How Does Aspirin Find a Headache?
Page 10
Submitted by Don Marti, Jr., of New York, New York. Thanks also to Viva Reinhardt and family of Sarasota, Florida.
What Does “100% Virgin Acrylic” Mean?
Acrylonitrile, the chemical substance from which acrylic fibers are derived, was first developed in Germany in 1893, but commercial production didn’t begin until Du pont released Orlon in 1950. Monsanto, Dow Chemical, and American Cyanamid followed, all with their own trade names. Acrylic proved to be a durably popular wool substitute—it can be dyed more easily than wool, can be laundered easily, and is almost as versatile—and like wool, acrylics can be found in carpets as well as garments.
Our correspondent, Shirley Keller, was baffled by the meaning of the oft-found “virgin acrylic” label on many knit labels:
Does this mean that the product comes from: a) the first polymerization of the Acryl; b) that the fiber was not previously woven; or c) is it a marketing scam to raise the price of the garment, a la “French” Dry Cleaning?
The answer is b. According to Bob Smith, of Cytec, the division of American Cyanamid that manufactures the product, “100% virgin acrylic” means that the material comes directly from the manufacturer and was never used before. Occasionally, acrylic fibers are reprocessed; just as with humans, acrylic fibers can be virgins only once.
The “100%” part of the label is a tad misleading. To be legally classified as acrylic, the fiber only has to be 85 percent acrylonitrile (by weight). According to Roscoe Wallace, chemical engineer for Monsanto, the other 15 percent may be comprised of other fibers, some of which may more easily allow dyeing or change the texture of the finished garment.
Actually, even our acrylic marketers were willing to concede that there is a bit of answer c in “100% virgin acrylic” labels. Sure, Monsanto’s Larry Wallace was willing to concede, 100% virgin acrylic has no additives, it is not reworked after manufacturing, and was never reclaimed or redissolved. But even non-100% virgin acrylic must meet the same specifications as its more innocent brethren.
Submitted by Shirley Keller of Great Neck, New York.
Do Snakes Sneeze?
Norman J. Scott, Jr., zoologist and past-president of the Society for the Study of Amphibians and Reptiles, told Imponderables, “As far as I know, snakes don’t sneeze with their mouths shut, but they do clear fluid from their throat with an explosive blast of air from the lungs.”
Snakes don’t sneeze very often, though. In fact, a few herpetologists we contacted denied that snakes sneeze at all. But John E. Simmons, of the American Society of Ichthyologists and Herpetologists Information Committee, insisted otherwise:
Snakes sneeze for the same reason as other vertebrates—to clear their respiratory passages. Snakes rarely sneeze, however, and people who keep them in captivity know that sneezing in snakes is usually a sign of respiratory illness resulting in fluid in the air passage.
Submitted by Sue Scott of Baltimore, Maryland. Thanks also to June Puchy of Lyndhurst, Ohio.
Why Do Cookbooks Often Recommend Beating Egg Whites in a Copper Bowl?
We don’t know whether any cookbook writers have received kickbacks from copper bowl manufacturers, but this advice always struck us as unnecessary and fussy. But then again, our cakes compare unfavorably to the offerings of school cafeterias.
We consulted our pals at the American Egg Board and United Egg Producers, and we learned there really is something to this copper bowl theory. The copper in the bowl reacts to a protein (the conalbumin, to be precise) in the egg whites, and helps stabilize the eggs and may actually increase their volume when whipped. Cream of tartar combines with egg whites in a similar fashion, working to keep the whites from separating from yolks. One reason why some cooks prefer to stabilize the whites with cream of tartar rather than the “no-cost” copper bowl is that if you leave the egg whites in the bowl for too long (sometimes, for as little as five minutes), the whites will turn pink.
Cooking is an art rather than a science, and we seem to see the prescription for the copper bowl less often these days. Kay Engelhardt, test kitchen supervisor for the American Egg Board, waxes philosophical:
Perception of the copper bowl’s merits varies considerably among various experts. The Strong Armed swear by it. The punier among us are willing to settle for an electric mixer and a bit of cream of tartar.
Submitted by Merilyn Trocino of Bellingham, Washington.
How Does Aspirin Find a Headache?
When we get a minor headache, we pop two aspirin and voilà, the pain diminishes within a matter of minutes. How did those little pills find exactly what ailed us instead of, say, our little right toe or our left hip?
We always assumed that the aspirin dissolved, entered our bloodstream, and quickly found its way to our brain. The chemicals then persuaded the brain to block out any feelings of pain in the body. Right? Wrong.
Willow bark, which provided the salicylic acid from which aspirin was originally synthesized, had been used as a pain remedy ever since the Greeks discovered its therapeutic power nearly 2,500 years ago. Bayer was the first company to market Aspirin commercially in 1899 (“Aspirin” was originally a trade name of Bayer’s for the salicylic acid derivative, acetylsalicylic acid, or ASA). The value of this new drug was quickly apparent, but researchers had little idea how aspirin alleviated pain until the 1970s. In their fascinating book The Aspirin Wars, Charles C. Mann and Mark L. Plummer describe the basic dilemma:
Aspirin was a hard problem…. It relieves pain but, mysteriously, is not an anesthetic…. And it soothes inflamed joints but leaves normal joints untouched. “How does aspirin “know”…whether pain is already present, or which joints are inflamed? Researchers didn’t have a clue. They didn’t even know whether aspirin acts peripherally, at the site of an injury, or centrally, blocking the ability of the brain and central nervous system to feel pain.
The breakthrough came more than seventy years after the introduction of the best-selling pharmaceutical in the world, when researcher John Vane discovered that aspirin inhibited the synthesis of prostaglandins, fatty acids manufactured by virtually every cell in the human body. They resemble hormones, insofar as they secrete into the bloodstream, but unlike most hormones, they tend to stay near their point of manufacture. Prostaglandins serve many biological functions, but the particular ones that cause headache pain, usually known as PGE 2, increase the sensitivity of pain receptors.
So the function of prostaglandins seems to be to produce discomfort, inflammation, fever, and irritation in areas of the body that are not functioning normally, thus serving as an internal warning system. According to Harold Davis, consumer safety officer with the Food and Drug Administration, prostaglandins dilate blood vessels, which can also produce headaches.
The discovery of the role of prostaglandins in producing pain explains why aspirin works only on malfunctioning cells and tissues; if aspirin can stop the production of prostaglandins, pain will not be felt in the first place. Still, aspirin doesn’t cure diseases; it can alleviate the symptoms of arthritis, for example, but it doesn’t stop the progress of the condition.
In all fairness, scientists still don’t know exactly what causes headaches, nor all the ways in which aspirin works to relieve pain. Unlike morphine and other mind-altering drugs, aspirin works peripherally. The key to the success of any peripheral painkiller is in reaching the pain receptors near the irritation or inflammation, not simply in reaching sufficient concentrations in the bloodstream. In the case of aspirin, the ASA is connected to the bloodstream; the bloodstream’s connected to the prostaglandins; the prostaglandins are connected to the receptors; and the receptors are connected to the headache.
Submitted by Debra Allen of Wichita Falls, Texas. We know we have received this question many times over the last five years, but we cannot find our records. If you previously submitted this question (postmarked before June 1, 1993), please let us know, and we’ll include your name in future printings. Our apologies for this mistake.
Is Goofy
Married? If Not, Where Did Television’s Goofy, Jr., Come From?
Do you really expect Disney to give old Goof a child out of wedlock? We are pleased to announce that Goofy is, or possibly only was, married to a lovable mate named Mrs. Goofy.
Mrs. Goofy first appeared in a short, “Fathers Are People,” but was far from salient; in fact, she can be seen only fleetingly. Although she was a Donna Reed-like suburban housewife, she had her husband well trained: Goofy’s response to just about everything she ever said was, “Yes, dear.”
Junior, with a red nose at the end of his snout and a mop of red hair on his head, was featured more often and prominently than his mother, but as Disney’s Rose Motzko told Imponderables, “Goofy, Jr.’s main function was to allow his father to burst with pride while allowing his father not to live up to [minimal] expectations.” Junior understood that his father was not a brain surgeon but tried hard not to let his father know.
On the current cartoon series Goof Troop, Junior is called “Max.” Goofy is a single father, and Goofy’s mother is never discussed. But come to think of it, most of the “family” TV sitcoms with live actors feature single parents, too: Max has plenty of company.
Submitted by Tai Palmgren of Davis, California.
Why Is “$” the Symbol for the American Dollar?
We remember reading a numismatics book thirty years ago that stated the $ was derived from a stylized version of an “S” superimposed on a “U.” We never understood this explanation, because we could never see the “U” in the dollar sign. A professor of the history of mathematics at the University of California, Dr. Cajori, spent decades researching this Imponderable in the 1910s and 1920s. He concluded:
The American dollar sign, popularly supposed to be derived from the letters U and S, is, instead a lineal descendant of the Spanish abbreviation “ps” for “pesos.”
Cajori pored through hundreds of early colonial manuscripts and could find no proof of the “US” theory.
So, the official position of the Department of Treasury is that the “S” gradually came to be written over the “P” in the “pesos” abbreviation,
developing a close equivalent of the $ mark, which eventually evolved [into our current mark]. The $ was widely used before the adoption of the United States dollar in 1785.
Indeed, as we discussed in Why Do Clocks Run Clockwise?, Spanish and Mexican coins were the main currency in many parts of the United States in the eighteenth and much of the nineteenth centuries. We’re still not sure if the $ looks any more like a P and an S than a U and an S, but at least the abbreviation of “pesos” makes more sense than a shortening of “United States.”
Submitted by Ed Booth of Chico, California. Thanks also to Ken Shafer of Traverse City, Michigan; Josh Siegel of Fountain Valley, California; and Barry Kaminsky of Brooklyn, New York.
What Do Paper Manufacturers Do with the “Holes” Punched Out of Looseleaf Paper? Do They Recycle Them?
You can bet your bippy that manufacturers recycle the liberated hole punches. But they differ in how they recycle. Forest products giant International Paper, for example, boils more than 90 percent of its paper byproducts to power the very plant that manufacturers looseleaf paper, according to IP representative Michael Goodwin.
But Mead’s strategy is more common. Mary Potter, Mead consumer relations representative, told us:
“Hole punches,” as well as other types of paper trim or waste, are baled and sold for scrap. It is and has always been recycled (for approximately 100 years), usually winding up in chipboard, boxes, etc.
Indeed, when we asked this Imponderable of Fort Howard, its consumer affairs coordinator responded, “Nearly all Fort Howard products [mostly toilet paper, facial tissue, paper towels, and napkins] are made from 100% recycled paper fiber.”
Bet you never considered that the missing dots in your notebook paper made their way into your toilet paper.
Submitted by Wendy Rath of Sandy, Utah. Thanks also to Alvin Polanco of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Why Do We Bury the Dead with Heads Toward the West Facing East?
The following passage appears in Matthew 24: “For as the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west; so shall also the coming of the Son of man be.”
Interpreting this as an indication that when Jesus is resurrected he will appear in the east, early Christians buried the deceased with the feet nearest the east and head towards the west (but facing east) so that the dead could best see and then hurry to rise up to meet Him. Dan Flory, president of the Cincinnati College of Mortuary Sciences, wrote Imponderables that this custom inspired the phrase “the wind of the dead man’s feet” to describe an east wind.
The practice, both in Europe and North America, has steadily declined over time, but our informal observation is that the older the gravesite, the more likely the headstones will be situated in the western portion of the plot. In fact, burying the dead with this east-west orientation predates Christianity. Pagan societies, being sun worshipers, lay their deceased down to face the sunrise or sunset, depending upon the particular religion.
Submitted by Joseph Centko, Jr., of Streator, Illinois.
Why Do Birds Usually Take Flight Against the Wind?
Nancy Martin, naturalist at the Vermont Institute of Natural Science, points out that, given the constraints of runway design, airplane pilots prefer to take off against the wind as well. And for the same reason: It facilitates lift because of increased air speed. Martin elaborates:
Birds’ wings are structured like an airfoil and so work best with air flowing from front to back. Also, feathers are arranged to overlap like shingles to aid in smooth air flow—taking off with the wind ruffling up the feathers from behind creates a lot of useless turbulence.
Janet Hinshaw, librarian at the Wilson Ornithological Society at the University of Michigan, adds that birds with disproportionately heavy bodies for the size of their wings would probably take off against the wind more consistently—they can use all the lift they can get.
Submitted by Arpi Calioglu of Northridge, California.
Why Do Geese Honk Furiously While Migrating? Doesn’t Honking Squander Their Energy on Long Flights?
Unlike humans, geese and other migrating birds don’t have car radios and Stuckey’s to keep them occupied on long trips. Honking allows geese to maintain communication during long flights. Most importantly, it helps them to avoid midair collisions. As Todd Culver, education specialist at the Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology, succinctly states, “Honking is cheap compared to crashing.”
Culver adds that the call and response of birds is the main reason for flying in “V-formation.” Imponderables has no desire to enter this raging debate, which we get asked about frequently. But our province is questions that aren’t so well traveled. We have read theories about the etiology of V-formations ranging from greater aerodynamics to superior defense against predators and from facilitation of vision to Culver’s theory about better auditory communication.
Janet Hinshaw, of the Wilson Ornithological Society, assures us that honking doesn’t sap geese of vital energy: “They honk while exhaling, which they obviously have to do anyway.”
Submitted by Steve Acheson of New Berlin, Wisconsin.
Why Do Scotsmen Wear Kilts? And Why Didn’t Men in Surrounding Areas Wear Kilts?
Entire books have been written about the history of the kilt, so the first part of this question is hardly imponderable. Our reader’s focus is on why this strange garment was a mainstay in the Highlands of Scotland and not in the rest of Scotland or surrounding countries.
Although we are most likely today to see a Scot in a kilt, inside or outside Scotland, only in a parade or on a formal occasion, its initial popularity was based on practical rather than ceremonial or aesthetic considerations. Although the contemporary kilt resembles a skirt, early kilts covered not only the waist to knee region of the body but the upper torso as well. Essentially, the earliest kilts were huge blan
kets, which were wrapped around the body several times and draped over the shoulder. This one garment served as blanket, sleeping bag, cloak, and trousers.
The geography of the Highlands of Scotland was no doubt responsible for the kilt’s longevity. The Highlands are mountainous and damp, with innumerable streams and rivers. Anyone traversing the countryside in long pants and shoes would quickly be wearing wet long pants and wet shoes. The kilt saved the wearer from continually rolling up his pants. By rearranging the kilt, he could shield himself from the cold and wind. Perhaps most importantly, shepherds could leave their home base for months at a time wearing one garment and no “extra” clothes. As kilts were constructed out of elements easily obtainable in the Highlands (wool from the omnipresent sheep, and the plaid prints from native vegetable dyes), even the poorest of Highlanders could afford one. And the poor wore the kilt the most: According to Steward MacBreachan, a Scottish historian, performer, and demonstrator of Highland games and ancient Scottish culture, the kilt was of special importance to those who had to spend most or all of the day outdoors. More affluent Highlanders could switch from kilts to pants once they returned home from a day’s work.