Turning latent viruses on to cure cancer.

This is an article about cancer virology I thought I'd share since I thought was interesting. Viral oncology is definitely one of my main career interests, so thus when I saw the title from this article it tripped my interests. It sounds like, essentially, they found a way to treat an Epstein Barr Virus caused cancer by essentially turning the virus back on. EBV cancers are primarily caused by the virus going into the latent stages of its life cycle within lymphocyte cells, during which different genes are expressed and the virus more or less avoids the immune system and stops producing active virus. Some of these latent genes cause cancer. To treat the cancer, the people are essentially treating the patients with a drug that turns the virus back on, triggering lytic replication and opening the virus infected cells up to being hit with anti-viral drugs that wouldn't work on the latent virus, thus treating the cancer. It's a clever idea. I'll be keeping an eye on it, since it'd be interesting to see if similar approaches could work with other cancer viruses.

Return to Raids

So last night Bennedit dusted off the old gargoyle femur and headed into the dreaded Icecrown Citadel to challenge the forces of the Lich King. This is honestly the first full raid night I've played in World of Warcraft since a night, roughly this time a year ago, when I told my friends that I simply couldn't handle it anymore at the end of an Ulduar raid and that, pending how things had gone over the next several days while I was moving out of the house and setting up inside of Mike's place, I would likely be done with raiding for a while. "A while" stretched out to more than a full 365 day rotation 'round the sun, wherein my real life no longer even resembles that guy that had to quit, frustrated tears crawling into the corners of his eyes, while Mimiron basically laughed at us and our sad attempts to bring him down and my soon to be ex and I were preparing for our last night together.

Why did I walk away from the game for so long? The answers might take another year to fully describe and, ultimately, I'm not even sure what exactly I was thinking. A good part of it was a knee-jerk, obviously, to the rest of my life sort of falling apart around me and my own attempts to find any kind of validation I could. I think a big part of it was simply discovering that there was so much going on in the world I was missing out on while I had myself plugged into the proverbial Matrix three nights out of the week. I had found distance running, yoga, and was busy rediscovering who I was and what I wanted out of life. Also, if we're being fair, there was a really negative feeling projected by some members of my old guild that made something I really loved, working together as a team with people I enjoyed, and turned it into almost a part-time job that chewed through far too much of the free time I had left after losing two hours out of the day to commuting. I was burned out, sick of the game, and wondering why I had spent so much time on it to begin with.

People who tell you that MMOs are addictive have it half-right, in my opinion. The reality, I've come to discover, is that the world of warcraft and games like it give people a way to step away from the numerous struggles that we go through on a daily basis and enter a world where, unlike ours, objectives are simple and clear-cut solutions are always present and able to be found. There is no Kobayashi Maru when you play WoW, no unwinnable scenario. There's always a new strat to try, a better spell rotation to push up your dps, or new gear to acquire between raid weeks to eventually max your performance enough to get through the fight and get those sparkly purples that are the black-tar heroine dragging us back to the game week after week. The real world isn't like this. Sometimes we spend hours at work and end up with absolutely nothing to show for it. Sometimes things just don't turn out the way we want. I can't go wander out into the hills outside of Lincoln with a mining pick and farm ore to fix my financial troubles. If someone is irritating me, I can't just put them on my "ignore" list and then move on with life, happily ignorant of their comings and goings. At no point during my daily grind at the lab has a bright golden flash gone off, accompanied by a triumphant crash of symbols to signify my reaching level 49 graduate student status. So no wonder that, with my marriage finally coughing up its last gasps on life support and my finances drizzling down to almost nothing, that spending as much time on the internet away from all of this trouble was appealing.

However, there comes a time when all good illusions must come to an end. That time was approximately one year ago. I was glad to be rid of the game. It was a relief. I came to the Bat-Cave at the end of the night and, to my astonishment, had no pressing guild requirements clamoring for my time. I didn't need to go grind heroics for somebody else's gear. I didn't have to defend my ex from their expectations that she hold herself to the same performance requirements as the other nine people putting their time into raiding. Instead, I suddenly had time to go run every night. I could work late at the lab. In a word, I was free! It seems comical now to think about it, but it really felt like I had this massive responsibility week in and week out that I couldn't live up to and now, all of a sudden, that weight was gone. It was fantastic!

But for whatever reason, the itch never seemed to leave. You've probably seen a bit of that chronicled during the course of my postings here (thanks for reading K-Money). One week I would be canceling my subscriptions to the WoW related podcasts I listen to. The next I would resubscribe. I floated through a number of alts trying to find the same sort of feeling and being reminded, repeatedly, how much I hate doing the exact same things I had done months and years previous on my main. I would watch other people raiding, and a part of me would really wish I was a part of it. At points I was telling my raiding friends about the strats I had heard about to help them past bosses when I, in fact, had never set foot within the Lich King's fortress. Why, oh why, couldn't I get this game out of my blood?

If you've figured out an answer to this, go ahead and let me know.

The truth is, I just enjoy raiding. It's the teamwork, the ten people putting their head down and pushing through a challenge. It's the poetry of watching your group working together as a unit, moving in concert on the screen, to avoid the boss's attacks. It's the hillarious moments when my Mike's tank, who stood toe to toe with the toughest bosses in Karazhan, would be repeatedly foiled by jumping over wooden chairs. It's John's character "accidentally" letting Pat's toon get killed repeatedly. I missed the frantic button mashing when I would try (and occasionally succeed) to pull the group's collective asses out of the fire when some idiot PUGger stood in the fire and tried to get us all killed. And more-over, there are few things to compare with the feeling of achievement one gets when that last boss we've been struggling with for weeks now finally goes down and the "Great job guys," goes out over the ventrilo channel and we start to divvy up the loot drops.

So Bennedict, in his shadow form, is back to Icecrown Citadel. I'm working with a different group this time since my grad school schedule lends itself to a slightly less serious group of raiders than my old crew. We pressed in through all of the Upper Spire bosses and cleared the Blood Quarter, taking a couple of stabs at Valeria Dreamwalker before calling it a night. I got phat lootz (turns out everybody else has been farming this content for a while now so they don't need drops from Marrowgar, who knew) and, most importantly, I had a great time. I even went to the Vault of Archavon and killed the new boss in there (I just call him Iceavon, since that's pretty much what he is) and the game handed me a couple of nice tier 10.5 pants for both my healing and dps specs as a sort of "welcome back" present.

Over a year ago I stood in line at a Wal-Mart for a midnight release to buy Wrath of the Lich King with the express purpose of working my way to fighting Arthas and getting revenge for Lady Sylvanas. Nobody is more surprised than me to see that there's actually a chance I'll pull it off.

Dark Lady Watch Over You.

The Hajny Wedding

Went to catch up with some very old friends this weekend at one of their weddings in Alma, KS. Amanda and Justin Hajny (Justin was the groom) were more or less cousins from another...brother or sister of my parents (that sounded better in my head when I was planning it out) and I spent quite a lot of time at their farm over weekends trying desperately not to let on just how much of a shameless city slicker book nerd I was. I hadn't seen either of them in maybe 12 years, which boggles my mind, but not nearly as much as it boggles my mind that little Justin, who in my mind is a scrawny little kid, somehow shot up to be my brother's height in the time since I saw him. During the weekend, in the spirit of the Friar's club, I recorded this mental list.

Signs you're at a country wedding:
1) Your black lab in a pink dress is the ring bearer (this was crazy cute.)
2) The ceremony is drowned out first by men on Harleys cruising past and revving their engines and then finally by a train going through town just as they start the benediction.
3) Guests show up to the reception with their own beer coolers (I was guilty of this.)
4) During the montage of the couple's photos, the pictures of the groom have Hank Jr's "A Country Boy Can Survive" playing underneath.
5) Ruffles potato chips included with the catering.
6) Guest outfits ranging from suits to sleeveless t-shirts and gym shorts.

Congratulations to Justin and his lovely bride Lesa. Looking forward to hanging out and tailgating later this year in Manhattan, hopefully with a slightly better team to watch. Glad I could come and "Shake My Hajny" at your wedding.

The Hall of Former Partners

Ladies, Gentlemen, and whatever passes for in-between! Step right up! Step ahead if you dare, and enter a world of tragedy. Step inside my tent and hear tales of woe! Are you courageous enough? Do you have the intestinal fortitude? Only one way to find out, friends, and that is to step through my door and enter my world.

Just five dollars, and you’ll never have to doubt your courage again.

Why, I see looks of incredulity in the crowd. I see non-believers. Perhaps you believe you’ve already experienced true terror. Do you, perhaps, think that in this modern world of Times Square Bombers and Icelandic Volcanoes and Justin Bieber that you’ve seen all that is truly horrifying and tragic in today’s world? Well a man can never be sure unless he looks, can he? If you are truly as courageous as you claim, then you’ve nothing to fear from my little show. Feel free to step inside and prove me wrong. Laugh at the pain. Scoff at the sorrow. Do what you feel you must to undermine the story, but I am here to tell you, folks, not a person has entered this doorframe that hasn’t left it shaken to his core, indeed, to the depths of his very soul! So you there, in the sideways visor, reach into daddy’s trust fund money and you, young lady, tell your man to quit staring at the thong underwear sticking out of the back of your jeans and start pulling out an Abe Lincoln for the nice midget at the door. Only five dollars, ladies and gentlemen, buys you an evening’s entertainment. Never before has money purchased such terror, and it never shall again, or at least not until people realize how much they paid to watch the Paranoia Main Event. You’ll not see a better deal for your money. It’s a steal at twice the price, and I assure you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you can…not..miss…this…show.

What’s it called you say? I’m glad you asked, as it brings us to the topic of our little presentation.

I call it, “The Hall of AWOL’s Partners.”

***

Yes, there we are, step lively and come inside. Crowd in, gather ‘round. Don’t mind the smell, I’m certain it’s just one of the more dedicated ICW fans who, as is typical, forgot to shower this morning. Now, who amongst you is ready for the entertainment to begin? Very well, very well, then feast your eyes, ladies and germs, upon the first exhibit.

Not impressed? Understandable, as this was easily the most forgettable of AWOL’s numerous partners, a man who ran around in a superhero costume calling himself “The Thunderbolt.” Now, to be fair, AWOL was little more than an angry fellow with about as much character depth as a Mojave puddle at the time himself, but at least he wasn’t a blatant Gregory Helms rip-off, and to be honest the two were paired together more as a result of both being introduced into the EWF at the same time than any form of compatibility between the two. But still, this was still AWOL’s first introduction to the wide world of wrestling partnership, and the two did share some measure of mutual success during their time together.

What’s that you say? Why haven’t you ever heard of the Thunderbolt? Well simple, friend, simple, the answer lies just around the corner here in the next display. You see, things didn’t end will with AWOL and T-Bolt as it happens. To be specific, AWOL eventually threw him off a rooftop, ending the man’s career permanently. The reasons why are still somewhat open to debate. Maybe the two started feeling that they weren’t compatible. Maybe the big man decided that Thunderbolt was holding him back. Maybe, even, as would happen in the future, Thunderbolt found himself not able to condone the sort of depraved, violent actions that AWOL was heading towards to defeat whatever the resident heel stable at the time were demanding. Who can say? The end result was the same, AWOL lost a partner, and Thunderbolt lost a career. As you can see from the shattered, broken man behind the glass, he also lost the ability to walk, or indeed eat solid food.

It is a pattern that would be seen again.

***

Here in this bright red room you can see the chronicled history of what was, at one point, AWOL’s greatest creation. It was a spectacle, an orgy of violence brought forth and given glorious life in the dingy, filthy backrooms of the former ULW operating facilities. It was everything that the Big Crazy Bastard could possibly have hoped for, wrapped up in one big, blood spattered piece of wrapping paper and tied off with an intestinal bow on the top. This, ladies and germs, was the Holy War.

Now, there have of course been claims that the Holy War was Chapel’s idea. After all, he was one half of the original team, the Holy part of the name, if you will. More likely than not the two men are quibbling over fine points and they both, in truth, played their part in building it, but the origins are not important. What really matters, good patrons, are the results. And my god, they were fantastic.

Here you can see a portrait of the group’s arch rival, Shaun Hall, tied to a stake in the back and doused with gasoline, moments before AWOL could have immolated him and left an indelible mark on the company as a whole (as well as likely going away to prison for murder, but you know, details.) Over there is the blood-stained door from the ambulance Shaun Hall used to smash in AWOL’s skull and put him on the shelf for several weeks. And this, my friends, this is a true treasure, the jar of acid AWOL and Chapel threatened to pour on the face of Hall’s wife if they didn’t comply with his demands.

Ok, I’ll admit, it doesn’t sound like anything people would particularly want to be a part of, but we’re not talking about people are we. We’re talking about AWOL and, as should be obvious, no human being could ever put himself through what the man has suffered at the hands of this industry. This is a machine, a device constructed for the singular purpose of making war by the most efficient government agency in the world at performing that sort of task, the United States Marine Corps. This was why the Holy War was so great, because there was only truly one individual who could channel the utter disregard for human life and possessed the true affinity for violence to make it into the pinnacle of bloody success that it became, ultimately serving as the vehicle that would bring the big man his first World Title. I haven’t even mentioned yet that, after jumping companies, a hardcore legend whose name is still only whispered by some and continues to echo through the nightmare corridors of others, Daemon Frost, joined the ranks of the Holy War and spurred them on to even more amazing displays of gore.

However, as you’ll soon realize, all good things for AWOL must end. Frost left to go feud with Johnny Kingdom before eventually dropping off the face of the earth entirely and, in the end, Chapel left the War and joined the enemy, beginning a bitter rivalry between the two that only cools when one or both are gone from the ULW/IWC. The achievements that the Holy War accomplished could never compare to the violence and destruction brought about in its death throes. Neither man walked away from these final, bitter confrontations unchanged, and how could they? This was more than just a simple tag-team pairing, this was a partnership. AWOL and Chapel were blood brothers, and the loss of that connection devastated him to his core. Some may argue that this, more than anything else, created the destructive patterns that we still see in him today.

***

Off on the left we can see the small exhibit discussing AWOL’s time partnering with Mayhem, but frankly all of us have been through rebound relationships before, we know what it’s like to basically end up with a clone of the person who hurt you in the first place but who, in truth, isn’t even that good of a match, so we’ll just skip right by that exhibit and try to pretend that it never happened (that’s more or less what AWOL does, after all.)

Instead, let’s talk for a moment about the Empire. Now I know you’re all fans of this particular institution, and deservedly so. At the time, it represented easily the best assemblage of talent the company had ever seen. Johnny Kingdom, the mastermind who had held the World Title basically uncontested for what felt like years. Hurse was…well Hurse was pretty much an inferior replica of Kingdom, but to be honest that still put him well beyond the point of being anything the company could contend with. And of course there was the big guy, AWOL, the group’s enforcer whose impact, since you’re here, needs no explanation. There was also Jackson Adams, but, well, I guess not everybody in the group could be perfect.

Just as before, AWOL found himself in the most powerful group in his company. At one point they possessed the two most important titles in the company, the Tag Team and World Title belts. They rolled through any competition arrayed before them. They were literally unstoppable. At one point AWOL and Kingdom declared themselves the greatest tag team the company had ever seen, literally daring anyone in the ULW to knock them off and prove them wrong and ultimately never losing the titles. It seemed as if the only people who could beat the Empire were themselves.

So, of course, they did.

It started with Hurse coming out of a Weapons Lair with Kingdom’s world title through a lucky bounce. Kingdom, as would eventually be recognized to be his pattern, overreacted and took the belt back, resulting in a schism that would ultimately end in Hurse betraying the group and walking away. Then AWOL won the Rumble Bash, leading to yet more feelings of threat from Kingdom and, ultimately, the two colliding at Paranoia. AWOL lost the one true peer he thought he had met during his career and a wedge that, in all likelihood, played a role in their ultimate divorce was driven between the big man and his wife, Vivian. Johnny Kingdom lost his title, his air of invincibility, and very nearly his career. And the Empire was well and truly dead.

What’s that you say?

The Empire came back? Oh, poor deluded child. Whatever you think you’ve heard, the Empire has never and will never return from that Paranoia. Sure, maybe the foursome came back together and yes, maybe the entrance music was the same, but this was not the unstoppable force that crushed the ULW beneath its heel. This was an carbon copy, a paltry imitation made up of individuals desperately trying to band together for mutual self-preservation while ultimately being unwilling to look past their own egos to make it work. No wonder it melted down within weeks, with the always forgettable Adams leading the demolition but followed shortly thereafter by Hurse jumping ship to play baby-daddy, and Kingdom vanishing into the winds, presumably too disgusted with the main event scene in the IWC to continue bothering with it.

Which leaves us AWOL, alone, as per usual.

I’m sorry? My, you’re an annoyingly persistent little child aren’t you? Yes, as a matter of fact it is AWOL’s fault that Simon Cagero is now an enemy rather than a friend. But since you have to ask why, I’m afraid you seem to have missed the point of this long-winded recounting of AWOL’s troubled past. What does all of this history tell us? Why, simply that every single partner AWOL has ever had during his entire wrestling career has eventually either proven too mediocre to last or betrayed him. Every…single….one. And do you notice any other patterns? Perhaps the fact that every one of those partnerships has similarly ended in violence? Maybe you could say that AWOL turned on Cagero and his Motherfuckers, but in truth, I think we can all agree that he was really just leading a preventative strike. Really, Cagero and Magnificent should have seen it coming the minute some brain trust cooked up the name “Motherfuckin’ Empire,” since clearly the best thing to do in any given situation is take an already unstable sociopath, find the one memory in his life that he was even sort of proud of, and shit all over it.

And, since you bring it up, on the other side of the upcoming greatest pay-per-view of the year (which, since the main event is literally so bad they had to double up the match bookings to try and make it even palatable to the average fan, says quite a bit about the direction this company is heading, we have Psycho, duly appointed representative of the “Gosh We Sure Hate AWOL” stable. If you wanted any other indication of why AWOL now, officially, has no interest in ever having a tag team partner again, just look at this group that literally had its genesis in former AWOL protégées that turned on him when he decided that no, in fact, this time around he would rather not bog himself down with inferior talent. Which, of course, led them to do the rational thing and start pummeling him and ultimately drive him around the bend permanently.

Which, of course, leads us to the present day and the end of our tour. Psycho finally gets to have his chance to be humiliated in front of the entire world by AWOL. What was left of the Empire, Motherfuckin or otherwise, is dead and buried thanks to the efforts of the biggest, craziest bastard in this industry, and Simon Cagero has his opportunity to be reminded, yet again, why it is unwise to step in front of a 300 lb. schizophrenic freight train when it has its attention fixated on a particular objective. And AWOL? AWOL has finally learned his lesson. There is no one in this business who can be trusted, no one who is deserving of respect or loyalty. Everyone is looking out for their own interests. The minute you think you can trust someone to watch your back, the knife goes in. The only people who you can truly know won’t betray you are the insipid entourage hangers-on who seem to cluster around the few talented people in this stable and hang off of them like leeches, draining them dry. No one will help you, so you have to help yourself, and the best way to do that is banish these ghosts of the past once and for all and seize the ultimate incentive for himself.

And this? This is the last exhibit of the Hall of AWOL’s partners, the last one that will ever be needed. However, we apologize, since there isn’t much to see right now besides a blank stage and a banner that reads “Paranoia Ultimate Incentive Match.” But we assure you, check back in two weeks, loyal patrons, and there will be no lack of materials for you to ooh and aaagh over. You see this is the last act of the story, the crescendo and climax to a long string of failures and disappointments, years of frustration loaded into the chamber and ready to explode all over the final failures themselves, Psycho and Simon Cagero. It will be brutal. It will be glorious.

It will be, in a word, unforgettable.