So, in 2013, I changed from four medical plans to four different medical plans to six plans for 2014. Thank goodness we don’t have a “single payer” system because there is nothing I love more than pouring through a hundred pages of text for each plan which is mainly garbage but occasionally has important information. There is nothing more fun than ping-ponging among doctors every time your plan changes. Oh, wait! I forgot that in addition to the plans I *actually* had, IBM also sent me huge packets of information on plans that were no longer relevant. In the midst of all this, I was heartened to find a concise 72 page document from my dental plan which also informs me: “Please note: if you are a previous user of MyBenefits, you can still enjoy all the same features under the new plan. Simply visit (our website) and re-register with an updated username and password for access to your new plan.” It is the word, “simply” that I object to. Indeed, in some parallel universe, there is probably a time and place for the word “simply” but in has no legitimate place in actual 21st century America. It *invariably* signals this message: “We are going to make this difficult for you. But we don’t want to come out and say that so we will preface our instructions with the word ‘simply’ so when you do have trouble you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”
(Why do I need a different userid and password?). Anyway, you know the drill. You go to the website and the first six userids that bear any resemblance to your name are taken. But they don’t typically tell you that till you also enter a password. And, of course, there are the typical “security questions” such as “What sized underwear did you wear in the fourth grade?” “What was your second grade teacher’s maiden name?” “What was the name of the company you bought your first ant farm from?” And so on.
This ironic use of “simply” is not confined to websites. It also applies to packaging as in, “SIMPLY remove the plastic overwrap.” Yeah. But, what if you left your chain saw in the garage? “Simply, tear the plastic along the indicated line.” In the rare case, when it is physically possible to tear, it never tears evenly. More typically it is some semi-metalic plastic that requires an industrial laser cutter. the most recent example involved two different kinds of dry cat food. These were nearly impossible for me to “simply” open. I left the bags for a few minutes to get an exacto knife and when I returned two minutes later, my CATS had indeed simply opened the packages and spread the contents around the hallway. For all I know, they might have actually ingested a piece of cat food but it was clear that their main intent was simply to cause a mess. The reason they could open the packages simply is that they have cat claws! I don’t! Not sure what genius came up with the idea that packages of cat food should be opened simply by cats but not simply by humans.
A variant on the use of industrial grade titanium plastic the requires war-appropriate hardware to open, is the soft, slippery plastic around cheese or ham that actually does open easily under a specific set of conditions. You have to be young. You have to have a strong grip. You have to have fingerprints–mine are gone (because of using too many touch screens?) Most importantly, your hands must be completely dry and free of any trace of any kind of oil.
Luckily, when preparing food, one’s hands never get damp or oily. Not if everything you touch is already pre-packaged in a box or a can. Of course, if you’re foolish enough to use fresh vegetables or fruits, you may be tempted to wash off bacteria and poison. You can do that, but you have to wait at least forty hours before attempting to open a package that requires you to “simply” tear off the tab.
And, while we’re on the subject of tear off tabs, did you ever wonder what kind of a bonus the MBA whiz kid who first mathematically modeled the MRA (Minimally Required Area) for a pull-off tab? I sometimes add a dollop of milk to my coffee and get one of two brands of milk. One has a pull-off tab of aluminum foil that allows me to use my bare hands to tear off the tab (even if they are a bit moist). The second brand sometimes has a plastic tab which is usable. But sometimes, it has a tab of aluminum foil carefully calculated to bear a visual resemblance to a usable tab but which, in fact, is only about 1/20th the surface area required to actually use it. The marketers however, have made it quite clear that I can open it by “simply” pulling the tab. And that is true, provided I use pliers.
Since the word “simply” has simply gone out of fashion in its true meaning, I think we should simply ban its use. Period.
Recovering from recently moved across the country, fixing up our new house, dealing with a huge moving van fire, health and family issues, I found myself with 45 seconds of uncommitted time, so I was **thrilled** to get a wonderful form letter from American Express informing me that a credit card I had cancelled about five years ago nonetheless had been compromised and it was up to me to take a series of time-consuming steps. At last!! Something to do!! How thoughtful! If all goes well, this would not only eat up the 45 seconds of free time but about 45 additional days. Of course, all of these steps require either going on-line or calling an 800 number so we KNOW that all will NOT go well. Going to a website generally means getting an account with a user name and email address. These may be the same or different depending on the site. You can pretty much bet PeterSIronwood and Peter Ironwood and PIronwood are already taken so I will end up with some completely impossible to recall username like IPeterIWoodIS437. Of course, I can regenerate my username by merely answering three simple security questions such as, “What is your favorite movie star?” I don’t know. Or, worse, it changes from day to day. Maybe the people who made up these security questions have a favorite movie star that they keep constant for their entire 23 year lives. But I don’t. “Where did you grow up?” What makes you think I grew up? And, what makes you sure it was in one place? And, even if it was in one place, which is the exact spelling I used last time: “SanDiego”, “San Diego”, “San_Diego”, “San Diego, CA”, “San Diego, California”, “California”, “SoCal”, etc. etc. Of course, I could take the OTHER route and call an 800 number. “We’re sorry. All of our agents are helping other customers. Due to unusual call volumes, your call may take longer to answer than usual. Your estimated wait time is 5.5 centuries. But meanwhile, you can listen to really loud, really repetitious, soul-sucking low-fidelity music. This century’s selection is entitled, “The Dementor’s Theme Song.” You know what? If YOU screw up YOU fix it! Don’t impose on ME to fix it.
But let’s not forget that most people, most of the time cooperate. It’s much more pleasant for normal people to cooperate and the results are also much more pleasant.
Is there road rage? Does that exist? Yes, but statistically, the vast majority of people cooperate when they drive.
And, when they do anything else. We depend on many people from many places cooperating in order to eat. First, the efficiency and effectiveness of our food growing, harvesting, transporting and preparing depends on the cooperation of millions of people in the past who found out what was edible, how to grow it, which crops worked best in various conditions, how to irrigate, how to fertilize, how to harvest and so on. The food we have available today depends on the collaborative efforts of many previous generations. These dependencies are not just on food per se, but also depend on scientific advances, transportation advances, financial advances, and so on.
Much of our food also depends on people from many parts of the world cooperating today. The prevalence of cooperation is not just true of driving and food production but also on the construction of buildings and cities; it’s true of our clothing, our medical care, our learning.
Despite the fact that cooperation is much more prevalent than criminality, evil, and violence, there are at least three reasons that the evil of human behavior seems much more prevalent than it really is. These are: 1. Effect Size, 2. Cognitive Bias, and 3. Media Bias.
Effect Size:
First of all, it takes many people working smart and hard over a long period of time to provide value through cooperation. By contrast, it only takes a few people working stupidly over a short period of time to destroy something. The effort to make a pane of glass is immense. To make it efficiently takes a large number of people with different skills. To destroy a pane of glass requires only one second of bad action by one unskilled bratty child.
AI-generated image
Think about how much work goes into planting, growing, and harvesting an acre of corn versus what it takes to burn it down. Think about how much time and effort it takes to raise a child for the first ten years of their life versus destroying that life with an assault weapon. Think about what was required to build a functioning democracy over the course of hundreds of years by cooperation versus how easy it is for a very small group of greedy stupid people to destroy it. The examples are endless. Writing a novel versus burning a book; training to become a world class figure skating versus putting an ice pick in someone’s knee; becoming a skilled artist and painting the Mona Lisa versus splashing it with black paint.
It’s the same with a functioning human body. To be healthy requires the coordination of trillions of cells. The kind of cooperation found in the human body (or an eagle or wolf or whale) took billions of years of evolution. To destroy the health of the body only takes a few stupidly greedy cancer cells. So, although evil destruction is far less prevalent than constructive cooperation, evil destruction can undo the effort of many over the course of a long time.
Second, because destruction can so quickly undo so much good work, our nervous system is very reactive to evil and violence. We perceive it more easily and we remember it more easily. In a crowded city, you might pass by hundreds of people every day. Most of them, most of the time, you don’t notice. But if one of them robs you at gunpoint, you will notice and remember.
Media Bias:
The first two reasons we perceive evil to be more common than it really have existed for millions of years. Now, however, in our modern society, we have people whose job is to report on the news.
When is the last time you saw a headline like: “Two hundred thousand people drove into San Diego from Mexico yesterday with zero fatalities!” Or, “Three million people ate dinner in San Diego county last night! Zero died of food poisoning!”
It is sometimes said that “No news is good news.” It’s also generally the case that good news is no news. There are some exceptions. When World War Two ended, there were headlines. What we don’t see is this headline: “Canada, for the 57,670th consecutive day did not attack the United States of America.” Understanding this, a complete sociopath with an audience might try to increase their own fame by declaring: “America should annex Canada!” An actual war will definitely result in a headline. But threatening war, especially with a friendly country might also result in a headline.
The tendency to report bad news over good news has always been a “feature” of the media. But now that much of our news is basically click-bait for advertisements, the tendency is worse than ever. When I was on the school newspaper, we were taught to put the most important information in the headline; add the most important details in the first paragraph and add more detail in the rest of the article. Now, most headlines are fairly meaningless and important information is hidden behind a paywall or an advertisement.
“Is Earth About to Plunge into the Sun?!”
AI-generated image to prompt: “The earth plunges into the sun.”
Ka-ching!
(No, but we could sure use some extra cash, so click here to find out.)
“Does T-Rump have Proof that Obama was Born in Kenya!?”
An AI-generated image
Ka-ching!
(No, actually, but if you want to find out, click here and pay us money.)
“Could Space Invaders have Brought Life to Earth?!”
AI-generated image to prompt: “A fleet of UFOs hovers over the earth”
Ka-ching!
(Well, sure, anything’s possible. And, while we have no evidence of that, thanks for making one of the greediest people on earth a little richer!)
Dishonesty, greed, and mistrust work in a vicious circle. As you discover that more people are lying; that more people are evil, you yourself become more cynical and more tempted to lie, cheat, and steal. If you succumb to that temptation, it makes others more likely to lie, cheat, and steal.
Here’s the important thing to remember about a positive feedback loop though. It works in both directions. To the extent you can behave in a trustworthy fashion and be kind to others, it increases the chances that others will be inspired also to behave well. Cooperating is the natural and normal course for humanity. You will be happier doing that and you’ll help build a better world.
Donnie Dump arrived first. He sniffed. He sighed. The place stunk. He took a deep breath and ambled over to the plain wooden door with the brass numbers ‘4’ and ‘2’ glued on at a slight angle. The door looked to be plywood.
He dug around in the front right pocket of his too-tight Lee’s and found the crumpled piece of paper. He uncrumpled it. He nodded and mumbled: “Yep. This is the place.” He re-crumpled the paper and jammed it back into his pocked. Then, he turned the cheap brass knob and pushed. The door opened into a room without light. “Crap. I’m the first one here.”
Donnie fumbled around the door jamb for a light switch and flipped one. He said, “Let there be light.” And, there was light. A row of florescent lights flickered on to reveal a small arc of cheap chairs. In a corner of the smallish room, a vending machine offered a variety of salty and sugary snacks.
Donnie hated being late. But he hated being early even more. Yet, here he was. Early. The first one here. He thought, How the hell was I supposed to know traffic would be so light. The truth was traffic was always “unusually” light now, but he hadn’t yet connected the dots; he hadn’t noticed nor had he realized how that fact related to his own ‘second career’ as he often called it.
AI generated image.
Just then, he heard a noise and spun quickly to see another obese, masked marvel of manhood who raised a hand to him and said, “Hey. AA?”
Donnie nodded and began to regret having agreed to come. His wife Maggie had been insistent. Maggie the Naggie, he thought. She should just mind her own damned business. “I don’t need fixing!” He had told her.
She had countered, “I’m not saying you need fixing. But you’re just—understandably stressed. It’s not an easy job.”
Donnie now glanced at his watch. He could see several other guys out in the hallway. He was glad to see half of them were at least as old as he was. It was hard work chasing down folks trying to run away from you. He thought: True, the numbers and the weaponry made it safe enough but so is a carnival ride and they’re plenty scary too. But it’s whacking ‘em on the head I really get off on. Head wounds bleed a lot. The thought that they might be stupid the rest of their life from that one blow, or have a part of their body paralyzed or weakened. That was power. I like the taste. And, when the opportunity comes up, I’ll take whatever the hell I want. What’s everyone staring at me like that for?
Everyone had been seated for awhile and had been taking turns jabbering on about something or other. The so-called “Facilitator” had just said something to him. But what? That’s the question. Everyone’s staring at me.
Donnie stammered: “Sorry, what was the question?”
The facilitator faked a smile and said in a pleasant voice that Donnie just knew had to be rehearsed: “Have you experienced any unusual symptoms since joining NICE?”
Donnie shook his head and thought: Symptoms sound like I’m some kind of psycho or something. Aloud, he said, “No, nothing. No unusual symptoms. Like what?”
The F-man shrugged and said, “Like drinking more alcohol than you used to or using more pot or bad dreams. Anything.”
Donnie shook his head. Maybe I shook it too hard. This is weird. No wonder Maggie wanted me to come. This is chick stuff. Feelings and that crap. I wish I knew what the other guys said. Doesn’t matter. They can’t prove what I think or what I did. We’re all masked. I can hold my liquor just fine. Who cares? It’s good to celebrate our victories. Kids. Some of them look like kids but so what? They’re criminals at heart. And not America citizens. Not because some liberals wrote it into a Constitution. Not with skin that dark. Everyone’s staring at me again. I want my assault rifle. Why is everyone staring at me?
Donnie said, “Look, I feel fine. I like beer. So what? I do my job. I’m only here because my wife insisted. Well, that won’t matter much longer. Everybody knows it works better when women are property and we stop pretending their people with their own ideas. Go on to the next guy.”
The meeting only lasted an hour but to Donnie, it seemed like a lifetime of boredom.
It was late when Donnie got back home from the meeting and the post-meeting meeting at the “NICE GUY TAVERN.” Maggie had fallen asleep in her bathrobe staring at the boob tube. The twins must be asleep, he thought.
I don’t drink too much. I just want to feel good.
Donnie didn’t see anything wrong with that. But he did see something wrong with his damned wife being asleep when he got home. He didn’t exactly shout, but he did want to be heard over the sound of the frigging TV and he did want to wake her up and he had been drinking so his “Hey!” Sounded a lot more like: “HEY! Wake the hell up, Bitch!”
Maggie sat up and said, “Hey, Donnie. How was the meeting? I didn’t realize it would run so long. Was it fun?”
Donnie was already pouring himself a few fingers of Jack D. He bolted it down in one gulp before turning back toward Maggie and snarling in a soprano of swishy sarcasm, “Was it fun? Was it fun? Did you boys have fun talking about your frigging feelings?” He switched to his own voice and added, “No, it wasn’t fun! It was boringand useless just like you knew it would be. Do me a favor. Next time you get a brilliant idea, just keep it to yourself. I don’t drink too much. End of story.”
Maggie didn’t really agree, but she bit her lip to keep from…saying anything she’d regret.
Meanwhile, Donnie was pouring himself yet another Jack D but only got two fingers’ worth. He yelled, “What the hell? Drink your own damned drinks! Don’t drink my good whiskey! Ain’t lady-like anyway! Don’t you have some sprizzer chicker drinker? Leave mine alone! Now, I’m out of Jack!”
At the moment Donnie said that, he was not, in fact, out of Jack. There was another fifth, unopened, staring right at him from the edge of the countertop. The fifth stood just a little too close to the edge. It should have known better but it didn’t know better because, first, it was filled with booze and secondly, it was only a bottle and didn’t really know much of anything.
In any case, when Donnie staggered and stumbled into the counter top, his elbow toppled the bottle onto the hard tile of the kitchen. Maggie and Donnie didn’t own any pets and the twins were asleep, so when the bottle shattered into smithereens, Donnie could see no-one to blame but Maggie. His subsequent screaming did manage to wake the twins who toddled out to the kitchen in a daze to see what all the commotion was about.
Maggie saw them toddling forward in their PJs and yelled at them to go back to bed, but not before each of them managed to step on several broken shards. Maggie was horrified to see the blood of her darling toddlers mixing with the stinging whiskey. The toddlers were none too happy either. Their pain and confusion were exacerbated by the increased tension they had felt at home ever since Donnie joined NICE.
Tears streamed down Maggie’s cheeks. She shook her head and stared at her husband—a man whom she had once loved. She could see that he was smiling and that the smile was genuine. It was the happiest she’d seen him since he had started working at NICE. She gripped the her elbows with her hands, knowing she should get her kids and fix them, but suddenly, she didn’t know how. She just cried silently wondering what had happened to the nice man who used to live inside Donnie’s skin.
If you guesses heart disease and cancer, you’re right! Yay! RFK Junior and the Second Putin Misadministration may well change that in the next few years. By discouraging vaccinations, rolling back regulations for food quality, air quality, and water quality; by making proper nutrition much harder for non-wealthy families, the causes of death may change and infectious diseases my well rise to the top of the list again.
The First Putin Misadministration had a dry run by mishandling COVID. They did just about everything they could to kill additional Americans. By modeling disease-spreading behavior, waffling on whether vaccines were good, pooh-poohing the very existence of the disease for the critical early months, and, importantly, by making sure that the logistics of tests, masks, & other protective equipment was put in the hands of an over-spoiled teenager rather than any one of the hundreds of world class logistics experts in America, they did what they could but COVID only rose to third.
We could argue about the details, however, because it is undeniable that, because of the pandemic, many people did not get tests and interventions designed for early diagnosis of cancer and heart disease. So some of the deaths attributed to cancer and heart disease may also have been partly due to COVID. Nonetheless, cancer and heart disease do cause a lot of deaths even without any help from COVID.
Both “cancer” and “heart disease” are very broad labels. And, in both cases, we know that there are a number of factors that influence the incidence of various types of cancer and heart disease. A large number of genetic factors play a part. So too do diet and exercise. A completely sedentary life-style is bad for your health in many ways. One of the motivations for my book, Fit in Bits, is to make it easier for people to incorporate more exercise into daily life.
However, there is evidence that the environment also plays a large part in the prevalence of both cancer and heart disease. Almost all of these studies are understandably correlational in nature. I say “understandably” because most people are unwilling to have their behavior dictated for twenty years. So, we are left with comparing people who, left primarily to their own devices, encounter different environmental factors. However, lab rats and cell cultures do not object to being mistreated so we have additional indirect evidence that plastics are bad for life. For these reasons, one environmental factor that is drawing increasing attention is the “one word” for Benjamin in The Graduate: “Plastics!”
I don’t like plastic. I’m not saying that because I don’t like sea turtles and sea birds strangled with plastic. Of course, I don’t like those things either, but I’m talking about my sensory experience. I’m saying that for me, plastic doesn’t smell, taste, sound, or feel good. For that matter, it doesn’t even look that nice.
Materials I do like include metal, rock, wood, glass, and ceramics. I like them at a sensory level.
Recently, it has struck me just how prevalent plastic has become in my own life. When I was a kid, I had some things that were plastic, but it was much less prevalent than it is today. Let’s take a little look.
One of the first things I do in the morning is have coffee. That’s made from a bean. That’s not plastic.
Or, is it?
Lately, I make it in this coffee maker which holds coffee in little plastic capsules. The water sits in a plastic reservoir. The sugar sits in a plastic jar. I put in a little milk and hazelnut creamer. Guess what? They also come in plastic.
The cup, at least, is ceramic. I often have a whole wheat English muffin. The muffin comes in a container that is part paper and part plastic. I often like to put peanut butter on it. The peanut butter I usually buy comes in plastic. I often put honey or berries on the peanut butter. They come in plastic.
Sometimes, rather than a high fiber English Muffin, I enjoy a bread which is called “Fitness Bread.” It’s high fiber and tasty. And, it comes wrapped in plastic. I often spread hummus or guacamole on it. These are also pretty healthy choices. But they spend a lot of their life in plastic.
As I side dish, I like cherry tomatoes. They are colorful and tasty and low calorie. And they come packaged in–did you guess? Plastic. On sandwiches, I often put ketchup or mayo. They also come in handy squeeze bottles made of…let’s say it together: “Plastic.”
I don’t drink any alcohol, and often drink Hint or BAI, both of which I like quite a lot and both of which come only in plastic containers. This is not great for the environment at large, but also not good for the environment of my body. We also sometimes drink a powdered lemonade mix which comes in plastic packets. Then, a pitcher in the fridge keeps it cold. The pitcher is plastic. Then it is served in a “glass” which is, in fact, not glass, but plastic.
There’s an advantage to plastic over glass. We have cats and dogs and they have a tendency to knock things onto the floor. Plastic things are far less likely to break. Plastic glasses also weigh less than glass.
After breakfast, it’s time to take some supplements for my health. These almost always come in plastic containers as do the prescribed medications I take.
I brush my teeth. That’s a health-promoting activity. But the water glass I use is plastic. The toothbrush bristles are plastic. Lately, I’ve started using a water pick as well, which I highly recommend, by the way, though the reservoir for the water and the entire mechanism is made of plastic.
I often cook for the two of us. Lately, I’ve been using cutting boards made of…you guessed it! Plastic! For healthy snacks, I like dried fruit and nuts. Guess what? They come in…
What’s to be done?
In today’s America, with science and truth becoming illegal, it probably won’t make a huge difference. I’m more likely to die of infection or Civil War or unprovoked police violence than from plastic, but I am making some changes.
We bought bamboo cutting boards and paper cups. I’m cutting out the BAI and Hint and exploring options for drinks that come in glass or non-BHA coated metal. I am trying out another type of peanut butter that comes in a glass container. But the vast majority of products at the grocery store come in plastic. Even the vegetables and fruits.
Despite all the years of increasing the percentage of items that are plastic, I still do not actually like plastic.
I’m switching out what I can, and it may be too late in life to make a lot of difference for me personally, especially with a Misadministration that wants to end American lives (and brags about it!). But it may not be too late for you.
Do your own inventory. Hopefully, you will find things you like that are not wrapped in that one word of biological disaster wrapped up with economic faux-prosperity. The word? Here’s a
Apparently, everyone else knew I was supposed to go head first.
The instructions, however, were far from clear.
And, although I didn’t know much, four billion years of evolution had taught me to take a few things rather seriously—such as: “Gravity is real!” And: “Don’t dive hard onto something head first.” So, the vague instruction to come out head first made no sense.
I considered whether feet first seemed a sensible option. I decided “yes” but only for someone with a well-developed set of quads and a months of practice in balancing. Otherwise, a being such as myself would simply topple over and smash their head anyway.
Thinking about it as best I could, coming out butt first seemed by far the most sensible way to enter this world.
The only problem was that I didn’t fit that way. So—I was at odds with authority figures such as my mother and her doctors before I was even born.
After 72 hours of labor, I finally let them win that argument and came out head first.
All of us could have been saved a lot of time and effort had the instructions been clearer to start with.
Is that why I ended up with a career in “Human-Computer Interaction” AKA “Human Factors” AKA “User Experience”?
Probably not.
More likely, it has something to do with the agony of the feet.
I inherited “flat feet” and that has been something of a life-long inconvenience. For example, beneath my ankle is another bone that sticks out much more than it does for other people. That bone often rubs against the side of my shoes and boots and that causes a source of both bruises and blisters. The lack of a working arch also contributes to my never being able to jump very well. In high school, when I was very fit, I was capable of jumping up high enough to touch the bottom of a basketball net. On my best days.
I never got close to being able to jump and touch the rim, let alone being able to dunk the ball.
Nonetheless, I spent many years of enjoyment while on my feet—playing basketball, tennis, golf, table tennis, football, baseball, softball, racquetball, running, and walking. Running speed was never a strong point but I do have good eye-hand coordination and know how to concentrate and adjust my play to the opponent(s). As I sometimes like to say, I’be been violating expectations since 1945. I’ve enjoyed every sport I’ve ever tried. I’ve also seen many people with much more natural talent than I have enjoy sports less. That’s one reason I wrote “The Winning Weekend Warrior” which discusses the “mental game”; that is, “Sports Psychology.”
I’ve also discovered some things about mitigating the negative impact of the feet I was born with.
For one thing, I never buy shoes without trying them on.
Another surprise is that all hard surfaces are not equally damaging. A basketball floor, a dirt track, an asphalt road, concrete, and steel all seem pretty damned hard. But it turns out that running on concrete sidewalks is much harder on my arches (and shins) than running on asphalt. It also turns out that standing still for a half hour is harder on my arches than is walking for an hour.
I’ve learned a number of obvious things like: losing weight helps a lot! Strengthening the legs helps. Having good supportive shoes helps. Wearing cushy sox helps. Avoid (when possible) walking on stone, concrete, or metal.
I’ve tried a number of supplements too. For me, the ones that seem to help slightly are: turmeric, ginger, and sour cherries. I find that B12 seems to worsen joint pain. Elevation seems to help and so does ice. Of course, the trade-off is that ice and elevation are typically things that limit mobility.
I also use acetaminophen. I also use arnica gel which seems to help.
If there’s a real “solution” though, I haven’t found it. I was born with a bad design.
Everyone is.
Life is not, never was, and never will be about a “perfect design.” The environment keeps changing and organisms who adapt to the environment are always changing. That happens at the cellular level, the learning/behavioral level, and on a longer time scale, at the evolutionary level.
Not only that: change begets change. If, in response to one change in the environment, you make one adjustment, you might cause another problem. It’s the same with the design of physical artifacts, software systems, user interfaces, social systems, games, strategies, tactics, poetry, stories…
One can use knowledge to shrink a design space. Of course, there is always the chance that by shrinking the space, you are deleting the part of the space that has the very best designs. It took evolution billions of years to create multicellular organisms. Our own human bodies have a large variety of different types of cells. Within many of those types there are sub-types and sub-sub types.
Even within a sub-sub type, no two cells are precisely identical. They have different histories and they have different environments.
The feet that are “bad” are only “bad” in a certain set of circumstances. I’m sure that there’s some circumstance in which it’s better to have flat feet and pronated ankles. For example, it’s probably only a matter of time before there’s a top-rated “reality TV” show dedicated to the implications of odd body parts. That would be a show I would get to try out for because of my feet.
Recently, I got hearing aids. That’s a whole different story for another time, but they fit quite snugly and comfortably behind my ears. But we’ve all seen people who look like Alfred E. Newman from Mad Magazine. What do they do about hearing aids? Do they need a different type? Do they tape them behind their ears? What would be the best genre for the show about unusual feet or ears? Doctor Odds? Opera? Shure-Vivor? America’s Got Metatarsals?
Needless to say, we would have to make it extremely competitive and a little bit cruel. Maybe people with broken feet could run a race and the winner would live for another week and face a greater challenge the following week. The whole thing would be set in someplace chosen to be especially challenging for those with sore feet; e.g., uneven cobblestones, slippery concrete, on fallen tree trunks. Gorse, of course. Background music would be composed to add to the drama. Or, if the budget doesn’t permit human composers, we could ask an AI system to copy some Puccini or Bizet and change it just enough not be sued for copyright infringement.
The formula importunes for interviews. They need to be short, shallow, but filled with rage or tears. “So John, when did you first learn that your feet were…what is the PC term here?…Different? Weird? Horrific?” Before each competition, the contestants would be introduced with fireworks and flashing lights along with extremely loud and echoing words of exaggeration. We should get the same kind of introduction once reserved only for “Professional Wrestling” but now common in introducing contestants in Golf and Tennis. Why not insanely dramatic foot-offs in “America’s Got Metatarsals!”
It might be a bit expensive, but we can always cut costs to the bone. And then, just keep cutting!Who even needs real contestants? They can all be CGI. That, in turn, means there’s no need to limit contestants to the kinds of variations that actually occur. Flat feet? Okay. We’ve all heard about that. But how about flatiron feet? Elephant feet? Eagle feet! Grizzly bear paws! Duck-billed platypus feet! Amoebic pseudopods! Insect legs with pollen sacs!
Why stop there? Mice with elephant ears! Elephants with mouse ears! Whales stalking their prey on the Savannah, cleverly camouflaged in the tall yellow grass!Tigers leaping on Great White Sharks! It’s no more out of place than putting a thoughtless human being in a safari hunt And, the best part of CGI players is that we can interview them regardless of species and regardless of their native language. At long last, we can entertain ourselves to death while the actual ecosystem around us is being destroyed by the greediest members of the greediest species who ever existed.
What happens when greed exceeds needs and vital functions of society are left to the unfit, untrained, uncaring, uncouth, criminals? They’ll be about as effective as the Whales of the Serengeti and the Elephant-Eared Mice of Siberia.
petersironwood 