Candida and Clowns
Although it may seem fringe science, there is evidence that candida may be linked to clowns. Candida albicans, the species name for a yeast or a single-celled fungus normally found on the body, and the culprit behind diverse ailments of varying degrees of severity including vaginal yeast infections, thrush and diaper rash, may be linked to the origin of clowns. This at-first-glance absurd claim begins to garner support when we consider one of the more obscure, but still relatively common, manifestations of the fungus: perleche, or angular chelitus, the fungus's colonization of the corners of the lips of the human face. Although there is much to be said both against and for alternative medicine, one of its possible advantages is to regard the body, not as either a machine or pure culture of animal cells (as orthodox medicine tends to do) but as a community of interacting cells, a quasi-ecosystem. This understanding is reflected in treatments of candida infections that emphasize "probiotics" such as ingesting Lactobacillus acidophilus and Bifidobacterium bifidum, like Candida normal inhabitants of the human gut. Ten percent of the dry weight of a human being is bacterial. The theory is, and anecdotal evidence suggests it may be correct, is that Candida infections on the lips and elsewhere are normally controlled by alternative populations of bacteria, which compete with the fungus. Other aspects of holistic treatment of candidiasis include staying off sweets, simple carbohydrates, and alcohol, all of which tend to feed the fungus. Indeed, it is possible that candida sufferers who crave sweets may be experiencing not only their own nutritional needs but those of their fungal genome. What has all this to do with clowns? Well, having been afflicted by the mouth variety of the fungus, it occurred to us (in between bout of painful smiling), that the prevalent kitsch picture of the clown may owe something to the fungus. The cliche image of the clown, you will recall, is of a frowning man with a smile painted on, especially broad at the corners of the mouth. It seems to us reasonable that the troubadors of yore--steeped in wine, bread products, and promiscuous kissing--would have been prime candidates for development of this ailment. It is of course completely natural to relieve the pain and to try to treat the ailment to apply salves and balms. In the case of the 13th century roving entertainers sometimes thought to have invented love, applying ointments that doubled to give the appearance of jocularity would have served a dual purpose: both treating (although sometimes exacerbating) the ailment, and putting on, literally, a happy face. After all, the show must go on.
Literary mentions: According to Charles Bukowski, John Fante's Ask the Dust is the greatest novel ever written. (Of course, Bukowski didn't read everything, just what he could browse for free at the Los Angeles Public Library.) On page 129 of the Back Sparrow edition of that book Fante hones in on anti-heroine Camilla Lopez. She goes out into the desert and the author-protagonist character, exasperated, throws his dedicated book toward her vanishing form. He explains the scene just before he left. “It was like old times, our eyes springing at one another. But she was changed, she was thinner, and her face was unhealthy, with two eruptions at each end of her mouth. Polite smiles. I tipped her and she thanked me. I fed the phonograph nickels, playing her favorite tunes. She wasn’t dancing at her work, and she didn’t look at me often the way she used to. Maybe it was Sammy. Maybe she missed the guy.” More obscure still is the self-published volume of Proust expert Benito Rakower whose work featured a professorial protagonist tracking girls around the Amherst, Massachusetts area on a bicycle. He admitted lusting after girls with chapped lips. If such lust helps spread candida on the lips, it may be a more-than-human erotic craving, similar to the yeast sufferer's craving of great frothy brews of beer or a supersweet second helping of bready cake. By the way, my favorite line from Fante is "failure is more beautiful than success."
Postscript: Lopez's two eruptions were outward signs of happy, healthy fungal colonies that had founded their edenic gardens. Those sad semicircles that make the clown’s face look smiley from afar result from drink and scaley skin, sloughing mouth cells that feed the happy fungi. A cold sore is a cold sore is a cold sore but on the corner of the mouth it is something else. “Perleche” and “Angular cheilitis”: According to the internet, some, desperate, have had it for twenty years: some have tried everything: balm and compress, silencing lip movement, drinking from a straw. Some, desperate, even superglued together their split lips, often all to no avail. The disease “scales”; it forms a "pseudomembrane" (this is a result of its ability to change the texture of the lips to its own benefit). The fungi seem to like the scabs they produce by themselves. One's mouth reacts, from the fungi point of view generating delicious new dead skin to eat. The worst thing you can do is what I did when I first got it—write poetry, drink microbrewery beers whose frothy head came gushing up to kiss me on my chapped lips. Nor is the ailment new: the ancient Egyptians embalmed their dead because if they did not, the candida would grow at death and rapidly decompose the inner body, preparing the way for worms. The fungi have the last laugh.
Literary mentions: According to Charles Bukowski, John Fante's Ask the Dust is the greatest novel ever written. (Of course, Bukowski didn't read everything, just what he could browse for free at the Los Angeles Public Library.) On page 129 of the Back Sparrow edition of that book Fante hones in on anti-heroine Camilla Lopez. She goes out into the desert and the author-protagonist character, exasperated, throws his dedicated book toward her vanishing form. He explains the scene just before he left. “It was like old times, our eyes springing at one another. But she was changed, she was thinner, and her face was unhealthy, with two eruptions at each end of her mouth. Polite smiles. I tipped her and she thanked me. I fed the phonograph nickels, playing her favorite tunes. She wasn’t dancing at her work, and she didn’t look at me often the way she used to. Maybe it was Sammy. Maybe she missed the guy.” More obscure still is the self-published volume of Proust expert Benito Rakower whose work featured a professorial protagonist tracking girls around the Amherst, Massachusetts area on a bicycle. He admitted lusting after girls with chapped lips. If such lust helps spread candida on the lips, it may be a more-than-human erotic craving, similar to the yeast sufferer's craving of great frothy brews of beer or a supersweet second helping of bready cake. By the way, my favorite line from Fante is "failure is more beautiful than success."
Postscript: Lopez's two eruptions were outward signs of happy, healthy fungal colonies that had founded their edenic gardens. Those sad semicircles that make the clown’s face look smiley from afar result from drink and scaley skin, sloughing mouth cells that feed the happy fungi. A cold sore is a cold sore is a cold sore but on the corner of the mouth it is something else. “Perleche” and “Angular cheilitis”: According to the internet, some, desperate, have had it for twenty years: some have tried everything: balm and compress, silencing lip movement, drinking from a straw. Some, desperate, even superglued together their split lips, often all to no avail. The disease “scales”; it forms a "pseudomembrane" (this is a result of its ability to change the texture of the lips to its own benefit). The fungi seem to like the scabs they produce by themselves. One's mouth reacts, from the fungi point of view generating delicious new dead skin to eat. The worst thing you can do is what I did when I first got it—write poetry, drink microbrewery beers whose frothy head came gushing up to kiss me on my chapped lips. Nor is the ailment new: the ancient Egyptians embalmed their dead because if they did not, the candida would grow at death and rapidly decompose the inner body, preparing the way for worms. The fungi have the last laugh.
© 2005 by Sciencewriters
