http://www.pennyarcademerch.com/pat070381.html
I try not to ascribe to hyperbole, but I have noticed it has a home. It festers, as disease-bearing entities often do, in seedy places not meant for the faint of heart. And sadly, it is becoming a method accepted in the vacuum of rational thought for conveying sentiment.
I speak, of course, about comments on the internet.
To me, the comments section and a Tijuana back alley are conceptually equivalent. People that exist there try to goad dim on-lookers into fights, others proclaim loudly who are smug in their power, others act as little jesters tittering away at something silly, and still others try in the face of all these to hold rational discussion without being assaulted.
It is the "man on the street" interview given more time and having no repercussions.
Not surprisingly, very very little of value is communicated in these fora. Oh sure, there may be some rudimentary grading system allowing the stronger voices to be understood. But this is no more than the biggest bouncer on the corner. Sycophants wish they were that strong, or had the ability to project themselves that well. Haters, well, they hate.
One could argue this is good for America, the ability to let go of decades of pent-up frustration at not being heard by those in power. But the therapy ends with the person typing, for only you believe 100% of what you believe. Even strong dogmas have people that stray from the main narrative.
I argue that this "blame the other" method of discourse is damaging. People who feel compelled to shoot other citizens for their beliefs are criminals. Organizations who feel compelled to shoot other citizens for their beliefs change the body politic. It's loosely known as war. Yet this is how war starts, with leaders falsely believing that they must villify one group and be themselves considered victims. Eventually one leader makes a call to take up arms, and if that leader is powerful enough, the followers will do just that. If the targets defend themselves, it's war- if not, it's genocide. Either way, it's hell.
But if we can't sit across from people with whom we disagree- strongly, violently disagree- and explain ourselves in a calm and rational manner in an attempt to gain understanding, then how are we different from a pack of chimps seeking to ostracize an outsider?
Right now a leader need not lead people to their visions away from the center. The leaders are so far away from the center that there is division amonst the populace. That is the flaw with leaders nowadays- they must be myopic, shortsighted, and deliver hyperbolic campaign rhetoric in order to continue to suckle at the public teat. These are the leaders America complains about. Until Americans can truly at their core accept a unifying force with whom they disagree but know that their input is considered and allowed to influence decision, flawed leaders will be what America continues to get.
29 July 2008
23 July 2008
Life is short
This is a blog for rants. This one is a gripe against the world. Sorry for the "bummer-ness" of this one.
I googled to find the email of an old computer-chemistry buddy of mine, Fred Arnold, with hopes he'd have time to share some the warm yet frank career advice I remember from my grad school days. I was shocked to learn that he passed away at the young age of 40, due to cancer.
[Fred, in case you get internet connection wherever you are, I'll never forget your tales of hiking though stinking jungles for hours on end with over 30 lbs of antiquated photographic equipment on your back for the sole purpose of capturing a lizard on film. ... And in case you don't get internet, I'm sure you'd prefer for me to stop.]
...
Today is a day after my birthday, 3 weeks after surgery. And I learn an old work chum, only 7 years my senior, is gone. One phrase dominates my thoughts: life is short.
No wonder I cried when I was born! Sometimes the world is pretty harsh. ... Maybe it's not fair to rant about stuff that truely is beyond anyone's control--if so, this is my last post of the ilk. ... That being so, it's probably my last chance to complain about sunburn. Sunburn sucks.
...
It appears I don't have time for 1-2 hours of computer solitare every day. The world is telling me I've got to change. And it's also telling me that my education isn't as important as my judgement. Time to start seeing clearly and make the right decisions.
I googled to find the email of an old computer-chemistry buddy of mine, Fred Arnold, with hopes he'd have time to share some the warm yet frank career advice I remember from my grad school days. I was shocked to learn that he passed away at the young age of 40, due to cancer.
[Fred, in case you get internet connection wherever you are, I'll never forget your tales of hiking though stinking jungles for hours on end with over 30 lbs of antiquated photographic equipment on your back for the sole purpose of capturing a lizard on film. ... And in case you don't get internet, I'm sure you'd prefer for me to stop.]
...
Today is a day after my birthday, 3 weeks after surgery. And I learn an old work chum, only 7 years my senior, is gone. One phrase dominates my thoughts: life is short.
No wonder I cried when I was born! Sometimes the world is pretty harsh. ... Maybe it's not fair to rant about stuff that truely is beyond anyone's control--if so, this is my last post of the ilk. ... That being so, it's probably my last chance to complain about sunburn. Sunburn sucks.
...
It appears I don't have time for 1-2 hours of computer solitare every day. The world is telling me I've got to change. And it's also telling me that my education isn't as important as my judgement. Time to start seeing clearly and make the right decisions.
16 July 2008
11 July 2008
The bunny chronicles: Special Extreme Fatigued Def Haiku Jam edition
3 a.m., bunny
chews on cage bars, wants to play.
Who wants rabbit stew?
Furry little beast
Seems to make noise all the time.
Does it ever sleep?
Tried to bribe the thing
With some yummy bunny treats.
Turned its nose right up.
3:30 a.m.;
Bunny's water bottle comes
crashing to the floor.
Such a cute small face.
Whoda thunk this rotten beast
Could look innocent?
I just let it out.
Happily it hops along,
hoping to destroy.
Get back from those wires!
I really mean it, bunny!
Don't you chew that up!
Still shaking the treats.
Hoping, though quite pointlessly
that the beast will stop.
Finally, she sleeps.
Time to nod off, I pray that
she won't wake me up.
chews on cage bars, wants to play.
Who wants rabbit stew?
Furry little beast
Seems to make noise all the time.
Does it ever sleep?
Tried to bribe the thing
With some yummy bunny treats.
Turned its nose right up.
3:30 a.m.;
Bunny's water bottle comes
crashing to the floor.
Such a cute small face.
Whoda thunk this rotten beast
Could look innocent?
I just let it out.
Happily it hops along,
hoping to destroy.
Get back from those wires!
I really mean it, bunny!
Don't you chew that up!
Still shaking the treats.
Hoping, though quite pointlessly
that the beast will stop.
Finally, she sleeps.
Time to nod off, I pray that
she won't wake me up.
09 July 2008
My Eyeballs are Dry
Hot doesn't begin to describe it.
I walk from the, ah, "temporary office structure" (trailer) to the building where my client sits all the time. It's about 100 feet.
When the wind blew, it hit my cheek bones, deflected into my eyes, and my eyes froze. They had been dried out with a simple gust of air.
The air conditioner in the trailer is good to cool down the inside 20 degrees. It's 110 degrees outside.
It certainly is a different type of heat. In the east and midwest, this heat is joined with an oppressive humidity. Feels like everything just sticks to you and it's unpleasantly hot.
Here there's no moisture. Your sweat evaporates right off your body. The heat index here is actually negative because your sweating cools you down a small bit.
Now it just feels like walking into an oven. It's not hard to breathe, but it's hard to blink.
Which do I prefer? Neither. I'm not a fan of the desert or the swamp.
I walk from the, ah, "temporary office structure" (trailer) to the building where my client sits all the time. It's about 100 feet.
When the wind blew, it hit my cheek bones, deflected into my eyes, and my eyes froze. They had been dried out with a simple gust of air.
The air conditioner in the trailer is good to cool down the inside 20 degrees. It's 110 degrees outside.
It certainly is a different type of heat. In the east and midwest, this heat is joined with an oppressive humidity. Feels like everything just sticks to you and it's unpleasantly hot.
Here there's no moisture. Your sweat evaporates right off your body. The heat index here is actually negative because your sweating cools you down a small bit.
Now it just feels like walking into an oven. It's not hard to breathe, but it's hard to blink.
Which do I prefer? Neither. I'm not a fan of the desert or the swamp.
06 July 2008
A new concept: work for profit
A common trend amongst academic scientists is "the important stuff." Said stuff is new science--new discoveries and understanding. In other words, figuring stuff out. The goal is to do that as much as possible, be it at the expense of everything else.
You know this. At least, anyone who watches movies can recognize the scientist: Bad hair. Goofy glasses. Scatterbrained during lectures. Socially inept. Wearing a lab coat out of habit... Because, after all, how could spending $20 on a haircut every month possibly help in the understanding quantum physics?
Most of us are not the stereotype, however we do tend to focus on the "important stuff." We're aware of the realities of living in society. We notice and care about looking respectable, being nice, and trying to explain things clearly. We love our families--normal stuff. From college you probably know that profs are normal people who just tend to focus on something they do well.
The reason I'm writing is to reveal an aspect of most academic scientists that people usually don't know: fallacies about money.
Although there are a plethora of reasons why people go into academic careers (egotistical: gaining respect from peers, renown ... practical: relaxed work hours, liberal atmosphere... or even altruistic: helping students) they never go into the job for the money. Mention "salary" to most professors and you'll most often hear a grumbly answer about under appreciation or work load.
From within, a career in academic science is viewed as one of sacrifice. We don't do it all for the nuggie--we do it for the important stuff. At least that's the official reason.
Candidly, we hope and pray for the best of all possible worlds: that we end up as one of the few success stories out there that can both do "important stuff" and then somehow retire rich due to some simple and profitable spin-off application of their discoveries. Forget 401k--scientists hope for a multi-million startup with their names on it.
... But isn't that whack?
I mean, if you believe in logic and cause and effect, and you live your life hoping that your dedication important stuff will be recognized for it's importance, correctness, and worth, and that a big fat financial retirement plops in your lap one day, aren't you setting yourself up for a fall? Isn't the most statistically favored outcome to just end up bitter?
... Alternatives? One is to convince yourself that even unappreciated work makes a difference. Another is to give yourself credit for at least trying. But yet another--which is looking increasingly honest and worthwhile to me--is dropping the act and going straight for money from the beginning.
Of course, the trouble with science for profit is that it's restrictive. Ideas have to be useful. Competition isn't just for street cred any more. And suddenly lawyers and accountants are equally as important as you. But doesn't it make sense to follow your honest dream?
I'm not turning my back to academia. Rather, I view it as something to do after having retirement worked out. I guess I've realized that while I can do science at some level, it's not the impressive kind that changes the world quickly. If I do stumble onto something big, I hope to have both eyes on idealistic goals--not one looking for a nest egg.
So that's the theory. Time to do the experiment.
You know this. At least, anyone who watches movies can recognize the scientist: Bad hair. Goofy glasses. Scatterbrained during lectures. Socially inept. Wearing a lab coat out of habit... Because, after all, how could spending $20 on a haircut every month possibly help in the understanding quantum physics?
Most of us are not the stereotype, however we do tend to focus on the "important stuff." We're aware of the realities of living in society. We notice and care about looking respectable, being nice, and trying to explain things clearly. We love our families--normal stuff. From college you probably know that profs are normal people who just tend to focus on something they do well.
The reason I'm writing is to reveal an aspect of most academic scientists that people usually don't know: fallacies about money.
Although there are a plethora of reasons why people go into academic careers (egotistical: gaining respect from peers, renown ... practical: relaxed work hours, liberal atmosphere... or even altruistic: helping students) they never go into the job for the money. Mention "salary" to most professors and you'll most often hear a grumbly answer about under appreciation or work load.
From within, a career in academic science is viewed as one of sacrifice. We don't do it all for the nuggie--we do it for the important stuff. At least that's the official reason.
Candidly, we hope and pray for the best of all possible worlds: that we end up as one of the few success stories out there that can both do "important stuff" and then somehow retire rich due to some simple and profitable spin-off application of their discoveries. Forget 401k--scientists hope for a multi-million startup with their names on it.
... But isn't that whack?
I mean, if you believe in logic and cause and effect, and you live your life hoping that your dedication important stuff will be recognized for it's importance, correctness, and worth, and that a big fat financial retirement plops in your lap one day, aren't you setting yourself up for a fall? Isn't the most statistically favored outcome to just end up bitter?
... Alternatives? One is to convince yourself that even unappreciated work makes a difference. Another is to give yourself credit for at least trying. But yet another--which is looking increasingly honest and worthwhile to me--is dropping the act and going straight for money from the beginning.
Of course, the trouble with science for profit is that it's restrictive. Ideas have to be useful. Competition isn't just for street cred any more. And suddenly lawyers and accountants are equally as important as you. But doesn't it make sense to follow your honest dream?
I'm not turning my back to academia. Rather, I view it as something to do after having retirement worked out. I guess I've realized that while I can do science at some level, it's not the impressive kind that changes the world quickly. If I do stumble onto something big, I hope to have both eyes on idealistic goals--not one looking for a nest egg.
So that's the theory. Time to do the experiment.
02 July 2008
Post No. 69: An Inconvenient Truth
http://ibdeditorial.com/IBDArticles.aspx?id=299718849952830
After this and many other well thought out papers, dissertations, and explanations that demonstrate the sheer arrogance of man to think we can alter our climate to the degree that these predictions claim
solely
to promote an economy based on trading money for a mythical "carbon credit," to promote cap-and-trade motive, all at the expense of a few secular, progressive shamans?
I have come to one conclusion.
Man is the cause of global warming.
Scientific debate means nothing. Assuming blame for something that's out of your control, that's very... responsible.
Responsible. This word is utterly lost on people. You can be responsible for global warming, but not for crime. You can be responsible for natural cycles in weather, but not for the inevitable by-product of unprotected sex. You can be responsible for another person's poor governance of a nation that's not your own, but not for handling of the consequences of your own mistakes, like spilling coffee on yourself, or being shot while robbing a house.
Therefore, I will support the cause of anthropogenic global warming if only to kindle the seeds of self-responsibility.
After this and many other well thought out papers, dissertations, and explanations that demonstrate the sheer arrogance of man to think we can alter our climate to the degree that these predictions claim
solely
to promote an economy based on trading money for a mythical "carbon credit," to promote cap-and-trade motive, all at the expense of a few secular, progressive shamans?
I have come to one conclusion.
Man is the cause of global warming.
Scientific debate means nothing. Assuming blame for something that's out of your control, that's very... responsible.
Responsible. This word is utterly lost on people. You can be responsible for global warming, but not for crime. You can be responsible for natural cycles in weather, but not for the inevitable by-product of unprotected sex. You can be responsible for another person's poor governance of a nation that's not your own, but not for handling of the consequences of your own mistakes, like spilling coffee on yourself, or being shot while robbing a house.
Therefore, I will support the cause of anthropogenic global warming if only to kindle the seeds of self-responsibility.
01 July 2008
The bunny chronicles: revenge is a dish best served warm
I've heard that allegedly, rabbits are witless, helpless critters. Dumb, in fact, was another word that I've heard.
At any rate, last night after work, I came home and let the rotten little beast out of her cage. The cage is in the front hallway of my apartment, and the vacuum cleaner sits a few feet away from her cage.
So, the beast hopped around for a bit, then sat right next to the vacuum cleaner. She seemed pretty calm and relatively happy there, and she didn't seem to be destroying anything, so I walked away for a bit.
Ten minutes later, wondering if she'd destroyed anything, I checked on her again, and she was still in the same spot. I decided it was time for her to return to her cage, but she thought otherwise. I'd soon see the reason: 30 little dark brown pellets now rested right next to the vacuum cleaner.
Naturally, the beast hopped away. I'd soon catch her and return her to the cage without further incident.
I now regard Elmer Fudd as a tragic character.
At any rate, last night after work, I came home and let the rotten little beast out of her cage. The cage is in the front hallway of my apartment, and the vacuum cleaner sits a few feet away from her cage.
So, the beast hopped around for a bit, then sat right next to the vacuum cleaner. She seemed pretty calm and relatively happy there, and she didn't seem to be destroying anything, so I walked away for a bit.
Ten minutes later, wondering if she'd destroyed anything, I checked on her again, and she was still in the same spot. I decided it was time for her to return to her cage, but she thought otherwise. I'd soon see the reason: 30 little dark brown pellets now rested right next to the vacuum cleaner.
Naturally, the beast hopped away. I'd soon catch her and return her to the cage without further incident.
I now regard Elmer Fudd as a tragic character.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)