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Mad science is decadent and depraved
I can't remember the last time I laughed out loud while reading Monitor on Psychology. There happens to be a reason for this. Fortunately, there is an equally obvious solution: the APA should just publish more articles about planaria:
These results led McConnell to think more seriously about the chemical nature of memory. To test this notion, he needed to find a way to transfer the putative molecules from a trained to an untrained animal. But how? They tried to graft the head of a trained worm onto the tail of a naïve worm—but the head kept falling off.
Next, they tried grinding up trained worms and injecting them into naïve recipients, but that didn't work, either. The hypodermic needles were too big—getting one inside a flatworm was like trying to impale a prune with a javelin—and if, by chance, the needle was positioned well enough to inject the planarian-puree, it either oozed out or caused the worm to explode.
At Tea on Sunday, I got asked if I was a scientist or if I had been trained as one; the answer to both was no, unless you count messing around with slime mold and radio telescopes (not in the same high school project), but I could so go for some Things Man Was Not Meant to Know right now. Unfortunately, I have an early-morning non-mad doctor's appointment, so mostly I think I am going to go to bed.
These results led McConnell to think more seriously about the chemical nature of memory. To test this notion, he needed to find a way to transfer the putative molecules from a trained to an untrained animal. But how? They tried to graft the head of a trained worm onto the tail of a naïve worm—but the head kept falling off.
Next, they tried grinding up trained worms and injecting them into naïve recipients, but that didn't work, either. The hypodermic needles were too big—getting one inside a flatworm was like trying to impale a prune with a javelin—and if, by chance, the needle was positioned well enough to inject the planarian-puree, it either oozed out or caused the worm to explode.
At Tea on Sunday, I got asked if I was a scientist or if I had been trained as one; the answer to both was no, unless you count messing around with slime mold and radio telescopes (not in the same high school project), but I could so go for some Things Man Was Not Meant to Know right now. Unfortunately, I have an early-morning non-mad doctor's appointment, so mostly I think I am going to go to bed.
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I was reminded simultaneously of The Magician's Nephew ("Some of them only died. Some exploded like little bombs") and Re-Animator. I didn't even think that could happen.
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