“I especially like my star spangled underpants.” — Felix Grant
Thank you for sharing.
We can see your face, silly. Don’t pretend you’re not the Chickenman of Bristol.
Among Chickenman’s greatest foes were the Chicken-Plucker, the Dog Lady, Big Clyde Crushman, the Bear Lady, the Very Diabolical, Raymond Girvan (former childhood playmate who never forgave Bristol for breaking his red wagon on Christmas Day) and the Couple from SHTICK (Secret Henchmen To Injure Crime Killers).
The heavens are . . . large. But they are lovely in their infinitude. (In my mind, I have now an excessively vivid image of Felix in stellar knickers. Where’s the amygdala “forget it” button when I need it?)
True, true, true. Detoxification of bad memories does not necessarily remove them.
“Even after they’d been given propranolol, they still expected to receive a shock when they saw a picture of a spider – they just weren’t afraid of the prospect.”
“However the volunteers still expected a shock when they saw the spidery images. They remembered that the pain of electricity would normally follow the sight of a spider – they just had no emotional reaction to that knowledge.” (itals in original)
I don’t really understand this. I think maybe I’ll take propranalol next time I go to the dentist. (Ever since I was once sitting in a dentist’s waiting room and I heard this terrible drilling noise, I find a dentist’s office particularly distasteful. Of course, the drilling was construction in the next office, but it didn’t stop everyone in the waiting room from glancing at their neighbor in fright, expecting to hear the screams next.)
DrC> They remembered that the pain …
DrC> would normally follow … just
DrC> had no emotional reaction to that
DrC> knowledge. … … …
DrC> I think maybe I’ll take propranalol
DrC> next time I go to the dentist.
Long, long ago, in a remote corner of Africa, there was a severe shortage of anaesthetics but a huge donated supply of outdated diazepam.
The doctors used massive doses of the diazepam instead of anaesthetics wherever possible; the patients were quiet and their eyes looked somewhat like CJ’s portrait of you.
I was given one of these diazepam doses while they fished out bits of frag from a medically trivial wound, mopped up, and stitched me back together. It was a curious experience: the pain was not reduced at all, but it had sort of “slipped sideways” and seemed somehow not to be connected to me.