Turn your head and cough

The United States and the UK always seem to be trading the hottest new trends. Could the following be one of them? The Telegraph reports:

The traditional image of the British family doctor as a serious, besuited white middle-aged man is out of date. As far as patients are concerned, the ‘perfect’ general practitioner is his polar opposite: young, female and Asian.

A study of hundreds of patients, which asked them to rate doctors on a scale of one to five for perceived expertise, put women doctors – both white and Asian – first in almost all categories, while white, male doctors over the age of 50 languished near the bottom.

Female doctors under the age of 35 were judged to have a preferable personal manner, superior technical skills and superior powers of description.

Patients also stated that they felt more at ease with young, female doctors giving physical examinations, were more likely to have faith in their diagnoses, and were more likely to follow their medical advice and prescribed treatment.

See, I just don’t know about this trend for me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about young female Asian doctors in general, I just think I’d be too embarrassed though. Plus I am strange when it comes to finding the right doctor. When I lived in Houston, after weeks of searching for a general practitioner, I ended up selecting a doctor with the same first and last name as me (not an easy task) except his last name ended in a “y” instead of an “i.” Given that fact, I found it strange that the receptionist asked if we were related.

“It could be a ‘halo’ effect: if somebody likes the look of one aspect of you, such as your looks, they will rate you highly across other areas too.”

The study, called “What’s In a Face” and to be published in a scientific journal called Patient Evaluation and Control, gave white male doctors over the age of 50 an average score of 40 out of 60. Young, white female doctors got 44 while young, Asian female doctors received 47.

Dr Rupal Shah, 31, from Pimlico in London, was taken aback to learn that she fitted the ”perfect” GP’s profile.

“How strange! I had always imagined that an older white male had the most authority. It’s very nice to hear, because I have sometimes felt that people look at me and think: ‘Gosh, she’s a bit young. Does she really know what she’s talking about?'”

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Getting rid of your footprints

My mom is forever insisting that my blogging activities are going to inevitably get me into all kinds of trouble and ruin many potential career paths. In today’s internet age it seems that everything you do leaves behind web footprints. You can Google almost anyone to find dirt on them. For example, any of the following searches can (and have) led internet surfers to my innocuous little blog:

-new haircuts for wide faced brown haired girls

-dr sanjay gupta honeymoon

-ecstasy induced trance and subliminal messaging

-Why los angeles sucks

-kissinger + cia + chile + allende + cockroaches

-worlds mosts sickest pictures

-bad thinking inside the mind

And of course SO MANY people have at least one atrocious picture of themselves embedded somewhere it the bowels of the internet. It’s a picture that they took (for example) right after they had to walk a half mile on a very humid day when it was drizzling, which in turn made their hair all puffy and chia-pet like. The New York Times Stephanie Rosenbloom writes:

IN the winter of 1996, back when I was a brunette who wore sensible shoes, a photographer snapped my picture during a rehearsal for a college musical. The production mattered; eating and sleeping did not. The resulting portrait showed a pasty, gaunt girl being swallowed by a XXX-large T-shirt.

The only thing more unfortunate than the photo is that nearly a decade after it was taken – a decade in which I became a blonde and graduated to stilettos – it is still the definitive image of me on the World Wide Web, the one that pops up every time my name is entered in a Google search. It even has the dubious distinction of being in the top 10 hits in a list of several hundred, most of them articles I have written.

The photo caption says that as the show’s director, I was working “behind the scenes.” I beg to differ. I am center stage in cyberspace. Never mind that the photograph accompanies an article about my theatrical achievements. If a prospective date were to encounter the virtual me before the flesh-and-blood me, he would not be moved to schedule aperitifs.

But if misery loves company, then there is solace in knowing that many people bristle at the mere thought of being Googled because of the photographs, news clippings or blog entries that they feel do not reflect who they really are. Such is the plight of the Google-ee.
I mean seriously! The caring, sensitive individual that I am (who really just wants to be held) doesn’t come through at all if you Google me to find out who I am. Instead, there is talk of Henry Kissinger and the cockroaches he used in some alleged coup attempt. Any sane person would be scared off. Is it any wonder I can’t get a date? Continue reading

‘Dr. Death’ probably not a good doctor

Unless you’re a physician who moonlights in a heavy metal band, the nickname “Dr. Death” should tell you that you’re doing a poor job of practicing medicine. Dr. Jayant Patel, a surgeon in the Australian state of Queensland, is not in a heavy metal band:

A doctor turned off a woman’s life support ventilator in an Australian hospital because the director of surgery, dubbed "Dr Death," wanted her bed to operate on another patient, an inquiry has heard. The government-sanctioned inquiry in the Australian state of Queensland is examining the deaths of 87 patients treated by Indian-trained Dr Jayant Patel. [Reuters/Yahoo!]

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I want to be the three-wheeled scooter

One of my fondest memories from childhood is of playing Monopoly and crushing my friends. I was a ruthless landlord. I’d shoot the dog with the revolver from Clue if he couldn’t pay. Now there is Desi-opoly, UK Desi-opoly to be precise. From the Yorkshire Post Today:

desimonopoly.jpg

Called Monopoly UK “Desi” – the Asian term for homeland – it will feature Indian icons such as the Taj Mahal and Bollywood, as well as British streets famous for Asian culture, such as London’s Brick Lane and Manchester’s Wilmslow Road.

The traditional counters of top hat, dog, racing car and boot are to be replaced with three-wheeled scooters, tigers, cricket bats and Indian sweets.

Creator Gurdip Ahluwalia, who came up with the idea while working for games manufacturer Hasbro, is still seeking street names and landmarks to replace Mayfair, Park Lane and Old Kent Road.

One of the playing pieces is an Indian sweet? Somehow I can’t picture demanding money from a gulab jamun. Then again I could never understand the purpose of the iron in regular Monopoly. After “Punjabi Boy” (the frequent Brit commenter on SM)plays this we’ll get a full report.

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Penis reattached to owner

This one should be a no-brainer — don’t ever bring your prostitute home to meet your wife:

Doctors in Uttar Pradesh, India, have reattached a man’s penis after it was cut off by his wife. His wife said she was fed up with his womanising. Things came to a head when he brought a prostitute home. [Medical News Today]

Sure, the concept of a detachable penis sounds great in theory, but once you get one, you can’t wait to get it reattached:

His penis was reattached by a team of doctors, led by Dr. A Singh. According to doctor Singh, we will have to wait and see whether the man will ever be able to have sex again. [Medical News Today]

Mentioned briefly in an earlier post.

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Of all the stupid…

An operation to rescue endangered sharks from poachers went horribly wrong recently when the rescuers…oh I can’t even explain it. From the BBC:

An effort to save nearly 50 live sharks from poachers in the Sunderbans area of the Indian state of West Bengal appears to have gone disastrously wrong.

Wildlife officials say that although the sharks were initially recovered alive, several mishaps meant that they all died as the poachers were arrested.

Okay so here is the ridiculous punchline:

They say that the raiding party which intercepted the poachers – afraid of the dangers posed by the sharks – ordered them to throw the sharks from the deck of their vessel onto the sand by a jetty.

Ummm. This is what happens when you sit in front of the television and watch Shark Week all…week. Then the officials try to play it off all smooth like:

“The raiding part made a mistake. In the chaos that followed the seizure and the arrests, they were busy with other things, and forgot to preserve the sharks,” Continue reading

Air India more efficient than ever

A rookie air traffic controller just earned a medal for narrowly preventing an Air India disaster (thanks, Ennis). On July 24 last year, an Air India pilot landing at Newark Airport forgot to extend landing gear and came within half a mile of crashing the 747 on its belly. Was anyone you know on that flight?

I love it when desis take the initiative to cut through red tape, such as landing checklists with exaggerations like EXTEND WING FLAPS and LOWER LANDING GEAR. Bah, more unnecessary government regulation. You go, tiger!

One afternoon four years ago… out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a Comanche coming over the threshold and preparing to land. The aircraft’s landing gear was still up… my trainer told me, ‘Look for feet (landing gear). Always look for feet on the (propeller-powered aircraft). The prop guys don’t have the warning systems, but the jets will always have feet.'”

Fast forward to the afternoon of July 24, 2004… “We had a (Boeing) 747 coming in,” he said. “You can point out a 747 easily on a clear day.” It was Air India Flight 145, with 409 passengers aboard.

“He was on five-mile final approach,” Dittamo remarked. “I saw him but I couldn’t see gear.” With his Fort Lauderdale trainer’s instructions in his head – ‘Always look for feet’ – Dittamo glanced in a different direction and then turned back to the 747 to look again. No gear. “I thought, ‘something just doesn’t seem right,'” he said. “In my mind, I said I would pick it up in my next scan. But then I looked up and the plane definitely had no gear.”

By this point, Flight 145 was on a half-mile final at an altitude of 600 feet. “I was surprised he didn’t go around,” Dittamo stated. “I was going to let it go for one more second, because this was a critical phase of the flight for the crew. But then I just said to myself, ‘I’m not going to let this go for any longer.'”

Dittamo keyed the mike: “Air India 145, check gear down. Gear appears up.” The pilot acknowledged the transmission with a calm, “Air India 145.” Down came the gear and the 747 landed safely on Runway 4R.
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Possessed by yoga

Does yoga cause demonic possession? That would explain the The Exorcist, which, little-known fact, features an obscure asana called the ‘spinning wheel.’ Beware that Hindoo voodoo (thanks, RC):

“… [yoga is] aimed at transforming human consciousness to experience the Hindu god, which is a false god.” … She also… instructed her students in astral projection, or “stepping outside” of the body, which Laurette says poses a serious spiritual danger. “If there’s nothing in your mind, you’re open to all kinds of deception… I wondered who–or what–came into my body when I ‘stepped out.’ “

Next up: PraiseFu, drunken master style:

She’s developed a prominent presence on the Internet, largely due to her new exercise program, PraiseMoves, which she calls “a Christian alternative to yoga.”

My name is Laurette and I’m a recovering New Ager. This is like abstinence videos from the 1950s:

… her family never suspected this seemingly innocent exercise would open the door to a New Age lifestyle that would affect Laurette for the next 22 years… As an adult, Laurette immersed herself in every New Age and metaphysical practice she came across: chanting, crystals, tarot cards, psychics, channeling spirits.

Let The Eagle soar:

There’s “The Eagle” stretch, where the arms are pulled back to resemble a bird in flight. While students hold this stretch, Laurette reads Isaiah 40:31: “But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles”…

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Yoga fusion run riot

Just the other day, a female friend lamented, “I wish there was a workout that combined the grace of ballet, the balance of yoga, and the thunderosity of my booty.” Exasperated reply: “Woman, please! You need to get your fine ass down to Swerve on Sweetzer and 3rd.”:

Yoga Booty Ballet (1hr) – Reservations Reccomended
60-90 minutes– Signature class. A hybrid of all the good stuff from ballet–grace, beauty poise, power and lithe lean lovely limbs: the POWER of Yoga. Sun salutes, balancing poses and breathing–enough to bliss you out: the BOOTY aspects of fitness–original moves to enhance your fine muscular ass! Live Drumming as listed. [Swerve]

Can’t make it to L.A.? Buy the videos here, and then join along as we sing, “there’s no fusion like confusion” (with sincere apologies to Irving Berlin’s ghost).

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Mr. Hughes isn’t taking visitors

The Air Sahara magnate, Subrata Roy, has apparently fallen ill and disappeared from public view:

One [rumor] says that an entire floor of a super deluxe hotel was recently bought by Sahara in Mumbai (Bombay) and converted into a make shift hospital… the blood pressure of the Sahara boss has fluctuated frequently… He said the Sahara chief was now leading a much more disciplined and orderly life – even doing yoga and regular exercises…

Roy has Mughal tendencies:

He has a fleet of private jets and helicopters and one of his mansions is modelled on the White House. Another residence – located in a private city he has built at the cost of tens of millions of dollars – is a replica of Buckingham Palace.

He commands a swarm of worker bees which is almost as large as the standing army of the United States and almost three times as large as IBM:

… [with] 900,000 employees – Sahara is India’s biggest private sector employer…

The rumor mill has reached Jacksonesque proportions with a petition of habeas corpus filed:

A habeas corpus petition, claiming that Sahara group Chairman Subrata Roy had been kept in ‘illegal detention’ by his wife and some other senior officers of the company, was filed with the Lucknow bench of the Allahabad high court on Monday.

Other rumors:

According to Sahara group insiders, Roy was resting in the Sahara group’s Amby Valley – a 10,000-acre resort-style getaway – a few hours drive from Mumbai.

Maybe Roy’s chillin’ with Amby Valley fans Michael Douglas and Christina Aguilera. Billionaire disappears into private valley — could it be Galt’s Gulch?

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