A cure for MRSA. You didn't know? I'm not surprised.

The other day, I was reading The Daily Telegraph (yes, I read newspapers), and as usual, scanned the first page, nothing interesting. However, a few pages in, on an article about 3 inches long and 2 inches wide was a very brief report. It was about a "cure" to MRSA.

In case you don't know what MRSA is. MRSA (Methicillin-Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus) is commonly referred to as "The Hospital Superbug". Basically, you're in hospital, and you have an open wound, some of this stuff gets into you, and you either end up 6 feet under, or with some debilitating condition, or something else shockingly hideous (no, that doesn't include being morphed into Michael "Pork-chop for a face" Jackson).

Imagine humans, intelligent as we claim to be, are getting crumpled by a single celled organism. As a species, we suck. Totally.

Anyway, back on track. Obviously, since this is such a serious condition (apparently 10,000 deaths a year, and that's just in the UK, quite shocking, especially since it resides almost exclusively in hospitals), a cure would be headline news around the world. Everyone would know that it had happened, and the guy (well, actually guys and gals) that discovered it would be household names within days. Basically, MRSA, which is resistant to many antibiotics (with VRSA being resistant to all know antibiotics), is treated by injecting a chemical which removes the resistant shell from the bacteria, allowing the antibiotics to work. Since it's a chemical, and not an antibiotic, the bacteria could not become resistant to it. Voila, a cure!

Erm, no.

I say again, the article was hideously small. It was only by chance that I spotted it. MRSA killed hideously high numbers of people, so a cure should be, like, breaking news! But it wasn't. Don't people care that now a serious infection may never bother human-kind again? Don't people care that hundreds of thousands of lives could be saved in the next several decades? By the sounds of it, no. You're more worried about a £250 million gold seam found in County Tyrone, or how those crazy Americans are getting on with their election battle. Stupid bipedal homosapiens.

The media can be so incredibly arsey sometimes. Celebs, I mean come on, who cares? The only reason anyone cares is because either:
a) They're nosy shites who love poking their noses into other peoples' lives
b) Because the media tells you they're interesting and you have to buy their literature

I mean come on, just because 10% of the population drool over Jordan on page 3 of The Sun doesn't mean the rest of us care. Those 10% of people only buy the paper so the can see naked women. So instead of selling newspapers in the morning, sell pornographic magazines for those cretins to save me having to shift a few kilograms of tabloids to get to my broadsheets with the news.

Something else irritating about newspapers is what some people write in. You've had a good read of the day's events, then you get the letters to the editors with such hideously stupid points that you wish you could punch your hand through the paper and find the author's neck to strangle. I could just imagine this article appearing in the newspaper with a reply the next day:
"DEAR SIR - I must say I completely disagree with your article on the problems with today's media. I 4m 133tz0rz 4nd 1 3nj0y p493 thr33 0f t3h 5u/\" Tossers.

Moggy's tip of the day:
"Ditches are a good source of the pH indicator, phenol blue. Not only can you use this to test pH, it's also a great national defense grid, if you take my meaning."

Ahhhh! So that's where the MOD is going wrong!

Signing off,
Andrew.

Elephants and Gerbil Vomit

Today, we had assembly in school today. Usually we'd get a incredibly boring a dreary talk about morals, which somehow, however vague, manages to morph into some Jesus story. But today, oh no, it was different, it was a presentation by the WAG, or World Aid Group.

Now this group's intention is to have fundraising events in which the cash goes to good causes (more like the school teacher's alcohol fund). Now some, well, few, actually go to worthwhile things, like cancer research, but today, it was about elephants. More specifically, Ivory. Apparantly some African country wants to legalize ivory trade again. Now, normally, I'd be quite against this, but since their little "presentation", I couldn't care.

Firstly, some girl comes on and starts blethering on about something (with Michael Jackson music in the background), and then in come two people, dressed as Elephants. They start squealing. I hate squealing, and it pushed me to the point of thinking they'd be better being crushed by 3 tons of candlesticks. And then someone dressed up as a hunter comes in, and with a toy AK-47 started shooting the smaller one, who fell over. Apparently the smaller kid was supposed to be the mother. After that, she dragged off the dead one, and the baby one shouts "Oh no, you killed my mommy" in the most emotionless voice ever.

In reality, you had to be there to see how terribly assmunchingly crap it really was. And then, the miserable git who was narrating said:

"Remember, when you next kill an elephant, you're killing it's baby too".

Several things WRONG there!

1: Elephants don't squeal, they make a mooing noise most of the time, and then trumpet every so often.
2: Elephants can't speak
3: You don't hunt Elephants with AK-47s
4: I don't ever plan on killing an elephant, so why would I ever need such arsemunched advice?

So on principle (that I support nothing that is so incredibly stupid), I'm not supporting the WAG this time.

On a separate note, gerbil vomit.

I want the world to be drowned in gerbil vomit, so using the power of Google image search, I tried looking for gerbil vomit. I got one result. (See below)

Then I realized, "Well, rats don't vomit, so maybe gerbils don't". How incredibly stupid is that!? If a rat eats rat poison, it's screwed, royally. What an incredibly idiotic evolutionary trait! For that reason, the next rat I find will be shoved in smelly sock and superglued in. Then I'll throw it into a forest.

Moggy's tip of the day today is:
"If you feel like you're bleeding, consult a Frenchman. Their powers over bodily fluid supersede that of a telephone, if you take my meaning."

Stupid twat of a cat.

Signing off,
Andrew.


This is gerbil vomit. Not! I'll have to drown the world with Nature's Miracle Pet Mess EASY Clean-up...  

And 'lo, a Blog is born... with a rant

Hello people of the world. My name, if you care, which you most probably don't, is Andrew. Welcome to my miserable world. This is what I take it out on. Not stress relief devices, not people, and not even the cat. Yes, this is where you can come to see what inadequecies befall the life of an averge person.

UCAS. I don't even know what it stands for. All I do know about it is that it determines my future for evermore, and you have to PAY MONEY to use it! I've figured out what it stands for now, "University and College Admissions Service". And all it has caused me is Pain. Yes! With a capital P! You have to write these long winded statements about why you're so great. Does anyone seriously think, that a person, such as myself, who has had to steep so low as to create a blog to remove all stress and strain from my world would be capable of that? No! That's right, No, with a capital N!

And this service, which passes on all my information to the Universities, costs money! Look Mr Government people. You constantly whinge about not having enough professionals in this "glorious" country we call the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, yet you're charging ME to even apply for the bloody university!? I' m gonna come outta there with £8000 debt (national average)! This £15 could be the difference between life, death, or social ruin! Ruin I say!

So UCAS, bane of the life of the average university applicant. The head of UCAS needs his ankle smothered in dog bile. Only the most serious punishment for the arsemunch who is ruining my life. If you ever come across it, stick you head in a block of cheese and pray that it doesn't come running after you with a big stick.

Finally, here is Moggy's Tip of the Day. Moggy is a mysterious cat who appears to me when I'm feeling miffed, and gives advice, wholesome and true. It's (He or she? I don't know) advice today is:
"If the moon suddenly comes crashing towards earth, make sure you have a stockpile of beans. Beans are what control the galaxy, if you take my meaning."

I don't.

Signing off.
Andrew