Showing posts with label science experiment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label science experiment. Show all posts

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Ron Evans: My Hero



I spent my five-year tenure as a graduate student studying the yeast version of the human enzyme called AMPK. The most widely prescribed medications used to treat patients with Type II Diabetes activate AMPK. Ostensibly, the goal of my research and that of others investigating this same enzyme has been to better understand the biochemical processes whereby these medications are therapeutic for Type II Diabetics.

Certainly, however, I am not alone in having harbored ulterior motives in making AMPK the center of my (professional) existence—motives which I have been made ashamed to admit by the liberally/ conservatively biased media and political elite which maintain that no gain can come in the absence of pain. In truth, I outwardly maintained the guise of searching for the cure for diabetes, while I toiled under cover of night on a quest for the holy grail of translational biomedical research: an instant fitness drug. Apparently, Ron Evans shared this secret passion.

There have been clear indications for some time that the compound designated AICAR directly activates AMPK, my favorite enzyme, but only since the recent publication in the journal Cell authored by the venerable Ron Evans and colleagues at San Diego’s Salk Institute has become clear that this AICAR-mediated AMPK activation represents the most significant biomedical breakthrough of our (all?) time.



Mice medicated with AICAR for one month performed as well in fitness tests as their siblings did that had been sweatin’ to the oldies on mice treadmills during that same month. The AICAR-treated mice had lost weight and were legitimately healthier than they were before the study began. Unlike many other diet medications which act by suppressing appetite or speeding up body metabolism, AICAR actually tricks cells into thinking they have exercised—that they have been burning energy (ie calories!) and ought to continue doing the same. In short, AICAR is exercise in a pill, and Ron Evans and friends have proven it.

It did not take long for critics of this miracle drug to cry foul—accusing anyone who would consider taking such a medication of supreme laziness. Skeptics decry would-be AICAR consumers as cheaters. I would like to provide an opposing viewpoint.

For people too lazy to eat their vegetables (or pre-menopausal women too lazy to drink their milk), we provide dietary vitamin and mineral supplements—in the form of a pill.

For people too lazy to get the recommended eight hours of sleep a night, we provide liquid energy—in the olden days, it was in the form of a cup o’ joe or a diet coke; in these newfangled modern times we offer Starbucks Skinny Venti Triple CafĂ© Mochas (I perk up at just the mention!).

For people too lazy to learn their ABC’s and 123’s on their own, we provide pre-fabricated encapsulated learning experiences—in the form of a formal public education.

For people too lazy to manually control their labored breathing or exercised-induced respiratory challenges, we provide asthma medications—in the forms of aerosols and pills.

You may not know this about me, but I am just such a person who has at times been too lazy to eat an adequate supply of vegetables, too lazy to get all the sleep I need, too lazy to be a self-taught man, and too lazy to manage my asthmatic tendencies, and I have benefited from each of the above mentioned supplemental nutritional/ alertness/ educational/ respiratory enhancements.

Listen. I am no professional athlete, nor do I continue to aspire to be one. Unless I receive a (practically) unexpected last-minute call from the US Gymnastics Team (I’m a little past my prime), I am unlikely to ever participate in any activity which will preclude me from consuming fitness-enhancing chemicals. I will never engage in any function which will demand effort-derived wellness.

Exercise supplements (nay, replacements!) promise only to improve the quality of my life. When AICAR becomes available to the general public, I just might be first in line for this silver bullet. Think of all the time I will then have that was formerly (ha!) spent exercising-- that will then be freed up for other productive activities that will have a more substantial benefit for all mankind, chiefly further scientific research (any special requests for my next topic of investigation?) and blogging.

Call me a cheater if you will. But if you do, you must also call Christopher Columbus a cheater for using a ship to reach America, Helen Keller a cheater for using her hands to “hear” people speak, and George Bush a cheater for using hanging chads to reach the high office of the Presidency of the United States.

God Bless America!


* Ron Evans image accessed from the Salk Institute website

Friday, July 25, 2008

Oh, Canada!


I find myself this week in a strange and wonderful foreign land-- our mighty neighbor to the north: Canada. I am at the semi-(bi-?) annual North American edition of the yeast genetics and molecular biology meeting (the event that, two years ago, provided some wonderfully bloggable moments: click here or here or here and certainly here for some oldies but goodies).

Each day is packed with 20-30 speakers, and the evenings are filled with giant poster sessions (think: science fair for grown-ups) where the nations leading (and following) yeast research scientists gather to share ideas, debate hot button issues in yeast genetics and biochemistry (like this one), and conspire to collaborate on what they hope will be the next yeast-world-shaking fungal breakthrough. The scientists also get together at the much-anticipated conference-ending dance (which occurs tomorrow night). It is a week-long love-affair between man and Saccharomyces cerevisiae, a veritable cornucopia of yeastiality.

A highlight of my experience so far was being one of the first 20 participants to complete a yeast-themed crossword puzzle to win a baseball cap with the superhero budding yeast SuperBud, the microbial caped crusader. An eight letter word for "yeast food?" beginning beginning with V, ending with E? * A five-letter word for "Yeast cell form named after a comic strip character", second letter C? ** Here's a clever one: A ten-letter word for "GO:0005813"? *** My utmost thanks to the fine folks at the Saccharomyces Genome Database for the lovely hat. Without reservation, I recommend their site for all your yeast genetic informational needs.

Stay tuned for additional yeast meeting updates.







* VEGEMITE











** SCHMOO










*** CENTROSOME

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

In the strain 2000...

I had no idea that fame and glory were on the line.

As you have almost certainly gathered from previous entries, I work in a yeast genetics lab. It’s very fascinating; I’m sure you can imagine. One of the things we do on a routine basis is generate new mutant yeast strains… strains with mutations in genes we hope to study and understand (the former is easy, the latter rarely occurs).

As new strains are created, they are given systematic names: MAYxxx, where the prefix MAY is constant and the xxx represents the strain number, increasing by one with each new strain. Permanent stocks of the yeast strains are stored at -80°C until they are needed for future analysis, and the pertinent information is entered into a central lab database. When I joined the lab in 2004, the group was up to about MAY800.

In the past few weeks, I had noticed that we were approaching MAY1000. It turns out, in fact, that Daksha happened to be the one to create MAY1000. Could’ve been any of us: me, Rhonda, Annie… even Pavol. But, fate smiled on Daksha. Oh, I thought, how nice: the thousandth strain of the lab. It was a nice yeast name, a nice round number, but that was all. Not thinking much of it, I carried on with my western blot.

A few days later, at a lab lunch, my advisor revealed an “official” certificate he had manufactured with a gift card to Panera Bread. He announced, “We have reached an important milestone in the lab: our thousandth strain. And, Daksha, bless her heart, is the genetic engineer responsible for MAY1000. I now present her with this certificate acknowledging her achievement and this gift card to Panera Bread in recognition of what she has done for the lab.”

I was floored. I had no idea that there was official recognition or a prize up for grabs. Had I known, I would have toiled at the bench day and night, generating new mutant strains like gangbusters.

Outwardly, I was calm, serene, even congratulatory. But on the inside I was fuming, insanely jealous. It was at this moment that I committed never to be scooped like this again. I committed in my heart that I would be the Frankenstein to MAY2000. I would be the object of lab-wide adulation. I would have the points.

Here’s the catch. The lab has been in operation for over a decade and a half. I’ve been in the lab for about three years, and, if all goes as planned, I will be gone in less than a year. At the present rate of strain creation, MAY2000 will be created and maintained at -80°C in suspended animation by the year 2015. Give or take. By that time, I (and likely the other current lab members) will have moved on to better (or at least different) places, and a whole new complement of minions will be about my advisor’s business.

Thus, I hatched a plan and executed it today. In a recent burst of baby strain making, I had four new yeasts to add to the collection, which were named (in order): MAY1009, MAY1010, MAY2000, and MAY1011. Did you catch it? Read the list again, slowly. That’s right; now you see it. I have engaged in preemptive straining. I don’t anticipate this subtle tactic to be detected any time in the near future. However, in a dozen or so years, as the lab nears the creation of its 2000th strain, my advisor will almost certainly make a startling discovery: I’d already made the 2000th strain. Right after I made the 1010th. He’ll find MAY2000 in the database and will finally be forced to give me the respect I deserve (or at least crave).

I can’t wait. I will be in my late thirties when I eventually get the call. He will tell me that he is near retirement and has hit a landmark event that he couldn’t have reached (or at least didn’t reach) without my contribution: the 2000th strain. He’ll invite me to the lab lunch. I’ll graciously accept the offer (I’ll request that we eat at Spice Island Tea House). Over pad thai, he’ll give the speech about my accomplishment, this important milestone. He’ll reach across the table, shake my hand, and present to me the certificate and gift card. I will give some small speech, overcome with surprise and humility, just as Daksha was after she’d made MAY1000. I might also be heard uttering to the then current crew of jealous lab underlings: “Scoreboard!”

In the game of life, how many points is the 2000th strain? I’d say at least ten, since that is how many years this sort of accomplishment typically takes. I just took the accelerated course.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

"I will never forget the tips you gave me today."

These were the words of Daksha, a technician in our lab, spoken with grave seriousness, thanking me for advising her to do the following when transferring proteins from a polyacrylamide gel to a nitrocellulose membrane:

1. Always cut the bottom right corner of the gel before removing it from its glass plate. Accordingly, cut the bottom right corner of the membrane to which you will be transferring the contents of the gel. In this way, you will be able to maintain the proper orientation of the membrane with respect to the gel and its contents.
2. Always place the gel onto the membrane in the same manner and orientation each time you transfer. In this way, you will always know which way is up and left on your membrane.

I told Daksha, "If you follow my ways, you will have much success in protein detection."

It seems that she has taken my words to heart.

If I can impact one person, just one, by sharing words of wisdom in biochemical technique, this whole science gig will have been worth it.


Originally Posted: Tuesday, May 17, 2007
(Then) Curent Mood: encouraged
http://blog.myspace.com/yajeev

Keeping us safe

As my folks were preparing for a recent flight to Charlotte, they walked through the airport metal detector. My parents noticed on the x-ray screen that they had accidentally left a large pair of scissors in their carry-on bag. My dad volunteered to remove the scissors and leave them behind, but the airport security officer assured them that the scissors were within acceptable travel code-- the blades were less than six inches long. This was troubling to my dad, who almost refused to get on the plane, knowing that a bad guy could get on the plane with scissors, as long as the blades were less than six inches long!

Not long after this, my mother-in-law flew from Indianapolis to Orlando for Thanksgiving, bringing with her Thanksgiving dinner. As she walked through the metal detector, the security officer stopped her and searched her carry-on luggage. The turkey and mashed-potatoes passed inspection, but the green bean casserole, weapon of choice for would-be ne'er-do-well's (like my mother-in-law) was quickly confiscated (and probably devoured).

As an experiment, the next time I fly, I'm going to prepare and carry-on a scissors casserole. The blades will be less than six inches long, and I will top it off with those delicious dry onion ring crisps.


Originally Posted: Tuesday, January 9, 2007
(Then) Curent Mood: curious
http://blog.myspace.com/yajeev