Category: Blog

Review: The Air-O-Swiss 7135 Humidifier

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Let’s get this decade of my life started off right. Let me tell you about my high-tech humidifier.

AoS7135The unit in question is the Air-O-Swiss 7135. It’s an ultrasonic model with a replaceable demineralization cartridge impregnated with silver ions to impede bacterial growth. It has programmable controls and a built-in humidistat, so you can set it to either run for a given duration, or to turn itself on and off to maintain a desired percent humidity. It also has an optional preheater so that the mist doesn’t lower the ambient temperature of the room.

I’ve been loving it. Once the weather here changed and I had to turn on the heat in my house I was waking up with sore throats, aching sinuses, nostrils that felt like they’d been packed with sand while I slept. I got nosebleeds, an infection, lost my voice. Things got better when I went out and bought a hot mist (boiling) humidifier as a stopgap measure, but that raised the humidity in my room so high that it got musty, and on very cold nights water would condense on the windows and exterior walls. With the Air-O-Swiss, though, I can watch the hygrometer display and see it adjusting its output to maintain the humidity where I want it. It oscillates, but my experience is that it manages to keep things stable plus or minus around three percent. Since it’s cool/warm mist, I can set it up near where I sleep and have the occasional lovely and ominous curl of mist roll silently over the bed and disappear in front of me like a ghost. I’m sleeping better, and waking up better, than I have in a long time.

transducer plateUltrasonic humidifiers work by using a transducer to physically separate water molecules into a mist. This makes it quieter than models that boil water, or evaporative humidifiers that use a fan to blow air through a wick. The downside is that since the mist is being mechanically created rather than produced through a chemical process like evaporation or boiling, the mechanism is indiscriminate about what it aerosolizes. The transducer is happy to vibrate minerals, microbes, whatever happens to be in the water into the air for me to breathe. There are varieties of pneumonitis that are actually known as humidifier lung. As I’m on immunosuppressive drugs, that makes keeping the thing clean of particular importance. Fortunately, this model makes it easy. It comes with a solvent and has an indicator light for monthly cleanings, but I do it more often than that. About every three days, actually, as recommended by the Mayo clinic. The mouth of the tank is wide enough to allow quick and easy water changes, and the base mostly easily-scrubbable flat surfaces. It even comes with a little brush for getting scale, which can harbor bacteria, off the transducer plate. So far, though, the filtration and demineralization features are good enough that in a week of operation I haven’t noticed any of the white dust that’s typical of ultrasonic humidifiers. Assuming I don’t ironically die of Legionnaires’ disease in the next couple of months, I’m very pleased with everything about the device.

The bad news: it costs $180. That’s on the very pricey side for a humidifier, and if that matters you could probably buy a less expensive one, a hygrometer, and a timer switch from a hardware store for less than the Air-O-Swiss. But if the all-in-one convenience is valuable to you, or you’re having a birthday and willing to ask for the kind of thing that you want but would never buy for yourself, then the Air-O-Swiss is great.

I turned 30 two days ago…

and still no Sandmen to take me to the Carrousel. Looks like I’m safe.

Introducing Senhor Testiculo, Your Friendly Neighborhood Megascrotum

A Brazilian testicular cancer awareness group has introduced its new mascot Senhor Testiculo, or “Mr. Balls.”

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Give Uncle Scrotor a hug” made real. Happy Friday, everyone.

Tabclosing: A Miscellany

I suppose the tabclosing posts are often a miscellany, but the last couple have been kind of thematic. This one isn’t.

I Got My Voice Back

It went exactly like this.

Eric and I were going to be very happy together, but then the sun went down and I realized my deadlines had not waited for me, so I crumpled to the ground and reverted to my natural form as a writer in Iowa with way less hair.

 

Meet Your Friend, Larynx

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This is larynx! Larynx lives in your throat and does lots of important stuff, like keeping things that aren’t air from getting in your lungs, and helping you cough when something wrong does get in there. Larynx has two shiny white strips–see them?–that close off the top of the trachea, the tube that leads to the lungs! Those strips are called the vocal chords, because they also help you speak! When the vocal chords stretch tight and almost closed, they let you vibrate air into tones that you can shape with your mouth into words! Try it now; say, “thank you” to larynx, because without larynx you wouldn’t be able to say “thank you” at all!

FUN FACTS: Larynx gets its name from the Greek word for “throat!”

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OH NO! What happened to larynx?

It’s gotten sick! Larynx has acute laryngitis. That means that larynx has gotten so swollen that it can’t pull tight and vibrate the air anymore! See how the shiny white vocal chords have turned red and everything has gotten all puffy? Poor larynx! Acute laryngitis can be caused by many things, but it usually happens when you have a cold. If you get acute laryngitis, the best thing for it is to let your larynx rest! Just don’t talk until it goes away!

FUN FACTS: You can also get acute laryngitis by using your voice too much, like by cheering at a ballgame!

DID YOU KNOW? That the author of this website has had acute laryngitis for three days now? It’s true! He has barely spoken to anyone! He’s just been staying at home eating leftover Halloween candy and playing Metroid! These are also very good things to do if you get acute laryngitis!

Still Sick, Have A Neat Plane

But I’ve progressed from being unable to breathe to being unable to speak. That’s improvement, I guess. Still, I’m cocooning myself in my house until I feel better. In the meantime, though, here’s the neatest thing I’ve seen on the internet in the past day: as revealed in Aviation Week, the Skunk Works group at Lockheed Martin have designed a successor to the amazing, discontinued supersonic spy plane, the SR71. It is being called the SR72, and it’s gorgeous. Here’s a render.

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Not Feeling Well, So No Thermo Thursday

I have a cold, and so plan to spend this Halloween wrapped in blankets in the dark rather than at my desk doing physics. I might do a makeup day this weekend if I’m feeling up to it. Until then, to make it up to you, here’s Joel Micah Harris’s drawing of Supermanatee.

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Tabclosing: Historical Racism, Modern Racism, Poverty, Mindgames, and Murderers

Today’s links are a heavy bunch.

  • I Married A Jew – A 1939 article in The Atlantic in which Gertrude, a Christian women of German descent, writes at length about her “mixed race” marriage to a Jew. She’s not just using race as a metaphor; she, her husband, and their respective families view their union as a risky crossing of racial lines. While professing love for her husband, she explains how if the Jews ever really want to be accepted they need to sensibly abandon any cultural distinctions and assimilate. My friend Carmen aptly compares it to a Modern Love column, calling it “affable apologetics for an odious position, but told in a way that implies balance/consideration because of the relationship (plus ‘my Jewish husband’ in the way someone says ‘my black friend.’)” Her tone of condescending moderation leads to a surreal, inverse-Godwin’s Law moment when she gets around to sharing her views on Hitler:

But it is hard for Ben to take the long view. He looks upon Hitler as something malignantly unique, and it is no use trying to tell him that a hundred years hence the world will no more call Hitler a swine for expelling the Jews than it does Edward I of England, who did the same thing in the thirteenth century—an expulsion that remained in strict effect until the time of Cromwell, because a hundred years hence another country will be having its Jewish problem, unless…

  • ‘I Wish I Were Black’ And Other Tales of Privilege – Angela Onwauchi-Willing writing in The Chronicle of Higher Education about the growing phenomenon of white students who view being a racial minority as nothing but an unfair advantage for scholarships and admissions. This isn’t quite the same pathology of racism as the previous link. Whereas Gertrude above sees racism as inherently benign, these students presumably do view racism negatively. Certainly they are willing to inveigh against perceived racial discrimination against themselves. But they see racism as a fixed thing; both in the sense of “racism is when black people have to stand at the back of the bus,” and in the sense of “racism is not a problem anymore.” As the article points out, this blindness to one’s own privilege is, itself, a kind of privilege.
  • The Logic Of Stupid Poor People – And, of course, privilege blinds people to issues of class just as much as issues of race. Here Tressie McMillan Cottom explodes the notion that poor people who use their money to buy status symbols do so because they are vain or stupid. Rather, they are making the rational choice to assume the trappings of wealth in an attempt to be taken seriously by people who actually have it.
  • Why Zimbardo’s Prison Experiment Isn’t In My Textbook – And then we have the famous Stanford prison study, which shows that if you create a system where one group has power over another group, they will naturally turn into monsters and toadies respectively. Except, it doesn’t. Dr. Susan Krauss Whitbourne explains how the experiment was methodologically flawed in a way that trivially undermines its so-called conclusions.
  • I Met A Convicted Serial Killer, And He Made Me Feel More Loved Than Anyone Else In My Life – Which is not to say that monsters don’t exists. Here we have former Marine sniper Jay Roberts reviewing his harrowing encounter with a man he would, years later, discover was serial killer Randy Kraft. In retrospect he realizes that the techniques Kraft used on him were not dissimilar to those he was taught to use as a sniper in identifying and isolating targets. He is, decades later, still emotionally shaken by how effectively a psychopath was able to gain his complete trust. I also find this story interesting because I’d never heard of Randy Kraft before. I’ve heard of and would recognize by name maybe a dozen other American serial killers who killed fewer people, but they all preyed on women or children. It’s hard not to suspect the reason Randy Kraft doesn’t get talked about as much as, say, Ted Bundy is that his story doesn’t serve an easy narrative of the strong preying on the weak nor the heteronormativity of the armed forces.

Lou Reed, 1942-2013

I grew up with parents who were always playing The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Jethro Tull, but I found The Velvet Underground on my own. I was in high school, probably reading a thread on the Warren Ellis Forum arguing about which album was the best. I went out and bought a cd of The Velvet Underground and Nico, and listened to it every morning for weeks on my way to school. Here was music contemporary with the stuff I’d grown up listening to, but rawer, unsanitary even measured against the hallucinogenic excess I’d already been exposed to. And, crucially, untainted by parental endorsement. (Looking back at my ancient star ratings from when iTunes was fresh new technology, I see that teenage E. J. was particularly fond of “Heroin” and “The Black Angel’s Death Song.”) This coincided nicely with my burgeoning development of a personal taste in movies; in 1998 and for a few years thereafter Trainspotting, with its glorious and wrenching overdose scene set to “Perfect Day” off Transformer, was my most watched film. I rented it from the Blockbuster near my house countless times, and the soundtrack joined The Velvet Underground as an early occupant of the CD player of my first car. The mundane tragedies of high school constricting my vision like the walls of a red-carpeted coffin? “Perfect Day” was there to sand down the edges.

During the time in my life when I was first learning what it meant to go looking for new things and claim them as my own, to take active ownership of culture, Lou Reed loomed large. Here’s his Rolling Stone obituary. RIP.