, my reticulum is fricken sweet! I never have problems with that. Always can rely on my good ol’ reticulum.
(Later…Betty’s regurgitated cud enters the reticulum)
Yeah, that’s nice. Know that this reminds me of? My rumen. Sigh….

Such is the plight of cows and multi-chambered stomach owners everywhere. Let’s keep Betty in our prayers.

You probably weren’t wondering if I was going to talk about something else, but I recently won an all-expenses paid trip to Minneapolis courtesy of the U of M Graduate Program in Neuroscience. Here is a picture of me right now. I’m invited for interviews, which is not a guarantee of acceptance, but it feels like a damn good omen, and it also feels like a free trip to one of my favorite cities. This makes me feel even manlier than I did last night after a shouting match with an aggressive panhandler, but it has the benefit of not putting Friend and me in danger of being knifed outside Cosmic Cantina. Everyone clearly emerges the winner. Except the panhandler. And Betty.
Later,
Lee