Is It Medicine?

Recently, we were at our local “natural and health foods” store. While my wife shopped for a specific supplement she was advised to use, I got to ride herd on my energetic five year old as he roamed around the store looking at everything. He loved the posters over by the pet food section, one of which showed a lion with a lamb curled up against it. He thought that was amazing and cute. Nearby was an entire wall of homeopathic products, including an entire array of products for pets. My son stopped and looked at the boxes, then turned and looked at me.

“Is this all medicine?” he asked.

I didn’t really feel like tackling that subject right there in the store. Not in any detail, anyway. “No,” I said.

“Okay,” he answered, and then he was off to look at the selection of vegan, glutin free baked goods.

What is homeopathy?

According to the American Institute of Homeopathy:

Homeopathy, or Homeopathic Medicine, is the practice of medicine that embraces a holistic, natural approach to the treatment of the sick. Homeopathy is holistic because it treats the person as a whole, rather than focusing on a diseased part or a labeled sickness. Homeopathy is natural because its remedies are produced according to the U.S. FDA-recognized Homeopathic Pharmacopoeia of the United States from natural sources, whether vegetable, mineral, or animal in nature.

The website goes on to explain that there are three guiding principles of homeopathy:

  1. “Like cures like”. A principal that a symptom can be treated with a substance that causes a similar symptom.
  2. The minimum dose. From the AIH website, “Homeopathic medicines are prepared through a series of dilutions, at each step of which there is a vigorous agitation of the solution called succussion, until there is no detectible chemical substance left. As paradoxical as it may seem, the higher the dilution, when prepared in this dynamized way, the more potent the homeopathic remedy. Thereby is achieved the minimum dose which, none the less, has the maximum therapeutic effect with the fewest side effects.”
  3. The single remedy. Again, from the AIG website, “Most homeopathic practitioners prescribe one remedy at a time. The homeopathic remedy has been proved by itself, producing its own unique drug picture. That remedy is matched (prescribed) to the sick person having a similar picture. The results are observed, uncluttered by the confusion of effects that might be produced if more than one medicine were given at the same time.”

Is homeopathy medicine?

Merriam-Webster defines medicine as:

1 a: a substance or preparation used in treating disease
b: something that affects well-being

2 a: the science and art dealing with the maintenance of health and the prevention, alleviation, or cure of disease
b: the branch of medicine concerned with the nonsurgical treatment of disease

3: a substance (as a drug or potion) used to treat something other than disease

So. By some definitions of medicine it qualifies. Homeopaths are certainly involved in “the science and art dealing with the maintenance of health and the prevention, alleviation, or cure of disease” and homeopathic medicines are certainly “a substance or preparation used in treating disease”.

Does homeopathy work?


Uhm… could you elaborate on that?

There’s no way it could work. Let’s take another look at that second principle of homeopathy, the minimum dose. The AIH states that “Homeopathic medicines are prepared through a series of dilutions, at each step of which there is a vigorous agitation of the solution called succussion, until there is no detectible chemical substance left.”

Here’s how the dilutions work, as explained by a FAQ from Boiron (described as a “world leader in homeopathic medicines”):

What does the “C” listed after the active ingredient stand for?

The most common type of dilutions is “C” dilutions (centesimal dilutions). The 1C is obtained by mixing 1 part of the Mother Tincture with 9 parts of ethanol in a new vial and then vigorously shaking the solution (succussion). The result is a 1/100 dilution of the plant (the Mother Tincture being a 1/10 dilution of the plant itself). The 2C is obtained by mixing 1 part of the 1C with 99 parts of ethanol in a new vial and succussing. Recurrently, the 3C is obtained by mixing 1 part of the 2C with 99 parts of ethanol in a new vial and succussing.

What does the “X” listed after the active ingredient stand for?
X dilutions are decimal dilutions prepared similarly to C dilutions, but the factor of dilution is only 1/10 from one dilution to the next.

What does the “K” listed after the active ingredient stand for?
The K refers to a method of manufacturing known as the Korsakovian method. The Korsakovian method dilutes the homeopathic preparation of the substance at the rate of 1 part of the previous dilution with 99 parts of solvent.

What does the “CK” listed after the active ingredient stand for?
Korsakovian dilutions are manufactured using a device specially designed to ensure that the dilution process is reproducible from one dilution to the next. Only one vial is used for the entire process. Using ultra-purified water as the solvent, the machine removes 99% of the Mother Tincture and replaces it with the same volume of solvent. The vial is succussed for 10.5 seconds. The result is called 1CK. The 2CK is prepared identically from the 1CK. The automatic process using only 1 vial allows higher dilutions to be reached. The most common Korsakovian dilutions are 200CK, 1,000CK (also called 1M), 10,000CK (10M), 50,000 CK (50M) and 100,000CK (100M or CM).

What does “200CK” mean?
200CK means that the substance has been homeopathically diluted 200 times at the rate of 1 to 100.

The dilutions on the medicines I looked at (I didn’t look at all of them) appear to range between 3C and 12C, counting by threes (3C, 6C, 9C, 12C), with one hitting 30C. Here’s what that looks like:

  • 3C: 1 part active ingredient to 9,999 parts solvent (100 parts per million, or PPM).
  • 6C: 1 part active ingredient to 9,999,999 parts solvent (0.1 PPM).
  • 9C: 1 part active ingredient to 9,999,999,999 parts solvent (0.0001 PPM).
  • 12C: 1 part active ingredient to 9,999,999,999,999 parts solvent (0.0000001 PPM).
  • 30C: 1 part active ingredient to 9,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999 parts solvent (0.0000000000000000000000001 PPM)

For comparison, let’s talk about the US Environmental Protection Agency’s Maximum Containment Level Goals (MCLG), Maximum Contaminant Levels (MCL), and Maximum Residual Disinfectant Level Goals (MRDLG):

  • Maximum Contaminant Level Goal (MCLG) – The level of a contaminant in drinking water below which there is no known or expected risk to health. MCLGs allow for a margin of safety and are non-enforceable public health goals.
  • Maximum Contaminant Level (MCL) – The highest level of a contaminant that is allowed in drinking water. MCLs are set as close to MCLGs as feasible using the best available treatment technology and taking cost into consideration. MCLs are enforceable standards.
  • Maximum Residual Disinfectant Level Goal (MRDLG) – The level of a drinking water disinfectant below which there is no known or expected risk to health. MRDLGs do not reflect the benefits of the use of disinfectants to control microbial contaminants.

With that in mind, let’s have a look at the EPA Table of Regulated Drinking Water Contaminants. If you go and look at it yourself, bear in mind that the units are in milligrams per liter (mg/L), which is equivalent to PPM:

  • Chlorine has a MCL of 4 PPM (effectively 4 5C dilutions).
  • Arsenic has a MCL of 0.01 PPM (meaning a 7C dilution)
  • Cyanide has a MCL of 0.2 PPM (two doses of a 6C dilution).
  • Lead has a MCL of 0.015 PPM (one and a half doses of a 7C dilution).
  • Mercury has a MCL of 0.002 PPM (two doses of an 8C dilution).

By sheer logic, if the “like cures like” principal was correct and the minimum dose worked, then we’d be immune to eye/nose irritation and stomach discomfort (caused by chlorine), circulatory system problems (arsenic), nerve damage and thyroid problems (cyanide), developmental development issues and kidney problems (lead), and kidney damage (mercury).

Moles and atoms and molecules

Let’s put it a different way, and talk about moles.


No, not these guys

A mole is the SI unit of that measures the amount of a chemical substance that contains as many elementary entities (atoms, molecules, whatever) as there are atoms in 12 grams of carbon-12. This odd calculation is used because the number of atoms in 12 grams of carbon-12 happens to be the same as the Avogadro constant: 602,214,085,774,000,000,000,000.

Why is this important? Watch, and see.

A homeopathic “mother tincture” is 10% ingredient and 90% solvent, by weight. So a mother tincture of peppermint would be, say, 1 gram of peppermint oil and 9 grams of water. The active ingredient of peppermint oil is menthol (C10H20O), and water is H2O. Consulting the Lenntech molecular weight calculator, menthol has a weight of 156.26 grams per mole and water weighs 18.02 grams per mole. So one gram of menthol has 3,853,923,497,849,737,616,792 molecules of menthol, and one gram of water has 33,419,205,647,835,738,068,812 molecules of water. So the mother tincture has a total of 304,626,774,328,371,380,236,100 molecules, and is only 1.2% menthol by quantity of atoms (despite being 10% menthol by weight).

A 1C dilution takes 1 gram of the mother solution and mixes that with 99 grams of water, giving us 100 grams of dilution with a total of 3,338,964,036,568,570,000,000,000 molecules, of which 385,392,349,784,973,000,000 are menthol.  That makes it 0.0115% menthol at this point.  Each dilution after that reduces the number of menthol atoms by a factor of 100, until at a 12C dilution you get 3.85 atoms (let’s be optimistic and call it 4).  So, at a 13C dilution, you quite literally have nothing but water.


Bear in mind that this is the case with a relatively simple molecule like menthol.  Most of the “active ingredients” in homeopathic dilutions are far more complex – according to Chemical composition, olfactory evaluation and antioxidant effects of essential oil from Mentha x piperita, for example, the components of peppermint essential oils were “menthol (40.7%) and menthone (23.4%). Further components were (+/-)-menthyl acetate, 1,8-cineole, limonene, beta-pinene and beta-caryophyllene”.  This reduces the number of atoms per gram of each ingredient, causing the atoms of each chemical that make up the ingredient to go away faster (although in the case of the peppermint essential oils, menthone’s molecular weight is 154.25 grams per mole, so you’d end up with about 2 atoms each of menthol and menthone at a 12C dilution).

So, is homeopathy medicine?  Only in a strict and narrow definition, because it is used to treat illnesses.  After all, the definition we looked at above doesn’t say the medicine has to work.  And it really doesn’t work.


Why Does The Sun Move So Slow?


I really wish I could remember what prompted this questions. I suspect it had to do with one of our conversations about time, and how “day” is from sunrise to sunset. There was probably something we were doing in the evening, something he was looking forward to doing, and the sun seemed to be just crawling through the sky. Whatever the reason, the question certainly seems to make sense. The sun takes all day to cross the sky, so it looks slow. It comes up gradually, takes four to six hours to reach noon, and then slowly sinks into the west.

Of course, appearances are deceiving.

How Fast Does The Sun Move Across The Sky?

This is actually sort of tricky, because the Sun isn’t actually moving around the Earth. To begin with, let’s refer back to the technical definition of sunrise and sunset:

Sunrise and sunset. For computational purposes, sunrise or sunset is defined to occur when the geometric zenith distance of center of the Sun is 90.8333 degrees. That is, the center of the Sun is geometrically 50 arcminutes below a horizontal plane. For an observer at sea level with a level, unobstructed horizon, under average atmospheric conditions, the upper limb of the Sun will then appear to be tangent to the horizon. The 50-arcminute geometric depression of the Sun’s center used for the computations is obtained by adding the average apparent radius of the Sun (16 arcminutes) to the average amount of atmospheric refraction at the horizon (34 arcminutes).

Now, an arcminute is 1/60th of a degree, so the day begins when the center of the sun is 5/6ths of a degree below the eastern horizon and ends when the center of the sun is 5/6ths of a degree below the western horizon. Assuming perfect viewing conditions, et cetera, et cetera. So, that means that the sun has to cover 181 2/3 degrees in a single day. Here in Cincinnati, sunrise on the day this article is published is(August 19, 2016) is 6:55 am, and sunset is 8:27 pm. So, it will require 13 hours and 33 minutes (813 minutes) to cover that distance. That works out to, let’s see… 181.6666 / 813 = 0.22345 degrees per minute, or 13.407 degrees per hour.

Now, let’s do some more math. Cincinnati is at 39.1031 degrees north. According to Ask Dr. Math, you “just multiply the equatorial circumference by the cosine of the latitude, and you will have the circumference at that latitude.” The equatorial circumference of the earth is 24,901 miles, so 24,901 * cos(39.1031) = 19323.48 miles. The Sun crosses 181.666/360 = 0.5046 of that distance in 813 minutes, so that’s 9751.197 miles in 813 minutes. That’s essentially 12 miles a minute or 719.65 miles an hour.

But that’s the speed at which the sun passes over the Earth at that latitude on August 19. It’s not how fast it appears to an observer on the ground! To an observer standing on the surface of the Earth, the distance to the horizon is approximately 2.9 miles. That means that my son, observing the motion of the Sun, is standing at the center of a perceptual circle with a circumference of 2(π)2.9 = 18.22 miles. Which means that he sees the Sun appear to take 813 minutes to cover 18.22 * 0.5046 = 9.19 miles. That works out to a perceived speed of 0.0113 miles per minute, or 0.678 miles an hour.

No wonder it looks so slow to him. When we’re out on walks, my son and I hit a pace almost four and a half times faster!

How Fast Does The Sun Move Through The Galaxy?

Of course, the speed of the sun gets even trickier. Because, although it doesn’t move through the sky (we move, creating the illusion), it still orbits Sagittarius A*, the supermassive black hole at the center of the Milky Way. This monster is some 26,000 light years from earth and weighs in at around 4,000,000 M☉. Our Sun travels in a roughly circular orbit around this distant behemoth at a speed between 217 amd 250 kilometers per second – let’s take the average of those five figures and call it 230.4 kilometers per second (143.16392 miles per second). That’s 829,440 kph (515,390.112 mph).

That sounds impressive, doesn’t it?

Here’s something to consider, though: the speed of light is 299,792,458 meters per second, or 299,792.458 kilometers per second. That means the Sun (and it’s attendant planets and dwarf planets and other detritus) are moving at 0.07685% of the speed of light. Remember that line above, the one that reads “this monster is some 26,000 light years from earth”? That means that our Sun orbits Sagittarius A* in a circle approximately 163,360 light years in circumference. As a result, it will take about 163.360/0.07685% = 212.5 million years to complete an orbit. (Actual calculations from real astronomers come in at between 225 and 250 million years, which makes sense – they have access to more accurate figures, and the sun would actually describe an ellipse instead of a circle.)

So, why is the sun moving so slow? It isn’t. It’s tearing through space at a pace five times faster than the New Horizons probe at it’s maximum velocity – the fastest ship ever built by humanity (although the Sun’s gravity had slowed it to ‘only’ 14 kilometers per second by the time it passed Pluto). We just don’t notice, because it’s a huge universe and we have a very small frame of reference.

Why Do We Call Dads “Dad”?

Sometimes, my son really manages to stump me.

A few weeks ago we’re walking home from preschool, and he’s chattering on and telling me about his day.  Then, out of nowhere, he asks me “why do we call dads ‘dad’?”

I’d… never thought about that.  Ever.  “I don’t know,” I admit.  Then, I take a tack that I’m trying recently.  “How do you think we can find out?”

“You can look it up!” he informs me happily, which then leads to a discussion about dictionaries and my realization that my son will probably never actually use a physical dictionary in his life.


My first stop, when dealing with word origins, is the Online Etymology Dictionary, which provides this information:

recorded from c. 1500, but probably much older, from child’s speech, nearly universal and probably prehistoric (compare Welsh tad, Irish daid, Czech, Latin, Greek tata, Lithuanian tete, Sanskrit tatah, all of the same meaning).

My standard pattern after this is to perform internet searches, but there was a significant lack of useful hits from the query “word origin of dad” or “etymology of dad”.  Oh, I got any number of hits, but all of them ended up recycling the Online Etymology Dictionary above or refers to a single article from Mental Floss.  This article speculates that the word actually derives from baby talk, since:

Both the National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders and the American Speech-Language-Hearing Association, however, say that sounds like ta, da, na, and la are easy for babies to make once some upper teeth come.

Warning:  Speculation Ahead!

So, da and ma and ta and the like are easy sounds to make.  And, if you’ve ever spent any time around young babies, you know they like repeating sounds (“babababababa”).  And parents are certainly prone to attaching meaning to those repeating sounds (“he said ‘dede’!  That means he wants a drink!”).  So, it’s certainly reasonable that way back at the dawn of human language, some parents decided that the baby saying ‘dada’ or ‘tata’ was calling for his father – and since we’re pattern-seeking creatures, once we decided that ‘dada’ or ‘tata’ meant ‘father’ we’d be prone to ignore the times the same sound was applied to the bug the child was eating.  Then, since the father is responding to that sound, the baby (who is soaking up language at a fearsome pace) gets reinforcement on calling the father ‘dada’.  Three hundred thousand years and more later, some variation of the sound ‘dada’ is ingrained in human language everywhere.

Can I prove this?  No.  But it seems to fit the evidence, and so I’m willing to put it forward as a hypothesis until more facts come to light.

What about “mom”?

My son didn’t ask about “mom”, but it seems fair and reasonable to toss this word in as well.  So, turning back to the Online Etymology Dictionary, we learn:

1570s, representing the native form of the reduplication of *ma- that is nearly universal among the Indo-European languages (Greek mamme “mother, grandmother,” Latin mamma, Persian mama, Russian and Lithuanian mama “mother,” German Muhme “mother’s sister,” French maman, Welsh mam “mother”). Probably a natural sound in baby-talk, perhaps imitative of sound made while sucking.

Its late appearance in English is curious, but Middle English had mome (mid-13c.) “an aunt; an old woman,” also an affectionate term of address for an older woman. In educated usage, the stress is always on the last syllable. In terms of recorded usage of related words in English, mama is from 1707, mum is from 1823, mummy in this sense from 1839, mommy 1844, momma 1852, and mom 1867.

In other words, it seems that my “dada” hypothesis can be equally applied to “mama”, with that sound being associated with the mother because it is considered a “sucking” sound.

Do Sweatpants Make You Sweat?

For more than a year now, I’ve been working out and dieting. And I’ve had quite a bit of success – 123 pounds in one year, which is about 60% of my goal. And my son has been helping, in his five-year-old way. He gets excited about helping me hit my daily walking goals, and sometimes he’ll help me count reps as I do crunches or squats or the like, and he drags me out swimming. To him, it isn’t about “daddy dieting”. It’s about “daddy’s playing with me more”.

One day, I come out of my bedroom with my sweats on, getting ready to work out. He starts jumping around, repeating “You’re wearing soft pants! Like mine!”

“They’re called sweatpants,” I tell him.

“Do sweatpants make you sweat?” he responds.


What Are Sweatpants?


Seriously. You have to have seen these before.

Amusingly, there’s an entire Wikipedia article on sweatpants. There, they are defined as “a casual variety of soft trousers intended for comfort or athletic purposes, although they are now worn in many different situations. In Britain, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa they are known as tracksuit bottoms or jogging bottoms. In Australia, they are also commonly known as trackpants, trackies or tracky daks.”

Where did they come from?

A few different web sites state that sweatpants were invented by a French clothing merchant named Émile Camuset, founder of Le Coq Sportif, a sporting goods company, and that they were created specifically to give athletes something to warm up in.

Why do we wear them when exercising?

There’s a couple of reasons to wear sweatpants when exercising. They’re cheap, they’re easy to move in, and they can be washed easily after you finish sweating. And they’re comfortable, which can be important. And, if it’s chilly where you’re exercising, they can help keep your legs warm. They don’t help you lose weight, though. Yes, you probably will sweat more in them, because they’ll help retain body heat. But sweating isn’t really weight loss. It’s just water weight, and you’ll put that back on as soon as you finish drinking.

Me, I wear them because I have them on hand. And yes, they do make me sweat.