Mechanistic studies may be defined as ‘an experiment, using an intervention in healthy subjects or patients, to better understand human biology and/or disease’. Such studies provide useful physiological insights into clinical conditions in humans and expand our knowledge of physiology in health and disease. Well-planned mechanistic studies are therefore a vital step in progressing drug discovery in humans. It is important in such studies that the rights and safety of research participants are preserved, while at the same time not allowing (...) lengthy and complex approval procedures to stifle and potentially prohibit this type of research. (shrink)

Anthropology's approach to answering the question of the role of suffering in our lives is limited to empirical data and at best describes an individual's capability to endure it and make sense of it. Levinas was at odds to find meaning in suffering once it had exceeded certain proportions. Various cultures demonstrate greater and lesser capacities for integrating corporate suffering when it has crossed a significant threshold. What is the role of ritual and productive suffering in revealing meaning in suffering? (...) Some examples are drawn from the experiences of pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago de Compostella. Drawing from Dr. Eleonore Stump's exploration of second-person narratives and relationships, a Christian philosophical-theological response is provided. (shrink)

For more than four decades, many Anglo-American philosophers have been held in thrall by a captivating metaphor, Quine's holistic image of the man-made fabric (or web) of knowledge and belief within which no statement is absolutely immune to revision. And many have been led to think that the following three distinctions are indefensible: (i) that between sentences and the propositions that they express; (ii) that between necessary and contingent propositions; and (iii) that between a priori and empirical knowledge.

The task of finding art in the world is presented as a tale of three dynamic forces that have shaped art in recent times. The first is expansion of the domain of art. This is reflected in linguistic change. The term "art" has grown enormously in sense and extension. The second force is the public's subjective response to art writ large. Our commercial culture compels reaction. The third force is the art world's active promotion of the expansion of art's domain (...) and the contextualization of the public's subjective response to it. The aspiration of the paper is to bring some clarity to how we presently identify art, respond to it, understand it, and institutionalize it. The tale concludes with discussion of the future of art in the world today. (shrink)

Two old problems in probability theory involving the concept of randomness are considered. Data obtained with one of them--Bertrand's chord problem--demonstrate the equivocality of this term in the absence of a definition or explication of assumptions underlying its use. They also support two propositions about probabilistic thinking: (1) upon obtaining an answer to a question of probability, people tend to see it as the answer, overlooking tacit assumptions on which it may be based, and tend not to consider the possibility (...) of other assumptions from which different answers would follow; (2) perceptual balance--moderate uniformity of density of distribution--is a determinant of the degree to which a two-dimensional pattern is perceived as random. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Peter McGehee and the Erotics of Gay Self-RepresentationRaymond-Jean Frontain (bio)Novelist Peter McGehee was a beautiful man who—at the height of what Brad Gooch terms “the Golden Age of Promiscuity”—knew he was a beautiful man.1 Coming of age in the early 1970s when American gay men consciously set about refashioning their image, Peter’s dress was always striking, whether he was playing the slut or the dandy. Members of his close (...) circle of friends, dubbed “the Quinlan Family,” regularly twitted him for preening in the mirror, and one close friend reports that Peter could not pass a reflective surface without stopping to examine his image.2 Peter’s narcissism was further empowered by his talent as a photographer. He began taking pictures while in high school when his mother, an English teacher who advised both the school newspaper and yearbook, recruited him to serve as the staff photographer for both publications. And he continued taking photos—in particular, making self-portraits—until at least his early thirties (see Illustration 1).3 Click for larger view View full resolution1.Self-portrait by Peter McGehee. The hairstyle is identical to the one in the portrait that appears on the cover of the Stubblejumper Press edition of Beyond Happiness, suggesting that this photo was taken around 1985 when Peter was twenty-nine or thirty years old. Courtesy of the Estate of Peter McGehee.[End Page 115] Click for larger view View full resolution2.Self-portrait by Peter McGehee in mascara and woman’s top, circa 1981. Courtesy of Fiji Robinson.It should not come as a surprise that McGehee’s life and career are characterized by an ongoing and extraordinarily rich experimentation with modes of self-presentation. Peter was adept at making wacky collages that employ photographs and images culled from newspapers or magazines to serve as invitations, announcements to friends, and handbills for his performance activities. Under carefully controlled circumstances, Peter and his male friends donned female drag with Peter fashioning for himself a persona, “Princess Marie,” and signing himself as the same in letters to friends written in the royal first-person plural (see Illustration 2). When performing as the only male with two female partners in the Quinlan Sisters, a musical revue that he founded and for which he wrote the songs, he was generally identified in the program as “Marie Quinlan, the Sister with the Difference” (see Illustration 3).Peter experimented with personae even in his journals, where one might expect to find a less theatricalized self. Beginning in 1986, however, numerous entries are composed as letters that begin “Dear Winsome” (a word defined by the American Heritage College Dictionary as “charming, often in a childlike or naive way”—a manner that Peter liked to adopt), “Dear Winnie” (which is most likely a familiarization of the former), “Dear Timmy” (a name synonymous with naive wholesomeness for American baby boomers who were raised watching the television drama Lassie on Sunday evenings), and the matronly and delightfully dowdy “Dear Mrs. Hackensack.”4 Like Joe Orton, McGehee apparently even wrote letters to the local newspaper under a matronly female pseudonym in which he commented wryly on public matters that concerned him.5 [End Page 116] Click for larger view View full resolution3.Publicity photograph of Peter with Wendy Coad and Fiji Robinson as the Quinlan Sisters, circa 1982. Courtesy of Fiji Robinson.But clearly it was his fiction that offered McGehee the most satisfying opportunity for creative self-fashioning. It is the first rule of the creative writing class that a writer must write from, and of, what he knows if his writing is to have authority. But in his blurring of the line between fiction and autobiography Peter followed the lead established by Christopher Isherwood in The Berlin Stories (1935–39) and, more importantly, Christopher and His Kind (1976)—and pursued by Peter’s senior contemporaries Edmund White and Felice Picano—in which the autobiographer writes of himself in the third person in order to study himself with an almost brutal detachment, or in which the fictional protagonist is a barely disguised version of the writer’s self to the point of... (shrink)