Some good reading from last week: this article in the Globe about fandom. It focuses on sports fans, but many of the dynamics are true of fans of anything else (a celebrity, a television show, a band) as well. Are you a “fan” of anything, to the point of buying a t-shirt, following someone on Twitter, or joining a group (online or off) for the purposes of discussing that thing? I’ve become a fairly avid fan of several television shows, most notably “Deadwood,” to the point of writing fan fiction and buying a “Star & Bullock Hardware” shirt.

A piece in Slate on why humans are the only animals to have acne, and also the only ones that would be psychologically bothered by it. (Evolution is a cruel trickster.) New treatments have made acne rarer among teens, but that very fact might increase the suffering of those who can’t afford treatment, or for whom nothing has been successful.

I was fascinated to read that blogger S.E. Smith recently cut her long hair very short, and found that she was darned near considered antisocial for wanting to keep it her business what she did with the ponytail. Specifically, she faced a lot of pressure to donate her hair, a practice which has gone from being a nifty option for people suddenly in possession of a braid no longer attached to their head, to becoming near-mandatory, the default option. The thing you have to explain if you don’t do it.

This bothers me. A great deal. Two years ago, I wrote about a New Yorker article on people who donate kidneys to strangers. My reaction to it then was strong and visceral, and has since become more focused. This notion of one’s body as a resource that may be owed to strangers is deeply problematic. As I wrote two years ago:

I would not donate a kidney to a stranger, nor do I feel any sense of a moral call to do so merely on the grounds that I could. My body and its functions are not some form of wealth that I am hoarding like Scrooge McDuck: they are constitutive of my identity. They are ME. And no one has an a priori right to my blood, my organs, my womb. I may choose to share, but that is my choice. Having two kidneys when others have none is not the same has having two loaves of bread when others have none. The body is different. I do not owe anyone access to my body.

As an etiquette matter, let’s all take note that “Did you donate your hair?” is a question better left unasked.

Finally, on a less existential note, let this hilarious pantomime/interpretive dance by David Armand brighten your Monday. I love this guy’s work! Am I the only one who finds brilliantly talented physical comedians way sexy? (See also: Danny Pudi.)

Anyway.

I was at a party last weekend and someone pulled out an awfully cool party trick on his iPhone — it’s an app from the Smithsonian, with which you can take your picture, and then see it transformed into an earlier species of human. Then you can have it e-mailed to yourself. This is what the e-mail told me about me-as-homo-floriensis:

Thanks for using MEanderthal from the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History. Your image is attached.

It’s the new, very very old you, Homo floresiensis! You’ve been extinct for 17,000 years.

Your modern relatives didn’t know you existed until 2003, when they found your small skull and skeleton on the island of Flores in Indonesia.

You stood up and walked. You made tools and hunted. You were small, so scientists call you a Hobbit.

Get to know me and all the other early humans on the Smithsonian website

Download the Smithsonian MEanderthal app for iPhone and morph yourself, your friends, or even Fluffy and Rover into early humans.

Here’s what I look like as an early human:

Pretty hot for back in the day, I must say. I would have been quite the rockin’ cavechick. At any rate, if you party with geeks — and I know you do — this is a fun little app to have.