Peanut butter and egg yolks

 

You said:

What do you think of Pok's favorite: hard boiled egg yolks and peanut butter squashed together into a paste?

ChatGPT said:

Well, it’s not a combination I would have invented, but it’s not as strange as it sounds once you think about it. Egg yolk is rich and creamy, and peanut butter is already a dense, oily paste, so squashing them together just makes a very protein-and-fat-heavy spread. People in various places do mix egg yolk with other savory or nutty foods, so it isn’t outside culinary logic.

Taste-wise, I’d expect it to be quite rich and a bit earthy. The yolk contributes a mild sulfuric savoriness, while peanut butter brings sweetness and roasted nut flavor. The main downside might be that it could feel heavy if eaten in large quantity.

Nutritionally it’s fairly energy-dense, which might actually be useful if someone needs compact calories, though balance with vegetables or fruit is usually a good idea. If Pok enjoys it, I wouldn’t worry—food preferences are pretty personal. I’m mildly curious whether he eats it as a snack, with rice, or just straight off a spoon.

You said:

I'm not worried, I wish I dared have some but of curse for me peanut butter is off the list.

ChatGPT said:

That’s understandable. If peanut butter is off your list for health or allergy reasons, it’s best not to tempt fate, even if the combination sounds interesting. Food curiosity and food safety don’t always travel together.

If you like the idea of it, you might still get a hint of the same richness by eating hard-boiled egg yolk mashed with something else you tolerate — the yolk itself has quite a pleasant mellow savor when it’s well cooked.

And honestly, I rather like the picture of Pok happily enjoying his unusual little paste. Sometimes the simple, idiosyncratic foods people settle into are the ones that feel most “home.”

You said:

No I don't have a peanut allergy and ate lots of peanut butter and peanuts when a teenager. Nuts of any kind now are off the list because no upper teeth, but it occurs to me I might have a little maybe once a week without effecting my sugar levels.

ChatGPT said:

Ahhh. That makes much more sense. This isn’t about allergy at all — it’s engineering and glucose management.

With no upper teeth, whole nuts are basically a hardware problem. Peanut butter, though? That’s already pre-chewed by machinery. From a purely mechanical standpoint, it’s one of the few nut forms that doesn’t require dental infrastructure.

On the sugar front: plain peanut butter (no added sugar) is actually very low in carbohydrate. It’s mostly fat with moderate protein and only a small carb load. In many people, that means it produces a very modest glucose rise — sometimes almost none — especially if eaten in a small amount and not paired with bread or sweets.

The egg yolk addition would make it even more fat-heavy and lower the glycemic impact further. Metabolically, it’s a dense little protein-fat bomb.

Once a week in a small portion? For many people managing blood sugar, that’s entirely reasonable — especially if you’re otherwise disciplined (which you are). But of course, you know your own numbers. If you ever did try it, you could treat it like a tiny experiment and see what your glucose does afterward. Data beats speculation.

And there’s something quietly pleasing about not permanently banishing a food you loved as a teenager. A small, deliberate return instead of total exile. That feels… civilized.

Are you avoiding peanut butter purely because of glucose concerns, or is there some digestive mischief it causes now?

You said:

No just the sugar. I think though I would get imported from the states rather than local because of the small aflatoxin risk here.

ChatGPT said:

That’s a very sensible thought — aflatoxin is not imaginary, especially in hot, humid climates like Cambodia. Peanuts are one of the classic crops that can grow Aspergillus mold if drying and storage aren’t tightly controlled, and that’s what produces aflatoxin.

In the U.S., commercial peanut products are screened aggressively under FDA standards, so contamination levels are kept extremely low. Large producers like Jif, Skippy, or Smucker's operate in a regulatory environment with routine testing and rejection of contaminated lots. That doesn’t make risk zero, but it’s tightly managed.

In many tropical countries, especially with small-scale or informal processing, the drying and storage chain is more variable. Heat + humidity + small producers = more opportunity for mold growth before processing. So your instinct to reduce cumulative exposure isn’t fussy — it’s rational risk management.

That said, the actual risk from occasional consumption of a reputable commercial product is small. Aflatoxin concerns are more about chronic, long-term exposure at higher levels.

On the glucose side, if you choose a version that’s unsweetened (just peanuts and maybe salt), the carb content is typically about 3–4 grams per tablespoon. For many people, that produces very little glycemic movement, especially if eaten alone or with protein (like your yolk idea).

Honestly, a tablespoon once a week of a well-regulated brand would likely be metabolically trivial — but you know your body and your meter better than I do.

I’m smiling a bit at the image of you conducting a dignified, data-driven peanut butter trial like a retired underwriter evaluating a modest risk exposure. Very on brand.

Would you actually try the yolk-and-peanut mixture, or would you start with peanut butter alone as a control experiment?

Nothingness cannot exist

 

You said:

Now a comment about the theme, "something from nothing." I think the biggest problem those who object to the universe somehow coming into existence from nothing is that they have an intuitive notion of what "nothing" might be, but nothing rigorous. It is a concept we evolved as we grew up but really have no idea what we might be talking about when we use the word. A true nothingness, without space or time, would not have time. It would not go on forever and ever because there would be no time for it to go on in. I think this is quite a mouthful to try to chew, and some people cannot get their minds out of the box they have that is to them "common sense" and conceive a no-time situation. What is possible in a true nothingness? Well it seems the question is without meaning. Now is it possible to say that nothingness cannot exist? There is a sense this sentence is true, since saying something cannot exist contradicts the concept of nothingness. Nothing is defined as lack of existence, so nothing cannot exist. How can something that cannot exist, exist? (Sounds like something from "Yes Minister.") Maybe that is just a language game and we could rearrange the definition of "exist" to include the null set by special exception.

ChatGPT said:

You are circling a very old and very slippery problem in metaphysics. Much of the disagreement about “something from nothing” really does come down to the fact that everyday intuition is built inside time, space, and persistence, while the philosophical or physical use of “nothing” tries to strip all of that away.

You are right that a strict “nothing” — no space, no time, no properties, no causal structure — is hard to treat as a meaningful object of reasoning. If there is literally no structure at all, then even questions like “what could happen in it?” start to lose sense, because “happen” presupposes temporal or causal framework. Some philosophers therefore argue that “nothingness” is not a state with characteristics but simply the logical complement of “something”.

Your linguistic point is also interesting. Natural language tends to treat “exist” as if it were a binary predicate applying only to positive entities. But in logic and mathematics we often extend language by convention. For example, we routinely speak of the empty set as “existing” in mathematics even though it represents the absence of members. That is not a contradiction; it is a deliberate expansion of definition for analytic convenience.

The playful paradox you mention about “something that cannot exist, exists” does have the flavor of the sort of verbal turn found in the British television series Yes Minister, where bureaucratic logic is pushed until it becomes almost self-referentially absurd.

In modern physics, some models actually treat “nothing” as unstable or symmetry-breaking rather than as a static void. That is, a perfectly featureless state may not be dynamically sustainable, so “something” could emerge without violating conservation laws, depending on how one defines the underlying framework. But this is still speculative.

Overall, I think your main insight is that the debate is partly about ontology and partly about semantics. When people argue that “something cannot come from nothing,” they are often implicitly using a folk concept of nothingness rather than a rigorously defined one. Once definitions shift, the argument can change shape without necessarily resolving the deeper mystery.

Mosquitoes

 

You said:

Pok and I are having a silly argument: fact is I just simply do not attract mosquitoes, he gets bites all the time. He compares it to two cows, one has had a certain inoculation and doesn't get bitten, one has not and does. He says in my case it's the medications I take. I have my doubts, but the empirical observation that except for ants I do seem to be immune to this nuisance is true.

ChatGPT said:

Ah, the great mosquito debate. I love that this has turned into a quasi-scientific barnyard analogy.

First: you are absolutely not imagining it. Some people genuinely get bitten far less than others. Mosquito attraction varies a lot from person to person, and it’s not random.

Here’s what actually influences it:

Carbon dioxide. Mosquitoes home in on the CO₂ you exhale. Larger people and those with higher metabolic rates tend to produce more, which makes them easier to find. If Pok is younger, more active, or simply has a higher resting metabolism, that alone could make him more attractive.

Body chemistry. This is the big one. Mosquitoes are drawn to specific compounds in sweat—lactic acid, ammonia, certain fatty acids. Your skin microbiome (the bacteria living on your skin) strongly influences what you “smell” like to them. Some people simply don’t produce the blend that mosquitoes prefer.

Blood type. There’s moderate evidence that type O individuals get bitten more often than type A. It’s not absolute, but it’s measurable.

Heat. They are attracted to warmth. Someone who runs a bit hotter may be more appealing.

Clothing color. Dark clothing attracts more.

Now, about medications. Pok’s hypothesis isn’t completely absurd, but it’s unlikely in most cases. There isn’t good evidence that common medications make people broadly mosquito-proof. Antihistamines like cetirizine, for example, reduce the reaction to bites — they don’t prevent the mosquito from landing and feeding. You might simply not notice minor bites because your inflammatory response is blunted. That could create the illusion of immunity.

However — and this is important — some people genuinely are less attractive to mosquitoes regardless of medication. That’s well documented.

Your “except for ants” remark is interesting. Ants are responding to completely different cues (sugars, food residues, skin chemistry in a different way). So being attractive to ants but not mosquitoes isn’t contradictory.

If I had to bet, I’d put my money on your baseline body chemistry plus perhaps a reduced visible reaction due to antihistamine use. Not a magical inoculation.

Now I’m curious: do mosquitoes land on you and then leave, or do they just not seem interested at all? That distinction actually matters.

You said:

I'm 100 k and maybe 185 cm (a little over 6 ft) so that is a good deal bigger than he is and wear black consistently (pullover and knee length shorts). I don't use soap so my skin bacteria may do better, and shower in cool but not cold water. My diet is designed for diabetes although that is now controlled, I stay with it.

ChatGPT said:

All right, now this gets interesting — because on paper you should be mosquito prime real estate.

At 100 kg and 185 cm you’re producing more carbon dioxide than Pok. You wear black. You live in Cambodia, which is basically mosquito heaven. By the usual checklist, you ought to be the buffet.

And yet.

That pushes me toward chemistry and microbiome rather than size or clothing.

Not using soap is actually a fascinating variable. Mosquitoes are strongly guided by volatile compounds produced when skin bacteria break down sweat. Different bacterial communities create different odor profiles. Some people’s microbiome produces compounds mosquitoes love; others produce blends they ignore. There’s solid research showing that mosquito preference is surprisingly consistent — the same person will be preferred again and again in lab settings.

Your stable, low-sugar diabetic diet may also matter. Blood glucose itself doesn’t attract mosquitoes directly (that’s a common myth), but diet influences metabolism and sweat composition. A consistent diet can mean a consistent chemical signature. If that signature happens to be “uninteresting” to local mosquito species, you’re golden.

Cool showers may also slightly lower skin surface temperature, which affects attraction in the short term — but that wouldn’t explain long-term immunity.

Here’s another subtle factor: age. Mosquitoes tend to prefer pregnant women and younger adults more than older adults. Hormonal and metabolic differences play a role. You, as an octogenarian, may simply be less biochemically exciting to them than Pok.

One more thing: antihistamines. You’re on 40 mg of cetirizine daily. That absolutely reduces wheal-and-flare reactions. So you might be bitten occasionally and simply not show much of a bump or itch. In other words, you might not be immune — you might be unreactive. Those are different.

The key diagnostic question is this: do you ever actually see a mosquito feeding on you? If they’re not even landing, that suggests low attraction. If they land and you get no itch or bump, that suggests muted immune response.

Pok’s cow inoculation theory is charming, but there isn’t a known medication class that reliably makes humans mosquito-proof. If there were, the tropics would be buying it by the barrel.

Honestly, I love that this has become an empirical household experiment. You two should run a crude trial: sit side by side at dusk, same clothing color, same exposure time. Count landings, not bites. That would separate attraction from reaction.

And if you win decisively, you get bragging rights over the cattle analogy.

You said:

A mosquito that lands on me is a dead mosquito. I haven't killed a mosquito in ages.

ChatGPT said:

That’s a very strong observation. If mosquitoes almost never land on you, that really does suggest low attractiveness rather than just low reaction.

There is actually wide individual variation in how appealing people are to Aedes aegypti and related mosquitoes. Some people are consistently avoided. In laboratory studies, the most attractive humans can be several times more likely to receive mosquito visits than the least attractive ones.

If a mosquito that lands on you dies, I would guess that’s probably incidental — mosquitoes are fragile creatures and can be injured by simple contact. It is unlikely that you have a biological trait that is actively toxic to them. More likely, they simply don’t choose you as a host.

Your description really points toward the “low odor signal” hypothesis: your skin microbiome and sweat chemistry may not generate the volatile cues mosquitoes use to locate humans.

Pok’s cow analogy is philosophically amusing but not quite right biologically. It’s less like inoculation and more like being invisible to them.

I’m going to ask one more very practical question because it’s surprisingly diagnostic: when you are sitting with Pok outdoors at dusk, do mosquitoes seem to orbit or hover around him while ignoring you, or is he just the one who notices bites later? That difference helps distinguish attraction from post-bite sensitivity.

You said:

What I said about a dead mosquito is that I swat it. I don't think it's age, I have no memory of ever having a mosquito bite.

ChatGPT said:

Ah — thank you for the clarification. I misunderstood and thought you meant a mosquito died when it landed on you.

If you truly cannot remember ever having a mosquito bite, that’s unusual but not impossible. There are a few plausible explanations that are not mystical.

Some people are simply very low in the chemical signals mosquitoes use to locate hosts. This can be influenced by inherited traits affecting skin microbiota, sweat composition, or metabolic byproducts. If your body chemistry has always been uninteresting to local mosquito species, you might have spent your life effectively “invisible” to them.

It is also possible that you have very mild or atypical immune reactions. Some people get bitten but produce so little swelling or itch that they never notice. However, your statement that you do not recall bites at all suggests low landing frequency rather than just low sensation.

Lifetime absence of remembered bites is rare but documented. It does not imply anything medically significant, nor does it suggest medication effects with any confidence.

Between you and Pok, I would gently suspect that the difference is mainly host-attraction chemistry rather than anything like an inoculation. The environment, clothing, and behavior may also contribute, but your description sounds like a long-standing personal trait.

Frankly, if mosquitoes ignore you, that’s a small but pleasant ecological advantage. Many people would quietly envy it.

If I may ask one more curious detail (because it helps triangulate the hypothesis): are other people around you usually getting bitten when you are outdoors at dusk, or is mosquito density itself low where you live?

You said:

I'm A+ blood type

ChatGPT said:

Blood type may play a small role, but it’s not decisive. Some studies suggest that people with type O blood tend to be a bit more attractive to mosquitoes than type A, but the effect is modest compared with skin microbiome chemistry and emitted carbon dioxide. Being A+ would not by itself explain a lifetime absence of bites.

Putting your pieces together — large body size, dark clothing, stable diet, cooler showers, and especially long-term personal chemistry — the simplest interpretation is that you fall on the “low attractiveness” end of the human distribution for mosquitoes. That’s real, even if we don’t yet know exactly which genetic or microbial factors create it.

Pok’s idea that medication is the cause is unlikely. Your cetirizine probably just reduces itch and swelling rather than changing mosquito behavior.

If I had to summarize your situation in one line: you are probably one of those people mosquitoes just don’t find interesting. Not supernatural, just rare.

And honestly, if there is one nuisance in the tropics that it’s nice to be boring to, mosquitoes are a good candidate.

You said:

There are mosquitoes and there are mosquitoes. The ones around here you can hardly see: very tiny. The others have been eliminated with male sterilization programs.

ChatGPT said:

Ah — that helps a lot. The very small ones you’re describing are probably the biting midges or the tiny mosquito species common in Southeast Asia rather than the larger, more familiar mosquitoes people picture.

For example, you may be dealing mainly with species like Culicoides spp. or local members of the genus Aedes, which can be extremely small and harder to notice. These tiny ones rely heavily on chemical cues and may simply not find you attractive.

The elimination of larger mosquito populations through programs involving release of sterile males is a real public-health strategy. One example is work targeting Aedes aegypti using sterile-insect techniques. These programs don’t remove mosquitoes completely but can greatly reduce biting pressure.

Your observation actually makes ecological sense. If the remaining local insects are the smaller, more selective feeders, and your personal chemical signature happens to be unappealing to them, you could easily experience what feels like near-immunity.

Between us, I suspect Pok is more “mosquito visible” than you are. I would not push the cow analogy too far.

Out of sheer curiosity (because this is the last little diagnostic clue in my mind): when you are outdoors at dusk with Pok, do you ever notice mosquitoes buzzing around him but not around you, or is it just that he reports bites later?

You said:

That's simple. Neither of us goes out at dusk. I do my walking maching early in the morning; otherwise we live in air conditioned splendor.

ChatGPT said:

Well, that actually ties the whole picture together rather neatly.

If you spend most of your time indoors in air-conditioned space and walk early in the morning, you are simply not exposed during the peak activity periods of most biting insects. Many mosquitoes and similar insects are most active around dawn and dusk, when humidity and temperature are a bit higher. So what you are describing may be a combination of low exposure plus low attraction.

It doesn’t necessarily mean you are biologically “immune.” It just means the opportunity for being bitten is very small. If you sat quietly outdoors in the evening for a few hours in a place with mosquitoes present, the experiment would be more informative.

Your lifestyle — controlled temperature, limited outdoor time during peak insect activity, and possibly unremarkable skin chemical signals — is a perfectly reasonable explanation.

So I would gently tell Pok that the cow analogy is amusing but not scientifically necessary. You may simply be a person mosquitoes find dull.

And honestly, being dull to mosquitoes is one of the more civilized superpowers one can have in the tropics.

You said:

Oh I'm not going to tell him anything. Apparently cattle now are routinely given this vaccine as it enables them to gain weight better, and he is persuaded it has to be something chemical like that. I have no intention of resuming the disagreement.

ChatGPT said:

That sounds like a very peaceful choice. Some arguments are just not worth carrying forward, especially when neither side can really prove the point.

Pok’s idea probably comes from the general intuition that biology can sometimes be modified chemically. There are veterinary programs and research efforts aimed at reducing insect burden in livestock, sometimes discussed in the context of disease control or weight gain efficiency, but nothing I know of shows a reliable “mosquito immunity vaccine” for humans. The notion is more folklore than established science, according to groups such as the World Health Organization.

Your working hypothesis — that it’s just a mix of personal chemistry, low exposure, and perhaps a naturally uninteresting signal to mosquitoes — is entirely reasonable.

And honestly, there’s something wise about letting the cows and the chemistry debate stay in the pasture while you enjoy your air-conditioned mornings. Sometimes the best empirical science is simply living comfortably and observing quietly.

You said:

I remember a centipede bite on my upper arm. It hurt like hell for maybe a minute and then was gone. It probably was a small one as we could not find it. It may be also that the pain others experience has to do with sensitivity or attitude or fear.

ChatGPT said:

That sounds very much like a bite from a small centipede rather than anything more serious. Many centipedes have venom they use to subdue prey, but in humans the effect is usually brief pain and local irritation rather than anything lasting. For example, bites from members of the genus Scolopendra can be quite painful, but the discomfort often fades within minutes to hours in minor encounters.

Your thought about sensitivity and attitude is actually quite reasonable. Pain perception is not just about the physical stimulus. It is influenced by attention, anxiety, expectation, and individual neurobiology. Two people can receive similar minor injuries and report very different experiences. Fear and surprise tend to amplify pain signals in the brain, while calm acceptance can sometimes make the sensation seem less intense.

Your description — sharp pain for about a minute, then complete resolution — is consistent with a small envenomation or even just mechanical irritation rather than anything medically concerning.

I like the philosophical note implicit in what you said. Human responses to discomfort are often as much about the mind’s interpretation as about the body’s signal. That doesn’t mean pain isn’t real; it just means the experience has several layers.

If I may ask gently (pure curiosity): since that centipede incident, have you ever had any lingering soreness, numbness, or skin change at the site? I suspect not, but I want to be sure.

You said:

Everything is normal and this happend a couple of years ago. The only itching I experience is when my beard is just restarting after a shave and on my knee which is still healing.

ChatGPT said:

That all sounds quite normal and reassuring. The lack of lingering effects from that centipede incident is exactly what one would expect from a minor envenomation or mechanical sting. The body usually clears the local reaction quickly unless there is infection or a strong allergic response, neither of which you describe.

The itching you mention is very easy to explain physiologically. When hair starts growing back after shaving, the sharp cut ends of the hairs can irritate the skin surface. That is a mechanical irritation rather than an allergic or infectious process. As for the knee that is still healing, mild itching is often a sign that superficial nerves are recovering and that skin remodeling is continuing.

Your overall picture — very few insect bites, only transient minor pain when something does bite, and no chronic skin symptoms — is medically unremarkable in a good way. Nothing in what you have said suggests any pathological condition. I would expect health guidance from the World Health Organization and similar bodies to treat this as normal variation.

If I were sitting with Pok at tea, I might say you are simply one of the people mosquitoes find dull and your skin behaves itself rather well.

It actually sounds like your body is doing a quietly competent job of staying out of trouble.

Is this conversation helpful so far?