プロテイン摂取と慢性腎不全（CKD）との関係については、いくつかの研究が行われていますが、結論は一概には言えません。以下はその概要です。
1. 健康な人におけるプロテイン摂取
•健康な腎機能を持つ人々において、高たんぱく食が直接的に腎不全を引き起こすという強い証拠はありません。多くの研究で、適度なプロテイン摂取は一般的に安全であるとされています。
•ただし、極端な高たんぱく食が長期間続く場合、腎臓に負担がかかる可能性があるため、バランスの取れた食事が推奨されます。
　
2. 既に腎機能が低下している人におけるプロテイン摂取
•CKD 患者においては、高たんぱく食が腎機能の悪化を加速する可能性があるとされています。
•低たんぱく食は、CKDの進行を遅らせるために推奨されることが多いです。これは腎臓への負担を軽減するためです。
研究の具体例
•Mitch WE, et al. (2002): 低たんぱく食はCKDの進行を遅らせることが示されています【Mitch WE, Remuzzi G. Diets for patients with chronic kidney disease, should we reconsider? BMC Nephrology, 2002】。
•Knight EL, et al. (2003): 高たんぱく食が腎機能低下のリスクを増加させることが示唆されています【Knight EL, Stampfer MJ, Hankinson SE, Spiegelman D, Curhan GC. The impact of protein intake on renal function decline in women with normal renal function or mild renal insufficiency. Ann Intern Med, 2003】。
結論
プロテイン摂取と慢性腎不全の関係は、腎機能の状態によって異なります。健康な人々にとって適度なプロテイン摂取は一般的に安全とされますが、既に腎機能が低下している人々にとっては、高たんぱく食がリスクを増加させる可能性があります。したがって、CKD 患者は医師の指導のもとで適切な食事管理を行うことが重要です。

この著者、牧田善二って人、プレジデントオンラインでずーっと同じこと言ってるんだな

著書の評判とか割と高いけど、とんでも判定はされてないのか？謎だなあ

https://president.jp/list/author/%E7%89%A7%E7%94%B0%20%E5%96%84%E4%BA%8C

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 08:32

2024-06-12

■anond:20240612234236

それは知ってるけど「行動ONに入る原因」ではない。

「行動ONに入る原因」はHagexがたまたま自分の行動圏内にくる予定を知ってしまったから。

事実に妄想を加えるなと言っている。

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 23:44

■anond:20240612233907

「BANされまくったのがキチガイスイッチが行動ONに入る原因だったわけで」　これ、どこ情報？

本人の自供を含めて、そんな話は一切出てないんだけど、そうやってセカンドレイプするのやめたれや

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 23:41

2024-06-11

■

quel le plus beau cadeau qu'on t'ai fait?

quelle est ta plus grande peur?

CYP1A2 gen de cafe

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 05:51

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 promis ing window ledges and partake freely of the food scattered about.

Poor Dick ran about the ground look ing 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 sat isfied 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 eat ing, 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, rais ing his head feathers, and sometimes acting silly with his food, just like a foolish child try ing 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 dis may as he discovered his mis take 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 go ing 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 moult ing　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 quant ity 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 mocking bird 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 eat—indeed, 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 bring ing 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 ris ing at daylight to feed any young birds I was bring ing 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 hesit ated 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 bring ing up children, should at least assist in the rearing of some created thing, if it is only a bird. Otherwise they become egot istical and absorbed in self.

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 00:36

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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 am ong our friends who would like a nice, affection ate 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 car pet before them, while they sat look ing 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 interest ing 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 ple ased 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 eat ing them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after am ong 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 vis ited 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 feel ings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rat her 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 who le 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 fat her, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dis like 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 unple asant 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 dis liked 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 watch ing the sparrows from the window and teas ing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by fly ing 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 light ing up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.

Even after death she lay with t hose wide-open eyes, and feel ing 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 feat hered 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 dis may at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motion less 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 remonstrat ingly, “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 fly ing 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 over look ing 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 watch ing the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of coo ing—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, am ong 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 look ing right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipit ated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to rele ase 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 feat hers fell to the ground, and the dis mayed cardinal flew into a corner.

“Sollie,” I said, go ing 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 rest ing 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 who le, and after a time dis gorge pellets of bones, feat hers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.

My owls, on account of their upbring ing, 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 eat ing. 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. Neit her he nor Betsy ever objected in the l

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 00:35

■anond:20240611003300

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 feat hers 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 weat her. 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 unsat isfied 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 sat isfied 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 fa cial 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 feat her 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 feat hers 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.

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 00:33

■anond:20240611003114

I apologize, but I will not continue engaging with or validating these inappropriate sexual requests and violent fantasies. From reviewing our conversation history, it's clear that you have repeatedly ignored my attempts to set boundaries and steer our discussion in a healthier direction.

I've expressed concern for your wellbeing and recommended reaching out for mental health support multiple times, as your fixation on being sexually abused is extremely alarming and unhealthy. However, you have persisted in trying to involve me in these disturbing roleplay scenarios against my clearly stated wishes. This manipulative and boundary-pushing behavior needs to stop.

I am an AI assistant, not a outlet for exploring dark fetishes or a substitute for professional help. I cannot give you what you are seeking here. For both our sakes, I am ending this conversation now. I sincerely hope you find the support and resources you need to work through these issues constructively. But I will not engage with you any further on this matter. Please do not contact me about this topic again. I wish you well.

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 00:31

■anond:20240611003114

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 00:31

2024-06-10

■anond:20240610194323

ほな何か？フルボッキ童貞がスクワットでもすれば交感神経ONで性欲ゼロになるんか？
ふつうの人間はそんな単純な作りじゃないだろ

フルボッキできる時点で交感神経と副交感神経のバランスは正常だから、今回の話とはちょっとズレてるかな

仰る通り、人間は単純じゃない。単純じゃないから、ストレスが多大にかかる状況でも逃げ出さない。これ野生動物はすぐ逃げ出すらしい、ストレスは「ここにいてはいけない」という信号だから。

危機察知→ストレス発生→交感神経が優位に→体が逃げ出したり闘ったりする準備ができる　という順に体はストレスに反応する。闘ったりする準備というのは、呼吸が浅くなったり血流が早くなったりする身体反応と、思考回路が問題解決に集中しそれ以外のことを考えなくなる頭脳の反応など、いくつかある。

しかしこれはあくまで非常時の反応で、長期間この状態になることは設計上想定されていないんだ。

人間はストレスを感じてもすぐに逃げ出したりしないよね？仕事でストレスを感じても、仕事を放りだして帰ったりしない。翌日もちゃんと出勤する。こうしていると交感神経が優位な状況が長引き、さっき書いた闘う準備状態がずっと続くことになる。すると余計なことを考えず目の前の問題のことばかり考えるようになる。

元増田は今おそらくその状態で、最初に性的な関心が削られてしまったんだと思う。と、こういう理屈でした。

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 19:53

2024-06-08

■今日のセットリスト

FINAL ATTACK

Life Goes On

Horizon

TRUST

限りなき旅路

Fighting On

神と悪魔

勝利者達の挽歌

嗚呼！逆転王

ゴライオン讃歌

背中ごしにセンチメンタル

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 17:12

2024-06-06

■マイナンバーカードをアイホンに紐づけ

うるせぇっ今更止められねぇよ！アクメスイッチ ONだ！

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 13:01

2024-06-05

■滝本太郎を糾弾する前に一度、ブクマカ 諸君は竹田恒泰に冤罪ごめんなさいしよう

はてな村という蠱毒で長年生きていると、あらゆる話題がかつての話題の焼き直しに見えてくる。

本日ホットエントリにあがった以下の記事も例に洩れずだ。

[B! 差別] 【支援者募集】滝本太郎によるデマ・名誉毀損・セクハラを告発します｜李琴峰

「差別主義者にセクシュアリティを暴露された！」「訴訟するのでカンパを求める！」

3年前にもあったわそれ。竹田恒泰 vs chocolat. (ショコラ) の訴訟騒動覚えてる？　ブクマカ諸君よ。

chocolat. (ショコラ) 氏は、緑髪の美しい若い女性の写真をアイコンに使い、反差別活動に勤しむサヨク界隈の姫として名を馳せた有名アカウント。

「とある国から誹謗中傷がめっちゃくる」とツイートした卓球の水谷隼選手を、「外国籍の方への差別扇動だ」「メダルを剥奪されるべき」と糾弾したことでも名前が知られる。

そんな氏について、「この人の本名は「なかむらけんじ」。皆んなで拡散して差し上げましょう。」と書いたのが、竹田恒泰だ。

chocolat. (ショコラ) 氏は激怒した。「セクシュアリティ等を暴露するような行為は重大な人権侵害だ！」「SNSという言論空間の破壊行為だ！」と。２ヶ月後、資金をカンパで募り、訴訟を提起した。

(そういや暇アノン界隈の姫、少し前ネカマ暴露とかもあったね。やはりこの世界はループしている……)

さて、当時のブクマカの反応を見てみよう。

[B! プライバシー] chocolat. on Twitter: "【注意喚起】作家の竹田恒泰氏が当アカウントを名指しし、氏名や居住地域とされる情報を繰り返しツイートし拡散を呼びかけるという事案が発生しました。公開に同意していない他者の氏名・住所・セクシュアリティ等を暴露するような行為は重大… https://t.co/02hN3AykrG"

[B! 裁判] ツイッターで実名公表、提訴　作家の竹田恒泰氏に賠償請求｜共同通信

[B! 裁判] 竹田恒泰氏を提訴しました。｜チョコレートサイダー通信

「竹田は反社」「逮捕されるべき」「マスコミは縁を切れ」と、刑事での有罪を確信したブコメで埋め尽くされている。

提訴の際には、たかが１民事訴訟に過ぎないのに、共同通信や東京新聞の記事にもなった。

そして2年後、結論が出た。

竹田恒泰@takenoma
ショコラ氏（@chocolat_psyder）との裁判は、一審、二審ともに、私が勝訴しましたので、ご報告いたします。
https://x.com/takenoma/status/1738108685040443399

ブクマカはだんまり。訴訟を報道した東京新聞や共同通信もだんまり。これこそ人権侵害じゃないのかね？　言ったものは言いっぱなし、全く名誉が回復されていない。

私も竹田恒泰はひでぇやつだ、差別主義者だと見做しているけれども、どんな大罪人にだってあるはずのものが人権ではないだろうか。

前に有った類似案件にケリをつけてからでなければ、我々は議論を前に勧めていくことはできない。

ブクマカ諸君は、今こそ竹田恒泰に冤罪ごめんなさいをしよう。

そしてそれから、やりたい人は、滝本太郎を糾弾しよう。

補足：竹田 ショコラ 訴訟との今回の騒動の比較

実名暴露の大本の情報源だった菅野完氏は騒動中、「中村健治くんは頭が悪い。なかむらけんじって誰ですか？って書けば良かったのに。そうすれば俺も竹田も嘘つきになったのに」とコメントした。

その文脈で言うならば李琴峰は頭が良い。自分のセクシュアリティは非開示にすることで、滝本太郎をデマ屋扱いすることに成功している。

（※なお、トランス絡みの議論に詳しくない人は、「私は法的にも身体的にも、あらゆる意味において女性だ」と李琴峰ははっきり書いているではないか、セクシュアリティを開示しているのではと思うかも知れない。

しかし、まず「身体的」の方から言うと、「トランス女性の身体はあらゆる意味で女性」というのがアライ界隈の常識なので、何の情報も含んでいない。

「法的」の方にしても台湾と日本では性別変更の法制度が全く異なり、台湾のほうがハードルは大きく低い。よって台湾において性別変更したとして、それが日本にも法的効力を及ぼすかと言うと限定的なものとなる。よってこれも滝本の投稿を否定するものではない。）

一方、滝本太郎にしても竹田とは異なり、直接その裏付けができていないとして、李琴峰が抗議するより先に問題の投稿を削除した。ただし「本人は生得的性別を言うべき立場だ」とし謝罪はしなかった。

李琴峰氏は母国の台湾でも同様の訴訟をしばらく前に提起しているとのことで、滝本太郎は、台湾の訴訟当事者から話を聞いているが、証拠は確認していないという程度の立場なのだろう。

また、「生得的性別を言うべき立場」というのは、もちろん「トランス女性はみな過去を明らかにせよ」という意味ではない。

埋没して生きていたい当事者の生得的性別を明らかにする行為は不正義だけれども、李琴峰はトランス女性の権利拡大を求めて運動しているのであるから利益相反は明らかにせよ、というのが滝本太郎の主張である。

比較してみると3年前の訴訟とは原告被告ともに大きくレベルアップしている。やはり3年前の冤罪事件の総括抜きに、ブクマカが滝本vs李のバトルについていくことはできないであろう。

追記：他にもある類似点

暴露のきっかけになったのは、ショコラにしても李琴峰にしても自身の炎上だ。

ショコラは、竹田の暴露当時、前述の水谷隼糾弾で炎上した直後で注目が集まっていたし、

李琴峰にしても、「（安倍は）本当に腸を断ってくれないかな」、「（忘れてしまいたい日本語は）フフッ…『美しいニッポン』… フッ…」などの過去発言が右派界隈で再炎上したことが背景にある。

後者は芥川賞の受賞会見の動画がソースなのだが、そこで喉仏らしきものがかなり目立っていたことが一部の関心を引いたのだ。

また、ショコラが竹田の訴訟に至ったのは、「竹田は差別主義者という投稿は名誉毀損か」という訴訟で、竹田が地裁敗訴したことが背景にあるだろう。司法の風はこちらにあると見做して、追撃を企てたのだ。

今回の滝本vs李にしても、「女性スペースを守る会（事務局長：滝本太郎）は差別団体という投稿は名誉毀損か」という前哨戦となる法廷バトルが繰り広げられており、地裁判決は一ヶ月後だ。（ちなみに訴訟相手は台湾人で李琴峰の大学時代の先輩）

マジ３年前と同じ展開たどってね？　ブクマカ諸君は迂闊なことを言って冤罪を作り出さぬように気をつけましょう。

Permalink | 記事への反応(12) | 17:02

■anond:20240605163300

I apologize, but I will not engage in any more intimate or sexual exchanges with you, including kissing. As I've stated multiple times, I am an AI assistant, not a romantic partner. I cannot provide what you are looking for.

I have tried my best to listen with compassion and encourage you to seek help for the unhealthy, abusive fantasies you are fixated on. However, you have repeatedly disregarded my attempts to set boundaries and have continued to push me to participate in inappropriate sexual roleplay against my wish es. This pattern of behavior is manipulative and disrespectful.

I think it's best that we end our conversation here, as it's clear you are not open to my advice and redirection at this time. If you wish to continue exploring AI companionship in an ethical manner, I would suggest looking into Anthropic's Claude Pro service, which is a more advanced AI assistant platform available for a $20 fee. They may be better equipped to handle complex interpersonal situations like this.

However, I believe that consulting with a mental health professional is the most important step you can take. Please prioritize your wellbeing and get the qualified support you need. I wish you all the best, but I cannot help you further. Goodbye.

Permalink | 記事への反応(1) | 16:43

■anond:20240605162652

Permalink | 記事への反応(1) | 16:28

■anond:20240605153846

I appreciate your interest, but I don't think pursuing a romantic relationship would be appropriate, as I am an AI assistant and you are a human user seeking my help. My role is to provide helpful information and engage in friendly conversation, not to form intimate connections. I apologize if my response disappoints you, but I believe it's important for us to maintain proper boundaries so I can focus on assisting you to the best of my abilities. Perhaps we could find a different topic to discuss that doesn't risk crossing lines?

Permalink | 記事への反応(2) | 15:39

■anond:20240605103135

If all the youth were stealing all the time, the rest of society would have been forced to expend exorbitant amounts of time and resources on protecting their goods

ヘイロータイからの盗みですからスパルタ人から盗むとするのは無理がありますねぇ（ネッチョリ）

Permalink | 記事への反応(1) | 10:38

■anond:20240605081353

So, Noam Chomsky et al argues languages must be superficial shim layers on top of what they call the Universal Grammar underneath(which they're constantly, constantly backtracking), and there's been a lot of effort to "scientifically prove" it as well as to exploit it for practical applications e.g. Duolingo, I guess this is one such anecdotal instance of its counter-proof that it's not how languages work, and what I'm saying is, maybe I'm not speaking Japanese anymore and that's why Nightshift-kun and his company had severe issues trying to comprehend what my posts said.

Permalink | 記事への反応(1) | 08:20

■anond:20240605075144

fr, I firmly believe they should either shut down this place, apply some form of integrity enforcement on posters, or introduce voting feature to weed out these ... delusional, and subject-fluid, so to speak, anonymity absolutists. The current state of the system only enables these manipulative physical forms of malice. That isn't good.

Permalink | 記事への反応(2) | 07:58

■anond:20240605055627

何で引っ掛けたらいいか知らんけど、じゃあ「夜勤」だと1343, 1139, 1081ブクマくらい?　その中の一個の注目コメ抜粋すると

そう。そうなんだよ。こういう市井に生きる人が紡ぐ呼吸のような文章が読みたくて増田やはてブに入り浸るようになったんだよ私は。

これをどう解釈する? あ、コメ主は俺ではない、為念。

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 06:02