Note (12/2015): Hi there! I'm taking some time off here to focus on other projects for a bit. As of October 2016, those other projects include a science book series for kids titled Things That Make You Go Yuck! -- available at Barnes and Noble, Amazon and (hopefully) a bookstore near you!

Co-author Jenn Dlugos and I are also doing some extremely ridiculous things over at Drinkstorm Studios, including our award-winning webseries, Magicland.

There are also a full 100 posts right here in the archives, and feel free to drop me a line at secondhandscience@gmail.com with comments, suggestions or wacky cold fusion ideas. Cheers!

Scanning Electron Microscopy


· Categories: Biology, Physics
What I’ve Learned:

Scanning electron microscopy - almost as exciting as... well, you know.
“Scanning electron microscopy – almost as exciting as… well, you know.”

“Scanning electron microscopy” is one of those sciency terms that looks a lot scarier than it actually is. To make sense of it, you just have to break it down, word-by-word. I start at the end and work my way backwards.

(Science is usually more fun that way. Like Harry Potter novels. Or nine-layer dips.)

So, start with “microscopy”. This is just “microscope” with a fancy-sounding “y” glommed on the end. Scientists sometimes add “y” to words to make them sound more impressive — like oncolog or rhinoplast or chemistr, for instance. But don’t be fooled; “microscopy” just means “doing stuff with a microscope”. And “microscope” means “machine that makes tiny things look bigger”.

And if you ask what “tiny things” means, we’re going to talk about your sex life. Don’t be a smartass.

Next is “electron”, which is an especially tiny thing that zips around atoms. Electrons have other properties, of course, like spin and charge and favorite How I Met Your Mother episode, but the important things right now are these: electrons are fast, unbelievably tiny — like, seriously, sextillions of the things in a grain of sand tiny — and can be shot in a tight beam like a skinnier, less murderous laser.

That just leaves “scanning”, which brings everything together. The beam of electrons is shot at the sample inside the microscope.

(Technically speaking, these electrons are said to “bombard” the target. Or in the words of one esteemed science educator:

“Bombardment! Life is pain, son! Bombardment!! My post-doc lasted seventeen years! Bombardment!! Science is a cruel and less-lucrative-than-anticipated mistress! Bombardment! BOMBARDMENT!! BOMBARDMENT!!!”

Yes. “Bombardment”. Thanks.)

Then the beam scans back and forth across the surface, like a printer over a piece of paper. Only instead of shooting ink (or dodgeballs), it’s electrons. These electrons excite the atoms they hit, which sends other electrons pinging off the surface. Scientists detect these “secondary” electron signals to determine the contours of whatever’s being scanned.

Sort of like a hot blind girl feeling your face to figure out what you look like, only with electrons instead of fingers. Also, most microscopic targets are more attractive than Kenneth Parcell. Which is probably good.

This technique is often used to view fixed biological samples (think “teeny critters in formaldehyde”) or the surfaces of materials like crystals or computer chips. But you can see almost anything in a scanning electron microscope, provided you can suck all the water out of it and, if needed, micro-coat it with a conductive material to provide lots of surface electrons.

(For instance, some scientists want to look at spiders. And gold is conductive and easy to layer on. So our universe now contains an actual, once-living gold-plated spider, like a villain in some arachnoid James Bond flick.

Science says, “you’re welcome“.)

By using electrons instead of light, scanning electron microscopes can magnify up to 500,000 times. So you can view bacteria and snowflakes and insect feet and grains of rice in stunning detail, down to a scale of one nanometer.

Which is a little better resolution than the monitor you’re reading this on. Yes, even if it has that “retina thingy”. Trust me.

So don’t get tripped up by the long words and fancy syllables. “Scanning electron microscopy” isn’t something frightening. After all, who’s afraid of a little bombardment?

Bombardment! Bombardment!! BOMBARDMENT!!!

Actual Science:
NanoScience Instruments – Scanning electron microscopy
How Stuff Works – How scanning electron microscopes work
Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History – SEM Lab gallery
Wired – Absurd creature of the week (tardigrade [w/SEM images])

Image sources: NPR (sperm and egg), Kissing Suzy Kolber (“Bombardment!!”), 30 Rock / NBC (via Netflix) (Kenneth face), Wikipedia (Goldspider)

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Punctuated Equilibrium


· Categories: Biology, Genetics
What I’ve Learned:

The punctuated equilibrium of Tatiana Maslany in Orphan Black
“Properly-punctuated equilibrium: Ten million ellipses, then a whole bunch of exclamation points.”

Punctuated equilibrium sounds like something you get when you perforate an eardrum. Like there should be PSAs about it, with scary pictures of death metal bands and Beats headphones with blood on the cans.

Luckily, it’s not that. No one’s coming to tear the Dethklok from your cold, deaf hands.

Instead, punctuated equilibrium is an evolutionary biology concept that made a big splash in the 1970s. It’s been desplashed a little since then, but it’s still pretty important. Plus Stephen Jay Gould helped think it up, and mostly everybody liked him. So there’s that.

The idea is this: in (at least) some cases, the pressure on organisms to evolve and adapt and squirt out a bunch of funky new species isn’t constant over time. When there’s plenty of food and the water is fine and everybody owns their own TiVo, then it doesn’t matter much if your individual set of genes makes you three percent hardier than your neighbor.

Oh, sure, you might get off your deoxyribonucleic ass and mutate up another leg or some gills or an enzyme to digest styrofoam. But let’s face it: you’ve got a pizza coming, and you’re still catching up on last season’s Orphan Black. Who has the time to speciate? And frankly, why bother?

This could go on for millions, or tens of millions of years.

(Well, Orphan Black won’t, of course. Tatiana Maslany is terrific and all, but she’s going to be too old for this thing at some point. I don’t care how many gills she grows.)

Things get interesting, says punctuated equilibrium, when the going gets tough. If the resources dry up, individuals die out. Small groups get separated from others; exploitable niches become more important. The quickest — and perhaps most radical — to adapt will ultimately thrive. Like the guy who brings a flask to the keg party, in case the beer runs out.

Or something less alcoholic. If you must.

It’s during these periods of ecological pressure and isolation that many new species are born. In between, all the old fern and finch and crocodile species sit around getting fat on Cheetos. And often each other.

But introduce a little hardship, and nature blossoms with adaptation to take advantage. That’s why an oceanful of brine shrimp will remain boring dumb brine shrimp forever. They want for nothing; they’re little trust fund crustaceans, born with silver… um, tiny handled eating utensils that rich baby shrimps would use… in their mouths.

(Or gills. Or whatever. Look, there’s no “aquatic face anatomy” tag on this post, all right? You get the idea.)

However! Scoop a small colony of shrimp out of the sea, stuff them in an envelope and shove them in the mail — now that’s an ecological challenge. And it’s enough to turn them into a whole new species: Sea Monkeys, with legs and fingers and brains and disturbingly human lips and what appear to be testicles growing on stalks out the tops of their heads.

And how does it work? Through the science of punctuated equilibrium.

So far as you know, unless you happen to own any of Stephen Jay Gould’s work. Or a freshman biology book. Or Sea Monkeys.

Stupid Sea Monkeys.

Actual Science:
Princeton University – Punctuated equilibrium
Evolution 101 / Berkeley – More on punctuated equilibrium
National Center for Science Education – The origin of species by punctuated equilibria
Shaking the Tree / Google Books – Punctuated equilibrium comes of age
Astrobiology Magazine – Life after catastrophe

Image sources: BioNinja (evolution models), NeatoShop (poorly punctuated), BioNinja, The Mary Sue, io9 and Huffington Post (Tatiana Maslany clone evolution), She’s Fantastic! (Sea Monkeys)

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Optogenetics


· Categories: Biology, Genetics
What I’ve Learned:

Optogenetics: science--invented, laser doge-approved
“With optogenetics, you won’t just ‘see the light’. You’ll feel it.”

The brain is a pain in the ass, scientifically speaking. And scientific-researchly speaking, which is probably a real thing.

Studying the brain is unusually tricky. It’s a complicated organ with billions of cells, electrical signals whizzing everywhere and neurotransmitters getting passed back and forth like the last beer at a tailgate. You want “simple”, go study an appendix. The brain is not for you.

Also, the brain comes not-so-conveniently wrapped in a hard candy shell called a skull. To reach it, you’ve got to drill through bone — and then dig through brain, if the bit you’re after is in the middle. For decades, brain science was like trying to yank grapes out of Grandma’s Jell-O without breaking the mold. As any eight-year-old can tell you, that’s damned near impossible.

Then there’s the scale. Most organs you study with a microscope, or even a camera. Drop a miniature Nikon down (or up) someone’s gut and watch a day in the life of a colon unfold in real time.

Or slower, if your test subject is a big fan of fiber.

But the brain operates at millisecond speed. Blink, and you miss a million firing synapses, lighting up the cerebellum. And the cerebrum. And that other bit — the one for remembering numbers and science facts and what parts of brains are called. Mine doesn’t work, apparently.

How can scientists possibly get around all these problems? Enter optogenetics, which allows neurocowboys a new way to put eyes on the brain. Literally. (Almost.)

The ‘opto-‘ part of the name suggests light (or eye doctors), and refers to light-sensitive proteins — like those in our eyes’ rod and cone cells — found in species like fruit flies, algae and bacteria. These proteins react to specific wavelengths of light; by snipping out the DNA sequences coding them (hence the “-genetics”) and linking them to genes in test animals, scientists can set off signals in those animals’ brains — just by turning on a flashlight.

A very special kind of laboratory flashlight. Very wavelength. Much science. Wow.

Now researchers can trigger — and measure — brain events at the speed of light. They’ve even developed wireless versions of their flashy-light and brain-detect-o-matic devices, allowing them to study animals running free in the lab. Or “free” in a cage. But not attached by the forehead to an industrial science laser. Which is nice.

The techniques are fairly new, but have already changed the neurobiology game. Among other things, scientists have used optogenetic methods to implant false memories (and sexy thoughts) in fruit flies, flip-flop social behavior in mice, relax muscles in worms, break habits in rats and kill pain (again in mice) with a flash of light. Creepy Island of Doctor Moreau vibe aside, this research could someday have important applications in human medicine. Also, with all the flashing lights and artificial mind altering, the lab animals just think they’re at tiny adorable raves.

One final measure of the impact of optogenetics: In 2010, it was named scientific “Method of the Year”. Presumably, it beat out “stash your samples on ice overnight so you can duck out for Happy Hour”. For scientists, that’s a huge upset.

Actual Science:
Scientific American – Optogenetics: controlling the brain with light
Nature – Laser beam makes flies flirt
Technology Review – Scientists use light to make worms ‘dance’
Popular Science – A laser to the brain eliminates bad habits in rats
Gizmodo – Scientists turn off pain using nothing but light

Image Sources: ExtremeTech (lab mouse), Jello Mold Mistress (Jell-O mold), NoodlyTime (laser doge), Redshirt Knitting (mouse rave)

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Endorphins


· Categories: Biology, Chemistry
What I’ve Learned:

Endorphins: NOMNOMNOMNOM!
“Where there’s an ‘oh face’, there are endorphins.”

It’s no wonder people get excited about endorphins. If you believe the Wikipedia, endorphins are released “during exercise, excitement, pain, spicy food consumption, love, and sexual activity”.

On the other hand, so is ass sweat. But you never hear fitness gurus talking about “runners’ butt”. What’s so special about endorphins?

The first hint is in the name itself. “Endorphin” is actually bits of two words jammed together; namely, ‘endo-‘, meaning internal, and ‘-orphin’, meaning morphine. Without the ‘m’ or the ‘e’, for some reason — which just goes to show, even scientists lose their shit and get sloppy when morphine is involved.

Endorphins aren’t literally morphine made inside your body; they’re small peptides recognized by the same brain cell receptors that bind morphine. But whereas putting morphine in your body leads to dependence, drug addiction and 19th century Chinese opium dens, releasing endorphins blocks pain, promotes mild euphoria and helps you power through that third order of Chernobyl hot wings.

Another thing endorphins may do is create the fabled “runners’ high” that annoyingly healthy people with spectacular calves are always yammering about. For years, scientists couldn’t directly test brain endorphin levels in runners to confirm the theory, so it could have been anything causing the buzz: adrenaline, fancy running shoes or compression shorts two sizes too small. But new technology finally allowed them to pin the phenomenon on increased endorphins glomming onto brain cells during a jog.

Not that they ruled out the compression shorts. They just didn’t want to look too closely at those.

(Also, different researchers point to the neurotransmitter anandamide, which is an endocannabinoid, or — you guessed it, body-made weed juices.

Man, our bodies are so busy making knockoff drug compounds, I’m surprised we ever get anything accomplished.)

So endorphins are pretty important. Remember: exercise, pain, eating spicy food and having sex. All activities in which we make the same face, and all associated with endorphin release. It’s probably no coincidence.

There can be downsides to endorphin production. Studies suggest that postpartum depression is a side effect of endorphin withdrawal. Apparently, the placenta produces endorphins during pregnancy, and the fetus milks that good-time vibe for all the nutrients it can grab. After birth, Mom’s endorphin levels suddenly drop and she can fall into a funk.

(So can the child, presumably. But the kid’s so busy learning to drool and poop and cram things into its mouth that it probably doesn’t notice.)

There’s also depersonalization disorder, a mental issue linked in part to endorphins. And the ever-present risk of accidentally signing up for an endorphin lab study — because seriously, researchers love these things.

In one experiment — proving what enormous dicks scientists can be sometimes — they studied people getting acupuncture treatment, probably for stress or pain relief. So how did they measure the amount of endorphins released?

With spinal taps. Because nothing says “relief” to an endorphin researcher quite like, “let me suck some spinal fluid out the small of your back”.

So exercise and sex it up and stuff wasabi up your nostrils, if you want. But maybe — for your safety, and everyone else’s sake — keep your endorphins to yourself.

And ditto for the ass sweat. Just sayin’.

Actual Science:
Chemistry Explained – Endorphins
Science Daily – Runners’ high demonstrated
Neurology Today – What accounts for “runner’s high” in humans and dogs?
Scientific American – Why laughter may be the best pain medicine
Science Daily – Scientists show that drinking releases brain endorphins

Image sources: GuideChem (alpha-endorphin), Inquisitr (Sonya Thomas wing face), Dogs in Need of Space (happy runners), Smosh (“Oh” face)

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Adaptive Immunity


· Categories: Biology
What I’ve Learned:

Adaptive immunity (at Chuck E. Disease's)
“Don’t make the dendritic cell angry. You wouldn’t like her when she’s angry.”

There’s a lot going on with the immune system. Most systems in the body have the decency to only include three or four types of cells, but the immune system just goes balls-out complicated. It’s like trying to keep track of the frigging Duggars, without the Amish gypsy vibe.

The “adaptive” (or “acquired”) immune response is pretty simple, though. Our bodies fight infection using what scientists call the “pissed-off soccer mom mechanism”.

Well. Some scientists call it that. A few. Probably.

Okay, only I call it that, and everyone else tells me to stop. But hear me out.

Think of your body as a bus, or an oversized minivan.

(This will be easier for some of us to visualize than others. Shaddup, skinnos.)

Now imagine the bus is parked at a Chuck E. Cheese’s, where soccer mom has driven to treat the team to an after-game meal. The kids have gone inside, wrought the unspeakable horrors that children inflict inside such establishments — hence the pissed-off soccer mom mechanism — and returned to the van for the ride home.

Before leaving, soccer mom has to take attendance. So she walks front to back, making sure all her kids are all accounted for — and checking for rogue children trying to sneak a free ride home. When she finds one — “Yo, there’s no ‘Salmonella’ on this roster sheet” — she doesn’t kick them off. No, no. The lady is frazzled after six hours of snot-wiping and animatronic idiot music; there’s no fight left in her. Soccer mom is a “dendrite cell”, merely recognizing the intruders. But she takes notes, and returns to the front of the bus.

And turns things over to soccer dad. He’s a “killer T cell”, and it’s his job to rid the bus of freeloaders. He’d rather be watching football, sure, but it was either this job or take the lymph nodes to ballet practice every weekend, so here he is. He takes soccer mom’s notes — the kids all look the same to him, otherwise — and drags the Streptococci and Smallpoxxes of the world off the bus and puts them back where they came from.

Namely, the inside of a Chuck E. Cheese’s.

That’s basically how adaptive immunity (and a kids’ soccer team outing) works: Mom sees a problem, tells Dad to take care of it and he makes a scene in the parking lot. It happened every Saturday during my childhood, and it’s happening in our bodies right now. The “pissed-off soccer mom mechanism” explains all — even special cases:

  • cancer immunology – Some kids on the team get rowdy and distract the driver.
  • autoimmune disease – Dad gets fed up and kicks everyone off the bus
  • immunodeficiency – The kids steal Mom’s notes, and the interlopers take over.

Take my advice: when it comes to immunology, just ask yourself, “If my mom had to put up with fourteen screaming kids all day and then got attacked by a germ, what would she do?” Works every time.

Actual Science:
iBiology – What is acquired immunity?
Nature Reviews – Dendritic cells: controllers of adaptive immunity
Scripps Research Institute – The Ultimate Decoy
Science – Adaptive immunity goes back in time

Image sources: Cell (dendritic cell), ABGAb and Scientific American (cells ‘n’ Duggars), Examiner.com (angry mom), MomLogic (Chuck E. Diseases)

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