I'm always whining about scientific method and data-driven this and that; I thought a couple of recent topics might be useful, partly to illustrate the extent to which many received ideas are still up for grabs and partly because I think they're interesting.
First, there's the "man the hunter" theory about what happened to lots of large critters, back at the end of the Pleistocene. For decades, thought about this has wobbled back and forth between two points of view, a) humans showed up (at least in North America) and hunted them to extinction, and b) no, they didn't. Lately, it looked as though paleoecologists were coming down on the side of yes, we barbequed the mammoth, the giant beaver, and many others. But now, there's stuff being published that says, nope, it was climate change that did the deed.
The point is not which one is right; we may quite literally never come to an agreement on that score, where "agreement" is defined as nobody bothers to try to refute one or the other point of view any longer, simply because the body of evidence is overwhelmingly in its favor. The point is just that what looked settled a year ago is now back in play.
The other game of ping-pong with the received truth involves the hypothetical new hominin, Homo floresiensis, the soi-disant hobbit skeleton. The discoverers of this single example of a small biped have maintained that it represents a new human species, living very late into history and possibly alongside Homo sapiens. Others said, no, it was an H. sapiens specimen with one of several diseases or congenital conditions that made it look the way it did.
Articles earlier in the year seemed to come down on the side of a unique species, despite the small sample and the arguments of the "no, it isn't" group. But now, they're back with a paper that seems (far as I can tell) to make a pretty good case that the hobbit was just a human with hypothyroid cretinism -- basically iodine insufficiency.
As with the roast mammoth versus starved mammoth controversy, my point is just the extent to which these things fluctuate. I doubt whether anyone I know will make life-changing decisions based on these two controversies -- you won't change jobs or sell your BP stock or decide to home-school your kids on the question of who or what killed off the giant beavers. But there are plenty of other things in dispute out there right now, and you might have to decide, say, who you're going to vote for, based on whether you believe one set or another of analyses and opinions. Given the current state of discourse, all I can say is God help us all.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Oh, no! Not Christmas carols already!
You gotta fight fire with fire, son. Before every damn public sound system in the western world starts bleating 'em, we gotta get a jump on parodying 'em. I'll give you covering fire and you start thinking:
O Rahm, O Rahm, Emanuel
Come ransom captive Chicago
That mourns in sleazy exile here
Until the grandson of Daley come
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emanuel
Shall come to thee, O Chicago.
The first concern, Shareholders did say,
Is to maximize earnings on day after day
On day after day, and at night when asleep,
From the slick CEO to the Marketing Creep.
EBITA, EBITA, EBITA, EBITA,
Cover your tracks or they'll put you away.
It's the post-modernist time of the year.
With Foucault being silly
And whipping his willy
Sans fear
It's the least sensible meme of the year.
It's the least humanist style of them all.
With faux Tudor half-timbers
And fake neon embers and Victorian
Crap over here:
It's the post-modernist time of the year.
O Rahm, O Rahm, Emanuel
Come ransom captive Chicago
That mourns in sleazy exile here
Until the grandson of Daley come
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emanuel
Shall come to thee, O Chicago.
The first concern, Shareholders did say,
Is to maximize earnings on day after day
On day after day, and at night when asleep,
From the slick CEO to the Marketing Creep.
EBITA, EBITA, EBITA, EBITA,
Cover your tracks or they'll put you away.
It's the post-modernist time of the year.
With Foucault being silly
And whipping his willy
Sans fear
It's the least sensible meme of the year.
It's the least humanist style of them all.
With faux Tudor half-timbers
And fake neon embers and Victorian
Crap over here:
It's the post-modernist time of the year.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Oh, come on ...
First it was flying submarines, now flying Humvees. Perhaps it's time for another round of drug screening at DARPA.
2010 10 01 - update: and let's check into what the Canadians are smoking, too, while we're at it.
2010 10 01 - update: and let's check into what the Canadians are smoking, too, while we're at it.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Tragedy or just massive irony?
The gentleman who owns the Segway company has died when he apparently rode, yes, you guessed it, his Segway off a cliff and into a river.
The Segway, you will recall, is the invention that was supposed to revolutionize transportation. Instead, it is essentially nothing but the enabler for Steve Wozniac to play a kind of nerd's polo and for the unfortunate Jimi Heselden to crash to his death, less than a year after buying the company. This is of approximately the same magnitude on the ironologic scale as it would be if Victor Kiam had accidentally decapitated himself with a Remington Electric Shaver.
The Segway, you will recall, is the invention that was supposed to revolutionize transportation. Instead, it is essentially nothing but the enabler for Steve Wozniac to play a kind of nerd's polo and for the unfortunate Jimi Heselden to crash to his death, less than a year after buying the company. This is of approximately the same magnitude on the ironologic scale as it would be if Victor Kiam had accidentally decapitated himself with a Remington Electric Shaver.
Fashionable Ann Arbor
Please note that I am not really qualified to throw stones regarding fashion; I own mid-Michigan's largest collection of Duluth Trading long-sleeve, pocket T-shirts, after all, and my idea of fabulous footwear is a good pair of Rockport Pro-walkers.
But I was mildly amused yesterday morning, coming back through downtown Ann Arbor, to see a great example of student chic; it was 56 degrees, according to the car's outside temperature readout, with a stiff, cold breeze blowing at the corner of Huron and Main. A young man was walking north with his girlfriend (I identify her as such based on occasional public displays of affection,) wearing a UM hoodie, madras plaid shorts, and flip-flops. And carrying Chinese takeout.
But I was mildly amused yesterday morning, coming back through downtown Ann Arbor, to see a great example of student chic; it was 56 degrees, according to the car's outside temperature readout, with a stiff, cold breeze blowing at the corner of Huron and Main. A young man was walking north with his girlfriend (I identify her as such based on occasional public displays of affection,) wearing a UM hoodie, madras plaid shorts, and flip-flops. And carrying Chinese takeout.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Senator Creek Addresses
The Chair recognizes the Senator from Michigan.
I should hope so. Hell, I've been sitting around here for the last two weeks, and I sure recognize you. You're that loudmouth with the hammer or whatever it is. Let me just ask you privately, what good is a wooden hammer?
Now, the young people who follow me around and tell me what to do assure me that this is my maiden speech before this body I find that strange. Been quite a while since I knew anything about maidens. Looking around me, I don't see all that many here. Maidens. Nor do I see many others who might have had any commerce with maidens anytime recent. Maidens are in somewhat short supply, both in my constituency and in my experience. I knew a maiden once, back in Michigan. In the non-biblical sense of the word.
And I have to point out, that's the only way you can use that word. Michigan. Non-biblical. The word Michigan does not appear in the Bible. No, sir. I have been through the Bible, cover to cover, both the hard bound and paperback versions. Both the King Louis and the Prince Albert editions. And Michigan does not appear. Which is odd. Tennessee certainly does. And there are repeated allusions to Texas. Especially in Leviticus. But no Michigan. You would think there would have been something. "And God created Michigan on the twenty-eighth day, in the image of Ontario," or something like that. But no. Probably an oversight.
I want this group here to take note that Leviticus is an important thing, an ailment or more precisely a part of the human body where an ailment can take root and fester. I have suffered for many years from a pain in my Leviticus, as have many of the people who voted for me. And yet the congress of the United States has never taken up a Leviticus and examined it, at least insofar as the record shows. I feel that it is crucial to the security of the union that we expose the Leviticus to the scrutiny and ... exposure that it deserves and that the people of Michigan deserve so richly.
And so, to build on that thought, it is my intention to introduce a bill. A bill for four hundred and thirty-six dollars. This will just about cover the cost of having my Leviticus lanced. And it will provide for a federal home for maidens, in my constituency. I anticipate that administration of this home will come under the aegis of The Secretary of Commerce ... the better to deal with commerce with maidens.
Parenthetically, I should add that the aegis is a smaller part of the body, somewhat to the left of the Leviticus.
Once we have assembled sufficient maidens ... making use of the many idle assembly facilities in my great state ... we will institute a program which will put them to work ... the maidens ... rewriting the Bible, so as to ensure that every State has its proper representation therein. And with the publication of this new version, it will no longer be necessary for any member of this body to stand here before you and admit that it is impossible for him to know his constituency in the biblical sense.
And I yield the rest of my time to the Senator from France.
I should hope so. Hell, I've been sitting around here for the last two weeks, and I sure recognize you. You're that loudmouth with the hammer or whatever it is. Let me just ask you privately, what good is a wooden hammer?
Now, the young people who follow me around and tell me what to do assure me that this is my maiden speech before this body I find that strange. Been quite a while since I knew anything about maidens. Looking around me, I don't see all that many here. Maidens. Nor do I see many others who might have had any commerce with maidens anytime recent. Maidens are in somewhat short supply, both in my constituency and in my experience. I knew a maiden once, back in Michigan. In the non-biblical sense of the word.
And I have to point out, that's the only way you can use that word. Michigan. Non-biblical. The word Michigan does not appear in the Bible. No, sir. I have been through the Bible, cover to cover, both the hard bound and paperback versions. Both the King Louis and the Prince Albert editions. And Michigan does not appear. Which is odd. Tennessee certainly does. And there are repeated allusions to Texas. Especially in Leviticus. But no Michigan. You would think there would have been something. "And God created Michigan on the twenty-eighth day, in the image of Ontario," or something like that. But no. Probably an oversight.
I want this group here to take note that Leviticus is an important thing, an ailment or more precisely a part of the human body where an ailment can take root and fester. I have suffered for many years from a pain in my Leviticus, as have many of the people who voted for me. And yet the congress of the United States has never taken up a Leviticus and examined it, at least insofar as the record shows. I feel that it is crucial to the security of the union that we expose the Leviticus to the scrutiny and ... exposure that it deserves and that the people of Michigan deserve so richly.
And so, to build on that thought, it is my intention to introduce a bill. A bill for four hundred and thirty-six dollars. This will just about cover the cost of having my Leviticus lanced. And it will provide for a federal home for maidens, in my constituency. I anticipate that administration of this home will come under the aegis of The Secretary of Commerce ... the better to deal with commerce with maidens.
Parenthetically, I should add that the aegis is a smaller part of the body, somewhat to the left of the Leviticus.
Once we have assembled sufficient maidens ... making use of the many idle assembly facilities in my great state ... we will institute a program which will put them to work ... the maidens ... rewriting the Bible, so as to ensure that every State has its proper representation therein. And with the publication of this new version, it will no longer be necessary for any member of this body to stand here before you and admit that it is impossible for him to know his constituency in the biblical sense.
And I yield the rest of my time to the Senator from France.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Mr. Creek Runs
Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the next United States Senator from Michigan's Fifteenth District ... Mr. Elijah Creek!
HELLOOOO! CAN YOU HEAR ME? What's that, sonny? Are you sure? If you say so.
They tell me I can just talk into this thing here ... don't have to shout to make you hear me. Pity. I enjoy shouting. Always have. I used to say to my wife, "HELLOOO! CAN YOU HEAR ME?" And she'd say, "You damned old fool, I'm right here beside you!" And she usually was. In fact, there she is now. CAN YOU HEAR ME?
When I'm elected, I promise to shout on your behalf. I'll go to Washington and shout at Washington for you, so you don't have to. Now, I know my opponent will say, "You damned old fool, Washington's dead!" But do you know that for sure? I haven't seen any reports about that. Him and his cherry tree.
Just the other day, I was wandering around this great state of ours, looking for things to be appalled at. That's kind of a hobby of mine, wandering and being appalled. Stems from a childhood accident, but they tell me the less said about that, the better. My childhood or the accident, either one. After a while, I started to notice a lot of signs, a lot of downright discriminatory signs ... signs of discrimination, you might say, although I just did, so no particular reason for you to, I suppose. But it led me to ask a very fundamental question of myself and several passerby ... just who is this Dutchman, Van Accessible, and why does he get all those reserved parking spaces?
Well sir, when the Officer couldn't find anything on me I didn't have a prescription for, he took the handcuffs off, and I went about my business. Which they're reminding me to say is your business ... my business is your business ... or your business is my business? What about that feller they collared at the airport the other day, with Capuchins stuffed down his pants? If he's a voter, does that mean monkey business is my business? I hope not ... don't like monkeys much. They bite, especially if they're stuffed down your pants. Take it from me.
Some young wiseacre with a notebook asked me the other day about foreign policy. Don't know why. If some foreigner wants to have a policy, I don't see where you and I come into it. None of our business. Most of the foreign people I've met seem to come from other countries, anyway. And far as domestic policy goes, seems like a pretty tame idea to me. If you're going to have a policy, a wild one sounds like more fun than a domestic one. Maybe I'm just old fashioned ... come to think of it, probably wouldn't dress like this if I weren't.
But anyway, let me leave you with this thought. If it comes down to a choice between voting for me or stuffing monkeys in your pants, go with what you know is right. Or what the voices say, anyway. You won't be wrong more than half the time, and neither will I.
HELLOOOO! CAN YOU HEAR ME? What's that, sonny? Are you sure? If you say so.
They tell me I can just talk into this thing here ... don't have to shout to make you hear me. Pity. I enjoy shouting. Always have. I used to say to my wife, "HELLOOO! CAN YOU HEAR ME?" And she'd say, "You damned old fool, I'm right here beside you!" And she usually was. In fact, there she is now. CAN YOU HEAR ME?
When I'm elected, I promise to shout on your behalf. I'll go to Washington and shout at Washington for you, so you don't have to. Now, I know my opponent will say, "You damned old fool, Washington's dead!" But do you know that for sure? I haven't seen any reports about that. Him and his cherry tree.
Just the other day, I was wandering around this great state of ours, looking for things to be appalled at. That's kind of a hobby of mine, wandering and being appalled. Stems from a childhood accident, but they tell me the less said about that, the better. My childhood or the accident, either one. After a while, I started to notice a lot of signs, a lot of downright discriminatory signs ... signs of discrimination, you might say, although I just did, so no particular reason for you to, I suppose. But it led me to ask a very fundamental question of myself and several passerby ... just who is this Dutchman, Van Accessible, and why does he get all those reserved parking spaces?
Well sir, when the Officer couldn't find anything on me I didn't have a prescription for, he took the handcuffs off, and I went about my business. Which they're reminding me to say is your business ... my business is your business ... or your business is my business? What about that feller they collared at the airport the other day, with Capuchins stuffed down his pants? If he's a voter, does that mean monkey business is my business? I hope not ... don't like monkeys much. They bite, especially if they're stuffed down your pants. Take it from me.
Some young wiseacre with a notebook asked me the other day about foreign policy. Don't know why. If some foreigner wants to have a policy, I don't see where you and I come into it. None of our business. Most of the foreign people I've met seem to come from other countries, anyway. And far as domestic policy goes, seems like a pretty tame idea to me. If you're going to have a policy, a wild one sounds like more fun than a domestic one. Maybe I'm just old fashioned ... come to think of it, probably wouldn't dress like this if I weren't.
But anyway, let me leave you with this thought. If it comes down to a choice between voting for me or stuffing monkeys in your pants, go with what you know is right. Or what the voices say, anyway. You won't be wrong more than half the time, and neither will I.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Mr. Creek Remembers
Editorial note: the following transcript (and a couple more to come) are from the Creek Archive, at the University of Michigan's Creek Library, reprinted by permission of the Curator and Executrix, Amanda Lostwithiel Creek, CISSP.
Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for ... Mr. Elijah Creek!
Well, good evening. I'm happy to greet all my fellow members of ... the Veterans of Foreign ... affairs.
I don't know just how many of you there are out there ... literally. How about a show of hands. Everybody who's actually here, raise your hand. Hmmm ... nobody. Just as well. Easier that way. Don't have to be as funny.
You know, when I was a boy, we remembered things. You young folks today, you don't remember so much. I say to kids now, "DO YOU REMEMBER THE WAR?" and they say, "Sure we do." And I say, "WHICH ONE? I'M TALKING ABOUT THE WAR OF ... 1812!" And they say, "What? Were you in the war of 1812?" And I say, "HELL NO! BUT I REMEMBER IT."
Now that was a war. World War one and two ... pff ... what's that? Add 'em up, all you get is three. Now, war one thousand eight hundred and twelve, sir, that was a war. And think of all those other wars in between, war 1811 and war 1810 and all. Nobody remembers them. But 1812 ...
When I was a boy, we weren't so obsessed with all these gadgets and doo-rabbies and the Internut. The Internut. That's that bunch of connections and tubes and so on. Makes it easy for people to stay in touch, they tell me. Steal things, too. I tried to get on Facebook, but they took one look at my face, and they said "no!" ... I had to settle for ass book. They couldn't see that.
Anyway, when I was a boy, we weren't so obsessed with gadgetry ... we were obsessed with sex. And whiskey. And peanut butter. We used to have peanut butter parties. Get all peanut buttered up and go out and try to catch Indians. We'd sneak up on 'em. But they could smell the peanut butter on our breath. So they'd get away. Never did catch any. Probably just as well. And what would you do with an Indian, anyway, if you did catch one? Take him to the Indian Pound? Wait for somebody to adopt him?
Now I don't know how many of you out there are rightists. Leaners to the right, so to speak. Can I have a show of hands. If you're right handed, hold up your left hand.
When I was a boy, we didn't think much of left handed people ... lefters, we called 'em. We didn't think much of 'em 'cause we didn't know any. If you were a lefter, you pretty much stayed in the closet. It wasn't a very big closet ... sometimes somebody would come out. I knew one young feller decided to come out to his father. Walked right up to his old Pa and held out his left hand: "HELLO, PA!" he said. His dad turned him in to the Indian Pound.
Back then, we had foreign policy that really meant something. The President used to say, "Speak loudly and ... often," I think it was. Whack 'em with a stick if they weren't listening. And if all else failed ... which it did ... why, you'd take a ship and pack it full of resin and ... chicle ... and natural latex products. Send it off up their rivers ... called it gumboat diplomacy. Didn't work worth a damn, as I recall.
But you know, it's real important to remember things. It's important to remember what I'm tellin' you here tonight. Cause, if you don't, you won't be able to tell me about it later on, when I ask you what I was talkin' about. All you'll be able to say is that some old guy was talkin' about Indians and peanut butter and ... lefties. And I won't believe you.
Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for ... Mr. Elijah Creek!
Well, good evening. I'm happy to greet all my fellow members of ... the Veterans of Foreign ... affairs.
I don't know just how many of you there are out there ... literally. How about a show of hands. Everybody who's actually here, raise your hand. Hmmm ... nobody. Just as well. Easier that way. Don't have to be as funny.
You know, when I was a boy, we remembered things. You young folks today, you don't remember so much. I say to kids now, "DO YOU REMEMBER THE WAR?" and they say, "Sure we do." And I say, "WHICH ONE? I'M TALKING ABOUT THE WAR OF ... 1812!" And they say, "What? Were you in the war of 1812?" And I say, "HELL NO! BUT I REMEMBER IT."
Now that was a war. World War one and two ... pff ... what's that? Add 'em up, all you get is three. Now, war one thousand eight hundred and twelve, sir, that was a war. And think of all those other wars in between, war 1811 and war 1810 and all. Nobody remembers them. But 1812 ...
When I was a boy, we weren't so obsessed with all these gadgets and doo-rabbies and the Internut. The Internut. That's that bunch of connections and tubes and so on. Makes it easy for people to stay in touch, they tell me. Steal things, too. I tried to get on Facebook, but they took one look at my face, and they said "no!" ... I had to settle for ass book. They couldn't see that.
Anyway, when I was a boy, we weren't so obsessed with gadgetry ... we were obsessed with sex. And whiskey. And peanut butter. We used to have peanut butter parties. Get all peanut buttered up and go out and try to catch Indians. We'd sneak up on 'em. But they could smell the peanut butter on our breath. So they'd get away. Never did catch any. Probably just as well. And what would you do with an Indian, anyway, if you did catch one? Take him to the Indian Pound? Wait for somebody to adopt him?
Now I don't know how many of you out there are rightists. Leaners to the right, so to speak. Can I have a show of hands. If you're right handed, hold up your left hand.
When I was a boy, we didn't think much of left handed people ... lefters, we called 'em. We didn't think much of 'em 'cause we didn't know any. If you were a lefter, you pretty much stayed in the closet. It wasn't a very big closet ... sometimes somebody would come out. I knew one young feller decided to come out to his father. Walked right up to his old Pa and held out his left hand: "HELLO, PA!" he said. His dad turned him in to the Indian Pound.
Back then, we had foreign policy that really meant something. The President used to say, "Speak loudly and ... often," I think it was. Whack 'em with a stick if they weren't listening. And if all else failed ... which it did ... why, you'd take a ship and pack it full of resin and ... chicle ... and natural latex products. Send it off up their rivers ... called it gumboat diplomacy. Didn't work worth a damn, as I recall.
But you know, it's real important to remember things. It's important to remember what I'm tellin' you here tonight. Cause, if you don't, you won't be able to tell me about it later on, when I ask you what I was talkin' about. All you'll be able to say is that some old guy was talkin' about Indians and peanut butter and ... lefties. And I won't believe you.
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