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 |    Not for the faint of art. |
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Complex Numbers A complex number is expressed in the standard form a + bi, where a and b are real numbers and i is defined by i^2 = -1 (that is, i is the square root of -1). For example, 3 + 2i is a complex number. The bi term is often referred to as an imaginary number (though this may be misleading, as it is no more "imaginary" than the symbolic abstractions we know as the "real" numbers). Thus, every complex number has a real part, a, and an imaginary part, bi. Complex numbers are often represented on a graph known as the "complex plane," where the horizontal axis represents the infinity of real numbers, and the vertical axis represents the infinity of imaginary numbers. Thus, each complex number has a unique representation on the complex plane: some closer to real; others, more imaginary. If a = b, the number is equal parts real and imaginary. Very simple transformations applied to numbers in the complex plane can lead to fractal structures of enormous intricacy and astonishing beauty. ![Merit Badge in Quill Award
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Still going through "JAFBG"  [XGC] at random, mostly to prove to myself that I can write about almost anything.Write about something people do that isn't necessarily a huge deal, but if everyone did it, it would be total chaos. Well, the sidewalk snow removal (specifically, lack thereof) thing from a few days ago comes to mind, but I already wrote about that. Ethics 101: ask yourself, would it still be ethical if everyone did it? I'm sure there's more nuance to it than that, but I consider it a starting point. For example. Imagine you're at a university that features an internationally-famous lawn. One of the main entry points to this lawn is along one side. Also, the entrance to the Philosophy department is diagonally across this lawn from that entry point. Sidewalks run along all sides of the lawn, with a few cutting straight across, so you're meant to do a Pac-Man thing and turn right, then left (or go straight then turn right). But you're also taking math classes, so you know that the shortest distance, the one that requires the least steps, is to cut across the lawn past a statue of, say, Homer. The blind poet, not the Simpson. So you're running late to your first-year Ethics class one day, and to shave a few seconds off the walk, you cut across the lawn, giving Homer a high-five on the way. No big deal. People walk and play frisbee on the lawn all the time; one student taking a shortcut isn't going to make a lick of difference. Problem is, though, that other people see you do that, and they take the high-fiving Homer route. The increased traffic kills the grass and compacts the soil underneath, wearing a strip of dirt into the historic sward. Then it rains, and everyone taking the shortcut walks into Ethics class with muddy Uggs. Homer would roll his eyes if he had them. And wasn't a statue. And yes, this actually happened when I was at UVA. Except there weren't Uggs back then. One of my first attempts at satire was a proposal I wrote for the editorial section of an April Fools issue of the student paper, suggesting that, at night, the Grounds maintenance crew should bury claymores along the path. Nothing, I argued, would discourage people taking that shortcut more than watching a few of their classmates' legs get blown off by the shrapnel. As a bonus, the soil would become aerated and could be successfully reseeded. Sadly, they didn't end up mining the Lawn, but they did install some short steel posts around the corners and stretch a chain through them. Which might have actually been effective if they had taken into account that they're dealing with agile teenagers who can easily hop a steel chain, not aging hippies like me who can't catch air to save their lives. Total chaos? Eh, no, just an ugly brown streak on the diagonal across the Lawn and, ultimately, a destruction of its pristine (and, as I said, historically recognized) design caused by the installation of the ineffective barrier. But that particular kerfluffle stuck in my head and served me well when I graduated and did public space design for a living. No, I never designed land mines, but I always kept in mind where the probable foot traffic would go and propose sidewalks accordingly. But I'm sure I could think of other examples that fit the prompt, if I weren't so completely hung over right now (thanks, lunch beers). Here are a few that pop into mind:  Driving a gas-guzzling car Letting your dog shit in someone's yard and not picking it up Having a dozen kids Having no kids Stealing a Coke from a store Drinking three high-octane beers at lunch Not wearing a fucking mask in the grocery store during a pandemic Speaking of grocery stores, failing to return your cart to the corral afterward. LitteringIn a sense, these are all counterexamples of my Lone Asshole Theory. If you didn't read that previous entry, basically, Lone Asshole Theory states that even if the majority of people act ethically, all it takes is one asshole to ruin your day. I used the example of leaving your car unlocked; all it takes is one thief and your interior is trashed, even if 99% of people walking by would leave it alone. In these cases, however, what you're doing barely registers on anyone's radar, but if everyone did them, there would be, if not total chaos, at least some sort of suboptimal result for everyone. But they're also kind of moral hazards, aren't they? Like in the example I used above: one person cutting across the Lawn, by herself, makes no discernible difference. But other impressionable students, seeing that, might go, "Hey, if she's doing that, then so can I!" And so you get the bare diagonal trail. And aren't you glad that not everyone writes a long-winded blog entry every day? You'd have no time to do anything but read blogs or, worse, you'd have no time to read mine. |
| From "JAFBG" [XGC], a discussion of intestines. Tell us about a time when you had a gut instinct about someone or some situation that turned out to be 100% accurate. I find it interesting to examine some of the metaphors we use for certain feelings. Several emotions including love are, as we all know, attributed to the heart. Guts are the source of fortitude or courage (when we're not using gonads as the metaphor), in addition to the sense used in today's prompt. Sometimes when you're absolutely certain of something, you "feel it in your bones." When it's hard to accept something, we sometimes say we can't stomach it. And, while it's not a body part but rather created by body parts, bile is traditionally associated with strong emotions such as anger. In consensus reality, though, all these things are products of consciousness, which is largely a brain thing. Still, the metaphors persist. I'm not entirely sure, but I think this all has to do with classical attempts at medicine, at least in the West. You know, the whole "balancing the humours" thing or whatever. Similar systems exist in Eastern traditions; the one I'm most familiar with involves chakras from Indian culture, which attribute different aspects of being to certain centers in the body.All of this is not to provide a crash course in ancient spiritual traditions, which I'm not qualified to do anyway, but to point out that it seems to be a nearly universal human trait to associate different parts of the physical body with different aspects of the mind -- even if the exact associations might be different between cultures. But what I find the most interesting about all this is that, more recently, Western scientific, evidence-based medicine has indeed found links between mind and body; in fact, one could say that drawing a solid line between "mind" and "body" might not be as easy as was once thought. For instance, we know that stress affects the body as well as the mind. And that gut health -- the presence and function of certain species of microorganisms that exist in our digestive tracts -- is somehow connected to mental health. Which direction that correlation goes, I can't say, but from what I understand, people with messed-up intestinal flora tend to have mental issues as well. Incidentally, it appears that the appendix , long ignored as a vestigial organ whose only function appeared to be its ability to get infected and kill you if they don't surgically extract it, actually might serve a purpose: as a reservoir for gut bacteria that can replenish the intestinal tract if, through illness or poisoning or whatever, it loses its natural ecosystem.Wish they'd figured that out before they yanked my appendix, but whatever. But I digress. The gut biome is a thing, though, and they're still figuring out stuff about it. The interesting thing is that these microorganisms are their own species, and the number of them exceeds the number of human cells in our bodies. (As I understand it, this is possible because they are much smaller than animal cells.) And they do not share our DNA. (That might not be an entirely accurate statement because of arcane concepts like horizontal gene transfer and other stuff I don't fully understand, but on a very simplistic level, that's my understanding.) But without these non-human entities which are nevertheless a part of us, we wouldn't function properly, if at all.All of this is a roundabout way of saying that the "gut instinct" referred to in the prompt might well be the product of biochemical communication with your intestinal flora, which, as living microorganisms, have their own evolutionary drive to survive. Or maybe not. This ventures into the realm of science fiction; I don't have any actual data to back it up, so just consider that to be speculation, but one that returns us to the older realm of body-part metaphors for emotion -- except that maybe it's not a metaphor, after all. In any case, I'm saying all this in order to avoid actually addressing the prompt -- because I couldn't think of a single situation where I had such a feeling that definitively turned out to be right. It's like... maybe you see a shifty-looking person hanging out in a doorway at night, and so cross the street to avoid them. Would they have mugged you? Maybe. Maybe not. But that just sounds like ordinary prudence to me. The only way to know if your "gut instinct" was right would be to watch them and see if they mug someone else, and why would you do that instead of just getting to a safer place as soon as possible? Sure, sometimes I've done something because I felt like it, and it turned out to be the better course of action. Like if I can take two roads, and I just suddenly decide to take the scenic route, and I find out later that the faster route had a massive traffic jam. Was it a feeling? Fate? More likely it was just the luck of the draw, and it could easily have gone the other way around. You tend to remember your lucky random choices and dismiss the unlucky ones. In any case, at this point my microorganisms are requesting nutrients, and who am I to question my unicellular overlords? |
| Courtesy of "JAFBG" [XGC]... Hell is actually just a waiting room where your least favorite song plays on repeat for eternity. What song is playing? "Simply Having A Wonderful Christmastime." Bad enough that it's banal. Worse that it's repetitive. But what makes this song the dark nadir of the universe is that it oozed from the pen of one of the greatest songwriters of all time, someone who ought to have known better than to foist this musical mayonnaise sandwich on an adoring world, a world that expected greatnesses like "Blackbird" and "Live and Let Die," or any number of other songs with some bite to them. And just to forestall any comments along these lines, no, the song is certainly not about people practicing witchcraft and, unexpectedly interrupted, having to hide their athames, pentagrams, and wands behind their backs, whistle innocently and go, "eh, heh, hum, simply having a wonderful Christmastime, yep, that's all, nothing but Christmas here yes sirree" That's a stupid urban legend probably made up to try to give this shallow pablum the illusion of depth. Yes, that is an actual rumor that someone started. Considering that someone back in the 60s started the rumor that the original Paul McCartney is dead and this one is his doppelganger replacement... you know, actually, that might explain the utter crapitude of the song. But no. No. Stop it. In any case, I'm saying this with the holiday music loop season not far behind us. Ask me another time and I'd probably pick a different song. Anyway, if there were a hell, the prospect of listening to one song -- any song -- on endless loop would scare me straight more than the traditional fiery brimstone and eternal flaying or whatever it's supposed to be.   One-Sentence Movie Review: The Matrix Resurrections: With plenty of the visually intriguing action scenes and special effects that these movies are known for, and in spite of its interludes of explanatory dialogue that will surely provide fuel for countless amateur sophomoric philosophy discussions (mostly while stoned), the movie actually moves along quite nicely, if you ignore silly things like the plot -- John WickNeo does spend an inordinate amount of time trying to resist his calling, much as he did way back in the first movie; however, it's worth watching just for its slew of sly, self-aware meta-references. Rating: 3/5 |
| From "JAFBG" [XGC]: Make a list of all the things you've learned about the world during the pandemic in the last couple years. 1. If there is ever a worldwide crisis that requires human cooperation to solve, we won't do it. ...and that's all. Yes, I should have already known that, but this, the last vestige of hope and optimism in me, poured out of me like puke after a drinking binge, leaving me with that sour taste in my mouth, a headache, and the knowledge that yes, I will totally do that again, and telling myself I wouldn't would be lying to myself. As I'm sure you already know, we started the week off with a nasty snowstorm that knocked out power and toppled trees. I mentioned this a few days ago. Well, on Wednesday, I had two doctor appointments scheduled. Just routine stuff. Both were within two miles, so as is my custom in such situations, I walked, allowing myself extra time because there's still nasty frozen crap everywhere; the temperature was technically above freezing, but not enough to actually melt the slush that had, overnight, refrozen into ice. Now, it's important to note that our city has a law: while the city is responsible for salting and plowing the roads, it is required for each property owner to clear ice/snow off of the sidewalk adjacent to the property within 12 hours (or something like that, whatever) after the end of a snow or ice storm. I don't really care what you think of that law; that's not the point. The point is that it's on the books. After 12 hours, the city can levy fines. Naturally, it's not always enforced. But law or not, it's obvious that a) the city doesn't take responsibility for the sidewalks and b) therefore, clearing the sidewalk so people can walk on it is the Right Thing to Do. Most people do the Right Thing and clear the sidewalk. Maybe it's because of the possible fine, and maybe because it's Right, whatever, doesn't matter. But say you're a pedestrian trying to, I don't know, get to a doctor's office shortly after a storm leaves the pavement icy. Walking on cleared sidewalk is safe enough. But then you get to the sidewalk of a person to whom rules don't apply, who does whatever they want because FREEDOM, or maybe who insists that because the sidewalk is in the city right-of-way then they can fucking clear it if they want it cleared so bad (but who would object to raising taxes to do it). The sidewalk in front of this holdout's property is thus compacted into pure ice, maybe with a sheen of water to make it extra-slippery, so you have to either walk really, really carefully, or, if it's on a steep stretch, maybe hop the dirty slush drift the plows have kicked up so you're walking in the street where there's some traction, but also cars going by at 40 mph because it's a 25 zone. With narrowed lanes because of the aforementioned drifts. Honestly, if you have to do this maybe once or twice, okay, fine. But when one out of every three properties' sidewalks is a sheet of ice, hopping over the slush piles gets old and you're tempted to just walk in the street the whole way. But if you're a property owner, and you do what you're supposed to do, but then you see that your neighbor not only didn't do it but gets away with it, well, why are you doing all that extra work if the neighbor is just going to keep the sidewalk slippery? Point being that it only takes a few holdouts ruin the entire experience for everyone else. And this whole narrative is a metaphor for any kind of global crisis, whether it's a pandemic, global warming, or the inevitable asteroid strike (by the way, do not tell me to watch Don't Look Up. I will not do it.) "Just get a car already." I shouldn't have to have a car to go two miles; people should do what they're supposed to do to accommodate pedestrians. "Take an Uber." I shouldn't have to have a car to go two miles; people should do what they're supposed to do to accommodate pedestrians. It takes fewer people to ruin things than it does to create something. This is axiomatic. I have called it Lone Asshole Theory. For example, probably you lock your car when you go somewhere. Why? Is it because everyone who walks past will certainly try the handle and, finding it unlocked, steal the change from your console? No. Most -- the vast majority of -- people will walk by and respect that it's not their property, leaving it alone. But that doesn't matter, because all it takes is one person to steal all your spare change. (Yes, I know that even locking won't stop a determined thief, but that's irrelevant.) It took thousands of people several years to build the World Trade Center, and only a few religious fanatics to destroy them in hours. Most people are decent, or at least neutral. You'll meet thousands of them without being harmed. But all it takes is one asshole to kidnap, rape, murder, steal, stand on the left on an escalator, whatever. One accident on a road can tie up traffic for hours. And so on. Lone Asshole Theory asserts that no matter how good you are at following the rules and doing the Right Thing, all it takes is one asshole not playing along for everything to descend into chaos. Does this mean that you should be that asshole? Well, tempting as it might be, I don't think so. But it is tempting, because usually the assholes don't face any actual consequences, so why shouldn't you join them? So there it is. My list of one thing, and a rant to back it up. |
| And again from "JAFBG" [XGC]: What widely-accepted piece of advice is actually total bullshit? Whoa. Like, where to begin? I suppose "Don't get that vaccine, just eat horse dewormer if you get sick" would be too obvious. But it fits the prompt. Perhaps something a little more general, like "Be yourself?" No, that one isn't total bullshit -- if you're attractive, rich and charming. If you're not, "be attractive, rich and charming" would be better advice. If only there were some way to successfully follow it. Oh, I know one! "When you get to prison, find the biggest inmate and punch them in the face to establish dominance." Yeah -- that's not great advice unless you want to avoid your long prison sentence by being dead. But it also won't apply to most people. Let's see... "Put all your cash into cryptocurrency?" Nah, not widely-accepted enough to qualify. But total bullshit. Well, I suppose if you like to gamble. But I like to gamble and I still stay away from that nonsense. So I'll dig deep, go against the grain, and follow several other clichés to suggest that one widely-accepted piece of advice that is total bullshit is... Never give up. A couple of years ago, there was a guy out in the desert who was absolutely, totally convinced that the Earth was flat, and that anyone who said otherwise was part of a vast, overarching, global (snort) conspiracy. What he believed the purpose of the conspiracy was, if anything, I don't really know, but it's irrelevant. So he built a rocket. I guess because the rockets that other people built and used to orbit the really very obviously round Earth were all part of this grand conspiracy or something. In case you've forgotten this little incident, here's the report of his final flight , which failed to prove or disprove the planar nature of the planet, but did effectively provide further evidence to support the theory of gravity."Mad" Mike Hughes, 64, crash-landed his steam-powered rocket shortly after take-off near Barstow on Saturday. 1. Appropriate nickname. 2. Steam-powered rocket. 3. I can't emphasize this enough: steam-powered rocket. A video on social media shows a rocket being fired into the sky before plummeting to the ground nearby. You know, as mulishly ignorant as this guy is, I don't want you to get the impression I'm amused by or celebrating his death. Nor do I have any interest in viewing a snuff video. But I will admit to making "not exactly a rocket scientist" jokes. At least when Musk played with rockets that demonstrated lithobraking, they weren't crewed. Hughes was well-known for his belief that the Earth was flat. He hoped to prove his theory by going to space. 4. Again... other people have done this and reported extensively on it. Complete with photographic evidence. 5. Moreover, one does not need to go into space to demonstrate the curved nature of the surface of the planet. 6. Specifically, we've known this since at least 500 BCE, thanks to math. You know, the stuff you need to know to do rocket science. With the help of his partner Waldo Stakes, Hughes was trying to reach an altitude of 5,000ft (1,525m) while riding his steam-powered rocket, according to Space.com. 7. 5000 feet? 8. I will remind you that he did this in or near Barstow, California. 9. Barstow is approximately 140 miles from the highest mountain peak in the continental US. 10. Said mountain (Mt. Whitney) has a summit approximately 14,500 feet above sea level. 11. Therefore, he could have fucking climbed Mt. Whitney and exceeded his goal altitude by a factor of nearly 3. 12. Or gotten into a jet that would cruise at around 30,000 feet. 13. And that still wouldn't have been enough to convince him. My point in going through all this is not to make fun of idiots or the stubbornly and willfully ignorant, though I'm certainly not above doing so. No, my point is that if he'd believed and listened to actual science, Hughes might well have given up. And possibly still be alive today. Except he probably wouldn't be, because I guarantee you he'd also deny the existence or severity of COVID, and was old enough to get hit hard by it. Had he lived, though, I don't know, maybe Bezos could have given him a ride in that giant phallus of his. I'd have loved to hear what he had to say about it afterward. My guess, though? For people like that, no amount of evidence would be enough, and he'd have found a way to double down on the flat-earth assertion. The moral of this story is: It's great to have a dream. It's great to pursue it. But at some point, if people keep telling you that it is not possible for a human to breathe water, you can either give up on proving it for yourself by sticking your head in a bucket, or you can die drowning. Yes, there have been instances in history of people who insisted that they were right, while the established beliefs were wrong. But in nearly every one of those instances, it was a matter of scientists doing science and pushing back against ignorance and superstition. Hughes was doing precisely the opposite of this. Want to know how to spot a crackpot? See if they say something like "No one believed Galileo either!" If they do, back away slowly. In other words... give up. |
| Another one from "JAFBG" [XGC]... Tell us something about yourself that you've had to learn to accept as just part of who you are. At this point? Pretty much everything. Laziness, lack of ambition, a biphasic sleep cycle, refusing to live with dogs, bachelorhood, an alcohol-positive lifestyle, generic apathy, collector tendencies, less-than-perfect health -- and, above all, the conscious decision not to change any of these attributes or many others. Accepting these things about myself was liberating. No more New Years Resolutions to fail. No more disappointment when yet another attempt at self-improvement makes me frustrated, resentful, or depressed. No wasted energy trying to pretend to be something I'm not. Yes, that was the easy part, accepting myself for who I am. It's a lot easier than working to change something, and like I said, I'm lazy. Unfortunately, other people tend to have issues with some or all of these qualities, so another thing I've had to accept is that many people will never show me the same level of acceptance. The telltale is they'll start a sentence with things like "Maybe you should..." or "Have you thought about..." or "I really wish you'd..." But even that has a positive side: fewer social obligations gives me more time to sleep and play video games. Contentment begins when you can safely tell other people to fuck right off. Sure, there are still a few things I'd like to improve, but I don't give any of them a lot of energy. Sometimes, though, the pain of being a certain way outweighs the pain of potential change, and something will shift. Fortunately, that happens less and less the older I get. It's like... I don't really want to change, and I don't really want to want to change, nor do I want to want to want to change, but occasionally I'll get a passing thought that maybe I should want to want to want to want to change, but that's as far as it goes. I'm not saying I like who I am, mind you. Just that I'd like the process of change even less. |
| Dropping another bucket into the "JAFBG" [XGC] well... Do you think intelligence and happiness are interconnected? Is an intelligent person more or less likely to be happy? Obviously they are negatively correlated, because I'm hyperintelligent and grumpy as fuck. Okay, yes, that's a joke on many levels. Also, one data point doesn't mean anything, and my opinion isn't worth the toilet paper it's smeared on. So, putting aside for the moment my War on Happiness, let's see what the science says. But before I do, I will make a prediction, and let's see if I'm right. If I am, then you will all have to agree that I'm a supergenius; if I'm wrong, you can call me an ignorant dumbass. That prediction is: Higher IQ will be associated with lower "happiness" (which as I've noted before isn't a quantifiable thing and is necessarily subjective). Probably because we giant-brains see the world as it is and are utterly appalled by all the willful ignorance and dumbassery, while the willfully ignorant dumbasses achieve brainless bliss. Here's one. The relationship between happiness and intelligent quotient: the contribution of socio-economic and clinical factors (PubMed)Results: Happiness is significantly associated with IQ. Those in the lowest IQ range (70-99) reported the lowest levels of happiness compared with the highest IQ group (120-129). Mediation analysis using the continuous IQ variable found dependency in activities of daily living, income, health and neurotic symptoms were strong mediators of the relationship, as they reduced the association between happiness and IQ by 50%. Conclusions: Those with lower IQ are less happy than those with higher IQ. Interventions that target modifiable variables such as income (e.g. through enhancing education and employment opportunities) and neurotic symptoms (e.g. through better detection of mental health problems) may improve levels of happiness in the lower IQ groups. Wait, that can't be right. Besides, the study only goes up to 129, and mine's in the 180 range. I gotta find an article that supports my confirmation bias. New research suggests that IQ leads to greater well-being by enabling one to acquire the financial and educational means necessary to live a better life (Scientific American)Crap, you're not helping here. Now I have to venture into the fetid swamp of Psychology Today. The Surprising Connection Between Intelligence and Happiness It turns out that IQ—even assessed in childhood—does predict the emotional ups and downs a person will have over the course of her life. People who were below average in intelligence experienced significantly more variability in their life satisfaction than did those who were above average. No, no, no, no lalalalalala. I know, I can usually trust BBC... IQ linked to levels of happiness People with lower intelligence are more likely to be unhappy than their brighter colleagues, according to UK researchers. Goddammit. (Yes, I know that one just quotes one of the same studies.) Okay, so I'm a grumpy, ignorant dumbass. Now sod off. On a more serious note, this sort of thing should demonstrate why science is important. You can come to your own conclusions based on lived experience or personal observations, but those are utterly useless for drawing general conclusions. Like, "I've never worn a seatbelt and I'm fine!" or "I got the 'rona and just had the sniffles, so this whole thing is overblown!" It's also wise to, when presented with evidence that contradicts your previously-held beliefs, don't dig your heels into your previously-held beliefs no matter what. Doing that, you look like a toddler having a meltdown in the cereal aisle. At the same time, we can't just accept studies at face value all the time. Things like "intelligence" can have a few different definitions, and as with a lot of science, the layperson's definition isn't necessarily the same as the technical definition. For instance, a lot of people think that intelligence means being able to remember lists of facts, basically what's needed to win a trivia contest. That's not intelligence, though; that's memory. It may be correlated, but intelligence is way more than remembering shit. Also, again, happiness isn't really measurable and is subject to different interpretations. Your lived experience is important when it comes to storytelling, but it's otherwise completely meaningless, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you'll be. But what do I know? I'm an idiot. In conclusion, you really need to look at this graph  , but I'm not taking up space in my portfolio to make it an embedded image. Just click on the link. |
| 2022 continues to live down to all my expectations thus far. Yesterday morning, we got a few inches of ugly, dense, watery sn*w which brought down branches, leaves, trees, and a nearby transformer (the electric kind, not the Michael Bay kind, though I did get to hear it explode). And my home generator picked yesterday to go on strike for higher wages and better working conditions. To be fair, any wage would be higher that what I'm paying it now, but come on, you only have to work like twice a year; get over yourself. Thus the late blog entry; electricity just returned, naturally, announcing its homecoming with great fanfare (literally; I'd neglected to turn off the ceiling fan after the power cut out) about five minutes after I'd drifted off to a shivering, restless sleep. Oh, did I mention it's 20F out there? It's 20F out there, and everything is covered in formerly mushy, now icy, sn*w. If the power hadn't popped back on in the middle of the night, they'd have had to chip my corpsicle out of the solid block of ice that had once been a house. Look, I live in Virginia. I expect this kind of shit at least once per winter. It doesn't mean I have to like it. Anyway, though late it may be, I can now do today's rant for "JAFBG" [XGC], which is completely unrelated to crappy winter weather, the robot uprising (which is how I categorize my generator refusing to work), or me not getting any decent sleep.Fess up. Everyone's a little bit judgmental. What is the thing you're quickest to judge someone about? I might have told this story before, but whatever. One time, several years ago, I was drinking at a dive in some small town in South Dakota because it was within stumbling distance of that night's hotel. It wasn't bad as dives go; clean, at least, and the clientele didn't look like Klingons after a hard day's battle. There were a few taps, some of which were even some of the better-known craft brews, so I sat at the bar and ordered a Fat Tire and started going through that day's photos on my phone or some shit. After a couple, I started feeling pretty good despite being in a shitty bar in a shitty town in a shitty state (okay, that's not fair; South Dakota is actually rather nice from what I've seen). This lanky guy comes in, straddles the seat next to the one next to me, and catches the bartender's attention. "What'll it be?" sez the barkeep, or words to that effect. "A Bud Light and a water." And I was just drunk enough to say, out loud, "So, two waters." The bartender ignored me, and, fortunately, the guy who ordered two waters just kinda snorted, and then ignored me. As opposed to punching me in the face, which is an occupational hazard of drinking at a dive bar and disrespecting someone's chosen libation. Or looking at them funny. Or looking at their girlfriend. Or being from out of town. Or just being there. The point is, yes, I instantly judge you based on your beer selection. It's not fair, and I know it, but I'm not perfect (especially when I've had a couple). It's just that I used to drink that swill, too, but then I tasted Real Beer™ and never once looked back. Well, okay, maybe once or twice, if it was free at a party or whatever, just to confirm that I still had a functioning tongue. But if that dive bar had offered nothing but fake American watered-down rice-ass beer, I would have just asked for the water. Or, more likely, a gin and tonic, because I'm not quite as snobby about those. Once I get over the initial judgement, though, reason sets in. Maybe they don't have a lot of money, and still want to pretend to drink beer. Maybe their palate is about as complex as a doorstop. Maybe... shudder... maybe they actually like it better. And really, I don't want to shame anyone for drinking what they like. After all, I don't judge people who simply don't like beer at all, or who don't drink for whatever reason. It's just when someone has a choice between Crap Lite and, well, pretty much anything else, and chooses the Crap Lite, my inner judge, jury, and executioner kick in. Well, maybe not the executioner. Like I said, I get over it pretty quickly. Also, face tattoos. But mostly it's the beer thing. |
| Well, it finally happened - computer froze up as I was previewing an entry, so it got lost. The following represents a half-arsed effort at recreating what I was saying. Another "JAFBG" [XGC] entry. Probably going to do this all month.Talk about something that's illegal, but not morally wrong in your opinion. A bit over 100 years ago, in 1920, the US passed a Constitutional amendment prohibiting the use, sale, transportation, import, etc. of alcoholic beverages (or words to that effect; you can look it up easily enough). If you're not familiar with the US system, suffice it to say that a Constitutional amendment is a high bar to clear. You might have heard the expression, "It would take an Act of Congress," used when something is very, very difficult to get approved. Well, passing an Amendment makes an Act of Congress look like a walk in the park. And yet, in a rare example of a meeting of the so-called minds on both Left and Right, they managed, and for the next 13 years, the country sank deep into the Hell that was Prohibition. During those dark times, far more social harm was done by Prohibition than was ever done by allowing people to just fucking drink in peace. The only valid response to an immoral law is to work to repeal it, and that's what finally happened (there might have been other factors involved). So it is today with cannabis. While several individual States here have legalized it, it remains prohibited at the national level, so it fits the prompt. I've never been a big consumer of it, myself -- can't say I've never done it, though -- but that's immaterial; prohibiting it goes against everything this country is supposed to stand for. And to have it be illegal when other substances, including tobacco, sugar and, yes, alcohol, have the potential do to far more harm just seems stupid to me; besides, I don't accept the idea that laws should protect people from themselves, only other people. Just get over yourselves and legalize it, already. Oh, sure, go ahead and put age limits on it and tax it like we do with booze, and no, people shouldn't drive under the influence -- but that's a completely separate issue and I resent that Prohibitionist groups have largely succeeded in swaying public opinion by conflating the two. Yes, I'm writing this from a US perspective; I'm aware other countries have already legalized it. But I live here, so I'm most familiar with US laws. And I had more to say, but like I noted above, I lost my original entry here, so that's going to have to do it for now. Hopefully tomorrow I'll be more careful. |
| I should probably work on my satire skills. Just to be clear regarding yesterday's entry, I don't actually advocate summary execution of airborne miscreants, nor do I support drugging people en masse. Consider those "modest proposals." Yes, I could use more satirical practice. But not today. Today, I'll attempt to address another "JAFBG" [XGC] prompt without satire. Or at least without too much of it.What is something you learned too late in life that you think others could benefit from knowing? I'm tempted to keep any such revelations to myself. After all, when I was a kid, the adults in my life hit me with all kinds of advice that I scoffed at, only to find from empirical study that they were, after all, right. But I just had to see for myself, didn't I? I assume other young people would do the same with any advice I'd proffer. But, in the spirit of doing a blog entry, and knowing that anyone who actually reads this isn't going to change their ways based on my personal experience, I'm willing to give it a shot. There's actually plenty of stuff I learned too late, like "don't stick your dick in crazy" (which can, in fact, be adapted to "don't let crazy stick its dick in you"). I have not considered what happens when both involved parties are crazy. I imagine that would be a match made in hell. Which might explain both my former marriages, assuming I'm crazy. Because if I am, by definition, I wouldn't know it. But I suppose the biggest thing I learned that I probably should have figured out earlier goes against all conventional wisdom, which probably explains why I didn't consider it earlier. This is that money does, contrary to popular belief, matter. People tell you it doesn't, but I think that's one of those lies that they tell you so you don't feel so bad about being poor. But money is actually freedom. I have a whole article about this in my article queue that I'll get to eventually. Some studies have apparently shown that one's happiness increases only up to a certain income level, after which you reach a point of diminishing returns. Assuming they're valid studies -- and since any study that purports to measure "happiness" is necessarily subjective, that may not be a good assumption -- there are at least two problems with this: 1) If you're just measuring income, that's only part of the whole picture. I've known people with high incomes who spend nearly all of it. Of course that doesn't make them "happy;" it just buys them stuff and services. People need to stop conflating income with wealth. 2) Happiness isn't all that important. Security is. Incomes can be pulled out from under you with no notice, people can die or cut off contact with you, but if you have a stash of cash, you can weather a lot of downturns in life. The only way to accumulate such a hoard, barring lottery wins or other windfalls, is to make enough money to save it. Consider some examples: There's a wildfire heading your way. You've been told all your life that it's more important to be happy than to be wealthy. So now you're displaced, and you have nowhere to go and no way to get there, and have to rely on the assistance of strangers. Or, worse, family and friends. Your beloved pet is ill and needs treatment and medicine. Without money, you're shit out of luck. More importantly, so is the pet. With money, you have options for them. This is the US, and you've just been diagnosed with a dread disease (pick one, doesn't matter). Since your insurance sucks, you can either wither away and die poor, or, if you have money, you can pay for actual good treatment. To make matters worse, you've just lost your job because you're sick.Paradoxically, things are more expensive if you don't have money. The late, great Terry Pratchett probably expressed it best with his "boots theory:" The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money. Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles. But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that'd still be keeping his feet dry in ten years' time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet. This was the Captain Samuel Vimes 'Boots' theory of socioeconomic unfairness. (From his 1993 novel Men at Arms) Apparently, though, we've decided as a culture that being poor automatically confers upon one the status of "virtuous," while being wealthy inevitably makes a person sinful. Some religions hold this as a core tenet, but a bit of thought is all it takes to disprove it: there are plenty of asshole poor people, and, yes, some wealthy people with qualities we'd consider good. While it's true that the relentless pursuit of money has the tendency to make a person seem selfish and uncaring, part of that is that if people find out you have a lot of money they start wanting it, and if you give them all your money, or spend it on bullshit, then you're the one who will be poor. So you have to be selective, and sometimes even mean about it. Just ask a few lottery winners. The ones who tried to buy friendship ended up with no money and no friends; the problem isn't the money, but that the kind of people who waste money on the lottery aren't generally the kind of people who are good with money in the first place. Also, there's nothing virtuous about begging rich people for a cut of their wealth. (No, I'm not going to allow this to turn into a debate about tax policy; fuck off with that shit.) "But Waltz, money can't buy everything." This is trivially true, and that's why I'm saying it's important, that it does indeed matter, not that it should be the only thing in life. But while there are things money can't buy, in the immortal words of the Beatles, "but what it don't get, I can't use." In the end, though, it doesn't matter how much money you have, only that it's enough for you. But having none or, as is the case for a lot of people, negative wealth in the form of debt, is a surefire way to insecurity. In conclusion, on this subject, received wisdom is absolutely misleading, and I wish I'd realized that earlier. |
| This year's going to suck no matter what, so why not start it off with rants, courtesy of "JAFBG" [XGC]? As usual, I'm just tackling the prompts at random. Unruly passenger incidents on airplanes have skyrocketed in the past couple years. What do you think about all these in-flight incidents and what should be done about it? What the hell do you think should be done about it? We live in a world where people are slapped onto a no-fly list for jaywalking, and yet they're not banning all passengers who commit assault in a crowded flying tin can with no survivable escape routes? That is, at a minimum banning them, or for the most egregious cases, they should install airlocks in the tail cone, and anyone who smacks a flight attendant or random fellow passenger gets instantly ejected... whether the plane's still on the ground or not. If you want to be fair about that last bit, engage the other passengers in a game of Judge, Jury and Executioner, and let them vote on it: Lifetime flight ban, fine, jail time, or airlock; you choose. Okay, summary execution may not actually fly (pun intended, as always), but a guy can dream, right? How about this, then: Airlines slap a surcharge on everything, already. Extra legroom, checked luggage, bag of ten tiny stale pretzels, oxygen, a toilet visit, whatever. How about for a small fee -- say, $50,000 -- you're entitled to one (1) punch, slap, or kick of a flight attendant. They can still do whatever they want to you afterward, including duct-taping you to the least comfortable seat in Cattle Class, but that one smack'll cost you 50 thousand smackers. Just institute mandatory MMA training for the flight attendants so they learn to take a punch (paid for by the surcharge, of course), and we're golden. Or, you know, if they're really serious about not wanting passengers to get all unruly and shit, how about not packing us in like sardines? Sure, that'll increase the cost of a plane ticket, thus causing fewer people to fly, but are you concerned about the environment, or not? Since that's not going to happen, free and mandatory Valium for adult passengers might work, too. Well, not free, obviously, but tack it on as another surcharge because they love doing that. It would be especially fun for us drunks. I was given Valium for (I think) the first time in my life last month, to keep me from screaming in terror as they fucked with my eyeballs, and it worked. Didn't drink afterwards, though. Vaporized THC in the cabin air is an option as well. No better time to get high than when you're getting high, and stoners don't get violent unless they're also mean drunks or someone laced their weed with PCP or some shit like that. Speaking of which, I'll also tell you one thing that should not be done about it, but apparently has been, and that's banning drinking or bar services on flights. Shit, alcohol is the only thing that makes cramming into steerage remotely tolerable, and most of us drunks aren't mean drunks; as with everything, the few who are ruin it for everyone else. Or, rather, the pissant airline companies use that excuse to ruin it for everyone else. It's not the poor alcohol's fault; the blame lies squarely on the shoulders of the offending person themself. In any case, this hardly affects me because I don't fly much these days, for obvious reasons. Sure, there was the Delta flight I took in July when I was stranded in South fracking Dakota, but that was a legitimate emergency. No one got punched, all the flights were on time or early, and no one bitched about having to wear a mask on the completely full planes. |
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