Renal Clearance of 12 Year Old Balvenie DoubleWood Single Malt Scotch


Everyone knows the liver is the main organ that processes alcohol. What this post pre-supposes is… maybe it isn’t?

Follow me on a wonderful trip through my digestive tract with a beautiful and buttery 4 fingers of single malt, scotchy goodness. First I take a small sip. Mmmm. That’s pretty good. Then I take a big ol’ gulp. There it goes now. down into my belly…

The first stop after swallowing is the stomach. The stomach’s main responsibility is grindin shit up and breaking shit down. As part of that it is equipped with a toolbox for disassembling the complex menagerie that finds it’s way down our pie holes. One of those tools is Alcohol Dehydrogenase, the sole tool that keeps us alive when we boozin. When it gets into the stomach, some of the ethanol gets broken down by this. If you take a drug like aspirin that blocks H2 receptors, it will inhibit the activity of this tool, resulting in more ethanol in the blood. No aspirin or antacids while drinking. Let the stomach help out your liver, cause lord knows it could use all the help it could get. About 20% of the ethanol can get absorbed in the stomach and enters the bloodstream.

Next stop after the stomach is the small intestine via a space known as the pyloris. The small intestine is the space that transfers all the things you eat into the bloodstream. The other 80 percent of the ethanol gets absorbed here.

At this point, all the ethanol is in the veins of the bloodstream. The first stop for all this blood, as the heart pushes it around your shlubby body, is the liver via the portal vein. I covered the liver extensively in another post, so I won’t go into that here too much, but say that if you have one drink per hour, the liver can use some tricky shit to break down all the booze you take in. But for this post, we will assume you like to drink, and don’t take it like medicine but like a lifeforce that enables you to escape your shitty life, at least for a while.

So you drink 4 delicious fingers of scotch followed by 4 delicious fingers of scotch. First pass through your liver doesn’t get all the booze out, so what it doesn’t catch is passed on to your heart. From here it gets passed into your lungs. This is where the pigs get ya with their fancy breathalizer contraptions, god bless em’. After some leaves through the lungs, it goes back to the heart and pumped out into what is known as “systemic circulation” which sends it out into every cell in your body.

Ethanol, being a tiny and beautiful and delicious molecule, has no trouble passing your blood brain barrier once this happens. In fact, if you drink antifreeze (which is quite yummy I hear) they treat you can counter the toxicity by drinking pure ethanol because ethanol more readily gets into your brain and outcompetes the binding of the toxic agents of antifreeze.

That’s why I always say:
liquor before antifreeze,
your going to be in the morgue and freeze,
antifreeze before liquor,
never been sicker.

Because you will still be quite sick after the experience. This little rhyme has helped me out of more than one incident.

So what the hell do the kidneys have to do with all this nonsense? Well the final destination for all blood is through the kidneys. The kidneys are definitively the strangest organ in the body. Their job is to filter all the fluid and nutrients out of the blood, then to reabsorb everything that it thinks it needs. How does that work?

Blood enters a capillary bed known as the glomerulus. Here, fluid is removed from the blood at around 125ml/min. Everything that is small enough to pass through into the bulb surrounding the capillaries, usually follows the concentration gradient through to another structure known as the “Bowmans Capsule.” The blood flow through the kidneys is adjusted by the dilation and constriction of vessels around the capillary bed to adjust for increased heart rate and ensure that the filtration is constant. As it enters the bowman’s capsule, it goes through a series of tubes known as the “loop of henley.” It’s probably named after someone, but I refuse to capitalize such a silly sounding structure. Once in here, water and sodium are reabsorbed at different spots on the “loop” to ensure a proper balance of hydration remains in the body. This whole contraption of back and forth is reproduced thousands of times in the kidney and the structure is collectively known as the “Nephron”

The health of a kidney is detemined by the rate at which you are filtering your blood and the rate at which things that should get excreted are not getting reabsorbed. The most common values people look at is Createnine and BUN (Blood Urea Nitrogen) in the blood. Createnine should get completely excreted (leave in the urine).

People who get kidney failure have trouble here, because these tubules break down and proteins that get into the urine increase the breakdown of these tubules, leading to increased protein concentration in urine, and the increased excretion of water as a result.

So I just drunkenly read what I just wrote and it didn’t make much sense, but I am not rewriting it. Fuck off. The real question here is what is ethanol doing as it passes through the glomerulus (which is a totally badass name for a metal band).

So the little shitty alcohol molecules are going through your kidney. And the kidney filters them just like water (125ml/min), but cause it’s a polar molecule, and the loop of henley nonsense, it gets almost completely reabsorbed. So the blood alcohol content is actually identical to the urine alcohol content, because the percentages are treated the same as that of water.

So if you are dehydrated, and drink alcohol, you will get extra fucked cause it will all get reabsorbed with the water and stay in your blood stream. That’s why I never drive while I am dehydrated.

All this was based off a single article written in 1968 by Blackmore and Mason, two renowned liars.

This article written under the influence of 8 fingers of 12 year old single malt Balvenie Doublewood Scotch Whisky.


Equine Laminitis – A Revolutionary Restructuring of the Current Paradigm w/ Colt 45

  “Father, father,” he cried, “father, what are they doing? Father, they are beating the poor horse!”

“Come along, come along!” said his father. “They are drunken and foolish, they are in fun; come away, don’t look!” and he tried to draw him away, but he tore himself away from his hand, and, beside himself with horror, ran to the horse. The poor beast was in a bad way. She was gasping, standing still, then tugging again and almost falling.

“Beat her to death,” cried Mikolka, “it’s come to that. I’ll do for her!”
“What are you about, are you a Christian, you devil?” shouted an old man in the crowd.
“Did any one ever see the like? A wretched nag like that pulling such a cartload,” said another.
“You’ll kill her,” shouted the third.
“Don’t meddle! It’s my property, I’ll do what I choose. Get in, more of you! Get in, all of you! I will have her go at a gallop!…”
All at once laughter broke into a roar and covered everything: the mare, roused by the shower of blows, began feebly kicking. Even the old man could not help smiling. To think of a wretched little beast like that trying to kick!
Two lads in the crowd snatched up whips and ran to the mare to beat her about the ribs. One ran each side.
“Hit her in the face, in the eyes, in the eyes,” cried Mikolka.
“Give us a song, mates,” shouted some one in the cart and every one in the cart joined in a riotous song, jingling a tambourine and whistling. The woman went on cracking nuts and laughing.
… He ran beside the mare, ran in front of her, saw her being whipped across the eyes, right in the eyes! He was crying, he felt choking, his tears were streaming. One of the men gave him a cut with the whip across the face, he did not feel it. Wringing his hands and screaming, he rushed up to the grey-headed old man with the grey beard, who was shaking his head in disapproval. One woman seized him by the hand and would have taken him away, but he tore himself from her and ran back to the mare. She was almost at the last gasp, but began kicking once more.
“I’ll teach you to kick,” Mikolka shouted ferociously. He threw down the whip, bent forward and picked up from the bottom of the cart a long, thick shaft, he took hold of one end with both hands and with an effort brandished it over the mare.
“He’ll crush her,” was shouted round him. “He’ll kill her!”
“It’s my property,” shouted Mikolka and brought the shaft down with a swinging blow. There was a sound of a heavy thud.
“Thrash her, thrash her! Why have you stopped?” shouted voices in the crowd.
And Mikolka swung the shaft a second time and it fell a second time on the spine of the luckless mare. She sank back on her haunches, but lurched forward and tugged forward with all her force, tugged first on one side and then on the other, trying to move the cart. But the six whips were attacking her in all directions, and the shaft was raised again and fell upon her a third time, then a fourth, with heavy measured blows. Mikolka was in a fury that he could not kill her at one blow.
“She’s a tough one,” was shouted in the crowd.
“She’ll fall in a minute, mates, there will soon be an end of her,” said an admiring spectator in the crowd.
“Fetch an axe to her! Finish her off,” shouted a third.
“I’ll show you! Stand off,” Mikolka screamed frantically; he threw down the shaft, stooped down in the cart and picked up an iron crowbar. “Look out,” he shouted, and with all his might he dealt a stunning blow at the poor mare. The blow fell; the mare staggered, sank back, tried to pull, but the bar fell again with a swinging blow on her back and she fell on the ground like a log.
“Finish her off,” shouted Mikolka and he leapt, beside himself, out of the car. Several young men, also flushed with drink, seized anything they could come across—whips, sticks, poles, and ran to the dying mare. Mikolka stood on one side and began dealing random blows with the crowbar. The mare stretched out her head, drew a long breath and died.
“You butchered her,” some one shouted in the crowd.
“Why wouldn’t she gallop then?”
“My property!” shouted Mikolka, with bloodshot eyes, brandishing the bar in his hands. He stood as though regretting that he had nothing more to beat.
“No mistake about it, you are not a Christian,” many voices were shouting in the crowd.
But the poor boy, beside himself, made his way screaming, through the crowd to the sorrel nag, put his arms round her bleeding dead head and kissed it, kissed the eyes and kissed the lips.… Then he jumped up and flew in a frenzy with his little fists out at Mikolka. At that instant his father who had been running after him, snatched him up and carried him out of the crowd.
“Come along, come! Let us go home,” he said to him.
“Father! Why did they … kill … the poor horse!” he sobbed, but his voice broke and the words came in shrieks from his panting chest.

-Fyodor Dostoyevsky
(Crime & Punishment – 1866)


Alright, that was a dark way to start a post, I know. I have never been particularly fond of horses (dogs for rich people), but they have always been beasts of burden and as far as agriculture goes, a source of property. Since their abuse for labor has been replaced by machines, they have actually become more of a hobby animal. But still, what we do to them is pretty fucked up.

The earliest horse shoes date back to 400 BC, and since then it has been relatively unchallenged and common knowledge that horses walk on their toenails. And so with the advent of hard stone surfaces, they need strengthening of those nails.

But do they walk on their toe nails? If they do, equines are the only mammal we know of (besides ballerinas) capable of this task, and the nail is structurally extremely insufficient for an animal of this size, even on soft ground.

One recent theory is that the hoof of the horse was never meant to be a weight bearing structure, and if that’s true we have been torturing horses for the past 2400 years, way longer than those tortured by those 5 finger running shoes.

This theory is relatively convincing when looking at the histology and growth of the horse nail. It is popularly thought that the horse nail grows out from a nail bed (the coronet) toward the top of the first joint. But horses would not be able to develop a proper hoof early enough after birth if this were the case. Instead, it is suggested that it grows out from the pad of the hoof called the “frog.” The tubules that travel down from the coronet actually originate from the frog out, not from the coronet down. This suggests that the purpose of the hoof is to absorb pressure from the weight being born on the heel. When people put shoes on horses, or improperly trim their hooves , they remove the weight from the pad of the hoof and put it all on the really small area of the nail. The nail separates from the nail bed over time, and causes inflammation and extreme pain.

So if this is right, then we are torturing horses no less today than Mikolka did in Fyodor’s wild tales. Well not “us,” but rich people who can afford horses.

This post was written under the influence of Colt 45 (Win a Party with Billy Dee!)

Vaginas & Vienna Lager

IMG_1093Public education in the United States is among the shittiest of all countries when it comes to sex education. Especially horse sex. I didn’t learn shit about horse sex in grade school OR high school and that’s pretty shameful. I had to learn from the tragedies in Enumclaw. Also, little to nothing about human sex sept it’s nasty. That’s why I didn’t have any in high school. Yes. That’s why… nasty!

So, what the fuck is sex? I mean, lots of people do it without thinking, but lets get histological about what’s going on down there. Why do my balls hurt sometimes? Why do they shrink when I’m cold? Dafuq is estrus? Dafuq is leutenizing hormone? When does a sex become determined, and who should choose what bathroom you should go into? Who has access to the coolest placentas on earth? No, we didn’t learn any of this shit. But now we will.

First let us start with gender differentiation. It is popular in social science to distinguish sex from gender to try to refrain from asking questions about the function of sexual intercourse in a self aware population. Gender can be fluid and determined by life choices, but sex is determined by chromosomes. This creates a problematic nature versus nurture argument in gender identity.

Veterinary medicine does not have that distinction. Sexuality is synonymous with gender. Animals are not subjected to external sexual pressures, so you see the spectrum of gender differentiation play out in animals without the social commentary or social reflection. People place their own gender paradigms on their pets, but pets don’t give a fuck.

“Why did you put a pink bandage on my dog, it’s a boy dog! And did you just call sheila HIM? I want to talk to your manager!!!” Guess what, your dog is not racist or sexist or homophobic, and doesn’t give a shit what color bandage we put on it, or what gender we associate it with. That’s all you.

So how does the gender spectrum play out in animals? This is not a loaded question I swear. The answer is the same as it should be in humans “Who gives a fuck?” That is the answer.

Is your dog humping other dogs of the same gender?

Who gives a fuck?

Is your dog pissing in the same spot another gendered dog pissed?

Who gives a fuck?

Is your dog fond of that certain color toy you bought for your other dog?

Who gives a fuck?

Nobody gives a fuck because it does not matter. Realistically, it shouldn’t for humans either, but this is where we are. Gender is very important, and the reflection on those identities is even more important.

So, from this distant lens, when is “sex” determined?

All fetuses start out the same. They have a mesonephric (Wolffian) duct and a paramesonephric (Mullerian) duct which run close to two gonads in the abdomen. They are capable of developing into either gender. The determining factor has to do with genetics at inception and hormone development.


Everyone has probably heard that there is probably some XY, XX thing, and that “Hey, there it is, you are one or the other.” That is bullshit. Here’s the truth. All fetuses are default female. The expression of the Y chromosome (which is, by the way, scienctifically the shittiest chromosome) determines what happens to the gonads. So this Y chromosome gets expressed, sometimes a little bit (me), sometimes a lot (my big strong brothers), but the fact is that it gets expressed differently, and those differences change with development.

It’s true, I finally got my balls, some would say too late, but the necessary hormones produced themselves in the correct amounts, that my ovaries descended through my inguinal canal and produced an organ that can do some serious urine aiming, but the girth has something to be desired.

So, there was enough expression of the Y chromosome to produce Sertoli cells, which degenerate the Mullerian ducts, and Leydig cells, which secrete testosterone. But the amount of female organ suppression is not always the same. Testosterone varies wildly between the ball bearing and the ovary bearing alike. There are many females that produce way more testosterone than me, but did not produce enough Sertoli cells to degenerate their Mullerian ducts and so their balls are still way up in their shit. And that is truely fucked.

So let’s assume the gonads made their decision. “I wanna hang back and kick it in the abdomen with this felopian tube lookin thing”, or “I wanna get the fuck outa here and the inguinal canal looks like the chicken shit way out.” What is the difference and how does it change things? And how do horse dicks work?

Lets get down to brass tacks. Balls are ovaries that chose a different path. Enough hormones were secreted to allow the degradation of the paramesonephric duct and allow the balls to descend into the scrotum though the deep inguinal ring. The penis is a byproduct of this differentiation. And the horse penis is a fucked up by-product of this differentiation. The stallion has a huge penis that can tuck up pretty good. Because it’s a telescoping penis that retracts in multiple pre-pucial folds. This can lead to people underestimating the ass cleaving capacity of this organ. Remember, they are as long as they need to be, so don’t you dare.


Balls make semen, and semen needs to be kept at a certain temp. It’s fickle as fuck. And it makes a fuck-ton of semen, because they are shitty survivors. The testicle produces a ton of semen and this leaves the testicle in a single duct called the epididymis. This single duct winds out of one end of the testicle and coils in all sorts of directions to the other pole of the testicle “The tail of the epididymums” where it waits for ejaculation. And when they are just hanging, waiting to fuck shit up, they wanna chill. If it’s too hot, then you have a muscle called the cremaster muscle which relaxes in heat to cool down your shitty balls. When it’s cold as fuck, that shit tightens like mofo and pulls your balls all cuddly.

When you are jerking off and crying alone while drunk, sperm leaves the tail of the epididymis travels though the inguinal canal into the abdomen and passes through the prostate, which surrounds the bladder and empties into the urethra. It then gets pushed into the waiting Kleenex, which is probably already soaked with lonely tears.

But what about the ovaries? What about when that shitty Y chromosome doesn’t fuck everything up?

Once ovaries are developed, they have around 750,000 eggs in them. That’s all they get. The end. The eggs are cells in the ovaries that have the opportunity to develop into oocytes. These are the eggs that the sperm you wasted on that teary Kleenex are waiting for. But unlike your sperm, which flies in every direction all over the walls and everything, the oocytes are selected and ejected with patient and regular cycles. They first compete within the ovaries. At any time within the ovary, there are many follicles (potential eggs) in varying stages of development.

The pituitary gland up in your noggin  produces a couple hormones that regulate these developing stages. The first is follicle stimulating hormone which pushes the follicles along their stages, and the second is Luteinizing hormone which stimulates ovulation and the formation of corpus luteum, which is the end game. This is not like the testies, where there are tons of soldiers. This is 5 or 6 oocytes waiting to develop and one gets ejected each cycle.

Once the egg gets ejected it gets caught up by the waiting Fallopian tube which is like a catchers mitt outside the ovary. It’s just waitin. It ushers the oocyte into the tube and into a part of the tube called the isthmus where it can wait for a bit for a sperm to make it through a ripped condom, through the nuvaring and into the cervix, which is the main barrier to foreign material (and believe me it is foreign). Then the sperm is ushered into the tube where it excretes certain ovary piercing substances from the head of the sperm that allows it to enter the genetic material into the oocyte.

That is the reproduction you never learned about. Horse dicks and all. But just remember, reproduction is different than sex, and sometimes sex is different than gender, and in the end, people should use whatever bathroom they feel comfortable in, because pissing needs to happen no matter what. If you think that’s wrong, wait for the next post on renal physiology.

So now we arrive at the most important question of this whole article. The placenta. And who has access to the coolest placentas on earth? The placenta is a formation of nutrient exchange for the developing fetus, which will be discussed in later posts on embryology. But what most of us wonder is who has access to the coolest placentas? The coolest in all the world? Who? Who dafuq?

That would be Dr. Benirschke, the human MD who wrote the textbook on placentas and who worked with the San Diego Zoo to look at the most bitching placentas ever fucking known. It’s so fucking great. Link below.

This post written under the influence of Eagle Monk Vienna Lager