Buster B. Brown

Hints and innuendoes

2008-11-01T09:52:00.000-07:00

Dearest readers,

I owe you an explanation.

Which, unfortunately, I am not at liberty to provide. At least not with respect to naming Names. But I hope to convey, through hints and innuendoes, the reason for my prolonged absence.

My prior post on lib spex drew attention from an unexpected corner. A Very Unexpected but Important Corner. People far beyond my humble scientific purview recognized my talent for finding eyewear for women who like to hunt.

Further conversations were followed by investigation. The People in the Very Unexpected but Important Corner (PitVUbIC) want to know a lot of things. I suggested a visit to Dr. Schwarz, but they had a different vetting process in mind.

They confiscated my computer. Of course, my records are immaculately organized and beyond reproach.

However, the issue of funding for my research also came up. If you'll recall, my primary funding source has been Dad.

Dad is a great guy. Regular with the kibble and handy with the poop bags.

However, in investigating my financial ties to Dad, the PitVUbIC uncovered a couple of less-than-propitious findings. They questioned poor Dad extensively about his familiarity with illegal substances of the roll-up-and-smoke variety. Having attended college in California, Dad was a goner.

What really put the kibosh on my new career as eyewear consultant to the PitVUbIC is the second fact they uncovered. Seems that Dad has had an enduring penchant for tabouli, falafel, baba ganoush... all foods Middle Eastern. He's spent thousands of dollars on the food of infidels, all told. Not that he ever passed a morsel along to moi.

"The surest path to a man's heart is through his stomach," said the PitVUbIC. "And home is where the heart is."

Dad was deported.

Of course, his new mailing address in Baghdad puts me completely out of the running for the prime gig, which would have paid extremely well. The kibble train would have been completely derailed if I hadn't found some freelance work.

I just got my computer back this week. Funny, I didn't remember playing that many games of Bejeweled.

Lib spex

2008-07-13T13:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Hattie and Berta,

Knowing that your access to a selection of diamante librarian spectacles is limited, I took the liberty of doing a little shopping.

Figure 1. Red

Figure 2. Black

Figure 3. Blue (sans diamante, but still quite fetching)

Here's how they'd look on une fille rouge who has one ear attuned to the winds of fashion.

Figure 4. Hmm. I'm thinking a little more contrast with the red of yourselves would be better.

Figure 5. Oh my. A bit on the manly side, despite the lovely accents at the temples.

Figure 6. Voila!

Only my opinion, though. Perhaps we should have a vote.

Apropos of absolutely nothing

2008-06-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

Further adventures in operant conditioning

2008-06-26T08:51:00.001-07:00

Figure 1. What I want more of.

My tool:

Figure 2. The Stairs

My strategies:

sudden refusal to climb them
whimpering in a manly way
occasional whole body tremors

The outcome:

Figures 3 & 4. Success

They are mere pawns.

Scientific reincarnation

2008-06-21T13:42:00.000-07:00

The love of my life and I share an uncanny resemblance to an extremely well-known husband-and-wife scientific team.

Figure 1. Pierre Curie

Figure 2. Yours truly

Figure 3. Marie Curie

Figure 4. Kira

I don't know how much time Marie spent au-dessous d'une chaise, but they do share a certain intensity of gaze, don't they? I love serious women.

They also share an obsession for things that glow in the dark. In Marie's case, of course, it was the polonium and radium that eventually did her in.

Figure 5. A girl and her Glo-Ball

Who ended up with the babe?

2008-06-09T09:42:00.000-07:00

Ha.

Kira is coming today. And she's going to be chez moi three whole nights.

Figure 1. Kira and The Tongue

(It doesn't all fit in her mouth when her jaws are closed.)

Eat your heart out, Skippy.

Skippy reappears

2008-06-08T10:11:00.000-07:00

Remember Skippy, my evil twin who appears intermittently and coerces me into scandalous behavior?

Well.

He came back.

Just this morning, my lab assistant and I walked to the Other Park, the one near our house. The park where you're supposed to be on leash at all times unless you're an attentive listener.

But Skippy didn't read the signs. (Honestly, I don't think Skippy can even read. Else he'd pay attention to the warnings on his cigarette packages.)

My lab assistant tossed a nice new tennis ball into the air and, accurately calculating the speed and trajectory, I snagged before it hit the ground. At that precise moment, Skippy whispered in my ear.

Hey. Mr. Science. You think this is fun? I've got something to show you.

So I followed him. Right past my lab assistant and over to the picnic tables. And then to the bleachers by the baseball field. Then to the garbage cans. Then back to the picnic tables again.

Oh my. Skippy pointed out all kinds of delectable molecules on the ground. In the background, I could hear someone calling my name.

"Hey, wait," I said to Skippy. "That's my lab assistant. I'd better go."

What are you, a real dog or a weenie nerd? First we eat, then we go find some babes.

Before I could finish explaining that 'real dog or weenie nerd' is a continuum, not a dichotomy, Skippy interrupted me.

There! Over there! The mother lode!

Oh my. It was. A different set of garbage cans. With large amounts of Leftover Picnic Things on the ground beside it.

We were there long enough for my lab assistant to catch up. Of course, Skippy vanished, leaving me to explain.

I imagine he's found some babes by now.

The Rationale for Canine Nose-Licking

2008-06-01T11:11:00.000-07:00

The rationale for canine nose-licking: a prospective observational study
by Buster B. Brown

Introduction

The licking of certain body parts is a familiar yet understudied behavior among canines. This self-referential licking is distinct from inter-species licking, chiefly of the canine-human variety. In rare instances, human licking of canines has also been reported, but Dad has never licked me, which speaks volumes for his mental health.

Target body parts for self-referential licking include nearly every square centimeter of flesh. Licking is most commonly reported in the areas of the twig and berries, paws, and nose. Unless the berries have been removed, in which case the twig is of only passing interest to the canine licker. Trust me on this one.

This study focuses on the nose as target body part for canine licking. Several extant theories have been reviewed, including the 'nervous dog' theory, the 'nervous stranger' theory, the 'licking as affection' theory, the 'aversion to obnoxious popular music' theory, and the 'spreadable legumes' theory. These have proven inadequate to explain the reason for this persistent and puzzling behavior because the theorists behind them aren't dogs, so they're only guessing.

This study is the first to explore this behavior in depth.

Methods

I asked some dogs why they licked their noses. Then I thought hard about what they said.

In other words, open-ended questionnaire to a convenience sample and qualitative analysis.

Results
It's important to note that most dogs had never considered the question. Nose-licking is a habitual and unconscious behavior, so dogs find it challenging to attribute a cause. Nevertheless, they made valiant attempts, which resulted in interesting comments on my blog and also the Googling of 'Primula squeezy cheese' (PSC) because I want some.

Several themes emerged from the data.

Theme #1: The proximity of nose to tongue. The nose also serves as a substitute, albeit inadequate, for the missing berries. I'm calling this the Mount Everest Theory ('because it's there') and the Inverted Mount Everest Theory ('because they're not there').

Theme #2: Good things to eat. The most common reasons proposed for nose-licking were concerned with actual or potential comestibles: yummy-looking food, nibblets in the area, salmon treats, bully sticks, rawhide treats, and actual dog food including tuna oil. Not to mention PSC. I drooled on the keyboard writing this paragraph.

Theme #3: Illness or injury. Two respondents mentioned illness- or injury-related causes for nose-licking. I hope the nosebleeds stop for good, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, I also hope Jozsi and Momo never have to have medicine-hiding peanut butter again.

Discussion
Limitations of this study include the convenience sampling methodology. Perhaps dogs who didn't respond lick their noses for entirely different reasons. We'll never know, and it's their loss to not participate in this ground-breaking study.

Despite this limitation, it's evident that dogs lick their noses for a variety of reasons. This disappointed Dad, who was pretty sure at the outset that dogs only lick their noses to 'get them wet so they can smell better.' Once again, this is an example of humans guessing wrong about the complex reasons for canine behavior. We're deeply mysterious and ultimately unknowable creatures. Unless there's food involved, in which case, we're completely transparent and predictable.

In conclusion, nose-licking is something that dogs do because they darn well feel like it.

Acknowledgements
The author would like to thank Denni$, Charlie Morph, Zigana, Laila, Brisztow Jones, The Regal Vizsla (s), and Rocket

Funding for this study was provided by Dad.

The purpose of licking one's nose

2008-05-25T11:43:00.001-07:00

I've received my first grant funding!

It's from Dad. He's asked me to do a study to find out why dogs lick their noses. In return, he's going to give me two cups of dog food every single day.

Here's an example of the behavior I'm studying. (This isn't me. This is Otis. I don't know Otis, but his dad takes excellent pictures.)

I've already done the literature review, which revealed several contradictory theories:

1. Dogs lick things they like, ergo we must lick our noses because we like them. Personally, I feel neutral about my nose. Can't see it, for one thing.

2. "DOGS WHO REPEATEDLY FLICK THEIR TONGUE UP TO LICK THEIR NOSE ARE INVARIABLY UNEASY. " This veterinarian apparently feels very strongly that her theory is the correct one. However, I lick my nose, and I'm not uneasy in the least. I'm extremely easy. Unless you're trying to come in the back door. Then I'm still easy, only in a louder way.

3. Dogs lick their noses to calm strangers. So it's the strangers who are uneasy. Hmmm. Valium would be more effective.

4. Dogs lick their noses to avert the pain of annoying music. It's hard to see how nose-licking would neutralize "Yakety Sax." Actually, I doubt that anything can neutralize "Yakety Sax." However, this dog, being both black and long-haired, is clearly at a problem-solving disadvantage.

5. Peanut butter.

I'm keeping my hypothesis secret so as not to skew the results.

Dear readers, if you would be so kind, please answer the following carefully-worded research question:

WHY DO YOU LICK YOUR NOSE?

I will analyz/se the results and post them here. As an incentive for participation in this study, you will receive one piece of Canidae kibble by mail. Or nothing, in the event that I don't have your address. Or stamps, come to think of it. I never have stamps when I need them.

Who needs a computer?

2008-05-25T11:21:00.000-07:00

Figure 1. MySpace(s)

It Wasn't Sweden...

2008-05-10T10:51:00.000-07:00

When Dad started packing his bags a couple of weeks ago, I got quite excited. "This is it!," I thought. "We're on our way to Stockholm."

Not.

Figure 1. The bad part.

Four days. FOUR DAYS. No computer access, no intelligent conversation, just me, an indoor/outdoor run, and the riff raff.

Figure 2. Riff raff.

Fortunately, just when I thought I would lose my mind from isolation and boredom, Amy picked me up.

Amy is my MOST FAVORITE person in the entire world. Before Dad and the Lab Assistant drove me to the penal colony that masquerades as 'Oregon's finest boarding facility,' she was my third most favorite person.

Amy has many admirable qualities: she's an excellent conversationalist, she's extremely responsive to piercing stares, she has lax couch rules, and her ears always taste very good. Amy's most attractive quality is named Kira.

Figure 3. Not riff raff

I love everything about Kira. I love to lie on Kira's bed, eat Kira's food, take Kira's toys, and usurp Kira's place next to Amy on the couch. I especially like to nibble Kira's ears.

So for nine days, NINE DAYS, I stayed with Amy and Kira. And Vince, whose ears might also taste good, but he never lets me check.

It wasn't Sweden, but it was wonderful.

Piercing stares, part deux

2008-04-27T14:35:00.000-07:00

Several collaborating scientists have brought to my attention some additional data.

Ms. Zigana mentioned the efficacy of chest compressions combined with piercing stares (PS). She should know, since she delivers a quintessential PS on her website. Imagine its awe-inspiring power in the flesh.

However, the learning curve is steep indeed for implementing multiple simultaneous interventions. Many mistakes can be made by the inexpert practitioner.

Figure 1. Reverse chest compression position, prohibiting piercing stares

Young Charles pointed out the value of guttural vocalizing, 'grumbling' in the vernacular. As he so astutely remarked, humans respond to the combination of grumbling and piercing stares with laughter 84.7% of the time. And it's been proven repeatedly that laughter is positively associated with All Things Good.

By the way, young Charles has embarked on a related study: The Importance of Eyebrow Strength and Flexibility to the Cute Face. Always nice to see a young scientist in the making.

Finally, Andrew of A+M+M+J introduced the term 'visual fixity' as the proper category for studies of this ilk. I am indebted to his lexiconical perspicacity.

A quiz

2008-04-20T19:34:00.001-07:00

Can you identify what's wrong with this picture?

a. The date is April 20th
b. Yes, that's snow
c. It wasn't taken in Sweden
d. all of the above

Piercing stares

2008-04-19T10:32:00.000-07:00

No calls from Sweden yet.

Dad reminded me that I actually need a body of scientific work to win an award, so I've buckled down to a serious study.

It's called 'The Impact of Piercing Stares on Human Behavior.' Here are my preliminary observations:

1. Distance matters. Piercing stares from 12-18 inches away elicit an immediate response. Piercing stares from across the room have a much lower response rate.

2. Location matters. Piercing stares in the vicinity of the food bin cause humans to look at the clock and mutter inane comments about it not being 'time' yet. Piercing stares from the vicinity of the back door generate a trip outside. Piercing stares from underneath a blanket (Figure 1) get no response whatsoever.

Figure 1. Ineffective piercing stare technique.

3. Ear position matters. Piercing stares are more effective with ears in the 'full alert' position. My theory is that full earage increases the size of my head in the human visual field.

4. Paw placement matters. Among humans ignoring close-range piercing stares (and you know who you are), a paw on the forearm increases response rates by 80%.

No need to thank me; I'm just doing my job.

Accolades present and future

2008-04-12T11:05:00.000-07:00

This week, I received a prestigious award. Dennis honored me with this:

I'd say his impeccable taste gives the lie to his supposed 'constitutional peasantry,' wouldn't you?

Now that the ball of recognition for my contributions to science is a-roll, it's only a matter of time before I pick up a few more letters. The ones I'm most looking forward to are:

M for MacArthur Foundation, and
N for you know what. Even scientists are superstitious, so I don't want to jinx it. Suffice it to say that I would fly to Stockholm to receive it. And I would definitely be the youngest recipient ever, beating out Lawrence Bragg by 20 years. All he did was Xray a few crystals. Child's play.

I had a few headshots done so I'd be ready when the publicity juggernaut begins.

Figure 1. Serious scientist, c'est moi.

Figure 2. Visionary me.

Figure 3. Let's lounge around and talk cold fusion, shall we?

So hard to choose.

Trend-spotting

2008-04-06T11:06:00.000-07:00

Ever keen-eyed, I've detected an emerging phenomenon: vizsla yoga.

Here's one of the lovely filles rouges d'Ecosse in a challenging pose: Upward-facing Sleeping Dog. Notice the flexion in her hind legs and the extension in her front ones, as well as the spinal rotation between her hips and her shoulders. Very advanced skills.

Another yoga student from the UK, Hamish McKhan. Nice flexion/extension as well.

And Ms. Zigana, also from the UK. She's added the challenging element of maintaining eye contact. Admirable!

Ms. Ditto, combining flexion, extension, rotation, and eye contact. I believe she's attained enlightenment.

From the States, Dennis the Constitutional Peasant. Dennis has clearly transcended physical reality altogether, because he's sprouted a human hand from his right ear.

Fascinating.

Eureka. (Part 2)

2008-03-30T08:57:00.000-07:00

This has turned out to be a multidimensional study. And not all of the findings are serendipitous.

If I were older and less scientifically inclined, I might be tempted to rant a bit. But I'll just show you the data instead.

Figure 2. Relationship between human sleeping habits and trips to the park

Figure 3. Relationship between human sleeping habits and food quality

You can draw your own conclusions. I'd love to discuss this further, but I have to dash out for a moment.

Eureka!

2008-03-29T09:06:00.000-07:00

Last night, I gathered the final piece of data on a long-term study of the relationship between park snacking and the sleeping habits of humans.

Every morning, I take Dad to the park for snacks. It's a smorgasbord!

Some snacks used to be alive. Some snacks used to be inside other dogs. And some snacks were once sports equipment. One of my favorites is tennis ball skins.

Dad hates it when I snack. He doesn't realize that I'm just fulfilling my function as a scavenger in the Big Scheme of Things. (By the way, Jim Kalish, I notice that you're very quiet on the subject of ticks. I rest my case.)

Anyway, I swallow very quickly and run even faster so there's nothing he can do about it.

But I found out that snacking is highly correlated with a seemingly unrelated phenomenon: Dad's sleep patterns.

The more I snack, the more likely he is to get up at 3 AM, go downstairs, and open the back door. When I hit the snack mother lode, like I did yesterday, it's a virtual guarantee that we'll make a trip to the backyard together (Figure 1).

Figure 1. Relationship between park snacks and human behavior.

I'm excited to have discovered this link, but Dad doesn't share my enthusiasm. Sometimes, he can be a wet blanket about science.

Tickus Vizslosis

2008-03-22T15:38:00.000-07:00

Well.

I'm really peeved at Skippy now. Look what was under my collar after our romp through the woods. (Warning: Scientific image follows. Not for the squeamish.)

This picture was taken by a scientist named Jim Kalish, from the University of Nebraska. He works in the Department of Entomology. That's 'entom-' from the Latin word for 'repulsive things that drop out of trees, latch on, and hitch a ride for a week or so' and '-ology' meaning 'the study of.'

As a scientist, I try to be objective. But, honestly, I fail to see the value of ticks. Perhaps, Jim, if you're reading, you could post a comment vis-a-vis the purpose of ticks in the Big Scheme of Things?

Skippy didn' t have a tick under his collar. The ringleader escapes unscathed, and the innocent bystander suffers the consequences--isn't that how it always goes? Next time I see Skippy, I'm giving him what for. And hiding his cigarettes.

Fun with physics

2008-03-19T11:30:00.000-07:00

After dinner, there's nothing I like better than a little lab work. Here I am, experimenting with mass, momentum, gravity, and drag.

My lab apparatus is a model of the DNA double helix. Dad calls it a 'snake.' I guess his degree isn't in science.

Conference proceedings

2008-03-14T18:38:00.000-07:00

Today, I went to a conference. I commuted to Portland to attend a gathering of dog scientists.

The topic was irrelevant. You've been to conferences, I'm sure, so you know that going to a conference isn't about the presentations. It's all about the networking. Who just got a million dollar grant, whose funding is drying up, where an endowed chair is in the works. That's the good stuff--you can read the rest of it in the proceedings.

Like the previous conferences I've attended, this one was held at the conference center on Martin Luther King Boulevard.

It's a spacious facility--wait a second! Wrong picture. Next slide, please.

My meeting was at the other conference center on MLK. As I was saying, it's a spacious facility. Plenty of room for networking. My colleagues were there, of course...

but the most pleasurable aspect of networking is with some of the conference staff. One conference staff person, in particular.

Pay no attention to the scientist on the right. I have it on very good authority that he lied about doing post-doc work at Stanford. In fact...

That's better. To tell the truth, she's the only reason I enjoy going to conferences at all.

The Importance of an Empty Mind

2008-03-11T18:43:00.000-07:00

A popular misconception about scientists is that our greatest insights occur when we're hunched over a microscope or lighting a Bunsen burner.

Not so.

Insights come when the scientific mind is at rest. The equations all add up, the beakers and pipettes are in the 'rinse' cycle, and the old gray matter can do some free association. What looks like idleness to the uneducated observer is actually the Next Big Breakthrough in the making.

So the next time you see a dog scientist doing this...

Do not disturb. Your careless intrusion could mean we never find a cure for the common cold.

And that smell? It's not dinner digesting. It's a result of the release of concentrated energy in the cortex; we scientists call it 'cerebral emissions.' Brain gas.

Dog Science

2008-03-09T12:02:00.000-07:00

Dog Scientists are here to serve. We conduct very valuable research on many critical elements of canine life.

Today, I'd like to explain briefly about my primary data-gathering tool, pictured at right.

Notice how efficient it is. Not a scintilla of energy wasted on pigmentation, and the ultimate in low maintenance. Just a little moisture now and then is all that's required, and the dampening wipe is stored conveniently in the pouch underneath.

Portable and inconspicuous. It looks completely natural. No one suspects that I'm actually gathering data 24 hours a day, seven days a week--yes, even from underneath the blanket on my comfy bed.

This is the data recording device. This image is greatly enlarged for clarity.
The actual size is closer to this:

Like any delicate piece of equipment, my tool requires daily calibration. I take care of this simple process at the dog park. I zero it out by smelling underneath several dog tails. I take it into the red zone by goosing a few people. Then my tool is ready to detect edible molecules.

To date, all of my research studies focus on the six basic food groups: Kibble, Treats, Bones Because Dad Feels Guilty about Leaving Me at Home Alone, Discarded Paper, Things Except Mushrooms That Fall on the Kitchen Floor, and Poop.

I love being a scientist.

My evil twin, Skippy

2008-03-08T14:46:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, the pressure just gets to be too much. All that 'heel' ing, 'here'ing, and waiting politely for them to put a pile of brown pellets in my bowl.

Then Skippy comes out.

Just this week, while Dad and I were up at the cabin, Skippy made me run away. Dad had everything packed in the Elephent and was ready to go, but Skippy took off, running hellbent for leather, down the hill.

At first, I felt conflicted.

"Wait! Wait! Dad's calling! We have to go back!" I was afraid we'd get lost.

"Screw Dad," he said, lighting a cigarette. Skippy knows we're not supposed to smoke, but he doesn't care. "We have things to do, places to explore."

In the middle of calculating our location from the height of the sun and the slope of the hill, I forgot all about Dad.

The places Skippy took me! Up hills, down hills, far, far away from where we started. We found a little brown dog who, just that morning, had let me say hello to her in my favorite way. From behind. On two legs. I said hello to her over and over and over again. Dad doesn't really approve, but Skippy thinks I'm quite the mandog.

Skippy and I and the brown dog smelled things and chased things and rolled in things.

Hours and hours later, Skippy got tired. I suddenly remembered that I'd left my box of brown pellet-y food at the cabin, so I backtracked up hills and down hills. I had the feeling I'd forgotten something else, too, but I couldn't think of what it was until I saw him sitting in the grass by the Elephent.

Dad was very glad to see me, but he called Skippy a name I can't repeat here, because this is a G-rated blog.

Sorry you had to wait for so long...

2008-03-08T14:39:00.001-08:00

It's taken me nearly five years, but I've mastered using a keyboard. It's not easy when you only have toes--and just four on each foot.

Not to mention how hard it is to hold a pencil and annotate 'The Elements of Style' without opposable thumbs. Or thumbs at all, for that matter.

But persistence is the mark of a great dog.

Anyway, here I am, ready to set a new canine standard for excellence in blogging. Handsome, well-read, and dedicated to bringing you insights from the four-legged world.