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2024-06-11

Bob the First, at the head of my long list of robins, having been killed by my pet owl, I very soon bought another. This one was not so gentle nor so handsome as Bob the First, his wings and his tail having their ends sawed off by contact with the wires of too small a cage.

Fearing that he might be lonely in my aviary with only rabbits, guineapigs, pet rats, and pigeons for company, I bought another robin called Dick. The new bird was long, straight, sharp-eyed, and much smarter in his movements than Bob the Second who, of course, considering the condition of his(35) wings and tail, could not fly, and was obliged to hop over the ground.

It was very amusing to see the two robins stare at each other. Both had probably been trapped young, for at that time the law against the keeping of wild birds in captivity was not enforced, and boys and men were perniciously active in their depredations among our beautiful wild beauties.

Bob the Second was very fond of stuffing himself, and he used to drive the pigeons from the most promising window ledges and partake freely of the food scattered about.

Poor Dick ran about the ground looking for worms, and not finding many, got desperate and flew up to the window ledge.

Bob lowered his head and flew at him with open bill. Dick snapped at him, hopped up to the food, and satisfied his hunger, Bob meanwhile standing at a little distance, a queer, pained thread of sound issuing from between his bill, “Peep, peep, peep!”

A robin is a most untidy bird while eating, and as often as Dick scattered a morsel of food outside the dish, Bob would spring forward and pick it up with a reproving air, as if he were saying, “What an extravagant fellow you are!”

Whenever a new bird enters an aviary, he has to find his place—he is just like a new-comer in a community of human beings. Bob, being alone, was in the lead when Dick came. Dick, having the stronger bird mind, promptly dethroned him. They were(36) very amusing birds. Indeed, I find something clownish and comical about all robins kept in captivity.

The wild bird seems to be more businesslike. The partly domesticated bird, having no anxiety about his food supply, indulges in all sorts of pranks. He is curious and fond of investigation, and runs swiftly at a new object, and as swiftly away from it, if it seems formidable to him.

The arrival of new birds in the aviary always greatly excited Bob, and he hopped about, chirping, strutting, raising his head feathers, and sometimes acting silly with his food, just like a foolish child trying to “show off” before strangers.

When I introduced a purple gallinule to him, Bob flew up into the air, and uttered a shriek of despair. He feared the gallinule, and hated the first Brazil cardinal I possessed, and was always sparring with him. One day I put a second cardinal into the aviary. Bob thought it was his old enemy, and ran full tilt at him. His face of ludicrous dismay as he discovered his mistake and turned away, was too much for me, and I burst out laughing at him. I don’t think he minded being made fun of. He flirted his tail and hopped away.

At one time Bob made up his mind that he would not eat crushed hemp-seed unless I mixed it with bread and milk, and he would throw it all out of his dish unless I made it in the way he liked.

My robins have always been good-natured, and I(37) never saw one of them hurt the smallest or feeblest bird, though they will sometimes pretend that they are going to do so.

When Bob took a sun-bath, any member of the family who happened to be near him would always be convulsed with laughter. He would stretch his legs far apart, stick out his ragged plumage, elevate his head feathers till he looked as if he had a bonnet on, and then half shut his eyes with the most ludicrous expression of robin bliss.

All birds look more or less absurd when taking sun-baths. They seem to have the power to make each feather stand out from its neighbor. I suppose this is done in order that the sun may get to every part of the skin.

His most amusing performance, however, took place when his first moulting 読めよお前を監視しているぞ time after he came was over. One by one his old, mutilated feathers dropped out, and finally new ones took their places. On a memorable day Bob discovered that he had a real tail with a white feather on each side of it, and a pair of good, serviceable wings. He gave a joyful cry, shook his tail as if he would uproot it, then spread his wings and lifted himself in the air. Hopping time was over. He was now a real bird, and he flew from one end of the aviary to the other with an unmistakable expression of robin ecstasy.

Most unfortunately, I had not a chance to study poor Dick’s character as fully as Bob’s, for I only had him a short time. Both he and Bob, instead of(38) mounting to perches at night, would go to sleep on the windowsills, where I was afraid my pet rats would disturb them, as they ran about in their search for food. Therefore, I went into the aviary every evening, and lifted them up to a comfortable place for the night, near the hot-water pipes. I would not put robins in a warm place now. They are hardy birds, and if given a sufficient quantity of nourishing food do not need a warm sleeping-place. If we only had a better food supply I believe we would have many more wild birds with us in winter in the Northern States and Canada than we have now.

Late one evening I went into the aviary to put my robins to bed. I could only find Bob—Dick was nowhere to be seen. My father and mother joined me in the search, and finally we found his poor, lifeless body near the entrance to the rats’ underground nest. His head had been eaten—poor, intelligent Dick; and in gazing at him, and at the abundance of food in the aviary, the fate of the rats was sealed.

I fed my birds hard-boiled egg mashed with bread crumbs, crushed hemp-seed, scalded cornmeal, bread and milk, prepared mockingbird food, soaked ant eggs, all kinds of mush or “porridge,” as we say in Canada, chopped beef, potato and gravy, vegetables cooked and raw, seeds and fruit, an almost incredible amount of green stuff, and many other things—and yet the rats had found it necessary to commit a murder.

(39)

Well, they must leave the aviary, and they did, and for a time Bob reigned alone. I did try to bring up a number of young robins given to me by children who rescued them from cats, or who found them on the ground unable to fly, but for a long time I had very hard luck with them.

Either the birds were diseased or I did not feed them properly. I have a fancy that I half starved them. Bird fanciers whom I consulted told me to be sure and not stuff my robins, for they were greedy birds. As long as I took their advice my young robins died. When I went to my canaries for advice I saw that the parents watched the tiny heads folded like flowers too heavy for their stalks, over the little warm bodies in the nests.

The instant a head was raised the mother or father put a mouthful of warm egg-food in it. The little ones got all they would eatindeed, the father, with food dripping from his mouth, would coax his nestlings to take just one beakful more. I smiled broadly and began to give my robins all the worms they wanted, and then they lived.

The bringing up of young birds is intensely interesting. I found that one reason why early summer is the favorite time for nest-making is because one has the short nights then. Parents can feed their young quite late in the evening and be up by early daylight to fill the little crops again. Robins are birds that like to sit up late, and are always the last to go to bed in the aviary.

(40)

I solved the difficulty of rising at daylight to feed any young birds I was bringing up by giving them a stuffing at eleven o’clock at night. Then I did not have to rise till nearly eight.

This, of course, was for healthy birds. If I had a sick guineapig, rabbit, or bird, I never hesitated to get up many times during the night, for I have a theory that men and women who cannot or will not undertake the moral responsibility of bringing up children, should at least assist in the rearing of some created thing, if it is only a bird. Otherwise they become egotistical and absorbed in self.

Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.

We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”

The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.

We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.

We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.

The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.

When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.

However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.

Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.

“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.

I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.

As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.

Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.

Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.

“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”

Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”

“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.

Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”

There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.

(27)

One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.

The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”

The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”

Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.

Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.

I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.

She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.

Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.

I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.

After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”

Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.

“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”

I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?

(30)

I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.

In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.

I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.

“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”

“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”

He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.

My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.

I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.

(32)

I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.

No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l

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peace and quietness of the night after the turmoil of the day, were hooting persistently and melodiously.

“The landlady and the boarders,” gasped my sister; “they will hear and wake up. Can’t you stop the little wretches?”

I sprang out of bed, and addressed a solemn remonstrance to Solomon and Betsy. They were exceedingly glad to see me, and distending their little throats, continued to hoot, their clear, sweet young voices carrying only too well on the still Californian night air.

Then the chipmunk woke up and began to slide up and down an inclined piece of wood in his part of the cage. We were in despair. We could not sleep, until I had the happy thought of giving the owls a bath. I seized Betsy, held her in a basin of water, and wet her feathers considerably. Then I served Solomon in the same way, and for the rest of the night the tiny little things occupied themselves in smoothing their wet plumage. The chipmunk quieted down, and we had peace.

(19)

When we got into the cottage I had a carpenter build a small aviary at the back of it, with a box for rainy weather. The nights were not too cold for my hardy birds. Indeed, they were not too cold for many semi-tropical ones. I found a bird fancier not far from me, who had built a good-sized, open-air aviary, where he kept canaries and foreign finches all the year round, with only a partly open, glass shelter for the birds to use when it rained.

My sparrowhawk did not seem unhappy in my aviary, but he never had the contented, comfortable expression that the owls had. His apathy was pathetic, and the expression of his beautiful, cruel eyes was an unsatisfied one. In time, I should have allowed him to go, but suddenly he fell ill. I think I overfed him, for I got him into the habit of taking a late supper, always leaning out the window and handing him a piece of meat on the end of a stick before I went to bed.

I brought him into the warm kitchen, where he moped about for a few days. Just before he died he came hopping toward the parlor, where I sat entertaining a friend. I often took him in there on the broad windowsill and talked to him as I sat sewing.

He stood in the doorway, gave me a peculiar look, as if to say, “I would come in if you were alone,” hopped back to the kitchen, and in a short time was no more.

My sister and I mourned sincerely for our pretty bird, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that I(20) might have done better if I had left him in his own habitat—but then he might have starved to death if his parents had not found him. Would death by starvation have been any more painful than his death with me? Possibly some larger creature might have killed him swiftly and mercifully—it was a puzzling case, and I resolved to give up worrying about it. I had done what I considered was best, and I tried to console myself for his death in petting the dear little owls that had become so tame that they called to my sister and me whenever they saw us, and loved to have us take them in our hands and caress them.

About them I had no misgivings. They would certainly have died if I had not adopted them, and there was no question about their happiness. They were satisfied with a state of captivity. They had so far lost one of their owl habits, for they kept awake nearly all day, and slept nearly all night—and they could see quite well in the most brilliant Californian sunlight, and that is pretty brilliant. A cat or a dog many yards distant would cause them to raise excitedly the queer little ear tufts that play so prominent a part in the facial expression of some owls, and they would crack their beaks together and hiss angrily if the enemy came too near.

Cats and dogs frightened them, and a broom merely excited them. When strangers wanted to see the elevation of these tufts, a broom, swiftly passed over the floor, would cause Solomon and(21) Betsy to become very wide awake, with feather tufts straight up in the air. I never saw them abjectly and horribly frightened but once. A lady had brought her handsome parrot into the room where the owls were. The poor little mites put up their ear tufts, swayed to and fro on their perch, and instead of packing their feathers and becoming thin and elongated in appearance, as they did for cats and dogs, they puffed themselves out, snapped their beaks, and uttered the loudest hissing noise I had ever heard from them.

From their extremity of fear I concluded that their instinct told them this danger was so imminent that they must make themselves as formidable as possible.

The parrot was of course quickly removed, and I took care that they should never again see another one.

2024-04-12

Mr.Ippei Mizuhara

I am not a gambler, but I would like to stay with Ippei Mizuhara in a hotel in an entertainment district in the middle of the desert.

He and I would never gamble.

But as he grips the slot lever with his buttocks tightened, I secretly burn with jealousy as I watch the pile of medals that gradually emerge from the seat next to me.

I would shift in my seat and play poker. I try desperately to drive the anxiety from my face, to imagine the joy of victory, but I know it is pointless.

In the end I will not win.

And I will return to my original seat, angry and sad.

Sometimes we will look at each other over the baccarat table. In those moments, we would tell each other our own moves in the blink of an eye, and we would take care that one of us would win.

One day one of us will be penniless and the other will bury him outside the city. Then he will write a little poem to his friend who has traveled, and then he will kill himself, having found no reason to live without a last-minute bargaining chip.

私はギャンブル依存症ではありません、ですが、水原一平さんと一緒に砂漠の真ん中にある歓楽街ホテルに泊まりたいです。

私と彼は賭け事をすることはないでしょう。

しかし彼が臀部を引き締めながらスロットレバーを握るとき、次第に出てくるメダルの山を、隣の席で見ていた私は密かに嫉妬の炎を燃やします。

私は席を移って、ポーカーをするでしょう。私は不安感を表情から追い出そうと、必死勝利の喜びを想像しますが、それが無意味なことを知っています

最終的に私は勝てないでしょう。

そして私は怒りと切なさを感じながら元の席に戻ります

時々私たちバカラテーブル越しに目配せしあうことがあるでしょう。その瞬間、私たち自分自身の手の内を、瞬きの回数で教え合い、そしてどちらかが勝てるように配慮していくのです。

ある日、私たちの一人が無一文になり、もう一人が街の外に彼を埋めますそれから彼は旅だった友人にちょっとした詩を書いて、そしてギリギリ駆け引きなしには生きる理由を見出せずに自殺するでしょう。

2024-03-31

I found him giving me mine my number card.

これを書いて英語先生をよいしょしなさい

2024-03-29

anond:20240329174529

Puberulic acid (1)7, stipitatic acid (2)8 and viticolins A and B (3, 4) as novel natural products have been isolated from a culture broth of Penicillium viticola 9 FKI-4410 through our screening system and found to have promising antimalarial activity (Fig. 1)10, 11. In these highly-oxygenated 7-membered aromatic compounds, 1 shows the most potent antimalarial activity in vitro against the Plasmodium falciparum K1 (chloroquine-resistant) parasite strain (IC50 = 0.050 µM), as well as in vivo efficacy with 69% inhibition for a dose of 2 mg/kg × 4 through subcutaneous (s.c.) administration in 4-day suppressive test using a P. berghei-infected mouse model12. However, 1 exhibits toxicity in vivo, four out of five mice dying by day 3, after a s.c. dose of 5 mg/kg × 2 (day 0 and 1). While structually simple compounds such as tropone (5), tropolone (6) and hinokitiol (8), and natural 2 and 3 showed weaker activity than that of 1, 7-hydroxytropolone (7)13 was much more potent, exhibiting a >18-fold stronger IC50 value of 6.44 µM than that of 5. This observation suggested that the presence of more than three contiguous oxygen atoms in a compound might significantly affect antimalarial activity. These results stimulated us to undertake a structure-activity relationship (SAR) study based on the establishment of a total synthetic route, aiming to create new antimalarial candidates which retained potency but which were non-toxic. Furthermore, we expected that these compounds’ properties, especially low molecular weight and simple planar structures, could be invaluable for antimalarial drug leads with respect to ease of supply14, enabled by efficient and practical synthesis. Herein, we report the divergent synthesis of several related troponoids, including natural products, via utilization of the established total synthetic route of 1 15, and biological evaluation of their in vitro antimalarial activity and cytotoxicity.

要約:

Puberulic acid (1)は、Penicillium viticola FKI-4410培養から単離された新規天然物質であり、in vitroおよびin vivoで優れた抗マラリア活性を示した。しかし、マウスを用いたin vivo試験において、5 mg/kg を2回皮下投与したところ、5匹中4匹が3日目までに死亡するという毒性が観察された。この毒性が問題となるため、構造活性相関研究を行い、毒性が低く活性の高い新規マラリア薬の開発を目指すこととした。

[Antimalarial troponoids, puberulic acid and viticolins; divergent synthesis and structure-activity relationship studies | Scientific Reports](https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-017-07718-3)

そら死ぬ

2024-03-19

車輪の再発明」という言い回し発明されたのはいつなのか

気になる、調べましょうね

調べました

車輪発明されたのは紀元前だが、「車輪の再発明」という言い回し発明されたのは20世紀になってからのようだ

「車輪の再発明は良くない」というのは誰が言い始めた言葉ですか? 日本で広まったのはいつごろでなぜですか? | Quora

Reinvent the Wheel – Idiom, Meaning & Origin | GRAMMARIST

The term reinvent the wheel dates back to the 1950s, often used as a business and advertising metaphor.

One of the earliest published occurrences of the phrase dates to 1956 and is found in Documentation in Action from an article concerning how research workers, executives and others use information:

車輪の再発明」という用語は1950 年代にまで遡り、ビジネス広告比喩としてよく使用されていました。

このフレーズが最も早く出版されたものの 1 つは 1956 年に遡り、研究員幹部などが情報をどのように利用するかに関する記事が「Documentation in Action」に掲載されています

なるほどねえ

これ以前に全然別の文脈で「車輪の再発明」という言い回しがあった場合、「車輪の再発明」が車輪の再発明されていたということになりネタとして面白いんだが……流石に無いかもな

これは日記です

---

しか

“The intensive literature search at the beginning of a research project is intended to define the precise boundaries between the known and the unknown and to forestall unnecessary duplication or, as one scientist has expressed it, to avoid re-inventing the wheel.”

研究プロジェクトの開始時に集中的に文献を調査することは、既知と未知の境界を正確に定義し、不必要な重複を防ぐこと、あるいはある科学者表現したように、車輪の再発明を避けることを目的としています。」

"one scientist"……「ある科学者」とはだれなのだろうか

その人こそ車輪の再発明というmemeの発明者……か?

---

イタリア語には「お湯を発見する」のような言い回しがあるらしい

微妙ニュアンスが違うっぽいが「車輪の再発明」と近いニュアンス意味のようだ

2024-03-08

[]平成生まれ作品を聴こう 2024.3.8

中国笙とオーケストラのための《Pink Elephant in Prentisw/ score

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8iRGrZTa6Jo

作曲清水チャートリー

委嘱上海交響楽団

"Pink Elephant in Prentis" for alto sheng and orchestra

Commissioned and premiered by Shanghai Philharmonic Orchestra (cond. Zhang Liang)


Prentis Hall is a building in New York City, where I spent a year (2015-2016) living in a sleeping bag and taking showers in the toilet. Prentis was built in 1909 and was initially designed as a pasteurization facility and milk bottling plant, then later used as a Heat Transfer Research Facility, conducting nuclear research and experiments, during the Manhattan Project. Columbia University acquired the building in 1949, and the building has housed Columbia’s Computer Music Center (then Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center) from the 1950s onwards. During my time there at the Computer Music Center, I have spent my days and nights exploring stimulating sounds using both analog and digital synthesizers, tape recorders, CTR monitors, and other equipments unfamiliar to me back then. Aside from the Computer Music Center, the building also housed studios for visual artists, and so I was able to meet many eccentric artists, where we ended up having long conversations every night on both significant and insignificant issues surrounding us.

Located on 125th Street in Manhattan, the “residents” of Prentis Hall were constantly harassed by the rumblings of the New York City Subway (which runs aboveground for 125th Street Station), the traffic from the highway nearby, the bustling of the streets of New York, and the construction noises from the nearby building sites. At nights, the screeching noises from the metal shop and the wood shop constantly rang throughout the building. At one point in time, the noise inspired me to imagine a gigantic pink elephant running through the narrow corridors of Prentis. The head and front half of the body was seemingly a normal elephant found in the wild. However, as I scanned my eyes further back, the body of the animal seemed to become more and more pixelated, and small 3D blocks were clearly visible on its back and hind legs, as if molded by an amateur creator in a Minecraft game. As the elephant advanced, some blocks fell onto the floor like water droplets falling from an animal soaked in water. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head, certain that I have entered a dream at some point during the night. The pink elephant walked past me and wandered into one of the many rooms the building offered. I timidly peeked into the room where the pink elephant disappeared into. The pink elephant seemed to have collapsed on the floor, its body, both the organic front and the pixelated back, expanding and shrinking as it sluggishly inhaled and exhaled oxygen.

After hours of staring at the pink elephant, I jumped back at a sudden startling noise from behind, which woke the pink elephant from its deep slumber. Furious, the pink elephant stood on its two pixelated hind legs, and stomped out into the corridors again, this time shaking off more 3D blocks from its back than when it first arrived. The organic front seemed to start to bloat up like a balloon for reasons unknown to me, and the pixelated back grew smaller and smaller due to its parts crumbling down on the floor. In a blink of an eye, the inflated front side split from its pixelated rear, then with a deafening pop, exploded into thin air like a burst balloon. What was left were the pink 3D blocks of all sizes, scattered around on the corridors of Prentis Hall.


Chatori Shimizu: https://www.chatorishimizu.com/


Shanghai Philharmonic Orchestra: http://www.shphilharmonic.com/


December 7th, 2018. Shanghai, China.

2024-02-21

anond:20240221003832

直訳版



A long time ago, in a certain country, there was a bastard named Cinderella. The reason why she is called Cinderella is because she sprinkled her own ashes on her own head at her mother's funeral, which led to her being called the ash-coverer, which is why her real name is Cinderella. I lost

The husband who lost his wife was also a bastard, and the day after the funeral he cheated on a woman three years younger than him, had sex with her, and even got married.

I have decided. Then, to her Cinderella

She now has an older sister and a younger sister who are not related by blood.

Her sister was a bitch too, she came to Cinderella's house

After a few days, she thought, ``Wouldn't it be more convenient to have an outbuilding?'' and cut down Cinderella's mother's grave in her garden and the hundreds of years old tree that was next to her grave, and built an outbuilding. We forced construction.

One day, the bastard's family receives news of a ball from the castle. But before Cinderella could read it, her sister broke the news and said, ``There's no way you can go.'' Cinderella didn't seem to have any intention of going either, saying, ``I had no intention of going in the first place.I'd rather go to hell.''

Then, on the day her mother was admitted to the hospital to give birth, her sister went to the ball. In the garden, the construction of an outbuilding was progressing as usual.

Let’s light a fire here and make a bonfire.”

She thought about that, but Cinderella stopped her. Suddenly, a witch appeared

``Cinderella, why aren't you going to the ball?'' asked the witch.

"What's the point of telling Teme?"

Cinderella returned with an ax in her hand

Then, for some reason, Cinderella was wrapped in a jewel-like dress.

"If you don't go to the ball, that dress will kill you. Now go."

Cinderella doesn't want to die in a place like this, so she reluctantly decides to go to the castle.

In the castle, some asshole like her sister was looking for a one-night stand and was dancing wildly. No one really praised others, and in their hearts they all seemed to think that they were the center of the world.

Cinderella didn't dance, but killed her time by smoking a cigarette at the end of her room. There, she was approached by a man wearing formal clothes that were flashier and more expensive than anyone else, and said to her, ``Miss, won't you dance?''

She is Cinderella with a cigarette in her mouth

She said, ``I only dance with the Grim Reaper and bad luck.''

she answered. For some reason, the man fell in love with her at first sight, and she said, ``Let's have some fun in the other room.Here, come.'' She tried to force Cinderella to take her to another room in the castle. However, Cinderella pressed the cigarette she was holding into her hand.

"Her hand slipped," she laughed.

When she pressed the cigarette, the sound in her voice was so pitiful that no one tried to get close to him or dance with him. Of course, no one even knows that such a pitiful man is the prince who owns this castle.

Eventually, she had enough, Cinderella threw her shoes on her stairs and went back to her house in her bare feet. Her shoes were made of glass, so they shattered into pieces.

The next day, while her servant was cleaning the castle, she found one shoe on the stairs. Obviously thinking this was strange, she secretly examined her shoes and discovered that they had been smeared with a deadly amount of poison.

Rumors spread within the castle that this must be an attempt to kill the prince, and soon a large-scale investigation was conducted. Even though it's a survey, it's simple.

The idea was to create a replica of a shoe and imprison the person who matched it perfectly as a suspect.

And one after another, people were imprisoned just because of their size. Some of them had not been to the ball, but they thought it must be a lie and were forcibly taken away.

Eventually, an investigation came to Cinderella's house. That's when we all looked at her mother and child after she was discharged from the hospital, and of course her sister didn't fit.

So all that was left was Cinderella. Then, her sister said to Cinderella, ``Hell suits you better than this world.''

She was of course the perfect size for Cinderella.

However, she protested her innocence, saying that I hadn't gone to the ball and there was no dress anywhere in the house to prove it.

However, the prince showed him an empty pack of cigarettes that had been discarded in a trash can and said, ``This is the same brand that the criminal was smoking that time.Why?''

Then Cinderella grinned and

I unbuttoned all the buttons on her jacket.

She said, ``After all, I feel like dancing with the Grim Reaper. Right, little prince?'' she said.

By the time the princes realized it, it was already too late.

The grenade that fell at his feet blew up Cinderella and the prince.

The time was around noon. Bells rang throughout the city and residents prayed for lunch.

The flying fragments of the shoe became a weapon, a sad fragment that could only hurt someone, and no one could imagine its original form.

end

2024-02-16

A

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2024-02-05

anond:20240205135234

主だったネトゲ同人誌(「誌」判定はガバ翻訳含、ソースは察し)

parody:"ragnarok online$"Found 1,631 results.KR
parody:pangya$Found about 80 results.KR
parody:tera$Found about 150 results.KR
parody:mabinogi$Found about 70 results.KR
parody:elsword$Found about 200 results.KR
parody:"dungeon fighter online$"Found about 40 results.KR
parody:"tree of savior$"Found 24 results.KR
parody:"final fantasy xi$"Found about 170 results.JP
parody:"final fantasy xiv$"Found about 160 results.JP
parody:"phantasy star universe$"Found 60 results.JP
parody:"phantasy star online 2$"Found 247 results.JP
parody:"dragon quest x$"Found 55 results.JP

2024-02-02

anond:20240201203612

Google はそう言ってない

Is hair on a guys chest attractive?

How Much Chest Hair Should You Expose? | Men's Health

A little bit of hair plays up your manliness, the researchers suggest, without making you look too aggressive. Of course, there are women who like the clean-shaven look, but there are also women who love lots of chest hair—so don't go hard with your razor if it just isn't your thing.

Is it good to have chest hair for men?

17% of women surveyed said they prefer a man to be cleanly shaven with no chest hair. So our takeaway from this survey is that overall, women like chest hair and even find it masculine, but they want you to keep it trimmed and maintained. I'm surprised by the low percentage of women who want men to be cleanly shaven.

Does girls love chest hair?

Researchers have found that a majority of women really do prefer a man with a smooth chest. Researchers compared the attractiveness of men before and after shaving their chest,and found only 20 percent of women preferred the more hirsute version,the Daily Mail reported.

2024-02-01

本日趣味プログラミング

第3回 さくらインターネットスタンダードプラン環境にnpmをインストールする

第2回頓挫したので、その原因を取り除くためにnpmとやらをインストールする。

全然プログラミングじゃない。

参考文献を元に進める。

まず新しいバージョンOpenSSLコンパイルするらしい。あと新しいバージョンを使うにはPython必要らしい。

もうゲンナリしてきた。今のバージョン確認する。

openssl version
OpenSSL 1.1.1k-freebsd  24 Aug 2021

python --version
Python 3.8.12

いきなりnpm(⇔Node.js?)のコンパイルが行けそうな気がしたので、とりあえずやってみる。

参考にしたサイトにはOpenSSL云々に関することが書いてあるが、その辺は全部問題ないことを祈って、関連するオプションを全部取っ払う。

curl -sSf https://nodejs.org/dist/v20.11.0/node-v20.11.0.tar.gz -O
tar zxf node-v20.11.0.tar.gz
cd node-v20.11.0
./configure

とすると、

Node.js configure: Found Python 3.8.12...
WARNING: C++ compiler (CXX=g++, 9.4.0) too old, need g++ 10.1.0 or clang++ 8.0.0
WARNING: warnings were emitted in the configure phase
INFO: configure completed successfully

「successfully」なら問題ないよな?

続いてmakeだ。makeってなに?もちろんconfigureもよくわかってない。大規模なプログラムコンパイルするとき必要なヤツというボンヤリとした認識だ。

当然コンパイルがなんなのかもよくわかってない。

nohup make install DESTDIR=/home/*****/local PREFIX=

ここから30分経っても応答が無いので飽きる。

はい、もう無理。飽きた! 次回があるとしたら「npmをインストールする②」である

もっと新しい情報があったようだ。こっち見てやればよかった。

2024-01-22

anond:20240113084143

putting others down is what people who cant bring themselves up do 

他人こき下ろすのは自分を高めることができない人がやることだ (bring someone up = uplift oneself = improve one's situation)

-----

improveimprove onの違い

他動詞場合は、目的語になるものを改良する。

ですから

He improved the design of the car.

訳:彼は車のデザインを一層良くした。(出展ジーニアス

この場合、「その車のデザイン」を以前のものからのものへ「改良」した、という意味です。

自動詞場合は、on 以下のものを元にして(元にして、が on意味です)

「よりよいものを作る(これが自動詞improve意味)」という意味です。

ですから

He improved on the design.

訳:彼は設計に改良を加えた。(出展ジーニアス

この場合、the design(その設計)を元にして、よりよい「設計」を作った、ということなのです。

https://detail.chiebukuro.yahoo.co.jp/qa/question_detail/q1322371783

↑この解説は以下のネイティブ解説とも符合する

https://ell.stackexchange.com/questions/52305/improve-vs-improve-on-upon

----

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, 「絶望の谷で苦しみにふけるのはやめましょう」

let us not ~ は let’s not ~ と同じ

wallow は「転げまわる、もがく」という意味ですが、ここでは「(快楽などに)ふける、浸る」という意味で使われています

動物などが「泥浴びする」という意味から来ています

例:wallow in luxury「ぜいたくにふける」、wallow in one’s sadness「悲しみにふける」

https://www.eigonou.net/backnumber/05278/

e.g.

Matt has stepped away from public life マットはもう人前に出ることを止めたんだから

Let us hold not too fast to his name 彼の名前にあまりしがみつかないようにしよう

----

immersion only losers couldn't tell you the difference between と思う and と思っている to save their lives

マージョンだけやってる負け犬たちは「と思う」と「と思っている」の区別をどうやっても教えられない

to save one's life

どうしても◆【用法否定文の強調

・I can't wake up to save my life. : どうしても起きられない。

----

i am at the bottom of the mountain 先はまだまだ長い (= i've got a long way to go)

-----

im very active w keeping my pronouns available 私は積極的自分性別代名詞を公開してる (consistently and proactively making known or sharing their preferred pronouns)

bc ik it can feel awkward to ask sometimes だってわざわざ尋ねるのは気まずいじゃん

-----

You don't wanna get on my bad side.... 俺の機嫌を損ねないほうがいいぜ・・・

buddy....

-----

Go finger your prostate to chill out or smth 前立腺でも弄って落ち着け

Look I'm on a stim crash and on edge dw bout it 精神刺激薬の離脱症状が出ててしか寸止め中だから大丈夫

be on a stimulant crash = ADHDやアデロールなどの薬の離脱症状 (= I'm having withdrawals from drugs.)

be on edge 寸止め

-----

back on one's feet

《be ~》〔病気などが回復して〕再び元気になる

Your father will be back on his feet in no time. : あなたのお父様はすぐに回復されますよ。

《be ~》〔状況などが〕良くなる、立ち直る

-----

curry favor with

(人)の機嫌を取る、(人)に取り入る、(人)にゴマをする、(人)を褒めそやす、(人)にお世辞を言う、(人)にこびへつらう

-----

・That's a lot [bunch] of hooey, and you know it! : 実にばかげた話です。自分でも分かってるだろ。(=ホラ話= bullshit

-----

it's awkward but it gets the point across

自分の書く文章は)ぎこちないけど意味は通じる (awkward = clunky = clumsy = scuffed)

why do you think it's awkward?

なんでぎこちないと思うの?

because I haven't output enough to think of a natural way to output my ideas. Instead I force out something that gets the idea across even if it turns out awkward

自然アウトプットすることができるほどちゃんアウトプットしてないからね

からこちなくても伝わる文章をひねり出してる感じ

because 99% of my Japanese practice is from writing assignments for class (haven't hung out with many Japanese people), so even if I try to speak casually, formal stuff appears

日本語練習のうち99パーセントは授業で出される作文の宿題から

カジュアルに話そうとしてもフォーマル言葉遣いが出てしまうんだ

----

this server is a lot more hateful than I remember it being

このサーバー、私が知っている頃と比べてすごく邪険な雰囲気になってる

----

I can understand being insecure over one's language skills but I think you should own that you're insecure instead of trying to act like you're above others

Address what's causing you to feel insecure and work on that

日本語力に不安を持つのはわかるけど、他人マウントを取るんじゃなくてその不安さを認めるべきだよ

不安さを生み出している原因をなくせるよう努力すべき

own 〔罪などを〕自分がやったと認める

----

Speaking as someone who has never interacted with you before and didn't even recognise you, you came off as a massive dickhead in the way you talked, and that's gonna rub people the wrong way. Especially if there's annoyance built before that. But at the end of the day man, it doesn't matter much

あなたと喋ったこともないしだれだか知らないけど、あなたの喋り方はすごい嫌なやつに聞こえるし、それだと周りを苛つかせるだけだよ

特にすでにイライラが高まってる状況ならなおさら

I mean you just rubbed some people the wrong way but they didn't express that and decided to unload it all on you at the same time x10 when they saw the opportunity

みんなあんたに苛ついてたけど、黙ってたんだよ

で、ちょうどいいタイミングが来たから一斉にその不満を10倍にして吐き出したってわけ

it was really irresponsible and wrong of me

yeah I know that was fucked up of me

that was dumb of me

それはすごい無責任だし間違った行いだった

ほんと自分メチャクチャなことをしたと思う

自分馬鹿だった

-----

ooh buddy not a good look

悪口を言いまくってる人を見て)おいおいお前それはよくねえぜ

it's basically just a way of saying "you did something bad."

https://hinative.com/questions/21934776

-----

I think most of it was just pent up aggression towards him over the weeks that everyone found an opportunity to unload at that moment

今回の件は、彼に対するイラつきがここ数週間の間に溜まっていて、あの瞬間にみんながそれを吐き出すチャンスを見つけたっていうのが大きいんじゃないか

pent-up discontent 鬱積した不満

-----

Idk why you're making it seem like i had a fit over him

なんで「私が彼に対して腹を立てていた」みたいな風な言い方をしてるのかわからないんだけど

have a fit

腹を立てる、カッとなる、カンカンに怒る、ひどく興奮する、非常に興奮する、だだをこねる、ショックを受ける、発作を起こす、卒倒する、おたおたする◆【同】throw a fit

・I was having [throwing] a huge fit. : 私は無性に腹を立てていた。

----

You just jumped on the Jack hate train for no reason

あんたなぜかジャックを嫌ってる奴らと同調してたじゃん

I don't understand the audacity to come here every single day while you disrespect me to your friends

友達と一緒に私のことを侮辱してるくせに毎日ここに来れる厚かましさは理解できないわ

and you also hop on the gender thing

しかあいつらの性別からかうノリにも同調してたよな

i use she

but yeah

that was wrong of me too

they had that effect on me and I took that as a way out of responsibility

俺はちゃんsheを使ったよ

でもまああれも俺が間違いだった

あいつらに影響されていたし、その影響を言い訳にして(性別ネタに乗っかっていたのは事実だった)

-----

she didn't even think to give me the benefit of the doubt or anything and just straight up pilied on to me when i had no way to defend myself of the misinfo against me

彼女は(話が真実かどうか確かめる)猶予を与えることもせずに、いきなり私を非難してきた

pile on to someone: (of a group of people) to attack or criticize someone

大勢非難すること

-----

what are you prattling about

何をぺちゃくちゃいってんの

prattle

幼児が〕片言でしゃべる、〔大人が〕ベラベラとつまらないおしゃべりをする

・He was prattling on for hours about boring subjects. : 彼は退屈な話題について、何時間もしゃべり続けた。

-----

And oh yea you can go on a tirade in that server talking about how i need mental health help, suck at jp, and feel threatened by the very presence of John

その鯖で私は精神科にかかるべきとかジョンに劣等感を抱いてるとか、延々と話してればいいじゃん

tirade

〔長く手厳しい〕攻撃非難演説◆可算

長広舌、長い演説

-----

i played it when it came out and had the worst experience of my life

そのゲーム発売時にプレイしたけど人生最悪の体験だったわ

if you pick a μ's character you're in for the worst character interactions you have ever seen

μ'sのキャラを選んだら今まで経験した中で最悪の会話が待ってるよ

in for 《be ~》〔困難などに〕直面しそうだ、〔事態などを〕きっと経験するだろう

-----

this pc has served me well for 8+ years

このPCは8年以上使ってるけどちゃんと動いてるよ

im pushing 5 years on my lenovo legion

私のレノボはそろそろ5年に近づいてる

i built that pc with my dad and god damnit do I love it

will upgrade eventually

あのPCは父と一緒に組んだんだけどめちゃくちゃ大好きだ

そのうちアップグレードもする予定

-----

Pray the gay away = 神に祈りを捧げてゲイからノンケにしてもらうこと

https://hinative.com/questions/18100264

----

I wouldn't recommend going off blood thinners cold turkey and my heart rates really fucking high right now, 1:30 3145, and I'm nervous about this.

抗凝血剤を急にやめるのはおすすめしない

go cold turkey 〔悪習・薬物などを〕急に[きっぱり]やめる[断ち切る]

go off a drug 薬を(飲むのを)やめる

-----

there's no way these like agencies are gonna be looking at all this money you're raking in on Onlyfans being like "what do you mean we don't get any of it?"

AV事務所Onlyfansで荒稼ぎした金を見たら「当然それをくれるんだよな?」って言うに決まってる

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/w8emCFPLGlw

rake in 荒稼ぎする

-----

whether or not the bit that it's famous for will soon wear off a novelty however is difficult to determine

パルワールドを有名たらしめている要素がすぐに陳腐化してしまうのかどうかは(今のところ)断定しがたい

bit = 要素 = element

----

my boss has been grilling me for slacking

上司からサボり癖を指摘されている

grilling 厳しい尋問◆可算

----

she flaked on our plans for Christmas together and invited him to hang out with her during the end of the year

私とのクリスマスの約束をすっぽかし、(B男さんと)年末に遊ぶ誘いをしていたり、

flake

自動

〔薄片が〕はがれ落ちる

〈米俗〉約束をすっぽかす

他動

から薄片を剥がす[削る]

〔~を〕薄片で覆う

there were a lot of things that i couldn't fit in here but i've only ever wrote things that i've had clear evidence of

この文章ではとても収まらないほどのことがありましたが、手元に明確な証拠があるものだけを書きました。

i don't think i've clarified quite enough but this being something that i've kept in my heart for so long i'm so glad i'm able to talk to you all about it now

十分にお話できたとは思っていませんが、ずっと心のうちに秘めていたことを、こうしてお話することができたのはよかったと思っています

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FWJDwmrTL5o

-----

steer clear of

~を避ける、~を遠ざける、~に関わらない

You should steer clear of that restaurant or you may get food poisoning. : そのレストランはやめた方がいい、さもないと食中毒になるかもよ。

-----

Shiina having a laughing fit really brightens up my day. Thank you Okayun~

面白い」ということを表すのに使われる「ツボる」という表現英語で表すと、一番意味が近いのはおそらく”have a laughing fit”でしょう。

https://nativecamp.net/blog/20200723_laugh

-----

Does 買いものにでも行っているのかもしれません mean “Maybe she even went shopping” ? What does でも contribute here

Does demo add the “or something” to the sentencr

-----

seemやappear, feel, look, soundなどにthatを付ける場合主語itでなければならない

It seems that ...

✗He seems that ...

Feel, look, and sound are very occasionally found with a content clause too: It looks to me that a vendetta has struck up. Content clauses differ from as if phrases in that they are restricted to the impersonal construction: compare Ed seemed as if /∗that he was trying to hide his true identity. (Camgel p.962)

-----

仮定法と直説法の見分け方は文脈判断

ポイント1:仮定法は直説法の時制を一つ過去にずらしたもの

ポイント2:直接法は時制の一致を受けるが、仮定法は時制の一致を受けない

直説法(knows):He looks as if he knows the answer. (he knows the answer)

仮定法(knew):He looks as if he knew the answer. (he gives the impression that he knows the answer, but he (probably) doesn't know or we don't know whether he knows or not)

主節が現在形の場合区別がつくが、主節を過去時制にすると、直接法では時制の一致によってknows→knewと一つ過去に移るのに対して、仮定法は時制の一致を受けないのでknewのまま変わらない。その結果、どちらも同じ時制になってしまう。そのため、仮定法か直接法かは文脈判断。(仮定法の時制を過去にずらす(knew→had known)と、大過去として見なされ、主節より一つ前の出来事を表すことになる)

He looked as if he knew the answer.

完了形場合も同じ

直説法:He seems as if he hasn't slept for days. (he hasn't slept for days)

仮定法:He seems as if he hadn't slept for days. (it seems that he hasn't slept for days, but he (probably) has or we don't know whether he has or not)

He seemed as if he hadn't slept for days.

https://www.grammaring.com/as-if-as-though

-----

He doesn't do listening immersion he only knows English from reading and it shows. 

He's not that bad 彼は別に下手じゃないよ

But there's a few quirks that tip me off でもノンネイティブだとわかってしまうような癖がたまに出てくる

2024-01-20

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2023-12-27

昔の化学者エピソードを見ると「合成した物質を舐めた」みたいな話がたまに出てくる

アスパルテームはそのなかでも有名なエピソードかもしれない

アスパルテーム - Wikipedia

1965年アメリカ製薬会社G.D.サール社の化学者ジェームズ・M・シュラッターが、ガストリンの合成に取り組んでいたときに偶然発見した[113]。シュラッターは、抗潰瘍薬の研究をして、ホルモンであるガストリンテトラペプチドを生成する中間段階としてアスパルテームを合成した[113]。シュラッターは、薬包紙を持ち上げようとして、アスパルテームがついた指をなめて、その甘味発見した[8][114][115]。トルン・アテラスガリンは、アスパルテームの開発を監督した[116]。

いわゆる化学者によるセルフ人体実験、すなわち自己実験

うん年前は私も大学学生実験をやっていたわけだが、生成物を舐めるなんて発想はとてもじゃないが出てこなかった

まあ、私の場合重金属を扱ってたので舐めたらヤバいと知っていたわけだが

アスパルテーム場合製薬会社内の出来事、つまり薬学系なのでそこらへんの肌感覚が異なるのだろうか?そんなことないと思うがな……

スクラロースエピソードもなかなか凄い

Sucralose - Wikipedia

Sucralose was discovered in 1976 by scientists from Tate & Lyle, working with researchers Leslie Hough and Shashikant Phadnis at Queen Elizabeth College (now part of King's College London).[21] While researching novel uses of sucrose and its synthetic derivatives, Phadnis was told to "test" a chlorinated sugar compound. According to an anecdotal account, Phadnis thought Hough asked him to "taste" it, so he did and found the compound to be exceptionally sweet.[22]

スクラロース1976年、テート&ライルの科学者が、クィーンエリザベスカレッジ現在キングスカレッジロンドンの一部)の研究レスリー・ハフ(Leslie Hough)とシャシカント・ファドニス(Shashikant Phadnis)と共同で発見した[21]。スクロースとその合成誘導体新規用途研究していたときファドニス塩素化された糖化合物を「テスト」するように言われた。逸話によると、ファドニスはハフから「味見」するように言われたと思い、実際に味見をしてみたところ、その化合物は非常に甘かったという[22]。

testをtasteと聞き間違えたからといって舐めるか?そうか、舐めたのか……

スクロースのヒドロキシ基を塩素で置換したものなので、まあ舐めても危険ではないくらいの認識はあったってことなんだろうか

Tate and Lyleは食品系の会社でそこの研究室での出来事なのか、なら味を確かめろって言われたら舐めるか……

科学者倫理感の移り変わりが気になるので『世にも奇妙な人体実験歴史』という本を買って読んでいる

少なくとも20世紀初頭くらい最近になっても現代基準で見ると危険実験やりまくっていたようだ

自己実験とは違う話になるがデーモンコアの実験1945年くらいか

戦前学者倫理規定どうなっとんねんとしみじみ思う

前述の本を読んでいると「申請すると許可下りるわけないので自分の体で実験して事後報告した」みたいなエピソードが出てきて笑う(笑えない)

カール・ヴィルヘルム・シェーレ - Wikipedia

シェーレが若死にしたのは同時代化学者の例に漏れず、危険実験条件のもとで研究を進めたためだと考えられている。また彼には物質舐める癖があったため、毒性のある物質の毒にあたったのではともされる。

18世紀とかだと「まあ舐めて確認する人がいても不思議じゃないわな」と思うのだが

イギリスとある医師ニトログリセリン舐めて心臓まりそうになって死にかけたのが19世紀出来事

21世紀になっても舐める人はどこかにいるのだろうな

舐めて死んだとか、舐めて大発見に気付いたみたいになっていないから記録に残らないだけで

有機系をやってた大学の頃の同期に「実験生成物を舐めるって発想あった?」と聞いてみたが「ありえん」の一言が返ってきた

現代日本大学研究室で、教授学生に向けて「生成物を舐めて確認してみよう」なんて指導するところなんてありえるのだろうか?

流石にないだろう……あるのか?生成物がアミノ酸とかならありえるのか?有毒なものだってもちろんあるが生成物はだいたいこんな感じの物質って元素の内訳も構造もある程度予想ついてるなら舐めても多分大丈夫みたいな肌感覚が育つのだろうか?わからん世界

まあ味の素研究所なら舐めても不思議じゃないかもか……

畑が違うと全然感覚違う、ということか

でも薬学系とか食品会社研究所でも一度動物摂取させるとかやると思ってたんだがな、きっと普通はやるのかもしれないが一部の人がいきなり舐めたのかもな……

日記

---

医学者による自己犠牲的とも勇敢ともいえる自分の体を使った研究ではなく

ある種の迂闊さでペロッと舐める科学者が今でも一定割合でいるんじゃないか?という疑問を書いた日記

ペトリ皿に鼻水垂らしたのがきっかけでペニシリン発見したという出来事幸運な結果に終わった迂闊な出来事だったわけで

そういった種類のおおらかさは現代だとあまり許されないはずなんだよな~

---

耳寄りな心臓の話(第2話)『爆薬が心臓病を癒す』 |はあと文庫|心日本心臓財団刊行物|公益財団法人 日本心臓財団

なぜニトログリセリンを舐めようという発想が出てきたのか?を伺い知ることが出来そうなエピソードもぐぐったらでてきた

20世紀初頭にイギリス火薬工場で、週日の作業中は何も起こらないのに休みが終わって月曜日仕事が始まると決まって胸痛を訴える工員が何人もいることが話題になりました。最初工場で扱っている爆薬が原因で起こる病気を疑ったのですが、もともと持病に狭心症のあることがわかりました。

それというのも、原料であるニトログリセリン粉塵工場内に舞い、露出した皮膚や粘膜からある成分が吸収されて狭心症が抑えられていたものが、週末に休みをとることで粉塵にふれることもなく薬がきれて、月曜日に力仕事を始めることで狭心痛が起こったと推理されたのです。

痛む胸を押さえて、それこそ青息吐息月曜日になったこから、「ブルーマンディ」という言葉が生まれたようです。今日では休日明けで、仕事学校に行くのが億劫になる月曜日の憂鬱、月曜病の走りとなりました。

blue Monday語源ニトログリセリン説はかなーり怪しい気がする、勘だけど

これを調べるのも面白そうだ

……ん?時系列矛盾がある

『世にも奇妙な人体実験歴史』によると1858年フィールドという名のイギリス医師がニトロを舐めたとある

その後1878年ウィリアム・マレルという医師が再度ニトロを舐めて効果確認し、狭心症治療薬として自分患者に試した

火薬工場エピソード20世紀初頭……1901年頃ということになる

発見されたのか?だとすると最初に舐めたフィールドって医師は推測無しに舐めた好奇心旺盛な人ってことになる

火薬工場エピソードのしっかりとした出典を探すべきだな

原典だと20世紀初頭じゃなく19世紀末~20世紀初頭みたいな書き方になっているのかもしれない

2023-12-20

anond:20231220171308

The term 'marry down' is a legitimate expression, often used in academic contexts. Could you please clarify what aspects of this term you found incorrect or unusual?

2023-10-21

最近ウェブ見てて「の」のフォントだけ変だ

Recently I have found that font for "の" (NO in hiragana) is crazy weird but the others are ok.

I felt it is because Japan was defeated in the war. Once defeated, the respects are lost. Cultures are appropriated.

2023-08-13

日本における外国人差別話題になっている

発端は

r/mildlyinfuriating に昨日投稿された

 

I work at a Japanese McDonald's I recently found the claims file and found this xenophobic claim

マックで働いているけれど、外人嫌いのクレームを見つけた)

 

というポスト

朝マックを利用したが店員さんが外国人サービスミスがあった。次から日本人店員だけに対応して欲しい」 という内容の長文クレーム写真です。

 現時点で2万6,000いいねと1700コメントが寄せられています

 

この投稿

r/japanresidents

日本居住者サブレ日本移住してみたい人が居住者相談するところ)

I work at a Japanese McDonald's I recently found the claims file and found this xenophobic claim.

 

 

r/lowlevelaware

(愉快なサブレルーツ外国だけど日本語はネイティブ並、日本に長く住んでいるという人が多め。たまに日本人もいる)

これは外国人嫌いなのだろうか

 

 

など様々なサブレにも波及しています

はてなーが気にしそうな話題なのでこちらで紹介しました

 

 

 

2023-08-02

英訳 about the #Berbenheimer issue

anond:20230801140703

DeepLで勝手英訳をしてみた。

勝手にごめん。元増田が嫌であれば消す。

Various things that really need to be said about the #Berbenheimer issue

 

In a discussion about the case, someone raised an objection to "someone who was not a party to the incident, who was not from Nagasaki, and who was not from Hiroshima, complaining about it. Seeing that opinion made me aware of my position, so I will say what I must say.

 

I was born in Nagasaki and am a third-generation A-bomb survivor.

I say this because I grew up hearing the stories of the A-bomb damage directly from those who suffered from the atomic bombings.

 

I feel that it is unacceptable for someone like me to speak about the A-bomb damage.

However, there are few A-bomb survivors left, so I will speak up.

 

In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. We were made to sit in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, where there was not even an air conditioner or a fan, and for nearly an hour we were made to listen to stories about the atomic bombing. It was hard for me anyway.

 

I think it was even more painful for the elderly people who told the stories. But I don't think an elementary school kid could have imagined that. I, too, have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most.

 

Another thing is that at this time of year, pictures of the victims of the atomic bombing are pasted up in the hallways.

In other parts of the country, these are grotesque images that would cause a fuss from the parents who are always nagging about them.

Recently, even the A-bomb museum has become more gentle in its exhibits, and most of the radical and horrifying exhibits that would have traumatized visitors have been removed.

I don't know how elementary schools now teach about the A-bomb damage. But when I was in elementary school, there were photos on display.

 

There was one photo that I just couldn't face as an elementary school student. It was a picture of Taniguchi Sumiteru(谷口稜曄). If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would still like you to see it.

I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was displayed, so I always took the long way around to another floor to avoid seeing the photo.

My grandfather was under the bomb and went to the burnt ruins of the bomb to look for his sister. I can understand now that he couldn't turn away or go another way.

There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning in the ruins of the burnt ruins. There would have been many more who would have died out in agony.

My grandfather walked for miles and miles, towing a rear wheelchair, through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister.

My grandfather was not a child then. But of course there were elementary school children who did the same thing he did. I am not speculating that there were. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it.

A young brother and sister found their father's corpse in the ruins of the fire and burned it themselves. They didn't have enough wood to burn him alive, and when they saw his brain spilling out, they ran away, and that was the last time they ever saw him again.

 

I can never forget that story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it's painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I'm crying.

 

I keep wondering how that old man who ran away from his father's brain was able to expose to the public the unimaginably horrible trauma, the scar that will never heal, even after all these years.

 

Now I think I understand a little.

 

Why I can't help but talk about my grandfather and the old man now, even as I remember my own trauma.

Because this level of suffering is nothing compared to their words being forgotten.

It's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that once existed that will be forgotten, like my hands shaking, my heart palpitating, my nose running with vertigo, and so on.

 

So maybe it's the same thing.

 

My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire.

 

In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire.

 

My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell.

 

I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles on the ground in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it.

 

Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, unimaginable suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.

 

Memories fade inexorably with each passing human mouth. The memories that those people could never allow to be forgotten are almost forgotten.

 

The tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted.

 

Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire without being able to tell anyone about it.

 

Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are still in their graves.

 

Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words.

 

But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing.

 

I know how it feels to think that I am the only one. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. I know that I have closed my mouth because I thought I shouldn't talk about it, and that is the result.

 

Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for fun.

I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.

2023-08-01

anond:20230801140703

すまん。勝手翻訳した。拡散はどうするかな。redditかに投稿するのがいいのか?

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I have seen some posts asking if they should talk about "the case" even though they were not involved in it and were not born in Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and I am a bit aware of it, so I have to say what I have to say. I say this because I was born in Nagasaki, am a third generation atomic bomb survivor, and grew up hearing the stories of those who experienced the atomic bombing firsthand. I know it's a little bit too much for me, but I'm going to say this because there are very few survivors left.

In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. They were stuffed into sushi for nearly an hour in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, with no air conditioner or fan, and told stories about the atomic bombing. That was a hard time for me. I think it must have been even harder for the old people who told the stories, but there was no way an elementary school kid could imagine such a thing, and I had forgotten most of the stories I had been told for a long time. I have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most. There is one more hard thing. Every year around this time, a row of grotesque images that would drive the PTA crazy in other areas are prominently displayed in the hallways. These days, I hear that the atomic bomb museum has been bleached out and many of the radical and horrifying exhibits that traumatized visitors have been taken down. I don't know if they are still there, but they were there when I was in elementary school.

There was one photo that I just couldn't face when I was in elementary school. It is a picture of Sumiteru Taniguchi. If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would like you to take a look at it. I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was posted, so I always took the long way around to another floor of the school building to avoid seeing the photo.

Now I'm thinking that my grandfather, who headed into the burnt ruins to look for his sister, couldn't have turned away or taken a different path. There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning, not just pictures, and a mountain more who would have given up at the end of their suffering. He walked for miles and miles, towing his handcart through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister. My grandfather was not a child at the time, but of course there were children who did similar things. Not that there wouldn't have been. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it. A young brother and sister found their father's body in the ruins of a fire and they burned it. They didn't have enough wood to burn his body, and when they saw the raw brain that spilled out, they ran away and that was the last time they ever saw him anymore.

I can never forget the story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it is painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I am crying. I keep wondering how the old man who escaped from that father's brain could have been able to unravel the most horrible trauma imaginable and expose it to the public with scars that will never heal.

Now I think I can understand a little.

The reason I can't help but talk about my grandfather and that old man, even if I have to rehash my own trauma, is that this level of suffering is nothing compared to the fact that their words will be forgotten. My hands shaking, my heart palpitating and dizzy, my nose running with tears, it's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that was once there and will be forgotten.

So maybe it's the same thing.

My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire. In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire. My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell. I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it. Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, tremendous suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.

Memories fade inexorably every time people talk about them. The memories that those people could not allow to be forgotten are now largely forgotten; the tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted again. Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire, unable to tell anyone about it. Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are now under the grave.

Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words. But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing. I know how it feels to wonder if someone like myself is allowed to speak about this. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. This is the result of our silence.

Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for the fun of it. I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.

Translator's note: The original post in Japanese is a response to a post by a Japanese contributor who wondered if he was qualified to speak out on the subject of the A-bomb when he was not from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but still spoke out about Barbie and the A-bomb. I translated it here because I think it deserves to be read by the world.

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