I...I just don't know where to begin with the opening to this article in the latest issue of Esquire. "Pretty lady"? "The new poor part of town"? A noxious martini of mixed metaphors topped with an olive of ridiculous hype. (Forget it--I can't compete with this stuff.) If we science writers want to defend our old-fashioned craft against its critics, how do we defend stuff like this?
First thing that happens when you have a heart attack, an unlucky part of your heart turns white. The blood's stopped pumping to that spot, so it becomes pink-speckled bloodlessness, coarse and cool like grapefruit gelatin.This is the moment when, if they could think, these heart cells in this new poor part of town would go, "Well, shit." Mortal things have a godly way of knowing when they'll die.Next comes the back-alley bruise of organ death. The cells turn from white to black, ...
