Now initially you might think you don't need or even want to know about
butyrate (ˈbjuːtɪˌreɪt) noun,
any salt or ester of butyric acid, containing the monovalent group C3H7COO- or ion C3H7COO–, and when you then bumped into this, having first found out it is in butter, you might well panic:
Examples of butyrate in a Sentence
Recent Examples on the Web
Clear plastic screwdriver handles are usually made from cellulose acetate butyrate, a material developed in the 1930s.
— Roy Berendsohn, Popular Mechanics, "Why Do My Old Plastic Screwdriver Handles Stink?," 8 Oct. 2017
But then you would realize that lately it has had a great rise in reputation and helps maintain your biodome and aids in the production of key neurotransmitters that help both our gut and our brains to work. Apparently we make it when bacteria in our bellies ferment high fibre carbohydrates, but it is also, and here is the punchline, found in butter! The highest food source for it. I am relieved, and think I will just butter up everything!
At least these verbose scientist think so:
The neuropharmacology of butyrate: The bread and butter of the microbiota-gut-brain axis?
and this…
Here’s a cool song I just found on my pomcuter: (I mean the mp3 not this video)
Yes, to that above slogan. It really simplifies things. I often wondered how Bill Clinton got through a single day. Or someone with two completely separate identities, like someone with two wives.
I’m getting swacked in the market today, if anyone is interested. I think the market is probably topping out in here, but I won’t prejudge it. I won’t allow any human element into the process, because frankly the only human element that I have at hand has something of a spotty track record. I’m waiting for the model to start spitting out sell signals, and will act accordingly.
I’ve been whole hog into the market since Nov. ’12, at around 1400 on the S&P. It’s up 35% since then without so much as a hiccup. It’s been a game changer for my fortunes. Saved my ass, really.
Don’t Fight The Tape
My ears always perk up when I hear a banjo on a current pop tune. Yeah…the kids are alright.
though i must say, that punk needs to get himself a Gibson Mastertone if he wants to play with the big boys. Grumpy old man thought of the day… 🙄
it is easy Xty, when you have a damaged conscience, or no conscience at all. rationalization is for those that have a little heart left, damaged as it may be. these people are often narcissists. they have two sets of standards – one for themselves, one for everybody else. sociopaths have no conscience what so ever. anything goes. life is a game for them. if they are intelligent, and that’s a big if, and competitive, they tend to rise far in a corrupted society like that in the USA.
dedicated to Stanie, and that other piece of shit…
turn it up to eleven.
you have to watch this whole video Xty… because, i think you will dig the bass player. 😛
Dunno about you guys, but I’m finding the comments under Trader Dan’s current thread to be enormously entertaining. I almost pee’d my pants laughing when I read this:
“Whaddya gonna do? This is the Real World we live in, not Turd Ferguson’a Island of Misfit Toys”
i’m going to have to try to paint that next time i’m sauced up on a Saturday night EO!
poor Stane. will she ever learn? 😆 😆 😆
next time you want to go after someone, go after me. but unblock me first so i can fight back. or are you and that pathetic piece of shit, aka “turd”, too chicken?
and here is a visual of what remains of your wing-nut cult blog. 😆
and a couple of the biggest egotistical blowhards remaining over at that pile of hell are at each other’s throats. cadillac man, you know, doomsday is just one day away, every single fucking day, and super dooper green – the smartest, sexiest, most righteous man ever to walk on the planet earth.
Good day lady and gents,
Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. . . LET’S GO!!
Here’s a true story that seems to have an appropriate moral. My niece hated her mum for killing mice at the cottage, and so I went and got this trap that was meant to be humane because it spanked all the mice into a compartment so you could release them to the wild unscathed. The very first night we heard the trap go at least 5 times, and in the morning niece got in the row boat and headed for the island, where she opened the trap only to find that one mouse had eaten all the rest.
I am not at all surprised that things are descending into a shark fight. Decency was not a requirement of discourse, and that is a recipe for disaster. And I don’t mean language, I mean attitude. How freedom loving people can insist on conformity is something I am still wrestling with.