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5 Ways Your Dog Could Be Living in the Lap of Luxury

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You guys might remember that I have dogs. Three, to be exact (that's Patton in the picture). Paul and I don't have any kids yet, so these dogs are pretty spoiled. I mean, not celebrity-spoiled to the point that I carry them around in purses and buy them Swarovski-studded collars or anything like that, but they do get a lot of our attention. They get fairly frequent trips to the dog park (which is really just as much entertainment for us as it is for them). Ever since the whole pet food scare, they get rather expensive dog food from a specialty store. They don't get to sleep with us, but they do each have their own little plush doggy beds.

The latest is that we are sending them to doggy daycare. Not every single day "“ no, just once to try it out. It's a half day of grooming and a half day of getting to run amok with other dogs. They have free access to both inside and outside, there are agility courses for them to play on and wading pools if it's nice enough outside. There's a mandatory two-hour nap from noon to 2 p.m.

The best part? There's a Web cam. So we can watch our little heathens and see how they behave with others. Expect my productivity at work to plummet dramatically when the dogs are at daycare.

However, despite doggy daycare and the pricey dog food and the fact that two of them are curled up on my lap as I type this, there are always dogs who are more spoiled than ours. Here are a few signs that your dog is seriously spoiled...

1. A doghouse nicer than my real house

Retail value $15,000-$20,000. Seriously. Rachel Hunter's dogs call this charming little villa home.

2. A spa membership

At The Club in Beverly Hills, your dog can enjoy a day of yoga, aromatherapy, massages, Jacuzzi soaks, car service and personalized bedding. I'm sure it's nicer than most hotels I've stayed at.

3. A canopy bed

canopy_bed3.jpgAt only $200, it's a steal! C'mon, it's a small price to pay for your dog's comfort, isn't it? The sad thing is, I'm pretty sure my dogs would be happier in an old, raggedy blanket that they've chewed holes in over the years. Or maybe that's just what I'm telling myself.

4. Doggie tarot cards

Not like Cesar Millan from the Dog Whisperer, who understands dog behaviors and mind sets well enough to appear to be psychic. Nope, this is the real deal. You use these tarot cards just like the human variety to figure out what your dog (or cat, or bird"¦ it's not limited) is trying to tell you.

5. A $1.8 million dog collar

Forget what I said about Swarovski crystals—apparently that makes me cheap. No, if you really love your dog, you'll buy them this $1.8 million collar studded with 52 carats, including a seven-carat center diamond. Ha. I'm picturing my dogs gnawing the crap out of this the second I got it fastened around one of their necks.

So what do you do for your pets that might be a little, um, out of the ordinary? 'Fess up!

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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva
Man Buys Two Metric Tons of LEGO Bricks; Sorts Them Via Machine Learning
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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva

Jacques Mattheij made a small, but awesome, mistake. He went on eBay one evening and bid on a bunch of bulk LEGO brick auctions, then went to sleep. Upon waking, he discovered that he was the high bidder on many, and was now the proud owner of two tons of LEGO bricks. (This is about 4400 pounds.) He wrote, "[L]esson 1: if you win almost all bids you are bidding too high."

Mattheij had noticed that bulk, unsorted bricks sell for something like €10/kilogram, whereas sets are roughly €40/kg and rare parts go for up to €100/kg. Much of the value of the bricks is in their sorting. If he could reduce the entropy of these bins of unsorted bricks, he could make a tidy profit. While many people do this work by hand, the problem is enormous—just the kind of challenge for a computer. Mattheij writes:

There are 38000+ shapes and there are 100+ possible shades of color (you can roughly tell how old someone is by asking them what lego colors they remember from their youth).

In the following months, Mattheij built a proof-of-concept sorting system using, of course, LEGO. He broke the problem down into a series of sub-problems (including "feeding LEGO reliably from a hopper is surprisingly hard," one of those facts of nature that will stymie even the best system design). After tinkering with the prototype at length, he expanded the system to a surprisingly complex system of conveyer belts (powered by a home treadmill), various pieces of cabinetry, and "copious quantities of crazy glue."

Here's a video showing the current system running at low speed:

The key part of the system was running the bricks past a camera paired with a computer running a neural net-based image classifier. That allows the computer (when sufficiently trained on brick images) to recognize bricks and thus categorize them by color, shape, or other parameters. Remember that as bricks pass by, they can be in any orientation, can be dirty, can even be stuck to other pieces. So having a flexible software system is key to recognizing—in a fraction of a second—what a given brick is, in order to sort it out. When a match is found, a jet of compressed air pops the piece off the conveyer belt and into a waiting bin.

After much experimentation, Mattheij rewrote the software (several times in fact) to accomplish a variety of basic tasks. At its core, the system takes images from a webcam and feeds them to a neural network to do the classification. Of course, the neural net needs to be "trained" by showing it lots of images, and telling it what those images represent. Mattheij's breakthrough was allowing the machine to effectively train itself, with guidance: Running pieces through allows the system to take its own photos, make a guess, and build on that guess. As long as Mattheij corrects the incorrect guesses, he ends up with a decent (and self-reinforcing) corpus of training data. As the machine continues running, it can rack up more training, allowing it to recognize a broad variety of pieces on the fly.

Here's another video, focusing on how the pieces move on conveyer belts (running at slow speed so puny humans can follow). You can also see the air jets in action:

In an email interview, Mattheij told Mental Floss that the system currently sorts LEGO bricks into more than 50 categories. It can also be run in a color-sorting mode to bin the parts across 12 color groups. (Thus at present you'd likely do a two-pass sort on the bricks: once for shape, then a separate pass for color.) He continues to refine the system, with a focus on making its recognition abilities faster. At some point down the line, he plans to make the software portion open source. You're on your own as far as building conveyer belts, bins, and so forth.

Check out Mattheij's writeup in two parts for more information. It starts with an overview of the story, followed up with a deep dive on the software. He's also tweeting about the project (among other things). And if you look around a bit, you'll find bulk LEGO brick auctions online—it's definitely a thing!

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Cs California, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 3.0
How Experts Say We Should Stop a 'Zombie' Infection: Kill It With Fire
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Cs California, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 3.0

Scientists are known for being pretty cautious people. But sometimes, even the most careful of us need to burn some things to the ground. Immunologists have proposed a plan to burn large swaths of parkland in an attempt to wipe out disease, as The New York Times reports. They described the problem in the journal Microbiology and Molecular Biology Reviews.

Chronic wasting disease (CWD) is a gruesome infection that’s been destroying deer and elk herds across North America. Like bovine spongiform encephalopathy (BSE, better known as mad cow disease) and Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, CWD is caused by damaged, contagious little proteins called prions. Although it's been half a century since CWD was first discovered, scientists are still scratching their heads about how it works, how it spreads, and if, like BSE, it could someday infect humans.

Paper co-author Mark Zabel, of the Prion Research Center at Colorado State University, says animals with CWD fade away slowly at first, losing weight and starting to act kind of spacey. But "they’re not hard to pick out at the end stage," he told The New York Times. "They have a vacant stare, they have a stumbling gait, their heads are drooping, their ears are down, you can see thick saliva dripping from their mouths. It’s like a true zombie disease."

CWD has already been spotted in 24 U.S. states. Some herds are already 50 percent infected, and that number is only growing.

Prion illnesses often travel from one infected individual to another, but CWD’s expansion was so rapid that scientists began to suspect it had more than one way of finding new animals to attack.

Sure enough, it did. As it turns out, the CWD prion doesn’t go down with its host-animal ship. Infected animals shed the prion in their urine, feces, and drool. Long after the sick deer has died, others can still contract CWD from the leaves they eat and the grass in which they stand.

As if that’s not bad enough, CWD has another trick up its sleeve: spontaneous generation. That is, it doesn’t take much damage to twist a healthy prion into a zombifying pathogen. The illness just pops up.

There are some treatments, including immersing infected tissue in an ozone bath. But that won't help when the problem is literally smeared across the landscape. "You cannot treat half of the continental United States with ozone," Zabel said.

And so, to combat this many-pronged assault on our wildlife, Zabel and his colleagues are getting aggressive. They recommend a controlled burn of infected areas of national parks in Colorado and Arkansas—a pilot study to determine if fire will be enough.

"If you eliminate the plants that have prions on the surface, that would be a huge step forward," he said. "I really don’t think it’s that crazy."

[h/t The New York Times]