The following was reportedly a bonus question on a University of Arizona Chemistry midterm:
“Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?”
Here is a brazen response from a creative student.
Please read to the end. Chemistry has never been so interesting:
“First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving, which is unlikely. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let’s look at the different religions that exist in the world today.
Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle’s Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.
This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it?
If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, ‘It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,’ and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct….. …leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting ‘Oh my God.’”
Psychologists, social scientists and even ancient philosophers have long theorized that music has the power to change our lives. None of them, however, has been able to paint a picture of just how that looks, until recently.
Psychologist in Germanyset out to map out the effect of significant musical experiences and show that these moments can have positive, lasting effects. By coding the exact words used by participants asked to recall intense musical experiences (they call them IMEs), the scientists were able to create a model of how these experiences are perceived both in the moment and afterwards.
Listeners reported a sense of transcendence during IMEs, followed by a brief period of what they described as disharmony as they went “back to reality,” when the experience passed, then greater optimism and motivation in the aftermath. Many of the test subjects even claimed that intense musical experiences gave them greater insight into their spirituality. Based on their observations, the researchers believe that IMEs impact isn’t limited to during and immediately after the experience:
IMEs cause long-term changes to occur in people’s personal values, their perception of the meaning of life, social relationships, engagement, activities, and personal development.
While the researchers noted that the subject deserves further study, it’s safe to say that listening to a favorite song or even reminiscing about a wonderful night at the symphony, or concert, may do you some good
When I was training to become a psychiatrist, I rarely paid attention to what my patients ate. Unless the person had an eating disorder or depression-associated weight loss, their diet did not get much airtime. I couldn’t have cared less about how many frappuccinos they drank or how many bowls of Fruit Loops they ate for breakfast.
Little did I know about the link between diet and brain health. Now, nutritional psychiatry is taking off as scientists gain a better understanding of how diet affects mental health. A recent report in the highly regarded Lancet Psychiatry journaleven concluded that:
The emerging and compelling evidence for nutrition as a crucial factor in the high prevalence and incidence of mental disorders suggests that diet is as important to psychiatry as it is to cardiology, endocrinology, and gastroenterology.
While there is no single ingredient that will put you in a better mood or prevent memory loss, a great deal of evidence suggests that following a Mediterranean diet can boost your psychological fitness. Instead of processed carbohydrates, sugar, and saturated fats, this diet consists of legumes, whole grains, fish, moderate amounts of lean meat, healthy fats like nuts and olive oil, antioxidant-rich fruits and vegetables like tomatoes, peppers, and eggplant, and red wine.
Every year, the list of correlations between certain foods and mental well-being grows: fish and other sources of omega-3 fatty acids might help fend off psychosis and depression; fermented foods such as yogurt, pickles and sauerkraut seem to ease anxiety; green tea and antioxidant-rich fruits may help keep dementia at bay.
Now I grill my patients about what they eat and literally prescribe a Mediterranean diet. The only side effects are feeling and looking good.
What would you think if your lawyer showed up to a meeting in sweatpants? Or your doctor rocked a tank top and ripped jean shorts at your annual check-up? Or the President gave a press conference in an old t-shirt. It would be a little disconcerting to say the least. You might even question their competence and authority. In general, we prefer it when people wear clothes that match our expectations. We like them to dress the part.
There are, however, some major exceptions. Harvard Business School professor Francesca Gino found that under certain circumstances, violating fashion rules makes people seem more powerful and competent. In the paper, The Red Sneakers Effect: Inferring Status and Competence from Signals of Nonconformity, Gino highlights the benefits of dressing differently and not following established norms. Women shopping in luxury boutiques such as Dior and Armani who wore gym clothes were believed to be of higher social status by clerks than women who wore a dress and fur coat. Students thought more highly of a professor wearing red Converse sneakers than traditional shoes. A casually dressed unshaven teacher earned greater respect from his class than a teacher in a suit. In another scenario, people were surveyed about someone attending a black-tie event at a golf club. A man wearing a red bowtie was deemed to be a better golfer and more powerful in the community than a man wearing a regular black bowtie.
Nonconforming behaviors can be more beneficial to someone than simply trying to fit in. In other words, when it looks deliberate, a person can appear to have a higher status and sense of competency.
When it comes to getting dressed, be an original. Feel free to break the written and unwritten rules of fashion. Yes, that means you can wear those white shoes after Labor Day!
Eugene O’Neill, a dog lover, wrote this extraordinary eulogy for his beloved dog Blemie when the dalmatian was nearing his end. I challenge you not to cry.
The Last Will and Testament of Silverdene Emblem O’Neill
I, SILVERDENE EMBLEM O’NEILL (familiarly known to my family, friends, and acquaintances as Blemie), because the burden of my years and infirmities is heavy upon me, and I realize the end of my life is near, do hereby bury my last will and testament in the mind of my Master. He will not know it is there until after I am dead. Then, remembering me in his loneliness, he will suddenly know of this testament, and I ask him then to inscribe it as a memorial to me.
I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are wiser than men. They do not set great store upon things. They do not waste their days hoarding property. They do not ruin their sleep worrying about how to keep the objects they have, and to obtain the objects they have not. There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and my faith. These I leave to all those who have loved me, to my Master and Mistress, who I know will mourn me most, to Freeman who has been so good to me, to Cyn and Roy and Willie and Naomi and — But if I should list all those who have loved me, it would force my Master to write a book. Perhaps it is vain of me to boast when I am so near death, which returns all beasts and vanities to dust, but I have always been an extremely lovable dog.
I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always, but not to grieve for me too long. In my life I have tried to be a comfort to them in time of sorrow, and a reason for added joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think that even in death I should cause them pain. Let them remember that while no dog has ever had a happier life (and this I owe to their love and care for me), now that I have grown blind and deaf and lame, and even my sense of smell fails me so that a rabbit could be right under my nose and I might not know, my pride has sunk to a sick, bewildered humiliation. I feel life is taunting me with having over-lingered my welcome. It is time I said good-bye, before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love me. It will be sorrow to leave them, but not a sorrow to die. Dogs do not fear death as men do. We accept it as part of life, not as something alien and terrible which destroys life. What may come after death, who knows? I would like to believe with those of my fellow Dalmatians who are devout Mohammedans, that there is a Paradise where one is always young and full-bladdered; where all the day one dillies and dallies with an amorous multitude of houris, beautifully spotted; where jack rabbits that run fast but not too fast (like the houris) are as the sands of the desert; where each blissful hour is mealtime; where in long evenings there are a million fireplaces with logs forever burning, and one curls oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams, remembering the old brave days on earth, and the love of one’s Master and Mistress.
I am afraid this is too much for even such a dog as I am to expect. But peace, at least, is certain. Peace and long rest for weary old heart and head and limbs, and eternal sleep in the earth I have loved so well. Perhaps, after all, this is best.
One last request I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say, “When Blemie dies we must never have another dog. I love him so much I could never love another one.” Now I would ask her, for love of me, to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again. What I would like to feel is that, having once had me in the family, now she cannot live without a dog! I have never had a narrow jealous spirit. I have always held that most dogs are good (and one cat, the black one I have permitted to share the living room rug during the evenings, whose affection I have tolerated in a kindly spirit, and in rare sentimental moods, even reciprocated a trifle). Some dogs, of course, are better than others. Dalmatians, naturally, as everyone knows, are best. So I suggest a Dalmatian as my successor. He can hardly be as well bred or as well mannered or as distinguished and handsome as I was in my prime. My Master and Mistress must not ask the impossible. But he will do his best, I am sure, and even his inevitable defects will help by comparison to keep my memory green. To him I bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat, made to order in 1929 at Hermes in Paris. He can never wear them with the distinction I did, walking around the Place Vendôme, or later along Park Avenue, all eyes fixed on me in admiration; but again I am sure he will do his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial dog. Here on the ranch, he may prove himself quite worthy of comparison, in some respects. He will, I presume, come closer to jack rabbits than I have been able to in recent years. And for all his faults, I hereby wish him the happiness I know will be his in my old home.
One last word of farewell, Dear Master and Mistress. Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long happy life with you: “Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved.” No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you, and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail.
