Archives for 2025

Direct Current: Because Wall Warts Deserve to Die

Posted on May 13, 2025 Written by The Nittany Turkey Leave a Comment

(Yet another tale told by an idiot: full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.)

While most of the civilized world still lives in an AC-powered fantasy—blindly feeding everything from LED night lights to USB-powered butt-warmers with 120 or 240 volts of brute force—I have seen the light. And that light is low-voltage DC, my friends. The rest of the world just hasn’t caught up yet, mostly because they’re still arguing over which wall wart is buzzing like a deranged cicada.

You see, it struck me—between radio nets and workouts—that the modern household is basically a museum of inefficient power delivery. We bring in 120/240 volts of alternating current, only to step it down and rectify it fifty different ways, each via its own cheap-ass switching power supply. These are the electronic equivalent of fast food: convenient, junky, and liable to give you indigestion. Or in this case, radio frequency interference (RFI).

My neighbor’s party lights provided some of the inspiration for this post when they were annoyingly switched on during a FT8 QSO with an XZ in Myanmar. (In English, this means I was making a ham radio contact with a rare entity with a weak signal that I wasn’t likely to encounter again for a long while). The aggregate RFI generated by a hundred little switching power supplies in a hundred gaily lit LED party lights blew the rare station away.

I can’t control what the neighbors do, but I realized that I had many similar little RFI generators right here where I could build a bonfire for them. So, I did what any moderately unhinged retired engineer would do: I built my own low-voltage DC infrastructure.

Exhibit A: The Ham Shack of Reason

The prototype lives in my ham shack—a 70-amp, 13.8V analog power supply feeding a fused distribution block with Anderson Powerpole connectors. Radios, network gear, LED lights, you name it. In my ham shack, wall warts are banned like smoking in a daycare. And guess what? It works. It works better than the duct-taped spaghetti of switching supplies most homes rely on.

Now imagine this scaled to a home-wide level. Yes, I know: “But the code! But the inspectors! But the liability!” Spare me. What I’m proposing is not a pipe dream—it’s a decentralized microgrid. Think of it as Tesla Powerwall’s weird libertarian cousin. Think outside the box, for a change!

Unfortunately for me, the ham shack is an island—a fourth bedroom repurposed as an electronics lab and radio station—surrounded by a houseful of noise producing electronic junk. I’ve walked around the house with a spectrum analyzer, which painted an abstract mural representing the spectral cacophony. Something’s gotta give. So, here’s my proposal.

Design for the Future That Won’t Arrive Until After I’m Dead

Central DC Supply
- Input: 120/240VAC
- Output: 13.8V (or 12V), with optional 24V or 48V rails
- Redundancy? Absolutely. Dual supplies with diode isolation if you’re not a coward.
- Battery backup, charged by solar panels, for you clean energy solar worshippers.
Distribution Panel
- Fused terminals
- Anderson Powerpole connectors
- Inline volt/amp meters if you want to flex on visiting electricians
Device Strategy

Load Type	Voltage	Example Use
LED Lighting	12V	Ceiling, under-cabinet
Radios	13.8V	Ham gear (duh)
Network Gear	12V-48V	Routers, APs, Switches
USB Devices	5V	Phones, tablets
HVAC Controls	24V	Thermostats, relays
Surveillance Cams	12V	PoE optional

Yes, yes—HVAC control circuits are traditionally 24 VAC. Don’t write in. This chart is about DC systems. If you’re trying to run your Nest off this panel, expect a meltdown. Or at least a stern lecture from a building inspector.

Safety and CYA Measures
- Use correct wire gauges for the required ampacity – you’ll need to do the research until NFPA updates the NEC
- Fuse everything – high current DC sources can burn down houses as efficiently as AC
- Label wires like a madman preparing for a forensic audit – you do this already for your AC circuits, right?
Why It’s Not Completely Bonkers
- Lower standby losses – your damn wall warts are bleeding you dry
- No RFI from garbage switchers
- Easy solar + battery integration
- Modular and serviceable

You won’t have to wait for Amazon to deliver a proprietary 19V wall wart just because your digital picture frame croaked. Your centralized DC power supply with solar-fed battery backup will be 99.999% reliable.

And you’ll finally have an answer when someone asks, “Why do you have a server rack in your guest bedroom?”

The Catch? Standardization.

Right now, there is no standard. It’s the Wild West of voltages—5V, 12V, 19V, 24V, 48V—and connectors ranging from USB-C to coaxial jank plugs last seen on 1980s answering machines. If manufacturers ever get off their collective ass and agree on a couple of DC standards, the wall wart may finally die the ignoble death it deserves. USB-C was a start. Let’s keep moving toward this standardization goal!

Hell, that’ll probably happen around the same time my cremains are being scattered over Mount Nittany. Maybe I should lobby with RFK, Jr. to have him declare wall warts a health hazard to be summarily banned by fiat?

Final Thoughts from the Turkey

This isn’t a crusade. I’m not trying to change the world (although we’d all be better off if it ran my way). I just want a house that doesn’t look like a Radio Shack exploded. And if that means running my own personal DC microgrid with Powerpoles and inline fuses, so be it.

At the very least, maybe one of my six loyal readers will unplug a wall wart or unscrew an LED replacement bulb, look at it with disdain, and say, “You know, the Turkey was right.”

Or maybe not. But damn, it feels good to engineer like it’s 1979.

Week 49: Of Mounjaro, Macallan, and Maybe Babies

Posted on May 12, 2025 Written by The Nittany Turkey Leave a Comment

Welcome back to another week of Mounjaro madness. Here, I chronicle my progress with this GLP-1 receptor agonist for Type 2 diabetes while taking potshots at whatever medical or legal targets drift into my line of sight. For those who stumbled in here from a Google search or a Reddit rabbit hole, I’m The Nittany Turkey—nom de plume for over two decades—usually squawking about Penn State football but lately redirected toward more personal topics, like staying alive and upright past the age of 78.

Turkey Who?

Permit me a brief reintroduction. I’m a fat old fart with Type 2 diabetes, formerly treated with Janumet, glipizide, metformin, and the usual alphabet soup of pharma fixes—though never insulin. In June 2024, I finally bit the Mounjaro bullet. Since then, I’ve lost 65 pounds (29.5 kilos if you’re on the metric team), brought my blood glucose under control, and ditched several other meds in the process.

But let’s be clear: man does not live by injectable peptide alone. I’ve also revamped my diet and exercise, with a current focus on preserving (and maybe even building) muscle. Rapid weight loss is great for your pancreas but not for your quads, especially if you’re old enough to write cursive and remember what a pay phone is. My iron-pumping regimen is now aimed squarely at thwarting sarcopenia before it turns me into a breakable relic.

Love’s Labor

This blog is a labor of kvetching. No ads, no sponsors, no “influencer” bullshit—just me, chronicling my aches, pains, and numbers. Think of it as your diabetic uncle ranting at the bingo hall, except with fewer suspenders and more trap bar deadlifts. And while I may occasionally sound like I’m giving advice, don’t be stupid—do your own research. Blindly following anything you read here is a fast track to finding out whether Medicare covers leech therapy. (And with RFK, Jr. running the HHS show, who knows?).

Before we get to my personal updates this week, let’s delve into a trending topic: surprise pregnancies associated with GLP-1 drugs. No, it’s not satire. Yet.

Mounjaro-Based Loaves in the Oven

Imagine this: you’re on Mounjaro (or its cousins Ozempic and Wegovy), the pounds are melting off, glucose is in check, and suddenly you find yourself crying over cat videos and craving pickles. Spoiler alert: it’s not the keto flu—it’s an unexpected pregnancy.

Yes, really. Reports are emerging of women becoming unexpectedly pregnant while on GLP-1 receptor agonists. In particular, women with PCOS or obesity-related infertility are suddenly finding their reproductive machinery back online, much to the surprise of their doctors—and themselves.

What gives?

Is it the weight loss? Possibly. Dropping excess pounds often normalizes ovulatory function, especially in women with insulin resistance. There’s ample evidence that even moderate weight loss can boost fertility. Hormonal balance returns, cycles regulate, and boom—baby registry time.

Or is it the drug? There’s another twist. GLP-1 agonists slow gastric emptying, which can interfere with oral contraceptive absorption. Your birth control pill might end up as effective as a raincoat in a hurricane.

Cue the irony: a drug class originally created for glucose control may be an unexpected player in fertility treatment. Some clinicians now proactively warn women of childbearing age about this side effect. Imagine that: Mounjaro might help with pregnancy and weight loss. Just don’t try both at the same time—animal studies have suggested fetal risk, so it’s recommended to stop the meds two months before trying to conceive.

Whatever the mechanism, the takeaway is clear: If you’re on a GLP-1 and think the stork no longer stops at your door, think again. Apparently, along with losing your spare tire, you might also be losing your contraceptive reliability.

This Week on Mounjaro

Now, to the personal side of this circus.

First, a milestone: I’ve found a replacement for my overpriced concierge doc, “Dr. DeLorean.” Enter: Dr. Macallan (named for the Highland single malt I can no longer afford—or drink). He and his wife run a direct primary care practice, and my interview with the good doctor revealed a straight-shooter who hasn’t yet succumbed to the bureaucratic bloat of modern medicine. I’ll hand DeLorean his walking papers after next week’s follow-up visit—likely with a few mumbled pleasantries and averted eyes.

Meanwhile, back at the gym… My supposedly okay left knee has been grumbling again. But oddly enough, after pushing through a deadlift session (40 reps, progressive weight), it felt better—not worse. Could it be that motion is lotion after all? I’ll take that up with the sports rehab doc later this month.

The Mounjaro Numbers, Already!

Body Weight: 181.4 lbs (82.5 kg) — stable
Fasting glucose: 97 mg/dl (5.4 mmol/L) — unchanged
Average glucose (Stelo biosensor): 119 (6.6 mmol/L) — still about 20 mg/dL higher than fingersticks, so: ploo! The Stelo, unlike its higher-priced, prescription-based cousin, the G7, does not permit calibration via glucometer readings, so I must apply a bias based on comparative readings.

Conclusion: Mounjaro, Pregnancies, and DeLorean Exit Plan

No, I’m not pregnant. But it’s fascinating to watch GLP-1 agonists morph into metabolic Swiss Army knives—handling everything from glucose and weight to kidneys, hearts, sleep apnea, and now…babies?

On the provider front, the DeLorean-to-Macallan transition is bittersweet. I’ll miss the warm towels and executive fees like I’d miss a rash. But with Macallan, I’m cautiously optimistic.

Next week: Blood test results are coming in hot, including a full panel to close out my honey experiment (Week 45 readers, you know the drill). I also started creatine again—because clearly, I needed something else to track obsessively. And of course, we’ll revisit the ongoing saga of my iron levels, because nothing says “living the dream” like talking ferritin while bench pressing.

As always, thanks for tuning in to this cranky old man’s metabolic monologue. Until next time, stay upright and mildly cynical.

For an annotated catalog of all my Mounjaro updates, visit my Mounjaro Update Catalog page.

Mounjaro Update Week 48: Of Lawsuits, CPAPs, and GLP-1 Gold Rushes

Posted on May 5, 2025 Written by The Nittany Turkey Leave a Comment

Welcome to another week of Type 2 diabetes frivolity, news, and opinions! Here, we give you the unfiltered truth about the wonderful world of Mounjaro and other related issues through the lens of someone, namely me, who has been injecting this GLP-1 receptor agonist for just short of a damn year.

I’m 78 years-old with a typical variety of chronic conditions, one of which is Type 2 diabetes, which is under control thanks to Mounjaro and my willpower. (The latter is necessary because there is no such thing as a wonder drug to cure diabetes or obesity, no matter what “they” say). I write this update weekly for no other reason than to share my thoughts and progress with you. I am not “monetized” in any way, I do not receive kickbacks from Big or Little Pharma, your friendly Indian telehealth facility, or YouTube. Nope, not even Google Ads befoul this little blog.

My arrogant air might lead you to regard me as an authority on the subject, but I am not. I’m just your average retired engineer with an opinion. My results might not be the same as yours. If you want medical advice, this isn’t the place for it. Consult your local, live, non-tele-health doctor for the best advice and knowledge of your condition.

In This Week’s Edition

This week, we’ll be leading into GLP-1 RA lawsuits and deals with my rant about how today’s journalists are royally screwing up the English language by lacing their commentary with vogue crap that leads to ambiguous interpretations. Why is that? Because they’re lazy, impressionable, and easily influenced by pop culture. These former paragons of literary excellence are now nothing more than wannabe writers. Pisses me off! But I digress…

Later, I’ll comment on the news that the FDA has approved tirzepatide (Mounjaro and Zepbound) for treatment of obstructive sleep apnea, another triumph for Big Pharma. And last, but certainly not least, I’ll present this week’s progress or lack of same. Now, sit back and listen to an old man going off on idiots.

Bonus Snark: The Mounjaro Lawsuit That Got Dropped (But Not Really)

Before we dive into Eli Lilly’s latest crusade to ensure that only their gold-plated, FDA-blessed vials of tirzepatide reach the masses, I need to vent about a linguistic travesty that’s been gnawing at my cerebrum like a caffeinated termite.

So, there I was, perusing the digital fishwraps, when I stumbled upon a headline declaring, “Eli Lilly dropped lawsuits against compounding pharmacies.” For a fleeting moment, I thought, “Well, isn’t that magnanimous of them?” But alas, the article proceeded to detail how Lilly had, in fact, filed lawsuits against these pharmacies. Apparently, in today’s journalistic lexicon, “drop” has been repurposed to mean “initiate,” “announce,” or “unleash the hounds.” I suppose next we’ll hear that the Pentagon “dropped” a peace treaty.

This semantic contortion is the bastard child of pop culture and lazy reporting. In the halcyon days of yore, “dropping” a lawsuit meant you were backing off, retreating, perhaps even admitting you were wrong. Now, it’s a declaration of war, a linguistic Molotov cocktail hurled into the fray. It’s as if words no longer have fixed meanings, but are instead fluid, like the contents of a politician’s promises.

But I digress. Let’s pivot from this lexical lunacy to the actual legal shenanigans at hand.

Eli Lilly’s Legal Blitzkrieg: Protecting the Golden Goose

Eli Lilly, the pharmaceutical behemoth behind the blockbuster weight-loss drug Zepbound and its diabetic cousin Mounjaro, has embarked on a legal rampage against compounding pharmacies and telehealth startups. Their crime? Offering more affordable, albeit unapproved, versions of tirzepatide—the active ingredient in Lilly’s cash cows.

During the pandemic-induced shortages, the FDA allowed compounding pharmacies to produce tirzepatide to meet demand. Patients, desperate for treatment and unable to afford Lilly’s $1,000-a-month price tag, turned to these compounders, who offered the drug for as little as $99 a month. But now that the shortage is officially over, Lilly is wielding its legal cudgel to squash these upstarts.

In April, Lilly filed lawsuits against two compounding pharmacies—Strive Pharmacy LLC and Empower Clinic Services LLC—accusing them of selling unapproved tirzepatide products with added vitamins like B12 and glycine, suggesting these concoctions were safer and more effective than Lilly’s own offerings. In particular, Lilly has accused Empower of repackaging Lilly’s own products, breaking sterile seals, and selling them as personalized treatments.

Get the Teledocs, Too!

Not content with targeting pharmacies, Lilly has also set its sights on telehealth companies. They’ve sued Mochi Health, Fella Health, Willow Health Services, and Henry Meds for allegedly selling compounded tirzepatide with untested additives and making dubious claims about their efficacy. For instance, Lilly accused Mochi Health of switching patients between different formulations at least five times in eight months, driven by corporate interests rather than medical necessity.

Lilly’s stance is clear: any entity selling compounded tirzepatide is “breaking the law and deceiving patients.” They’ve already sued over two dozen entities and sent approximately fifty cease-and-desist letters to others. Meanwhile, the compounding industry argues that they’re filling a crucial gap in the market, providing affordable treatments to patients who would otherwise go without.

As this legal battle unfolds, one thing is certain: the war over tirzepatide is far from over. And in the midst of it all, the semantics of “dropping” lawsuits continues to confound and amuse.

Novo Nordisk Fires Back: Hims, CVS, and a Danish Uppercut to the Jaw

While Lilly was busy suing every compounder this side of the Rio Grande, Novo Nordisk was sharpening its elbows. This week, they hit the gas with two strategic salvos designed to wedge Wegovy into America’s arteries faster than you can say “insurance prior authorization.”

First, Novo inked a deal with Hims & Hers, the telehealth platform best known for making erectile dysfunction as easy to treat as acne. This move lets Novo sidestep the compounder drama entirely by pushing branded Wegovy directly to the masses via the click-happy millennial crowd that believes healthcare should happen in between DoorDash deliveries. Second, and more significantly, Novo cut a deal with CVS Caremark, a large pharmacy benefit manager with tentacles in many employer plans in America. The deal includes significant price concessions for Wegovy in exchange for preferred placement—translation: CVS will steer its patients toward Novo’s incretin over Lilly’s. Unsurprisingly, Eli Lilly’s stock took a modest but symbolic hit, dropping over 2% on the day of the CVS announcement, as Wall Street investors clutched their spreadsheets and wondered if maybe Novo had outflanked their golden goose.

But here’s the twist in this pharma soap opera: while Novo may have won this week’s headline war, the long game still favors Lilly. Tirzepatide continues to outperform semaglutide in trials across both diabetes and obesity, and Lilly has something Novo doesn’t: a once-weekly GLP-1 weight loss pill currently in Phase 3 trials (see my Week 46 update). So yes, Novo landed a flashy combo—but Lilly’s the one training for the championship rounds.

Tirzepatide’s New Role in Sleep Apnea Treatment

Well, it seems Big Pharma has found another avenue to expand its reach. The FDA has approved Zepbound (tirzepatide) for treating moderate to severe obstructive sleep apnea (OSA) in adults with obesity . This marks the first medication approved for OSA, a condition traditionally managed with CPAP machines or surgical interventions like uvulopalatopharyngoplasty (UPPP).

Tirzepatide, initially developed for type 2 diabetes and weight loss, has shown promise in reducing apnea events by up to 63% in clinical trials . While this is a significant development, it’s essential to recognize the underlying issue: obesity is a primary risk factor for OSA. Addressing weight through lifestyle changes remains a cornerstone of treatment.

The introduction of a pharmaceutical option may offer an alternative for those struggling with existing therapies. However, it’s crucial to approach this development with a balanced perspective, acknowledging both its potential benefits and the importance of comprehensive lifestyle management in treating OSA.

My Week on Mounjaro

The mundane week was a good respite, because I looked at my calendar for May and saw eight doctor, dentist, or lab appointments. That’s what happens when you get old! You spend your time going from doctor to doctor.

Today was the first doc appointment in May, as we celebrate Cinco de Mayo. Well, YOU do. I don’t drink tequila, Tecate, or any T-word stronger than herbal tea. Not even peyote. Anyhow, I saw my eye doc (who I have yet to bestow with a pseudonym), to set up a YAG laser treatment toward the end of the month. This is something many people need in the aftermath of cataract lens replacement. The capsule becomes cloudy. Zapping it with the laser cracks the coating off the back of the capsule. The cloudiness is mildly annoying, but they can fix it, so that’s what I’m doing.

The Numbers, Already!

Morning fasting glucose: 96 mg/dl (5.33 mmol/L)
Average glucose (Stelo biosensor): 117 (6.5 mmol/L) — but the damn thing has been reading about 20 mg/dL high, compared to finger stick glucometer, which makes this number highly suspect
Body Weight: Nominally unchanged at 181.4 lbs (82.5 kg) — desirable result, because I’m concentrating on muscle maintenance and growth instead of weight loss.

Conclusion: From Dropped Lawsuits to Pillow Talk Pharma

So where have we been this week, dear readers? We began by dissecting the tragic mutilation of the English language by today’s headline-chasing scribes, who apparently think that “drop” means “announce” and “accuracy” is optional. From there, we followed Eli Lilly into the courtroom as they waged a scorched-earth campaign against compounders and telehealth outfits, all in the name of “patient safety” — or as it’s known in corporate circles, revenue preservation.

Next, we turned our gaze to Novo Nordisk, who, rather than filing lawsuits, chose to file into bed with Hims & Hers and CVS Caremark, bypassing the compounding chaos entirely in favor of mass-market dominance. It was a bold move that caused Lilly’s stock to wobble ever so slightly — a paper cut in this billion-dollar knife fight, but a cut nonetheless.

Then came the real kicker: tirzepatide’s surprise approval for obstructive sleep apnea. Not content with cornering diabetes and obesity, Lilly now wants a slice of the apnea market too — traditionally dominated by hose merchants like ResMed and scalpel-happy surgeons. But let’s not kid ourselves: this isn’t about curing sleep apnea, it’s about monetizing it with the same injectable you’re already using for everything else. Weight loss reduces apnea. Who knew? (Spoiler: everyone with a functioning cerebrum.)

See You Next Week

In short, Week 48 was a parade of pharmaceutical overreach, corporate bed-hopping, legal theater, and snarky indignation — all lovingly wrapped in sarcasm and served without monetization. I’m not selling anything here but honesty, skepticism, and the occasional eye-roll. See you next week, unless I’m held in contempt by the grammar police, the FDA, or Eli Lilly’s legal department.