Zeus was King of the Gods. Well, not the King of all the Gods. But he was King of the Greek Gods, and you might have thought that that would be enough to satisfy anyone.
After all, Zeus got to live in a beautiful palace on top of Mt. Olympus. The view was tremendous. At night, the clear mountain air revealed a sky full of bright stars. But, being immortal has its downside. Even though the stars were spectacular, they appeared to travel in the same circles, night after night, month after month, year after year, century after century, millennium after millennium. Zeus was bored.
Zeus complained, as he often did these days, to his wife Hera, “Hera, don’t you get sick of watching the starts go round and round every night? And, they move so slowly. And, then, the next night the same basically. And every year, the same circles at the same time.”
Now, you might think, since Hera was also immortal, that she would be just as bored as Zeus. The difference was not that Hera was more powerful or more immortal or the she got to eat better quality potato chips or higher quality dip.
No, the difference was that Hera had a much better imagination. If things “out there” were boring, she’d make up stories about the things “out there” that made them much more interesting. She was astounded that Zeus, who had also lived forever, had never figured this out for himself, but he apparently hadn’t so she thought she’d share some of the stories with him. Perhaps then, he would eventually learn to make up his own stories and never really be bored again. She could then spend less time listening to Zeus complain and more time eating pomegranates and planning elaborate weddings for some of her human friends. Win/Win.
So, she said to Zeus, “Actually, my dear husband, if you watch more carefully, you’ll see that most of the stars go around and around in the same circles just as you say. But some of the stars are wanderers. They don’t go round and round and come back to the exact same place. Instead, if you watch long enough, they also go this way and that way. And some of them are actually the brightest stars in the sky. But they aren’t really stars at all. They are planets.
Zeus’s giant jaw dropped all the way to his chest. “What?! What are you talking about Hera. That can’t be right! I would have noticed. I’ve been staring at the sky every night for years and years. There aren’t any wanderers.”
“Oh, yes. You don’t notice because, after all, they appear to move slowly. They are far away and even though they are actually moving much faster than horses can run, they seem to move slowly. So, it’s not surprising you didn’t notice. To tell you the truth, I didn’t notice either until your daughter, Athena pointed them out to me.”
Zeus’s face darkened at the mention of Athena. “I still have a splitting headache from the spot where she came out of my forehead! I don’t see why she can’t have been born the normal way.”
Hera nodded. “Yes, well, let me tell you, Zeus, the normal way isn’t all that comfortable either! But that’s beside the point. It doesn’t matter who first discovered it. The point is that some of those things that appear to be stars are actually planets. They are not glowing globs of nuclear fusion at all. They are giant rocks — somewhat like earth — and they reflect the sun’s light. They go in orbit around the sun just as does earth. When we watch from here, it appears that they are wandering. There aren’t very many of them. Anyway, Athena and I decided to name them and make up stories about them so we would not be bored.”
“Name them? How did you name them? Why wasn’t I consulted?” Little thunderclouds orbited around the head of Zeus much as sharks will circle their prey. {And, actually, now we think about it, isn’t ‘sharks circling their prey’ a good metaphor for anger? It’s easy for you to become the actual prey for your own anger. Anyway, back to Hera.}
“Well, Zeus, we did look for you in order to get your opinion. But it turned out you were busy being overly friendly with a Swan named Leda. Or, maybe it was Dione. Honestly, you have so many kids from so many different wives, it’s hard to keep track. But again, not the point. We named many of these so-called planets after your kids. But to avoid confusion, we used the Roman names.”
“Roman names?” Zeus was puzzled. “What is Roman? What does that mean?”
Hera sighed. “Really Zeus, I’ve explained the Romans before. You really should go visit the Oracle at Delphi. They can tell the future. In the future, not so long from now, the Romans will take over much of the world and they will still make people worship us but with different names — their names. You, for example, will be known as ‘Jupiter’ among the Romans.”
“What?! ‘Jupiter’! What kind of name is that?!” Now, the dark rainclouds circling the head of Zeus began to flash and sparkle with lightening.
Hera sighed again, somewhat more exasperated. “I told you, Zeus. It’s a Roman name. In a few hundred years, we’ll all get Roman names. Anyway, the planet that apparently wanders back and forth the most, we named after Hermes. The Roman name for Hermes is Mercury. The one that has the prettiest blue color and shines the brightest reminded us of Aphrodite, the Goddess of Beauty so we named the next planet after the Roman name for Aphrodite, Venus.”
“Do I get one?” Asked Zeus.
“Of course! We named the biggest planet after you. After your Roman, name “Jupiter.” Your planet is big and golden, just like you.”
“Good!” Shouted Zeus.
“Good!” Shouted Hera. “Now, tonight, when the stars come out, you watch carefully. Keep careful track and after a few weeks, you’ll see that some of the stars do not keep going in exactly the same circles every night. You’ll see the ones we call ‘wanderers’ or ‘planets.” And if you see a big golden one, that’s named after you. Jupiter. Now, you rest up while I go fix tonight’s feast of ambrosia.”
Hera left. Soon, Zeus forgot all about getting a rest and instead decided to try his luck at a game of “Jolt the Dolt with a Bolt.” In this game, he would throw lightening bolts all the way down to the beach and fields and roads way below Mt. Olympus and try to Jolt humans with a lightening bolt. It was hit and miss. More often, in fact, it was miss, miss, miss, and finally hit. Lightening bolts were hard to control. Often, he not only jolted the human, he fried them to a crisp. He grew bored.
Then, Zeus had a great idea. He decided to have a competition. It would be more fun if he were Jolting and Bolting with someone else. And, he knew just the person! Ares, the Greek God of War. But how to get hold of him? Cellphones, of course, hadn’t yet been invented. “I know,” mumbled Zeus to himself, “I’ll have Hermes go get him.”
Zeus buzzed the intercom on Hermes’s desk. “Hey! Hey, Hermes! Come on over to my balcony. I challenge you to a came of ‘Jolt the Dolt with a Bolt!’ You up for it? I’ll wager you 20 drachmas a dolt. Oh, and pick up Ares on the way over.”
Hermes replied quickly. “You’re on! I’ll be there in a flash. But do me a favor. Call me by my Roman name, ‘Mercury.’”
Zeus opened his mouth to say something, but before he could utter a word, Mercury (aka Hermes) appeared right beside him.
“Wow, you’re fast!” Remarked Zeus.
“Yes,” said Hermes. “That’s why you made me the messenger of the Gods, remember? Any way, who else is playing? Where’s Hera?”
“Hera went off to cook up some ambrosia. She doesn’t really like it when I jolt people with lightening. Something about ethics.”
Hermes shook his head. “Ambrosia? Again! What about a snack first. Potato chips and dip for example? Or some nice fresh raspberries? Oh, I know! What was that thing Athena invented? Olives! Yes. Olives, Chips and Dips. I really have to have that every time I play Jolt and Bolts. I call it OCD for short. Any of that around?” Suddenly, Hermes struck himself in the middle of his forehead, as though he had forgotten V-8 rather than Ares, and V-8 had not even been invented yet. “I forgot Ares!”
Zeus was thunderstruck. “How could you forget war? It’s never far from my mind? How else can we get mere mortals to fight each other rather than us? After all, that’s half the fun of Bolt the Dolts! When you Bolt a Dolt, if they survive, they blame another human! As though humans could throw lightening bolts. Pathetic, really. Anyway, I’ll make snacks.”
Zeus went to the mini-fridge on the deck and quickly arranged a snack. When he brought the plate back, however, Hermes was gone. “What the … ?”
A moment later, Hermes reappeared with Ares. The Greek God of War.
Ares spoke up, “Hail to thee, Zeus! I hear we’re going to play a game of Jolt with Bolts. I’m teaming up with Hermes. Who else is on your side? Oh, hey! Nice snacks. If only we had a some grapes to go with it. Or, some grape juice. Hey, I know! How about Dionysus! He can be on your team. Have him bring some wine for us! It’ll be a blast!”
Zeus liked Dionysus but he wasn’t sure he would be a very good teammate at Bolts and Jolts. Dionysus had been drinking so much wine over such a long time, he sometimes had trouble remembering the rules. When that happened, as it always must, the game was ruined.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ve been hanging out all day — well, maybe all year, actually — here on Mt. Olympus. I’ll just borrow your chariot, Hermes, and go get Dionysus myself. We’ll be back in a jiffy.”
When he arrived at the house of Dionysus, he was rather surprised to find Dionysus completely sober. Though he had just poured himself a large flagon of wine, he had yet to drink a drop. “Hold on!” Cautioned Zeus and he stuck his hand out to block Dionysus. “No wine yet! You and I are having a contest and here’s the deal. I want you to bring a gallon of wine for our opponents Ares and Hermes. You and I are going to drink grape juice instead.”
Dionysus tilted his head. “Well, OK. I guess. But when can we start with the real wine?”
Zeus rolled his eyes. “Dionysus, it won’t be long. We’re going to hit a few humans with lightening bolts and call it a day. Hey, by the way, how’s your mom, Persephone, doing? Are she and Hades getting along in — where was it they relocated to? Hell?”
Dionysus frowned at Zeus. “You want me not to drink? Don’t bring up my Mom! I mean how in Hades do you think they’re doing? What is hell, after all, but lack of love and truth?”
Now it was Zeus who frowned. “I’m surprised to hear that. Hades seemed quite taken with her.”
Dionysus shook his head. “Zeus. That was lust, not love. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s focus on our strategy. Say, I forgot to ask. What are the stakes?”
When Zeus arrived back at his lavishly appointed deck, he could see that the sun was already beginning to sink. Okay, folks, let’s go. Let the games begin! Everyone quickly pick a human to defend. Each team will have two humans to defend and two that they are trying to pierce with a lightening bolt. Every contestant will be allowed one and only one throw each time the gong sounds. If there is a tie at any point, We’ll keep playing till another human is killed. Any questions? We’ll play nine rounds in all. Let’s go and let the best God win!”
Before the first gong, Dionysus pulled Zeus aside and said, “I don’t get it. We’re playing but we don’t really lose anything. Do we really care which humans are killed? We don’t really have a stake in the game. What’s the point?”
Zeus laughed. “We’re immortal. Don’t you see? That’s our curse. We’re immortal — so nothing really has a point.”
With that, Zeus strode over to his array of lightening bolts. He chose a jagged orange one. He hefted it a few times. He loved the feel of the steel. He couldn’t help but smile, remembering the nice feeling it gave him when he really nailed a human being.
Have you ever heard that expression? Perhaps you have even hurled it at someone in frustration. Or, perhaps you’ve had other people hurl it at you. Maybe both. But have you ever analyzed what such a statement really means? Have you ever heard someone say, “If you’re so smart, why can’t you jump higher?” Or, have you perhaps said, “If you’re so smart, why aren’t you a gardener?” How about this one: “If you’re so smart, why aren’t you nice?”?
Here’s what I think. Some among the extremely rich, want people throughout the world to think that every rich person, no matter how they acquired that wealth, got that wealth by being smart. They don’t want you to think they simply inherited it. They certainly don’t want you think they stole it. They don’t want you to think they were just lucky. Every time you hear this expression — “If you’re so smart, why aren’t you rich?” — you are essentially implying that anyone who is smart should be rich. You are essentially implying that, of course, pursuing wealth is the top priority for everyone and the smartest are the richest are the smartest. If you were smart, you wouldn’t possibly “settle” for less wealth because you enjoyed living in a certain area or because you found more meaning or pleasure in a lower paying pursuit.
Among the very rich, and especially among the very rich who did not actually earn any of their wealth, there are some who are insanely greedy. Please understand, I’m not talking about wanting your fair share, or putting yourself and your family ahead of others. Nor, am I talking about people who really want more than their share and will cheat if they can get away with it. That’s what I call greed. I am talking about insane greed.
As you likely know from numerous TV shows about lawyers, “insanity” is not a psychological or psychiatric term so much as a legal term. In our society, you can’t lock someone up simply because they are neurotic, or psychotic, or manic-depressive, or because of claustrophobia or because they insist that the moon is made of green cheese or that the earth is flat. The test for involuntary residence at a psychiatric facility is whether you are a danger to yourself or others. The insanely greedy are precisely a danger to themselves and others.
It’s probably obvious to most that the insanely greedy are a danger to others. To go from being a billionaire to billionaire with another dime in their pocket, they will pollute and that pollution kills. They will tout false cures. They will design, build and sell deadly products like cigarettes and pretend it’s all fine. They don’t care. If they can get away with it, they just don’t care. They are insanely greedy in that their greed is a danger to others.
Their greed also makes them a danger to themselves. True enough, they typically know that they are a danger to others; they just don’t give a damn. But they often delude themselves so severely that they literally do not realize that they are also a danger to themselves. They are a danger in ways both trivial and substantial.
They are trivially a danger to themselves in that many of the things they propagate such as global climate change and pollution will hurt the life stream of which they are a very small and temporary part. If they understood their true nature, they would realize that their greed ultimately hurts them.
Their substantive self-harm specifically has to do with supporting a known liar, cheat, and criminal in his attempt to become dictator because they believe that since they are funding an insurrection to install him as dictator, that TFG will look favorably on them; e.g., by giving federal business to them or jailing their competitors. Or, perhaps they’re the sort of person who will simply enjoy having innocent people destroyed because of their religion or national origin or taste in dance music, or whatever other bogus divisiveness comes into vogue. It doesn’t matter. Regardless of the reason, there is zero evidence in TFG’s behavior that he shows actual loyalty to anyone. It isn’t that he has rarely betrayed others; it isn’t that he has sometimes betrayed others; it isn’t that he has often betrayed others. He’s consistently betrayed others. He’s cheated his wives, his business partners, his contractors, his own lawyers, his supporters, his fans, his co-workers, his customers, the people who gave to his charities, and random strangers.
TFG needs the money of his donors in order to gain power. He doesn’t need their money once he has power. He would control the intelligence agencies, the justice department, the military, and the press. He would no longer need the money of his donors or of their power. Supporting TFG to become dictator is essentially writing a blank check to him. He will simply take whatever he wants.
Poor people are deluded into thinking TFG won’t betray them because they want to a super spreader hate rally and wore a red hat.
Rich people are deluded into the thinking TFG won’t betray them because he used their wealth to become dictator.
I don’t know about you. But I see no reason to ever say, “If you’re so smart, why aren’t you rich.”
In December, 2018, I began writing a series of essays on “tools of thought.” I realize that many readers probably read these tools at the time they were first published. However, in times of great division such as those we now face, effective thinking is more important than ever yet every day in the news and in social media, I see many examples that overlook even the most basic tools of thought. I therefore decided that it would be worthwhile to reprint the index of such tools now.
I suppose many readers will already be familiar with many of these tools. Nonetheless, I think it’s worthwhile to have a compilation of tools. After all — plumbers, carpenters, programmers, piano tuners, sales people — they all have tool kits. I see at least three advantages to having them together in some one place.
Without a toolkit you may be prone to try to use the tool that just so happens to be nearest to hand at the time you encounter the problem. You need to tighten a screw and you happen to have a penny in your pocket. You don’t feel like walking all the way down into the garage to get your toolkit. A penny will do. I get it. But for more serious work, you are going to want to consider the whole toolkit and choose the tool that’s most appropriate to the situation at hand.
First, the existence of a toolkit serves as a reminder of all the tools at your disposal. This will help you choose appropriately.
Second, you may only be familiar with one or two ways to use a tool. I may have thought of ways to use a tool that are different from the way you use it. In the same way, you undoubtedly know useful things about these tools of thought that I have never thought of. We can learn from each other.
Third, having all the tools together may stimulate people to invent new tools or see a way to use two or more in sequence and begin to think about the handoff between two tools.
Here’s an index to the toolkit so far.
Many Paths(December 5, 2018). The temptation is great to jump to a conclusion, snap up the first shiny object that looks like bait and charge ahead! After all, “he who hesitates is lost!” But there is also, “look before you leap.” What works best for me in many circumstances is to think of many possible paths before deciding on one. This is a cousin to the Pattern: Iroquois Rule of Six. This heuristic is a little broader and is sometimes called “Alternatives Thinking.”
And then what?(Dec. 6, 2018). This is sometimes called “Consequential Thinking.” The idea is simple: think not just about how you’ll feel and how a decision will affect you this moment but what will happen next. How will others react? It’s pretty easy to break laws if you set your mind to it. But what are the likely consequences?
Positive Feedback Loops(December 7, 2018). Also known as a virtuous or vicious circle. If you drink too much of a depressant drug (e.g., alcohol or opioids), that can cause increased nervousness and anxiety which leads you to want more of the drug. Unfortunately, it also makes your body more tolerant of the drug so you need more to feel the same relief. So, you take more but this makes you even more irritable when it wears off.
Meta-Cognition.(December 8, 2018). This is basically thinking about thinking. For example, if you are especially good at math, then you tend to do well in math! Over time, if your meta-cognition is accurate, you will know that you are good in math and you can use that information about your own cognition to make decisions about the education you choose, your job, your methods of representing and solving problems and so on.
Theory of Mind(December 9, 2018). Theory of Mind tasks require us to imagine the state of another mind. It is slightly different from empathy, but a close cousin. Good mystery writers – and good generals – may be particularly skilled at knowing what someone else knows, infers, thinks, feels and therefore, how they are likely to act.
Regression to the Mean(December 10, 2018). This refers to a statistical artifact that you sometimes need to watch out for. If you choose to work with the “best” or “worst” or “strongest” or “weakest” and then measure them again later, their extreme scores will be less extreme. The tool is to make sure that you don’t make untoward inferences from that change in the results of the measurement.
Representation(December 11, 2018): The way we represent a problem can make a huge difference in how easy it is to solve it. Of course, we all know this, and yet, it is easy to fall into the potential trap of always using the same representations for the same types of problems. Sometimes, another representation can lead you to completely different – and better – solutions.
Imagination (December 14, 2018): All children show imagination. Many adults mainly see it as a tool for increasing their misery; viz., by only imagining the worst. Instead of a tool to help them explore, it becomes a “tool” to keep themselves from exploring by making everything outside the habitual path look scary.
Fraught Framing (December 16, 2018): Often, how we frame a problem is the most crucial step in solving it. In this essay, several cases are examined in which people presume a zero-sum game when it certainly need not be.
Fraught Framing II(December 17, 2018). A continuation of thinking about framing. This essay focuses on how easy it sometimes is to confuse the current state of something with its unalterable essence or nature.
Negative Space(December 17, 2018). Negative space is the space between. Often we separate a situation into foreground and background, or into objects and field, or into assumptions and solution space. What if we reverse these designations?
Problem Finding(December 18, 2018). Most often in our education, we are handed problems and told to solve them. In real life, success is as much about being able to find problems or see problems in order to realize that there is even something to fix.
More recently, I wrote a series of posts about the importance of Problem Finding, Problem Framing, and Problem Formulation. I haven’t yet put this in the form of “Tools of Thought” — these posts are specific experiences from my own life where I initially mis-formulated a problem or watched my friends do that.
Non-Linearity. (December 20, 2018). We often think that things are linear when they may not be. In some cases, they can be severely non-linear. Increasing the force on a joint may actually make it stronger. But if increased force is added too quickly, rather than strengthening the joint even further, it can destroy it. The same is true of a system like American democracy.
Resonance. (December 20, 2018). If you add your effort to something at the right time, you are able to multiply the impact of your effort. This is true in sports, in music, and in social change.
Symmetry(December 23, 2018). There are many kinds of symmetry and symmetry is found in many places; it is rampant in nature, but humans in all different cultures also use symmetry. It exists at macro scales and micro scales. It exists in physical reality and in social relationships.
“That ain’t showin’ respect. That’s just showin’ you don’t give a good God damn.” Greg turned and spat an impressively large wad of chewing tobacco all the way off the front porch onto the ill-kempt and scraggly lawn beyond. It was a kind of tic that Greg had, as though something of Sunday School had rubbed off on him after all; some teeny niggle of guilt dribbled through his nervous system when he said a curse word with the word “God” in it. If he happened to be chewing tobacco, which was most of his awake hours, it caused him to spew his chew. He frowned. He hated losing such a fresh wad of Stoker. Papa’s old hound dog heard the splat and ran over to investigate. One good whiff and the Bassett (named Ole’ Bassie) sneezed and turned away. Sometimes Papa remembered to feed him and that was good. But he wasn’t above eating garbage and anything he could catch. This however was too foul even for a semi-starving dog.
Greg’s older brother Ron and he couldn’t seem to agree on much of anything these days except how much they hated God damned snowflakes, as they called them. The two of them revisited this particular argument about whether it was okay to let their dad drive into town every few weeks. Understand, it wasn’t as though they scheduled the argument. No, it wasn’t that. Neither brother paid much attention to clocks or calendars. But as though scheduled by a mindless office software package, every two weeks, Papa would end up demonstrating some new level of dementia that re-ignited the argument. It was as regular (and as useful) as the biweekly committee meeting.
Ron pursed his lips in a perfect, though unconscious, imitation of the most small-hearted and sanctimonious church choir member in the Farmington Baptist Church. Ron shook his head disapprovingly as Greg pulled out his pouch of chaw and bit off another piece. Ron looked skyward as though repeating a small, silent prayer. “You know what happens to people that chew they’s tobacco like that there? Mouth cancer. Lips. Gums. Tongue. Whatever. You’re going to die like a dog, man. Keep it up and you might go before Papa even.”
“Better’n dyin’ of the H, I and V like you might do. I got me a wife and that’s it. I’m tellin’ you, Ron, sneaking off with every skirt…”
Ron began to wag his head back and forth as vigorously as Ole’ Bassie did whenever he emerged from “Lake Woe.” “Lake Woe” is how Aunt Emily had dubbed the swamp that lay like a forgotten promise between the family house and US 250. The name was meant as a dig. For a few years, the entire family had listened to “Lake Wobegon” on the radio every week. According to Garrison Keillor, all the children in Lake Wobegon were above average. “Well,” Aunt Emily had said with a nod, “there ain’t none of you kids that’s above average. All you been is woe. We’ll call it Lake Woe. You git it? Named after you two.”
Whenever his older brother Ron wagged his head like that, Greg thought of two things. First, he was every time amazed that he could move his head that fast. Greg was afraid he’d smash his brains against his skull if he tried that crap. After all, he though, don’t they get concussions and crap from fights and soccer and football? Must be the same with his head shaking.
The second thing that snapped into Greg’s mind was this. He recalled Aunt Emily’s naming ceremony at Thanksgiving Dinner. Greg had initially thought it was wonderful to have something as fun as the swamp named after him and his brother. Ron though, being older, and more knowledgeable about how things worked in the world, knew right away that it was a put-down, an insult. She was having “fun” at their expense. Ron explained all this to Greg right after dinner. But Greg had stubbornly refused to believe his older brother. Greg had just figured Ron was trying to be a “smarty pants” and spoil the moment for him.
Ron said, “I’ll tell you what, you cud-chewin’ cow. I’ll outlive you, I’ll betcha’ right now!”
Greg was one of those folks who is easily triggered by every little one of those everyday annoyances that civilization gifts upon us. Of course, some folks were pretty adept at avoiding Greg’s “hot buttons” but there were so many, that even the cautionary ones would screw up on occasion and say something that Greg took as demeaning or terrifying.
There was that Christmas dinner when Aunt Millie had not partaken of the canned New England Clam Chowder.
She led with: “The health benefits of being vegetarian” — button pushed. In fact, he was half way there just from hearing the phrase: “The health benefits.” The other thing about the way Greg’s brain worked was that once he heard a triggering word or phrase, he stopped listening. What Greg had never heard was the rest of Aunt Millie’s comment: “The health benefits of being vegetarian are nothing compared with the taste of a good fresh steak or fried chicken or best of all, roast turkey. I’ll have some of those. Butcha’ know, I’m allergic to shellfish. Even a tiny bit & I break out in hives….”
But never mind. We’ll stop that narrative right there because the contents don’t matter. What matters is that Greg never heard any of it. If you’d ask him, he’d tell you that Aunt Millie is a friggin’ vegetarian.
While there were those folks who tried to tip-toe around Greg’s hot buttons, Ron was not one of those people. No. He delighted in upsetting his brother. To Ron, it was just a game. Ron hardly even faked being upset most of the time. On rare occasions, he would feign hurt or rage or fear or love or whatever it took to get Greg’s goat. And, the thing about Greg’s hot buttons, which Ron knew full well, was that pushing the button always caused the same reaction. He could turn his brother into his … puppet. That made Ron feel as though he had some power in this world after all. He had some standing. He was somebody. Maybe he couldn’t control everything but he certainly could control his brother.
Greg’s brain also had an interesting kind of “three strikes and you’re out!” rule. Perhaps he had picked it up from baseball or a questionable theory about criminality. In any case, if Greg got upset three times in one day, each reaction was a little more extreme. He didn’t back off. Oh, no. To Greg, it meant, three strikes and the monster comes out. Understand, Greg didn’t realize he had such a rule. Ron understood it, but it just made it more fun. He could not only make his puppet brother dance; he could make him dance at different intensities as well.
Greg ground his teeth. “So how we know who wins the bet, smarty pants?! Hah?! Didn’t think of that, did you?”
Ron smiled placidly. “Sure. No problem. Give me the money now. If you die first, I’ll keep it. If I die first … well, you’re my only heir. Well, almost. I did give a little to Audrey.” Ron tried — and failed — to keep a straight face as Greg began his final meltdown.
“Audrey! Audrey! Are you kidding me? Whaddya’ think my wife’s gonna say about that! Why did Ron leave money to your old girlfriend? What’s going on? Are you still seeing her? I’ll friggin’ kill you!”
“That’s what would happen, you God-Damned” — well, that’s what did it right there. Ron miscounted. Greg was already beyond the boiling point when he spat out a perfectly virgin wad of chaw. It was his favorite brand too: Stokers.
Of course, we can only speculate what might have happened, had guns not been readily available and already loaded. As it was, the police pretty quickly chalked up the murder suicide to a family feud. It happens. They shrugged it off as just another one. Tragic. But — within normal bounds. The worst thing about the crime was how everyone seemed to have forgotten about Papa. Perhaps they unconsciously thought he was gone anyway. No-one looked for him. No-one seems to have noticed he was gone for weeks.
Since these two boys were Papa’s only offspring, in a way, the police were right. It really was a murder/suicide.
The boys had agreed on one thing about Papa while they had still been living. They had put almost all their assents into a three-way checking account.
Papa didn’t live much longer.
But Fiji is beautiful. And, you can be sure Papa made the most of it. He really had a blast.
There are some things whose memory we retain throughout our lifetime. Some remember their first look through a telescope or a microscope. Some remember their first taste of alcohol or coffee. Many remember their first kiss. All remember the first time they held their newborn baby and grandchild. So too, was it among the Veritas.
Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns immediately recognized the voice of their daughter despite their many years apart. They began to run toward the sound, but when they came within sight of her, they stopped. The couple held hands, and stared at their daughter who had now grown into a young woman.
Tree Vines thought of so many wasted years, but so many stories to tell and listen to. He would make it up to her — ever allowing her to be stolen in the first place.
Gathers Acorns regretted never have had a chance to talk with her daughter about so many important things. And who had raised her exactly? And, what kind of a person was she? But she’s my daughter, she thought. I want to hold her at long last.
Cat Eyes bit her lip. She thought: Could these be my parents? I have a family? Why did they let me get stolen? Of course, they had no choice. Tu-Swift doesn’t hate Many Paths for letting them steal him. I shouldn’t be mad at them but at the Z-Lotz and the ROI. That’s who I’m really mad at. But I am mad at my parents as well. It’s crazy. I wish I could have talked with Tu-Swift before I met them so suddenly. That didn’t happen so…I do feel like hugging them though.
All this flashed through each person’s mind in a split second of awkwardness and indecision. Then, the three of them melted into one six-legged, six-armed goddess of love. There were tears of joy and there were tears of regret and there were tears of anger and frustration as well.
Many Paths approached the reunited family holding hands with both Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker. Soon, Many Paths noticed that the gaze of Eagle Eyes had shifted away from Family Together at Last to Trunk of Tree. She ran toward him and flung her arms around him. Many Paths noticed that Trunk of Tree smiled with true happiness. She was happy for him. She let out a little chuckle.
Shadow Walker then smiled as well and tilted his head at Many Paths in a clear sign of query. The smile upon the face of Many Paths broadened. She rested her head on the shoulder of Shadow Walker. She spoke quietly so only he could hear. “I love you so much. I missed you. Among other things….” She paused and looked up at his large, warm & smiling eyes. “Among other things, I missed your wise counsel. I was just thinking how desperate I was to talk with you or Eagle Eyes or Tu-Swift. And, you were all gone. She Who Saves Many Lives is still sick and she’s asleep, so I didn’t want to disturb her. And, I’m not sure…well, sometimes she seems delirious. The other night in her sleep, she sat upright suddenly and said something like:
“It’s all happened before! This has all happened before!”
I was about to start a conversation with her but she fell back down into a deep sleep. I mean what does that mean? So, I’m not sure I can trust her judgement right now. And everyone I really wanted to talk with was gone. And, now, you’re all back. And I don’t know … I know what I want to do. But there’s so much to do with the tribe. Can you wait a few hours while we deliberate?”
“Wait for what?” Shadow Walker pretended not to have any idea what she was talking about.
Many Paths simply hugged him tighter and said, “I must ask you this though. Are you all right? Did they harm you?”
Shadow Walker winced. He didn’t want to think about how he and Eagle Eyes had been ambushed so easily when they thought they were sneaking in unseen. “Not really. It’s no fun being in prison, but they were going to torture all of us. If it hadn’t been for Eagle Eyes, I’d be dead. She’d be dead. The parents of Cat Eyes would be dead. We really cannot thank her enough.”
Many Paths laughed. “Let’s let Trunk of Tree thank her first.” She smiled at him coquettishly.
Shadow Walker laughed with her for a polite period and then said, “Well, if they are going to have a private thanking session, then we … and well met, Trunk of Tree. Well met.”
Trunk of Tree went straight to the point. “There is much to discuss and many people to thank. But right now, we must prepare for war.”
Many Paths took on a serious tone as well. “I agree. We need to prepare for war — but not in such a way that it makes war more likely. We don’t know what the Z-Lotz will do. First, let us delve into what we have learned. Then, we may prepare more completely and thoughtfully. We must hear all the relevant stories first and then make plans.”
Eagle Eyes, who had accompanied Trunk of Tree, said, “Don’t wait too long. But I don’t think we are in immediate danger. They seem to have lost their horses. And, I think they will be preoccupied for a time choosing their leader. I can’t tell how long, but the very people who would argue that Shadow Walker wasn’t a “real” king because he hadn’t by himself slain NUT-PI now face a situation in which no-one can claim to have killed NUT-PI or Shadow Walker. So, to regain legitimacy, they may well try to kill Shadow Walker, but they must first fight amongst themselves about who should do it. I think it will delay their plans. You see, none of the would-be kings wants to share the killing with any of the others.”
Many Paths shook her head and muttered, “What a lovely system. And I suppose no-one else gets hurt in the process?”
Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker exchanged glances. He spoke thus: “People — innocent people — do get hurt in the process. Of course. How could it be otherwise? NUT-PI, in his attempt to kill the eagles, instead killed several of the Z-Lotz. I’m sure he didn’t care, but I felt bad for them. That’s one reason — I hope I did the right thing — I destroyed the killing stick and then later, when I had a chance to take one or two, I took none. It may not have been … we have no idea how they work. I was afraid if we tried to take one apart to understand better how it works, we would have killed ourselves. Also, I remembered our “imagining exercise” where people pretended to have them to think about their uses. And two of our tribe were about to use the killing sticks over nothing. I mean over something so trivial that I cannot recall what it was. And, I guess that they don’t recall either. There is a reason that they are called “killing sticks.” Because that is what they do. Kill.”
Many Paths said, “I think we must continue to debate this, but not now. Now, we must focus on hearing the stories about the Z-Lotz and their likely tactics. And … but, Trunk of Tree, where did you come from? How did you get Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes?”
“I discovered a very short path to the Veritas on the other side of the mountain. I was hunting deer and the deer led me to this place that was a narrow cleft and then, I was at their village and there was Tu-Swift and Eagle Eyes. These two are … well, they know more about bawks than anyone else! You should see it.”
Tu-Swift, who had also joined the small group, said, “He means ‘books’ — it’s ‘books’ Trunk of Tree. Anyway, there is so much in those books, so many stories, no much information … and so much we still don’t understand. But this much we do understand. I have to tell you something. It is amazing and wonderful, but also … difficult. But we must understand the true story of how we got here before we plan what to do next. Do you agree?”
Many Paths shrugged. “I cannot disagree, at least not until I know more about what it is you’ve learned. What is it?”
Tu-Swift took a giant sigh. He looked down at the ground for a moment and then right into the eyes of his sister, Many Paths.
It is a good thing to try to put oneself in someone else’s shoes. We shouldn’t fool ourselves about how well we can do that, but for some situations, we do a pretty good job. For example, if we watch a movie and someone gets attacked by a Great White Shark, we know we would feel pretty terrified and it’s a fairly good assumption that they are going to be terrified.
Let’s imagine how it feels inside the experience of a person who lies constantly and absurdly about how wonderful and great he is; how beloved he is by everyone; how he is the best at everything. Let’s say he declares himself to be a wobble-free genius. Can you imagine how empty he feels inside? He believes himself to be utterly incapable of anything which is why he insists he are successful at everything.
I saw the results of such a pathetic hypothetical person once up close and personal in real life. Trump took over a golf course that I was a member at. He made some nice improvements. At that point, I didn’t know him from Adam. But some people at the club did and they quit. Some of those people had been former club champions. So what does Trump do? He orders that the plaques be redone with his name as club champions for those years. He not only had not won those tournaments. He had not even played in them.
Just imagine how you would feel looking at a trophy with your name on it knowing full well that you had done nothing to deserve it. Would you feel proud or ashamed? My guess is that you would feel ashamed. This false “accomplishment” tarnishes every real accomplishment you ever had or that you ever will have. This is a normal response.
But Trump, for whatever reason, has such subterranean self-esteem that any semblance of praise, however false or ill-deserved, feels to him as a seeming life-saving desperate drop of moisture for the shriveled old soul that lives within the shriveled old body. If someone flatters him and he knows it’s flattery, he values that more than he would an honest complement. Because to him, opinions about his abilities or behaviors don’t interest him in the slightest. He’s not going to change because of feedback from this or that politician, family member, thinker, advisor, etc. But he just wants the shadow of true praise that is not based upon fact at all but upon power.
He failed as a businessman. He failed as a family member. He failed his own honor when he dodged the draft a half dozen times. He proved himself a racist by calling for the death penalty for four black youths — who it turned out were innocent. Trump didn’t really know anything about the case. He just wanted to take advantage of an opportunity to put his “hat in the ring” for being a racist candidate. Just in case anyone slept through Act 1 due to jet lag or too much wine or whatever, Act 2 was ranting and raving about Obama being an African. “I’ve got proof and I’ll show it the day after the day after the day after the day after….” And, let’s think about it. Here’s a guy — Trump — whose known as a golfer, a playboy and a real estate developer. He’s on record supporting many liberal policies like being pro-abortion. Why would he really care whether Obama was born in Africa? This guy who dodged the draft six times and is already cheating on his taxes suddenly becomes outraged at a particular part of the Constitution that says you must be born in America to be President. Seem plausible?
In case the fifteen foot high blinking neon-Nazi sign from Act 1 wasn’t bright enough, let’s put on the fifty foot high blinking neon-Nazi sign in Act 2. Oh, and if that doesn’t do it for you. I mean, if you were really really zonked on for Acts 1 and 2, don’t you worry! The message of this play is simple and if you didn’t notice the neon-Nazi signs before, now they flashing out a new warning on the subway walls: “Civil War! Then, make me dictator of AmeriKKKa!”
It’s evil and it’s horrible, but it’s also pathetic. Imagine how empty and worthless TFG must feel that he wants the support of people, like him, who derive their sense of worth from something like their supposed race (itself a fiction) or their gender or their inherited wealth — and not from anything they’ve ever accomplished.
At this point, an image occurs to me. A black hole, metaphorical but also quite literal, exist at the very center of TFG. In order to fill it, he is compelled to suck every shred of truth and goodness from everyone around him. More and more people get sucked into the vortex. Who knows? Maybe in some parallel universe, it all comes out as beautiful anti-matter. That may be nice for them. Over there. In that universe.
But for us, back here on the earth we’re familiar with, it’s just plain out — terrible. It exacerbates the emptiness disease that TFG has become. It corrupts all those around him. They all know they’re lying and they each know each of the others is lying. Just like the false championships, if anyone famous goes along with the big lie, that action tarnishes everything good these Senators and Representatives and Newscasters ever did. It outweighs everything from the day, 40 years ago, as a cub scout, they helped someone cross the street to the day that they helped craft significant legislation. All of that is gone. And, for what? Nothing. That’s the real hell of it for them. For nothing.
All of them realize that if there is a coup, none of them will ever be safe again. And, they’ve already pledged their allegiance to the dictator. So, they have no real power. They have to do whatever the oligarchs tell Trump to make them do. They were afraid they’d lose power if they acted ethically; so instead, they acted unethically and as a result lost every shred of power. It’s a great dramatic thread for a farce. Unfortunately, it’s embedded in a real tragedy. And that kind of takes the fun out of it, at least for me.
They could, theoretically, have a great awakening and decide as one to throw off the shackles of the oligarchs and rejoin the difficult game of government by democracy. They would have more power than they ever had before because they would be free to work creatively and solve actual problems with actual work. They would help build a better world for their children and for everyone’s children to live in. They would certainly feel cleaner. That would be something that they could be proud of; that they wouldn’t mind the history books touting; a legacy for grandchildren.
I wonder how the Nazis who were still alive in Germany after the war explained their role to their grandchildren.
Everyone seems about to go for the throat. Many people are not sure whom to trust. Should they trust doctors who spend years and years learning about calculus, chemistry, biology and then more years in Medical school learning about anatomy, physiology, and medicine and then more years as an intern and resident? Or, instead, maybe how about believing a yelling, screaming talk show host? Hard to tell? Maybe no-one ever taught us how to tell liars from truth tellers. There is no simple formula that will guarantee us to be 100% accurate, but maybe we can think together about it.
——————-
(Processed photo from one I took on Maui.)
Sam sit alone at the local sandwich shop, and began contemplating whether to have dessert after his nice lunch. It was a club sandwich, already a lot of calories, but what the hell, he thinks. With what the doctor said this morning, I should be free to eat anything I want,
Three older guys — strangers — come in and waddle up to a table next to Sam’s. The trio have their menus but before glancing at them, they look up at a nearby TV and raise their fists. There’s a roar because someone has just run back a kickoff for a touchdown.
Andy says, “Wow! What a run back. I played in high school. Not easy running back a kickoff all the way into the end zone.”
Sam regards the threesome. It’s hard for him to believe any of them were ever fit enough to play football, but most people do gain weight with age and lack of exercise, so — he could be telling the truth.
Bob says, “I played in high school and college. I was good. Blew my knee out as a sophomore though and lost my scholarship.” This too seems plausible to eavesdropping Sam.
Cal says, “I played in high school, college, and went pro. I was fantastic. Probably the best runner and wide receiver and quarterback in the history of Ohio State. I played free safety too. Had more tackles than anyone before or since. If I were playing quarterback, no way that guy would have scored. I was the top draft pick five years running. A lot of quarterbacks these days are too chicken to tackle anyone. I would have nailed him. I was breaking all the records for the Houston Texans! But I got bored. Football’s really a simple game.”
Sam thinks that Cal is bragging way too much. His story is a priori unlikely. Regardless of what he says or how he says it, the chances that a random person is the best anything at Ohio State is highly unlikely. He played back, wide receiver, quarterback and free safety? That’s unlikely. Extremely unlikely.
Sam frowns and shakes his head. What does it mean to be the “top draft pick” for five years? If that were true, it would lead naturally to an explanation but none was provided. Further, quarterbacks may be told not to risk their careers making a tackle on a punt return. But what quarterback is on the field to defend a kickoff return?
Houston Texans? Their first season was 2002. This guy looks to be at least 65. So…he was playing all those positions when he was 45? That seems highly unlikely. Got bored playing football? Possible, but again seems very highly unlikely. Football’s a really simple game? Really?
Cal’s story has a lot of holes in it. Now Sam laughs that he ever swallowed any of it.
Bob says, “You played for the Houston Texans? You mean the Oilers?”
Cal shoves his chair back hard enough to spill water on the table. He pushes on the arms of his chair and manages to stand up and he yells even louder, pounding the table to illustrate just how much he believes in what he’s saying. “I said Texans and I mean Texans! I was the best in the whole damned state of Texas! The whole south for that matter!”
Sam laughs to himself, thinking, Well, that settles it I guess. Cal is really passionate and loud so he must be telling the truth, right?
No.
Wrong.
People who are telling the truth do not feel the need to scream and yell and make even more outrageous claims the first time someone questions them.
Sam snorts at the ridiculous claims and then has an idea. It takes Sam 20 seconds to pull out his iPhone and look up Eli Manning, the first name that popped into his head.
Sam reasons: “If Cal were really the best football player in the history of Texas, he could have easily verified it by finding his own entry on the web (likely on Wikipedia) and shown his table mates the entry. He would not have had to scream and yell and pound the table.”
Sam thinks: Okay, but no-one’s going to fall for a con man like that.
{Really? Don’t be too sure, Sam}.
Cal says to the approaching and attractive server: “Hey, darling. You look yummier than anything on the menu. Do you know who I am? Do you know what I did before I became a billionaire? Go ahead guys. Tell this lucky sweetheart who’s going to be leaving someone a very big tip!”
Andy and Bob may think: Well, at least he’s going to leave the tip.
So, Andy and Bob outline Cal’s biography in the football hall of fame (where his name definitely does not appear should anyone actually look it up).
Andy and Bob feel pretty sheepish about joining in this pack of lies. But Cal doesn’t think they have been anywhere near lavish enough in their description of him. Cal says: “Oh, on, guys! Make this girl’s day! Tell her she’s had the pleasure of serving the greatest football player in the history of the game! I don’t say that. That’s what everyone says! Right, guys?”
Now Sam looks over and can see that Andy and Bob are both a bit embarrassed. They’ve gone along with Cal’s lies, but they don’t want to admit to that now because it makes them out to be liars too. So they go along with the bigger lie.
Andy says, “Yeah. Something else, right? He was OSU’s best player ever. Yep.”
Bob says, “Uh-huh.”
Cal shakes his head at Bob. “Come on! God, that’s the damndest weakest most candy-ass description I’ve ever heard, Bob. Tell her how many touchdowns I had. Just me. At OSU!”
Bob looks bewildered. He knows it’s all a lie. People all over the restaurant are starting to look over at the table and more than a few are looking admiringly at Cal.
Bob thinks to himself, Quite a few cute chicks here. Cal can’t handle all of them.” He feels inspired. He takes out his iPhone and says, “Damn. Battery’s about gone. Let me just … here … fifty touchdowns. My God! That is amazing!”
Cal rolls his eyes. “Give me that damned phone! That’s not right! It’s two hundred and fifty. Not fifty. Yep. There it is. I’m going to look up how many interceptions I had. Oh, crap! Battery dead. Hey guys, I gotta skedaddle. Here’s your crap cellphone back Bob.”
By now, Andy and Bob are both too embarrassed to come clean. Cal makes a big show out of taking out his wallet and thumbing a large pile of cash. He makes it look as though he’s leaving a big tip but actually only leaves a couple bucks. Andy and Bob split the entire bill.
Sam shakes his head slowly as he watches the three waltz out. Their server looks in awe of Cal and stares him out of the establishment. She even stares with some desire — despite the fact that Cal is grossly overweight and barely able to wobble his way out of the restaurant. But she imagines how once he must have been quite a specimen and it’s that image that is the real target of her desire.
She also looks forward to finding out just how giant of a tip he left her. A few moments later, she walks over to the “billionaire’s” table and before opening up the placard, tries to guess how much it is. Several of her colleagues have come over as well. She turns around and tells them to back off. “It’s my tip, thank you very much” she says. “Just remember, I’m the one who tried to convince you all to share tips but you wouldn’t have any of it.”
They back off, slightly miffed. Now, the young lady has made up her mind it will be at least a hundred dollars, but she dares to hope that maybe he did something crazy and left her a thousand!!
She notices her hands trembling as she opens up the placard and sees three bills.
She blinks. She sets her jaw. She’s not going to let her colleagues see her disappointment or that he stiffed her, especially after he felt her thigh. All the way up. She forces a gleeful tone into her voice and jams the outer corners of her lips up towards her ears. “Oh, boy!” She shouts with intended but pretended joy. “This will buy me a new iPhone!” As she said this, each successive word increased in loudness and pitch. She sounded a lot like someone desperately peddling costume jewelry on channel 666 at 4 am.
Her colleagues glance at each other. She fooled no-one. They all realize she got stiffed. Each is torn between comforting her, making fun or her, or just pretending along with her. For the sake of keeping a reasonably happy work environment, they all choose to go along with her.
Sam shakes his head and looks down at his melted coffee ice cream with hazelnuts. Now it’s just cold coffee with a lot of wet nuts.
And, then Sam realizes that that is the least tragic thing that happened here today. In the length of time it took his ice cream to melt, one liar became seven liars.
Same took a deep breath. This is what’s happening inside me, he realized.
Before we discuss the answer to that one, let’s move on to the American House of Representatives. There are 435 people in the House of Representatives. What is the probability that at least two folks in the House share a birthday?
We will return to these two puzzles shortly. Meanwhile…
Imagine that you are one of our distant ancestors foraging for food. You come across something that looks just like a blackberry bush. On it are what appear to be nice ripe blackberries. They feel like blackberries so you pick one. You pop it in your mouth and it tastes like a blackberry. It has the same seeds that you are used to being in a blackberry fruit. It smells like a blackberry. Chances are extremely good that it is, in fact, a blackberry.
Don’t get me wrong. There are some plants out there that could give you trouble! The deadly poisonous amanita mushrooms are said to taste good. And, the white “death angel” has been mistaken for an ordinary field mushroom with deadly results. A single mushroom will kill you but a half a mushroom may only make you wish you were dead.
In general, however, plants, animals, and situations are redundantly coded right at the surface. A blackberry plant has leaves that look like blackberry leaves. It has thorns that look like blackberry thorns and also feel like blackberry thorns. The fruits look like blackberries! They have a texture of blackberry. They smell like blackberries. They taste like blackberries. Though there are some deadly exceptions, in the natural environment, we are generally clued in to what something is by multiple senses. If it looks like a blackberry and smells like a blackberry and feels like a blackberry and tastes like a blackberry, chances are excellent that it really is a blackberry.
When it comes to things produced by human beings, however, we must be much more cautious.
In some cases, such as the puzzles at the beginning of this blog post, the intention is pedagogic. But in other cases, people mislead you for much more nefarious purposes. Someone could intentionally spray the blackberry patch where you go with an odorless, tasteless, invisible poison. It could poison your body and kill you stone cold dead. Or, they could poison you and make you so sick you wish you were dead. Who would do such a thing? Well, the name “Vladimir Putin” springs to mind. He has arranged for the poisoning of his political foes and critics.
It isn’t only your body that is at risk, however. So is your brain. The tricks that people play are not necessarily all deadly. Often, they just want to take your money. So, they will tell you a drink is “All Natural Fruit Drink” because they know that most people care about their health and the health of their families and “All Natural Fruit Drink” sounds like something natural, healthy, and nutritious. But legally, as it turns out, those words mean absolutely nothing in America. That “all natural” drink may be anything but! It could be mainly water and corn syrup! It might have as little as 5% fruit juice.
What do you think is in “Air Freshener”? “Air Freshener” sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? After all, who doesn’t like fresh air? If you’ve been in a musty cabin waiting for the rain to abate and you step outside into the cool, crisp, fresh air, that is a wonderful sensation. Ah! Breathe in that fresh air. And, of course, when you see a commercial for “Air Freshener” on TV, or read the title which might say, “Ocean Breezes Air Freshener” it reminds your brain perhaps of your first trip to the ocean.
What is really in air fresheners is, in many cases, anything but an air freshener. Do you know what a really good air freshener is? Opening your windows. But the sprays that you buy in the store can contain:
Carcinogens Perfumes Chemicals that mess with your hormones
Chemicals that deaden your sense of smell
Huh!?
Not exactly an “Air Freshener” is it?
In the puzzles above, the description is also misleading, not because I want to steal your money or poison you, but because I care about my fellow citizens being sold their death warrants packaged as something wonderful. Hopefully, if we become aware of how the surface features of a situation can mislead us, we’ll be less prone to fall for such tricks.
The tobacco companies were good at such tricks. They would sell you something deadly and addictive but advertised to make you think that smoking their product would make you “manly” or “sexy” or “sophisticated” or “urbane” or “adult.” It wouldn’t make you any of those things. It would harm your lungs and your heart and turn your skin gray and make your breath smell bad. But those aren’t very good selling points, you see. Eventually, the government required cigarette companies to put health warnings on the packages. Do you think that the cigarette companies eagerly complied? Guess again. They fought tooth and nail and paid off politicians for years so they wouldn’t have to own up to what their product was really doing to you.
So, let’s return to the puzzles. In the first puzzle, many people are led by the structure of the language presented to answer wrongly.
“If a chicken and a half can lay an egg and a half in a day and a half, how long does it take ONE chicken to lay ONE egg?” The first answer that will likely pop into many minds is “ONE day!” It “seems logical.”
But it’s dead wrong. Consider this analogy: “If nine women can have nine babies in nine months, how long does it take ONE woman to have ONE baby?” One month? No, of course not. It takes nine months. And it will take a day and a half for the one chicken to lay one egg. (Or, a hundred chickens to lay a hundred eggs).
The second puzzle will probably only cause problems if you have been educated about probability.
What? Yes. If you ask a smart ten year old, they will figure it out. Basically, there are only 365 days in a year (or 366 in a leap year). Since the number of Representatives in the House is 435, even if the first 365 people in the House have different birthdays, the next person you look at has to overlap with someone. It’s just like this: Suppose you only have some identical black sox and identical white sox. If you pick three sox in the dark, you have to have at least one match.
If, however, you studied statistics, you may have come across “The Birthday Problem.” As it turns out, if as few as 30 people are in a room, the chances are greater than 50:50 that at least two share a birthday. If the puzzle reminds you of this, your mind runs along lines like this: “Oh, yes, I remember this. It’s “The Birthday Problem” and with even 30 people the odds are good, so with 435 people the probability must be really high. I’d say the odds are 99:1.” No. Wrong. Close, but wrong. There must be at least one match.
It’s very easy for us to rely on the surface of things — including its label or what advertisers say about that thing — as a valid indicator of what’s underneath. And, in nature, that is often true. But in modern society, if you simply believe what someone says, you will certainly lose some money and at some point, you may also lose your entire fortune, your freedom, and your family. It’s happened before. Hitler, to name one famous example, told people he was going to make Germany great and that the “Third Reich” would last a thousand years.
He killed himself in the end. But not before causing the deaths of millions — including millions of Germans. He told people lies that they wanted to hear. He divided people and made people believe that all their troubles would be over if he just had complete power over their lives. Don’t fall for it.
petersironwood 