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I was reading a bit of The Secret House earlier this morning when it struck me that an excerpt from it would make superb post material. So here it is...
"Having a cold means that you have lots of extremely small virus 'creatures' living in your throat and nose. (Viruses are even smaller than bacteria, containing little more than nucleic acid surrounded by protein, but capable of reproducing and propagating themselves when landed on a suitable target cell.) These viruses lead to an urge to sneeze, and however well brought up you are, however much you realize the social opprobrium such an explosion in confined quarters will produce, the urge to let loose soon becomes well nigh irresistable. The microbiological evidence is that viruses have evolved irritant proteins on their surface so they can trigger off a sneeze that will propel them to the fresh feeding grounds of new human hosts. A wadded-up old kleenex may be frantically jammed against the nose, but for a sneeze that wants to get out, there is no defense.
"Our guest's sneeze will speed out of his nose at 40 miles per hour or more - that's a Force 8 on the Beaufort scale. This compares with the gentle five miles per hour - Beaufort Force 2 - of normal breathing. Now while a kleenex is perfectly designed for feeling soft and reassuring when dabbed against a sniff, it's not at all well constructed to withstand the dual nostril blast of a sneeze. Beaufort Force 8 is, as the shipping manuals attest, capable of 'breaking twigs of trees.' There's no need to mention what ti can do to the guests's mere tissue. Just to make matters worse, a well-used kleenex is going to be a wet kleenex, and wood-pulp based products (as the kleenex) when wet drop to only 30% of their usual strength. (It would be even worse, but for the stiffening resin that's added to every one of the estimated 300 billion plus paper tissues sold yearly.) And then there is the problem of the holes.
"A paper tissue is more hole than tissue. Indeed a kleenex is soft precisely because its fibers are so far apart; woven closer together the kleenex would be a more sanitary object, but unfortunately feeling like a crinkly plastic sheet it would be a less saleable one too. The smallest nasal spray globules speed right through those market-enhancing holes. In the spray globules are the living virus creatures. One second after the guest's sneeze they will be through the tissue and already 12 to 15 inches in front of his nose, and in that time the sprayt globules they're riding on will undergo a curious change. Blasted in a 40 mile per hour wind they quickly dry out from the friction as they gush through the air. All that's left of the soft water globules is a flotilla of dart-shaped mucus residues. On these hardened carriers the viruses travel far, gliding horizontally across the front hallway, quite as alive as they were in the nose. They're going much slower now than at the sneeze release, and have at least a 30 minute flight in store before they hit the far wall. If, that is, there's nothing in their way. Let two horrified human dinner be standing in line with the flight path, and the darts will smack into them instead of the wall. They will land on the shirt, they will land on the face; they will crash- land on whatever part of the body they can reach."
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Hmmm... now that's a description that makes one view sneezing in a different light. It makes me think of a hand grenade exploding and sending shrapnel all over the place. Time to duck and cover. The next time you see someone about to sneeze, forget the kleenex: hand 'em a bath-towel instead! It could dampen the devastating effects of the blast. Maybe.
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Persevero,
Your comments on this one are too funny, son! I just can't think about these things, you know? I've really relaxed since your were first born....who knows what your soon-to-arrive Brother will endure in regards to germs, etc. Perhaps I better let these secrets remain secrets, but I do think manly genes are just drawn to this "more than I wanted to know" stuff. :) Great post!
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