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Monthly Archives: September 2021

Occam’s Chain Saw Massacre

30 Thursday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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Occam's Razor, parsimony, science

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Who is Occam? 

And, why does he have a chain saw? 

And, why did we let him get away with a massacre? 

Patience. We will address these questions presently. 

First, who is this Occam anyway? 

Wikipedia provides a pretty succinct summary. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occam’s_razor

There are some interesting details, however. The most important detail is that what is “simplest” or “requires the fewest assumptions” depends on the representation system that you use and upon the assumptions that are so basic that you don’t even count them as assumptions. 

Let’s take a look at flowers. Why flowers? Because they are nice to look at. I could make the same argument with anything else, so why not pick something beautiful? 

Let’s say that you land on planet earth from a flowerless planet. You wander around and you see this flower — a yellow rose. You observe this flower over time and you see that it emerges from a bud. Then, it grows bigger. Eventually, the petals fall off. 

Now, you see another flower. It is in full bloom as shown here. 

What will happen in the future of this flower? We have stipulated that this is only the second flower that you’ve ever seen. Right now, it’s in full bloom. Is it more parsimonious to believe that it too will lose petals? Or, is it more parsimonious to believe it will forever stay in its current state? 

If you came from a planet in this universe, your overwhelming experience will be that most things change over time. Some things change quickly and some things change slowly, but all of these “things” change over time. From that perspective, even if you don’t know that all flowers eventually lose their petals, you might well think it most parsimonious to think that it will change somehow on some time scale. 

Now, you see more flowers and observe them over time. In every single case, flowers grow from buds, they blossom and eventually they lose their petals. Now, you come upon your 4000th flower. You see it in the steady state shown below. 

Is it more “parsimonious” to think it too will lose its petals? Or, since you have no direct evidence about this flower’s future, do you think it more “parsimonious” to think: “Oh, no, it will stay in this state forever.”? 

Now, let’s change the situation slightly. You don’t just see flowers. You see thousands of different life forms on earth. Some of them live to be thousands of years old. Some of them live for days. None of the individual life forms you see live forever. Now, you come upon a life form you’ve never seen before; e.g., a snail. This is your first snail. Interesting. It moves rather slowly, but it does move and respirates and if you study it closely, you will  eventually discover that it ingests food, excretes waste, mates, and dies. 




Now, you come upon your first lizard. It looks quite different from a snail. Do you think it will die? Is it more parsimonious to believe it will eventually die or more parsimonious to think it will not die because you don’t see it dying? Do you think it more parsimonious to think that it mates, breathes, eats, grows or do you think it’s more parsimonious to think that none of those things are properties of lizards because you’ve never seen one mate, breathe, eat, or grow? 

When it comes to your own experience, you notice that your experience is related to external and observable behaviors and states. When you haven’t eaten for a time, you feel hungry. If you feel hungry for a long time, it’s rather unpleasant. If you eat, you notice that you feel better. If you have been exercising hard and sweating, you may feel thirsty. If you drink, you feel better. If you are awake for a long time, you begin to nod off. Your mind begins to wander. You feel like sleeping. 

So, when it comes to you, you notice that there are fairly reliable experiences that correlate pretty well with repeatable external events. These are not perfect correlations. I observed a child once with a hypothalamic tumor who was starving to death but did not feel like eating. As people age, they need to be more careful to stay hydrated because felt thirst becomes a less reliable signal of their bodies need for water. We feel desperate to breathe when the carbon dioxide concentration in our blood increases, but what we really need is oxygen. A lack of oxygen, per se, does not cause us to “feel” the need to breathe more. Early pilots went up into the sky and failed to put on their oxygen masks and died. On Everest, many have died from lack of oxygen. If you get dunked under water, on the other hand, your carbon dioxide will build up and you’ll feel a desperate need to breathe. But if you suffer from carbon monoxide poisoning (which you prevents your blood from taking up oxygen), you will not feel such a need. 

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Despite these exceptions, in general, our subjective experiences are related to external events. We do not question whether we ourselves have subjective experiences. What about others? Do they also have subjective experiences? Most of us believe that other humans also feel hunger, thirst, pain, etc. And, most of us believe that others feel more subtle experiences as well such as love, hate, curiosity, pride, humiliation.

We may feel empathy for others, but we do not directly experience what they experience. We infer what others feel based on their actions and external signals. If you’ve studied science at all, you will also know that other people’s internal structures including their bodies, brains, nerves, hormones, and so on are much like ours — not just in terms of the organs but also in terms of the cells and the DNA and RNA within the cells. 

When it comes to a dog, you may know that they have pretty much the same body we have. We do many of the same basic behaviors and we have the same basic internal structures. Our brains are generally bigger. We generally stand on two legs and they generally stand on four. Which is more parsimonious? Is it more elegant to believe that they do feel pain or to believe that they do not feel pain? They certainly do get excited about having sex. Is it more elegant to believe that they enjoy it or to believe that it is just a reflex and declare that “we have no idea” whether they enjoy it. They take care of their puppies. If a puppy is taken away from its mother at an early age, it acts as though it is suffering. Is it more parsimonious to believe it is suffering or is it more parsimonious to believe that “we know nothing about his or her feelings”?

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Mammals share most of their biological history with us.
Mammals share most of their genes with us.
Mammals have most of the same organs and tissues as we do though they are of different sizes and shapes.
Mammals exhibit the same kinds of behaviors that we do in response to the same sorts of stimuli.
Mammals can learn and solve problems. 

Mammals mate and care for their young. 

Do you think it’s more “parsimonious” to believe that they do experience life in much the same way we do? Or do you think it’s more “parsimonious” to believe that they do not have any conscious experience? 

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The second and third questions, I believe, are best considered together because the answers are inter-twined. Occam has a chain saw, and not just a razor, because humans are generally greedy. Like height, weight, running speed, and virtually every other characteristic of humans, the greed variable shows variability. Variables, variability, vary. It is quintessentially life that there is such variability. Some people grow up to be taller than others. This is partly due to genetics and partly due to the environment. Similarly, some people grow up to be more curious; some are less curious. Some people grow up to be better sprinters than others. Again, this is partly due to genetics and partly to environmental pressures. Partly, it is due to their own choices. A person who runs fast in grade school, for instance, may think of themselves as fast and run more than a person who runs very slowly. They may seek out coaching. They may join a track team. Their choices impact the environment they put themselves in and this in turn, makes them even faster. 

It is the same with greed. People who have a natural tendency toward greater greed may also be born into a family or a culture of like-minded people. The people around him or her may actually admire and reinforce greed. So, they become greedier over time. There is, however, one huge difference between height, intelligence, running speed, and most other characteristics and greed. A very tall person cannot make themselves still taller by buying the height of others. A very intelligent person may, to some extent, buy a good education which will make them a bit more intelligent. But they cannot buy a doubling of their IQ. A person who runs well may attract, and be able to afford, better coaching. In that way, they will learn to run even faster. But not twice as fast. The best coaching and nutrition in the world will not turn a 10.0 100 meter dasher into a 5.0 100 meter dasher.

An extremely greedy person, however, may relish and thrive in environments that gain them wealth and power. They can do much more than merely double their wealth and power. They can have ten, a hundred, a thousand, or even a million times more wealth than others. They can leverage the greed of others to gain much more wealth and power for themselves. In the process, they will likely become greedier still. While “trickle down economics” is simply a myth to rationalize the flow of wealth from your wallet to the wallets of the very richest, “trickle down greed” does work, at least to a considerable extent. 

The greediest, wealthiest, most powerful people can afford to buy the services of the best lawyers, the best accountants, the best managers, the best politicians from amongst those who themselves have a statistically outsized amount of greed. That is largely why they can end up far, far wealthier and more powerful than “average” people. This is not to say that the very best lawyers, accountants, managers, and politicians can all be “bought.” There are undoubtedly some excellent lawyers who won’t take a lucrative case for a known criminal sleaze bag. But the richest and most powerful people will always be able to choose from among the most greedy people on the planet, those who are particularly skilled at anything. 

Humans can communicate and cooperate with each other. That is a good thing, in general. But it also puts a very strange “kink” in “survival of the fittest.” In a small tribe of humans who are trying to cooperate, imagine one among that tribe who was always trying to steal much, much more than their fair share. Such a person would not be likely to thrive. First, they would be easier for a predator to bring down. Second, people could see the outsized greed on display every day and the tribe may exile such a person or kill them outright. If an entire tribe arose which was overly greedy, they might easily hunt and gather and fish the local food supply into ruin and all starve. At a very local level, an exceptionally high level of greed is self-destructive. 

In a complex society however, it is possible for extremely wealthy and powerful and greedy people to insulate themselves from the natural destructiveness of wanton addictive greed. Such people can “buy” publicity, governmental exceptions, and hire some of the best manipulators money can buy so that, instead of the vast majority of people being upset with the very greediest amongst us, their natural resentment and anger are instead steered toward the very short, the very tall, the slowest, the fastest, the darkest, the lightest, people who like different food or wear different clothes. The possibilities are nearly endless in terms of the details but the basic strategy has been the same since the time of the earliest “ruler class.” Take, take, take and use what is taken to build castles, hire knights, mislead, mis-educate, etc. in order to rationalize and protect the outsized greed. 

The protection garnered from outsized addictive greed is time-limited, however. In the long run, nature wins. The outsized greed of a few, if unchecked, will destroy humanity, including the greediest. But for millennia, most of the negative impacts of greed have hit the people who have the least. As the planet cooks and poisons spread through our water, air, and food supply, everyone will eventually be hurt including the richest and most powerful.

Why, you may be asking yourself, did we take such a long detour into the nature of greed when we are talking about parsimony? The real reason that people have moved away from the stance of natural economic use of resources and a felt kinship with all of life is that our current disconnection from life and the sentience of other life forms is that it feeds the greed. In other words, it is a convenient rationalization to think that “science shows” that other life forms don’t “really” feel pain in the same sense that we do. If we were to recognize that all life is related; if we were to recognize that all life is sentient; if we were to recognize that all life is precious — then it would be much harder to hunt for sport, to force feed animals for slaughter, to treat animals as just another kind of tool.

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Conversely, when we treat other life forms badly, it not only provides a rationalization for killing more of them than we “need” — it also provides a convenient rationalization for killing, torturing, and exploiting other humans. After all, “they” are not fully human. If “they” look different or speak differently or dress differently or worship differently or make love differently, to a civilization that is used to exploiting other life forms and wantonly killing them, it is a short step to being able to rationalize being cruel to these other humans — to “them.” 

So…

There may be cases where we should use Occam’s Razor.

But we should not be giving Occam a chain saw. 

He has used that chain saw, not just to get rid of epicycles on epicycles or to erase phlogiston from thermodynamics. He will use it to cut us off from our larger family of all life on earth. He will use it to rationalize the belief that — despite animals being like us in every conceivable way that is fundamental — they have no real feelings. He will use the chain saw to rationalize the belief that irrational and addictive greed are just fine and that people who speak differently or dress differently or have different skin color don’t have any feelings that actually matter. 

What do you think?

——————

You know

Math class: Who are you?

Essays on America: Labelism 

The Tree of Life

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Life is a Dance

Myths of the Veritas: The Fourth Ring of Empathy

Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Author page on Amazon

Myths of the Veritas: Homecoming

29 Wednesday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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empathy, fiction, leadership, legend, love, myths, narrative, story, Veritas

Many Paths trotted over to the location specified by the drum rolls. Her eyes skimmed over the path ahead, skipping from one good landing spot to another. She gave a little chuckle as she reminded herself that there was no need for another sprain in the family. Images of her brother Tu-Swift and her lover Shadow Walker both loomed into her mind’s eye. She missed both of them so much. She believed it likely that Tu-Swift was fine but Shadow Walker was another matter. She felt he was okay, but being surrounded by ROI and Z-Lotz…? That was inherently dangerous and unstable. She really wanted both of them to be with her. 

Then she sighed and thought to herself, If I am really going to attempt to bring peace to the tribes — or bring the tribes to peace — I must be able to master my own feelings. Trunk of Tree is not the person whose counsel I most wish for, but still he does have a different perspective on things and I should tell him that I value that. But … 

She stopped in the path and listened to the drum signals. There were four people approaching. So far as Many Paths knew, Trunk of Tree had stomped off by himself. Who were the other three? She frowned and bit her lower lip, but she took a deep breath and waited for the drumbeats to signal who his companions might be. Soon, she knew, the signal drums would inform her of names for known people and transmit descriptions for unknown people. 

Her eyes widened. The drums did not speak of Trunk of Tree. No! It was Shadow Walker! She began sprinting toward the spot the drums indicated. And, Eagle Eyes! And two more Veritas! Her strong legs now propelled her forward even faster, fueled by a mixture of gratitude, longing, joy, and curiosity. At last, she came around a bend in the path, went up a slight rise and saw a party ahead on the path. Shadow Walker!

She screamed his name, “Shadow Walker!” 

Shadow Walker saw Many Paths and began running as well. They came together in a rib-bruising clasp. They closed their eyes and kissed each other wordlessly. Many Paths chided herself for forgetting how wonderful her partner smelled. And tasted. She pushed him away at arm’s length to allow herself a good long look at him and then hugged him to her again. “Shadow, Shadow, Shadow!” 

She again pushed him away and smiled at him. “You have no idea. What? We thought… Dear Eagle Eyes.” She embraced her as well. “Who —? I’m sorry. Forgive me, visitors. I am Many Paths of the Veritas tribe.” 

Shadow Walker’s smile of joy seemed to illuminate the nearby sheaves of grass. “Many Paths, allow me to introduce Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns. These are the parents of Cat Eyes! We — there is so much to tell, but we must save much for another time. We must — I am afraid that we suspect the Z-Lotz may come after us. I am sorry to say, we must be prepared for another attack.” 

Many Paths greeted Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns with a genuinely warm smile. “I am very happy to meet you. Come. Let us go to our Center Place where we may prepare guards so that we may tell each other our stories in peace and safety!” Many Paths took the hands of Eagle Eyes in her own and then hugged her. “I missed you too! I could really use your advice on so much. There is so much. But wait! Are you sick? Are any of you sick? You don’t look sick. But very recently we have had a plague here.” 

Shadow Walker quickly explained that he believed all four of them to be well though there were many among the Z-Lotz and ROI who were quite sick and many had died. As the small group proceeded toward the village, many other Veritas came out to greet them as well for all had heard the drum signals. By the time they came to the Center Place of the Veritas, a great crowd had assembled. 

Many Paths strode up to the speaking stone that stood at one end of the clear open space in the middle of the village. She called out in strong, happy voice: “As you can see, Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes have returned! And, these two companions are Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns and all have tales to tell. But first, we must make sure the guards are on alert. Although they do not believe they were followed, they have reason to think we must be ready for another attack by the Z-Lotz, the people who steal children.” 

When she had finished her short speech a thousand questions began to be whispered while the drummers pounded out their message of caution to the guards that had been posted at the outskirts of the Veritas lands. When the drumbeat signals stopped, Many Paths held her hand out to Eagle Eyes. Many Paths desperately wanted to hear what Shadow Walker had to say, but she felt that Eagle Eyes should likely tell her tale first. 

She ascended the rock and described how she and Shadow Walker had quite easily tracked the recent envoys from the Z-Lotz. She told how the men they tracked had all fallen quite ill with red dots and how they had buried their bodies in rocks. She began to describe how unclean she and Shadow Walker had felt after. As she thought back on that, she felt the color rising in her neck so she quickly skipped ahead. “In any case, we snuck into the city of the Z-Lotz and thought we were unseen. We were captured and held separately. We had all been on the verge of being murdered in public by the King of the Z-Lotz, NUT-PI. He had a killing stick which he was going to use to torture and kill us along with many other prisoners. As she looked out on her tribe, she could see that they were spellbound. She nodded briefly and went on. “I looked up into the sky and saw eagles. I closed my eyes and imagined their calls.” By now, Eagle Eyes animated every aspect of her story. When she closed her eyes, she saw eagles right here and now. So did most of her audience.

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She continued, “I called them to me. They began to circle and then swooped down in a flash to attack NUT-PI. He tried to kill them with his killing stick but he was too slow. And…we had another weapon!” 

She paused, enjoying the expectant looks on the faces before her. “Not so long ago, some of you may have seen that we were playing with reflections and found that enough reflections of the sun, concentrated on one place, could cause small sticks to catch fire. The Z-Lotz put a shiny collar on us. While we were imprisoned, Gathers Acorns and I hatched a plan that, if we had a chance, we would shine the sun into the eyes of our enemies. Shadow Walker and the other men prisoners had similar collars. He quickly caught on to what we were doing and added their reflections. Since NUT-PI was the immediate threat, we all reflected our little suns onto him and his head burst into flames!” 

The eyes of the Veritas widened as they pictured someone bursting into flames. She let this image sit for a moment in the collective imagination of her tribe. Then, she resumed.



“Different tribes choose their leaders in various ways. The Z-Lotz choose by assassination! Since Shadow Walker, so we claimed, had killed NUT-PI, he should become their leader. As you might imagine, many objected to this, but, at least initially, since it was their habit, and the people were afraid, most accepted him — us really — as rulers. I can tell you more about how that went later, but first, there were several attempts to overthrow Shadow Walker by assassination. Last night, Tree Vines came at night and told us there was going to be an attack by many in the morning so we had to leave immediately. We came here. Obviously, the Z-Lotz already know where we are. But we didn’t see any signs that we were being followed. Still, prudence would say that we need to be careful. From the Z-Lotz standpoint, Shadow Walker is actually still king…so long as he’s alive, that is. But even apart from that, it’s clear that they would not mind exploiting us and possibly even destroying us.”

Many Paths spoke next. “Did you bring NUT-PI’s killing stick back with you? Were there more?” 

Eagle Eyes glanced at Shadow Walker. Then, their eyes locked. It was clear that Eagle Eyes wanted him to explain why he had made the killing sticks inaccessible. He nodded, almost imperceptibly and ascended the rock, unafraid to take a helping hand from his friend. “By sheer accident, we discovered a stash of killing sticks. By the way, I destroyed the one NUT-PI had. It was a thing of much violence, clearly, but beyond that, I knew nothing about how to operate it. So, I destroyed it. If I had kept it, it might have been used against me. I could not picture myself killing a human being in such a way with such a thing.” He paused as though reliving how difficult the decision had been.

Then, Shadow Walker continued his narrative.”We found a stash of killing sticks. By accident. We don’t know who among the Z-Lotz knows of its existence. We had not yet decided what to do with them when Gathers Acorns and Tree Vines told us we must leave with as little as possible. I made it so the Z-Lotz could not easily get to these killing sticks. If they know about them, they will eventually get them but, Gathering Acorns also poured a combination of fermenting acorns and sewage atop the killing sticks. She believes this will render them useless, not to mention disgusting, but we are not really sure.” 

Many Paths regained the gray granite stage, and said, “Now, here is another thing. These helpers of Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes — Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns — are the parents of Cat Eyes. They have been apart for many years. And, as soon as these two are rested from their journey, we will have a group quickly take them to their village on the other side of the mountain so they can be re-united at last with their daughter.”

A clear voice rang out from the edge of clearing. 

“That won’t be necessary!”

——————————————

The Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: Feast and Fire

—————————————-

Author page on Amazon

Stress Fractures!

26 Sunday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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America, Democracy, Resistance, USA

Stress Fractures!

From Wikipedia, 9/26/2021

Stress fracture
Other namesHairline fracture, fissure fracture, march fracture, spontaneous fracture, fatigue fracture
pastedGraphic.png
Stress fracture of the second metatarsal bone (below the knuckles of the second toe)


“A stress fracture is a fatigue-induced bone fracture caused by repeated stress over time. Instead of resulting from a single severe impact, stress fractures are the result of accumulated injury from repeated submaximal loading, such as running or jumping. Because of this mechanism, stress fractures are common overuse injuries in athletes.

Stress fractures can be described as small cracks in the bone, or hairline fractures. Stress fractures of the foot are sometimes called “march fractures” because of the injury’s prevalence among heavily marching soldiers.[2] Stress fractures most frequently occur in weight-bearing bones of the lower extremities, such as the tibia and fibula (bones of the lower leg), metatarsal and navicular bones (bones of the foot). Less common are stress fractures to the femur, pelvis, and sacrum. Treatment usually consists of rest followed by a gradual return to exercise over a period of months.” 

A few weeks ago, I was playing tennis as I regularly do about 3-4 times a week. Also, as usual, my feet really began to hurt after two sets. I find that changing shoes typically helps the situation, so I sat down to change my shoes. It was extremely difficult to get my foot into my shoe — I had to bang it hard to get it in. Finally — success!

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So, I was ready to play a third set. But after two points, I realized there was no way I was going to play more tennis. I hobbled home and could barely mount the shallow steps to the front door. It was “Labor Day” so most places were closed. We finally got my painful ankle X-rayed and the doctor who read the X-rays said, “Good news! No new breaks in your ankle.” 

That was good news. 

Except that so far as I knew, I had never broken my ankle in the past! That brings to seven the total number of broken bones I’ve had. 

I was born with flat feet and all my life I’ve had flat feet and pronated ankles. Now, however, things had moved to a new and much worse chapter. I could literally put zero weight on my left leg. Now, I can walk. Which means, I can now play tennis. 

Sort of. 

How could I have broken an ankle and not have been aware of it? Because of the structural defects in my feet, instead of having an arch that works to distribute the stress of running, jumping, and landing, one of the key bones in my arch has moved downward and toward the midline. So now, every time I land hard, the stress is not distributed evenly through the arch but smashes down into the outside of my ankle bone.

That sucks. And it makes playing tennis iffy. And, it’s painful. And, potentially dangerous.

Not so much as the fracturing of American democracy however. 

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

The Trumputinists have been waging a War on Truth against America for years. They stepped up their game significantly with TFG. Who benefits from the War on Truth? 

Not the American citizens! 

The man who got TFG Putin office benefits. 

America has long been the major thorn in the side of Putin’s ambitions to reconstitute the USSR and possibly even to “rule the world.” It’s a crazy ambition, to my way of thinking. But not to would-be dictators. 

I like tennis. 

But some folks like stamp collecting. And some like to quilt. And some few like to destroy the love and livelihood of others in order to gain power. (Essays on America: The Game).

About 2400-2500 Americans were killed by the sudden attack on Pearl Harbor. FDR immediately declared war on Japan. That was like a traumatic bone break to a human body.

The Trumputinists, through their campaign of lies, false cures, false promises, and executive orders have driven up the number of deaths of Americans from the pandemic by hundreds of thousands. They have killed more Americans than were killed in 9/11 and Pearl Harbor and the War in Vietnam, and the Middle Eastern wars combined.

In 1860, the South seceded from the Union. Did Lincoln declare war on the South? No. Did he attack the South? No. The South attacked Fort Sumpter. Do you know how many Americans they killed? 

Zero. 

Two Union soldiers were killed in an accidental explosion while they were leaving the fort.

Even before the pandemic hit, TFG was rolling back safeguards on the food supply, clean water regulations, and clean air regulations. He was isolating America from our allies.



Stress fracture.

He divided the country using the methods that would-be dictators have used for centuries. (See: The Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup).

Stress fracture.

TFG replaced patriotic, non-partisan experts throughout government with inept lackeys who would do anything to curry favor with the Putin-backed coup. 

Stress fracture.

TFG did everything he could to destroy the careers of any patriotic Republicans who stood up to him. 

Stress fracture.



TFG, millions of dollars in “dark money” and the Trumputinist backers have subverted confidence in elections and passed “laws” that mean that they can simply “overturn” elections when they don’t win. Nonetheless, they have also passed laws to suppress the votes of POC, the elderly, Armed Services personnel, Native Americans, and students. Suppressing the vote, aside from being unfair, guarantees that inept, cruel, and corrupt politicians will be the norm.

Stress fracture.

The Trumputinists deny that their deadly attack on the United States Capitol was a crime. They claim it was just a regular day of tourism. 


Major stress fracture.



America faces serious problems such as the need for immigration reform, wealth inequality, racial injustice, crumbling infrastructure, COVID, cybercrime, social media companies giving in to brutal dictators like Putin, climate disasters. The Trumputinists pretend to want to be part of the solution but actually are doing everything in their power to prevent these crises from being addressed. 

Stress fractures.

As the stress fractures in your body continue to multiply, you will begin to bleed to death internally. And, being unable to move, you will be unable to battle predators of any description.

It’s past time to bring to justice those who are trying to destroy our democracy, even if that makes Putin upset. 

Photo by Donald Tong on Pexels.com

It’s important to remember that in the last Presidential election, Republicans and Democrats worked together throughout the country to run the election. Those were actual Republicans — Americans who are typically more conservative than their Democratic colleagues. Those folks are being threatened with physical violence as are their families unless they pledge to be Trumputinists. Of course, the Trumputinist don’t call themselves “Fascists” or “Trumputinists” but so what?

(Essays on America: Labelism). 

Stress fracture. 

People who stormed the US Capitol; politicians who support the overthrow of democracy; people who threaten violence against actual Republicans who do not support the big lie — they all need to be dealt with legally, but quickly and thoroughly. 

One thing we do know from history: trying to placate a cruel ego-maniacal dictator by, say, giving them Poland, does not work. Ask the ghost of Neville Chamberlain.

I honestly cannot think of how the Trumputinists could make it more clear. 

They are not playing on team America. 

They have already attacked American democratic institutions and stormed America’s Capitol. 

They have already killed 1/2 million innocent Americans. 

They are still perpetuating the big lie. 

They certainly have no business being seated in the Congress of the United States of America.

Many of the Trumputinists have been trained to deny the efficacy of masks, social distancing, and the vaccines. 

But many Democrats have been trained to deny the severity of the crisis we are facing. Ignoring the X-rays and pretending it’s all business as usual won’t knit my bones back together. 

Ignoring the fact that Trumputinists are fighting an undeclared war on our country will not make us safe any more than shutting our eyes will make us safe from the circling wolf pack or the growing climate crisis or the unsustainable chasm in wealth and opportunity.

Trumputinists killed a half million Americans (and counting) by not addressing the pandemic realistically.

(See: The Truth Train).

Democrats will allow many millions to be killed if they do not address, with everything in their power, the slow coup that is breaking America. 

“There is always light if only we’re brave enough to see it…if only we’re brave enough to be it.” — Amanda Gorman





https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stress_fracture

The Quinquagenarian

22 Wednesday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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bicycle, biking, birthday, cycling, poem, poetry, riding

(A birthday wish for a friend whose birthday is Saturday and he likes to bike).

Fertile fields will flit right by

Piston legs and open road.

Circles much like earth inscribe. 

Energetic coast and glide

Sprint with ease and wind swept face

Speedy grace; easy race.

Wheels of whirl and whirling wheels

Much like flying, so it feels!

(To those of Smokeless Flying Tribe).

Virginia Reel – toe to heel

Once more, Earth’s orbit serves as goad

To celebrate the cyclist’s high! 


Life is a dance

To see the earth in vast expanse

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Myths of the Veritas: Many Paths Finds Many Keys

21 Tuesday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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cooperation, empathy, fiction, leadership, legend, Many Paths, myth, tale, Veritas

Many Paths frowned. She looked down at the wrinkly old lady who had been — and still was — her mentor, her shaman, her friend. She Who Saves Many Lives was drifting off to sleep but with a smile on her face, despite the difficulties and discomfort of the Red Spider Plague. Many Paths herself smiled. Even in sleep, the old Shaman made her feel better.

She decided to let her mentor sleep. Many Paths had been about to ask for a hint about the puzzle she had just been given. Many Paths laughed to herself thinking, Just as well. Her “hints” are just as likely to lead the student astray as they are to bring sunlight to the right path. 

Many Paths left the old shaman’s cabin and walked about the Center Place of the Veritas. She greeted various members of the tribe warmly, and once she had greeted everyone in sight and reassured them that she was cured and that The Old Grandmother was resting comfortably. She had discovered that greeting everyone and having a short conversation with them allowed the maximum chance for uninterrupted thought. So, she settled herself at the porch of her own cabin. She reviewed what the old shaman had said to see if there was a clue to this seemingly impossible problem. 

“There are two locked boxes. Each contains the other’s one and only key. Yet, I am able to use the keys to open both boxes. How is that possible?”  

First of all, why had she brought this up? Was it just something that bubbled up in the overheated brain because of the fever? Perhaps. But Many Paths reckoned it more likely that She Who Saves Many Lives had intentionally chosen this puzzle because it held something useful for the problem at hand.

Well, thought Many Paths, to be more precise — not the only problem at hand — there were so many. But the one she had shared with her mentor was how to bring together all the nearby tribes and broker a peace deal amongst them. Fires. Wars. Killing Sticks. Stealing children. It was all madness. And the Z-Lotz? Bringing the Red Spiders Plague on purpose? Giving them a gift which was really meant to sicken them? How could there peace with such as that? And yet — and yet, somehow her lover Shadow Walker and one of her closest friends, Eagle Eyes had become the leaders of the Z-Lotz! If, she reminded herself, the note brought by the Eagle could be believed. 

Many Paths sighed. She wished she could talk it through with someone. Yet…she had a feeling that She Who Saved Many Lives didn’t give her the puzzle because she wanted the answer. The old shaman already knew the answer. It was specifically designed to move something within Many Paths. Many Paths laughed aloud at her own train of thought. She shook her head and muttered to herself, “Here I am. I can’t solve the puzzle she gave me so instead, I’ve given myself a still harder problem — trying to read the mind of She Who Saves Many Lives! I think if I know why she gave me the puzzle, it would help me figure out the answer. The much more sensible approach is to solve the puzzle and then it will be much easier to solve why she gave it to me.” 

Many Paths closed her eyes and put her fingers to her temple. With her eyes closed, she became much more aware of the warmth of the sun on her face. She quite consciously relaxed her muscles and slowed her breathing. 

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

She thought: Inventory. What do I know? There are two boxes. There they are. Many Paths pictured two large wooden boxes side by side. They were identical. What are they made of? Are there holes? Is it still a box if there are holes? Maybe it’s still a box, but they are locked boxes. Locked boxes are not really locked boxes if their are large enough holes for me to slide my hand through and simply grab the keys. They are supposed to be locked boxes. But why are they made of pine wood? No-one said anything about pine or even wood. They could be carved out of stone, I suppose or even of ice. The boxes could melt! But she said ‘use the keys’ — well, I suppose you could take the keys and warm them in a fire and then, use that heat to melt the ice…but no, I wouldn’t yet have the keys. I could wait till they melt naturally. Then I could grab the keys, but I wouldn’t be using them to open the boxes. Is melting a box really opening it?

So, how do I know the boxes are identical? Suppose I am one of the boxes? I am in the tribe but I am also myself — my own person — even though I lead the tribe. Something is nearby. I can hear the answer rustling in the bushes but it is still too dark to see it clearly. Two boxes. Not necessarily the same. One could be the tribe. One could be me. If I had the key to the tribe … and the tribe had the key to me….they could me the key I need to open me and I could give them the key to open them.

In the mind of Many Paths, the two boxes began playing with each other. She made them mentally chase each other in circles. Then, when she grew tired of that game, she had them continue their roles to the end. One of the boxes opened its giant “mouth” — a hinged side — and “eat” the other box. 

Many Paths stopped breathing. Her eyes snapped open. “Of course!” She said aloud. Her first inclination was to run back to continue her conversation with She Who Saves Many Lives. But she shook her head. She’s likely still asleep, thought Many Paths, and besides. There’s the other half of the problem. Why did she…? Ah, of course! 

Many Paths saw that the second puzzle — why she had been given this puzzle when she had been telling She Who Saves Many Lives how much she wanted to bring peace to the tribes but she couldn’t even control Trunk of Tree — that wasn’t a puzzle at all. It was obvious. If she wanted to change the external world to be more peaceful, she herself would have to be changed — perhaps more peaceful — perhaps not. The puzzle didn’t specify exactly what about herself she would have to change. A puzzle merely illustrates a principle. It never dictates real world action. All the Veritas were taught this early, including Many Paths. 

Her intuition led her to believe the two “keys” were different in her dilemma just as they had been in the puzzle. But —she also believed that they would be closely related. Many Paths wanted to the tribes to be more peaceful, more truthful, kinder, more cooperative. She sighed and issued a short laugh.

Many Paths said to herself, I want all the tribes to be more like the Veritas. I want them all to be Veritas. But — I can’t bring six tribes together and explain that they should all be just like me … or even more like me. 

Again, Many Paths had a sudden impulse to run back to She Who Saves Many Lives to share her new insight. And, once again, she immediately suppressed that sudden urge. Instead, she sighed. She did wish that she could discuss this with one of her friends. It was clear that she needed to make a change, but it also seemed obvious to her that it was just the sort of change that friends could help with. 

She thought, My friends will see in the moment that I am assuming everyone wants to be a Veritas and point it out. Eventually, the new way will permeate my thinking. But which friends? My most trusted friends were all unavailable at the moment. I’m not ready to allow the spread of rumors about a meeting with all the tribes. It can’t be just anyone. Could I talk about it with Trunk of Tree?

Many Paths took a deep breath. She reckoned she could talk about it with Trunk of Tree, but first, she needed to really see and understand his point of view. 

She thought, Prior to seeing him, I need to make a guess at his perspective and then I need to check it out with him. I can’t just assume it’s right, but I might make a start. He’s always thought he should be the leader because he’s the strongest. In his mind being strongest is the most important thing. I need to make him see that we all do think it’s important. We value his strength and all wish we had more of your strength. We also believe that other things are also important. And, it may be the case, that in some instances, being the strongest is the very most important thing for a leader to have. And, it may be the case, that in some other instances, being able to see the best, or hear the best, or speak the most convincingly, or think the most creatively. Who knows? We have a way to choose a leader. And in that way, I was chosen. It doesn’t mean that you are not the strongest. It does not mean that we care nothing about you or your strength. It just means that for now, the shaman judges that the seven rings of empathy were the best trials. Of course, the people are the final judge and if everyone wants to change the way we choose leaders, so be it. Perhaps everyone will decide a wrestling match should determine the leader — or, as with the Z-Lotz and Cupiditas,  — a fight to the death. If the people decide that, then so be it, and I will support you. And so will Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes and Tu-Swift. But as it is, I am the chosen leader. That doesn’t make me your ruler. I come to you as a friend and I need your advice precisely because you and I don’t always see eye to eye. Here’s what I’m thinking….

Her thoughts continued: Of course, I must be open to many paths of conversation. Perhaps I should suggest that I speak uninterrupted for a time. Trunk of Tree could be a good confidant if he will hear me out first. It requires so much work though to work with him. Of course, the same can be said of getting the six tribes together. It’s like trying to weave…yes…it is like weaving! The tribes can all be different. We can do things differently. But the question is, what do we want to work on together. And let us move in different directions and make the whole basket stronger. 

Many Paths felt relieved somehow and looked forward to having an honest conversation with Trunk of Tree. She circled through the village looking for him but he was nowhere to be found. She wondered if he had gotten so made that he had injured himself or even left the tribe. She shook her head. She was having a bad day of fishing or hunting. She chuckled to herself and thought: I was actually looking forward to talking with Trunk of Tree and he’s not here. Oh, I miss Shadow Walker! 

Just then, the attention of Many Paths turned to the air. She heard a distinct drumbeat pattern that someone safe was approaching. She thought: It looks as though I will have my conversation with Trunk of Tree after all. 

————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Wobbly Man

Essays on America: The Isle of Right

The whole is greater than the sum of the parts

The Myths of the Veritas: Night Moves

19 Sunday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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fiction, legend, myth, tale, Veritas

Shadow Walker sat in silence at the edge of the dimly lit “Royal Chamber.” It was his turn to “stand watch” and though he had trained his mind to concentrate, his mind nonetheless wandered from time to time. He thought of many things, but mainly of Many Paths. Despite the myriad talents of Eagle Eyes, he wished Many Paths were there instead. The mind of Many Paths was well suited to thinking through the current dilemma. Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes had agreed to provisionally treat his three chosen ministers as confidants. He had hated to do it, but he fed each one of them different “confidential” information which he asked that they not share with anyone else. In this way, he could eventually success whom he could really trust. 

In the “Royal Bed”, as it was known, they had folded extra blankets to make it appear that two people were sleeping cuddled together. Meanwhile, he and Eagle Eyes had agreed to take turns watching to see whether any assassin would appear. This much, at least, seemed like a good plan for now, but they needed their sleep. It wasn’t sustainable to stay alert on short sleep indefinitely. And besides, it wasn’t only in their sleep they could be assassinated. Even if they managed to avoid death at night, could they be on their guard sufficiently to protect themselves the entire rest of the day? Day after Day?

At least being potentially beset on all sides helped Shadow Walker stay awake for his shift. He could see the form of Eagle Eyes lying asleep on the floor near the opposite wall. He cared for her. She had already saved his life at least twice since arriving at the City of the Z-Lotz. For now at least, the Z-Lotz as well as the remnants of the ROI treated him as king and bowed down deeply to him. This was a move which invariably sickened Shadow Walker inwardly, but he tried to portray the face of someone who would find such actions pleasant. For this image, he chose his memory of Trunk of Tree whom he imagined would like it if people bowed down to him. 

Trunk of Tree. There was another dilemma. Trying to convince Many Paths that I was dead? Trying to take her for his own mate though — what about Eagle Eyes? He was good in a battle. That much was so. Perhaps, he … he takes actions that might lead to war because that is what he’s good at? This will not help me here though…although, it does relate to trust. Trust. 

Trust is hard! That much seems certain. Trunk of Tree and I have been friends our whole lives and yet…

Suddenly, Shadow Walker stopped breathing to listen better. He had thought he heard a commotion outside. This “City” as the Z-Lotz called it, was always noisy, even at night. But the noise was not a harmonious, peaceful song as given by the birds, bugs and bullfrogs of night. For a moment, it was too quiet and then … a disconcerting noise. So, maybe it was nothing. He heard nothing more and gradually relaxed his muscles. His mind turned back to trust. 

(Weaving in different directions makes it stronger.)

He did actually trust Tree Vines, and to some extent, Tree Vine’s wife, Gathers Acorns, as well. And, that degree of trust may have slowed his hand just enough as he leapt to his feet and nearly beheaded her. In an instant, Eagle Eyes was awake and on her feet as well, bow in hand and drawn. 

Shadow Walker was so taken aback by his nearly killing one of the few people they could trust, he stood speechless. Eagle Eyes hissed, “What are you doing here? You sneak into someone’s chamber in the middle of the night? You could have been killed! How would that be? How would we explain that to Cat Eyes? How … “

Gathers Acorns held up her hand and shook her head slowly. “Stop! Listen! You must hear my tale and then you can decide whether I acted stupidly.” 

Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes looked at each other a moment and sighed. Shadow Walker calmed his breathing but his mind was still not totally convinced she wasn’t there to assassinate him. He tightened his jaw and nodded for her to speak. 

“No time for long explanations, but many, many Z-lotz are coming to kill you tonight just before dawn. You must leave now. Immediately. Tree Vines and I will accompany you if we may. We have provisions. Take whatever is close to hand. Your weapons. We must go quickly!” 

Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes again looked to each other for guidance. Then, they realized they were both doing it and it struck both of them as funny. In different circumstances, they might have laughed. As it was, however, Eagle Eyes spoke, “We don’t have time to destroy — or take — all the killing sticks! Should we take a few?” 

In Shadow Walker’s mind a picture flashed: As a young brave, he had been looking over the edge of a deep well. His dad held him tight across his waist. Far below, he thought he could see a reflection of himself, but it was dim. He wasn’t sure. So, he waved to the reflection to see whether it would wave back. In his excitement, he had forgotten that his waving hand held his favorite rock — a gray crystal of galena — lead ore. The rock slid from his hand. He realized in an instant it was gone forever. Inaccessible.

Shadow Walker looked at Eagle Eyes and said, “We don’t need to destroy them. Let’s make them all inaccessible.” 

“How?” Eagle Eyes shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. 

For all we know, no-one but us actually knows how to move the partition or even that the weapons are there. It would be just like NUT-PI not to tell anyone about it. He would have that special lever made and then likely killed the carpenter who did it. Or, perhaps, the threat of death would be enough. In any case, we can likely destroy the link between the knob and the partition. We can’t count on no-one knowing. Or, breaking through the wall if necessary.” 

Gathers Acorns drew near and put one hand on each of their shoulders. “We can also make them inaccessible another way. It won’t take long. I’ll see to it while you pack up. Don’t make a disturbance and keep whatever you take to a minimum.”

Shadow Walker strode to the knob on the back of the bed. He thought it possible that yanking hard might break the connection. He didn’t feel it had actually broken, but a narrow wooden rod now stuck out a few inches. Shadow Walker drew his sword and hacked straight through the rod. He could hear a clattering down below the floor.

Eagle Eyes looked at Shadow Walker. “You realize, we can’t get them either.”

“I know. I know that I made a decision for the whole tribe.” 

Gathers Acorns reappeared with Tree Vines. She said breathlessly, “It is done! Let us go!” 

For a brief moment, it occurred to Shadow Walker that it could all be a trap. 

“Trust”, he whispered to himself, “a difficult puzzle. For another time and place.”

Out into the night, lit only by a few oil lamps, they sped to the edge of the city, whereupon they vanished into an even darker night lit only by stars. Traveling fast at night held its own dangers, but they wanted to put as much distance as possible between their party and, what they imagined would be, much larger search parties. 

Photo by Jeff Nissen on Pexels.com

———————————-

Killing Sticks 

The Forgotten Field

A tale of greed: The Orange Man

Another tale of greed and division: Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

Rings of Empathy

A Parachute Ripped by Lies

10 Friday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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Tags

Democracy, pandemic, poem, poetry, Resistance, truth

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

You need not wear a parachute

If you should plummet from the sky.

For gravity is just a hoax

That’s spread by all those liberal folks*. 

If what you’re hearing irks, just mute! 

Just listen to The Crooked Guy! 

You need not care he rakes in cash

Entices you to act the ash.

You need not wear a safety belt,

And brakes are over-rated too. 

Your faith is bountiful and strong!

It’s clear that nothing can go wrong!

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

For all that matters? How you felt!

Who cares at all if it was true! 

You prove to all how free you’ll be

Repeating Pravda endlessly. 

Photo by Julius Silver on Pexels.com

You break a bone or crack your head — 

Then see your favorite talk show host!

Some salted trash or ragweed mash

Will cure each ill; just send them cash.

Photo by Vinu00edcius Vieira ft on Pexels.com

If you should die from what they said, 

Well, they don’t care — so why your ghost?

With Voldemort at last in power

You’ll doubtless think your finest hour. 

The problem is dictatorship

Is something people die to leave!

So why lean in to tyranny? 

Have faith in our democracy. 

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Don’t pee into the power strip;

Insist on rights but act naive.

Adult’s a verb; not just a noun.

Lie’s not truth and up’s not down. 

——————————-

  • This is satire. Gravity is not a hoax. And, should you feel compelled to jump out of an airplane from high in the sky, you will definitely want a parachute and not rely instead on a Faux News commentator’s words to cushion your fall. 

———————————

Essays on America: Wednesday

What about the butter dish?

Happy Talk Lies.

Plans for us; some GRUesome

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: The Update Problem

Where does your loyalty lie?

Essays on America: My cousin Bobby. 

Come back to the light

Roses gilded by the sunset

You Don’t Say! (Cluelessness Edition)

07 Tuesday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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America, civility, debate, Democracy, injury, sprain, Tennis, USA

I love walking. According to my parents, I began early at 9 months. I love walking in nature best because it’s almost always the most beautiful. But when I travel, I enjoy walking around wherever I am. In fact, when I have time, I often walk in the airport. 

I wrote a blog post about a hike on Mt. Hood. 

Link to: Big Zig Zag Canyon

As you may or may not know, I even wrote a book about how to put more exercise into daily life. I developed a fairly complete upper body work-out to do while you’re walking. 

Link to: Fit in Bits

Aside from playing tennis, walking is my chief form of exercise. Recently, I began monitoring my steps and upped my goal. 

Often, when I play tennis, I come home and ice my left ankle afterwards. If I don’t, it gets stiff & painful when I finally stand up and take a few steps. After walking around for awhile, it feels better. Sometimes, when I’m playing it helps my feet to change shoes after the first set. That’s what I did on Monday, but I had a lot of trouble getting my left shoe on. I had to really push hard to get my shoe on. Finally. I was ready for more tennis. 

Or, not. 

Because something didn’t feel right. I retired and walked home (a short distance). To be more accurate, I limped home until I had to hobble home. I could basically put no weight on my left leg at all. We went to one of those 7 days a week clinic but they were closed. Then, my wife drove me to the UCSD Medical Center. They were awesome. An X-Ray showed that I had no (new!) Ankle break. But apparently, I had broken it at some point in the past. 

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Anyway, I got some crutches and am following the RICE instructions: Rest, Ice, Compress, and Elevate. Luckily the US Open is on TV and I’ve already seen a dozen amazing matches! 

I suddenly get an alert on my phone! Oh, who could it be? 

It is from a health app! Maybe it’s checking up on my ankle? 

No. It just wants me to know that it’s thinking of me and it wants to remind me how important it is to walk! What a great exercise it is! 

Isn’t that sweet? Could you imagine visiting a friend who just sprained their ankle and telling them how much fun you had playing tennis or basketball or telling them all the reasons they should walk or that they’re really missing out by not being able to play sports? You don’t say such things! You realize that while, what you’re saying may be true, in the current context, it’s unhelpful and for some, hurtful. 

I had to laugh out loud at the ineptitude of the message about walking. Imagine instead of a hopefully temporary injury, I had just lost a leg due to an accident or from diabetes? Suppose I had lived my life in a wheelchair and I got this message? 

There’s a reason that sane people don’t walk up to strangers and say something with no preamble that presumes some sort of shared context! But marketeers and advertisers do it all the time! The have pop-up ads, “crucial” and “last chance” emails all the time and send it to millions of people. They blast it to you on TV and radio. Because of whatever is going on in someone’s life, these various messages will always be wildly inappropriate for a small percentage (but a large number) of people. 

Even though my mom died more than 20 years ago, I still get many admonitions every year about how she’d really like me to wire her some flowers. 

Mother’s Day

The marketing folks seem to want to have it two ways. On the one hand, they want you to believe that they care about you like a friend might. They care about your family. They keep track of time for you and have helpful reminders about people’s birthdays. They are on your side. But they don’t want to pay for actual sales people to do this. The can’t afford “Personal Shoppers” like Nordstrom’s does. Since everything is just cheaply generated by computer, of course they are often going to be dead wrong in their suggestions, their timing, and their message. 

Guess what? They don’t care. Why? Because when they do something inappropriate, we will say to ourselves, “Well, it’s just an algorithm. Of course, it’ll make mistakes.” WIth everything else going on in the world, it’s small potatoes and not worth caring about. 

When they chance to hit upon showing us something that is actually appropriate and appealing, we’re likely to buy it. 

Meanwhile, I have to wonder what the impact is on our society of emotionally tone deaf and inappropriate messages being spewed out by the billions. Is it possible that part of the reason so many people go crazy in department stores, airports, and even medical facilities insisting on their “rights” to kill other Americans with their germs is that everyone sees inappropriate messages sent by bots? There is no real consequence to the companies who send inappropriate messages and often there is no real consequence to those who scream and threaten violence at school board meetings if their toddlerhood is not automatically catered to. 

Is it possible these pandemics of inappropriateness are related? Is it possible that the toxic rhetoric of a hate-mongerer finds resonance in so many partly because they have been bombarded with so many tone deaf messages? 

————————

Freedom of speech is not a license to kill

As Gold as it Gets

Do unto others

Cars that lock too much

Bounce

The primacy effect and the destroyer’s advantage

Essays on America: Poker chips

Essays on America: The temperature gauge

You Don’t Say! (Sexism Edition)

05 Sunday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

America, BLM, feminism, politics, racism, sexism, USA

What are some things you don’t say? 

Here are a few that occur to me. 

We say, “He won her.” 

We don’t often say, “She won him.” 

And, when I do hear them, it seems to me it has a definitely different set of connotations. The first statement, “He won her.” Is un-marked. At least for me, I don’t feel I know any more about the person than I did before that statement. But all of the immediate connotations, vague as they are, are positive. He may have won her by a show of strength or competence. Maybe he slew a dragon. Maybe he outwitted all his rivals (notice their implicitly has to be at least one). Maybe he won her by being open and honest or showing how much he cared. It’s all good. 

Now, what stories come to my mind when I see, “She won him.” First, to be honest, there is a bit of a double take. Did I read that right? OK, well, sure, that can happen. Probably far more than men realize. What did she do? Did she use deception? And, what about him? Why didn’t he win her? I’m not saying I can’t overcome these connotations.

Notice, I don’t think she did use deception. I don’t have any evidence about that. And there are many other ways to “win” someone. But why does it come to mind? It did not come to mind when I read the first sentence. Yet, I can think of numerous instances where men have used all kinds of deception, not to mention, cruelty, gaslighting, murder, drugs, kidnapping, rape to “win” someone. 

It is really an upstream swim not to fall for the bull$hit your culture inculcates into you about age, gender, race, etc. 

Do you think there is any practical significance to this? 

Let’s consider one recent example. In the “2016” campaign for US President, you may recall that the democrats chose one of the best-qualified candidate in US History on the basis of her intellect, experience, and character. Yet, her opponent, one of the very least qualified in US history on the basis of what he actually accomplished (mainly losing millions of dollars), his character, or his intellect, called her “Crooked Hillary” and it stuck for many people.

You may notice that in the previous paragraph, I put “2016” in scare quotes. Why? Because both sides began the Hilary (or Anti-Hilary) campaign years before 2016. The Republicans realized early on she was their best candidate and attacked her character mercilessly and with zero evidence. Zero. But it worked.

But what if Hillary would have called Donald Trump “Crooked Donald” first? Would that have helped her? No. About 40 % of America, as we now know, would have simply said, “Yeah, so?” They don’t care that he is a tax-evader. They don’t care that he is a pu$$y grabber. They don’t care that he had a fake university or that he defrauded a kid’s cancer charity. They don’t care. It’s what guys do. There’s winners and losers. And a guy’s gotta do what he’s gotta do to win or he’s not really a man. So if he’s stupid, maybe he has to bend a few rules to win. So what. That just makes him street smart. Since he’s a guy, all that is just fine. It’s fine to be a real crook if you’re a guy, but not okay to be untruthfully branded as a crook if you’re a woman.

Gee. That sounds fair. 

The thing is this. It isn’t just unfair to Hillary. It was unfair to America. And every time our presumptions trump reality, we all lose. We are all the poorer because we have not made the best decision in accordance with reality but merely comforted ourselves with the lie that we were right all along. 

————————————-

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: My Cousin Bobby

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: What about the butter dish?

Essays on America: The Update Problem

Author Page on Amazon

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