Reframing the Problem: Paperwork & Working Paper

04 Thursday Dec 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, creativity, design rationale, HCI, management, psychology, Uncategorized, user experience

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AI, ethics, leadership, life, philosophy, politics, problem finding, problem formulation, problem framing, problem solving, thinking, truth

Reframing the Problem: Paperwork & Working Paper

This is the second in a series about the importance of correctly framing a problem. Generally, at least in formal American education, the teacher gives you a problem. Not only that, if you are in Algebra class, you know the answer will be an answer based in Algebra. If you are in art class, you’re expected to paint a picture. If you painted a picture in Algebra class, or wrote down a formula in Art Class, they would send you to the principal for punishment. But in real life, how a problem is presented may actually be far from the most elegant solution to the real problem.

Doing a google search on “problem solving” just now yielded 208 million results. Entering “problem framing” only had 182 thousand. A thousand times as much emphasis on problem solving as there was on problem framing. [Update: I redid the search today, a little over three years later. On 3/6/2024, I got 542M hits on “problem solving” and 218K hits on “problem framing” — increases in both but the ratio is even worse than it was in 2021] [Second update: I did the search today, Dec. 4th, 2025, and the information was not given–but that’s the subject of a different post].

Let’s think about that ratio of 542 million to 218 thousand for a moment. Roughly, that’s 2000 to 1. If you have wrongly framed the problem, you not only will not have solved the real problem; what’s worse, you will have often convinced yourself and others that you have solved the problem. This will make it much more difficult to recognize and solve the real problem even for a solitary thinker. And to make a political change required to redirect hundreds or thousands will be incalculably more difficult.

All of that brings us to today’s story. For about a decade, I worked as executive director of an AI lab for a company in the computers & communication industry. At one point, in the late 1980’s, all employees were all supposed to sign some new paperwork. An office manager called from a building several miles away asking me to have my admin work with his admin to sign up a schedule for all 45 people in my AI lab to go over to his office and sign this paperwork as soon as possible. That would be a mildly interesting logistics problem, and I might even be tempted to step in and help solve it. More likely, if I tried to solve it, some much brighter & more competent colleague would have done it much faster.

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But why?

Why would I ask each of 45 people to interrupt their work; walk to their cars; drive in traffic; park in a new location; find this guy’s office; walk up there; sign some paper; walk out; find their car; drive back; park again; walk back to their office and try to remember where the heck they were? Instead, I told him that wasn’t happening but he’d be welcome to come over here and have people sign the paperwork.

You could make an argument that that was 4500% improvement in productivity, but I think that understates the case. The administrator’s work, at least in this regard, was to get this paperwork signed. He didn’t need to do mental calculations to tie these signings together. On the other hand, a lot of the work that the AI folks did was hard mental work. That means that interrupting them would be much more destructive than it would to interrupt the administrator in his watching someone sign their name. Even that understates the case because many of the people in AI worked collaboratively and (perhaps you remember those days) people were working face to face. Software tools to coordinate work were not as sophisticated as they are now. Often, having one team member disappear for a half hour would not only impact their own work, it would impact the work of everyone on the team.

Quantitatively comparing apples and oranges is always tricky. Of course, I am also biased because my colleagues are people I greatly admire. Nonetheless, it seems obvious that the way the problem was presented was a non-optimal “framing.” It may or may not have been presented that way because of a purely selfish standpoint; that is, wanting to do what’s most convenient for oneself rather than what’s best for the company as a whole. I suspect that it was more likely just the first idea that occurred to him. But in your own life, beware. Sometimes, you will mis-frame a problem because of “natural causes.” But sometimes, people may intentionally hand you a bad framing because they view it as being in their interest to lead you to solve the wrong problem.

Politics, of course, takes us into another realm entirely. People with political power may pretend to solve one problem while they are really following a completely different agenda. One could imagine, for instance, a head of state claiming to pursue a war for his people when he’s really doing it to keep in power. Or, they could claim they are making cities safe by deploying troops when they are really interested in suppressing the vote in areas that can see through his cons. Or, a would-be dictator could claim they are spending your tax dollars to make government more efficient when that has nothing to do with what they are *actually* doing–which is to collect data on citizens and make the government ineffective in order to have people lose confidence in government and instead invest in private solutions.

Even when people’s motivations are noble or at least clear, it is still quite easy to frame a problem wrongly because of surface features. It may look like a problem that requires calculus, but it is a problem that actually requires psychology or it may look like a problem that requires public relations expertise but what is actually required is ethical leadership.

——————————————————

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Tools of Thought

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: The Update Problem

My Cousin Bobby

Facegook

The Ailing King of Agitate

Dog Trainers

The Wines of War

01 Saturday Nov 2025

Posted by petersironwood in management, psychology, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, cognitive computing, fiction, life, technology, the singularity, truth, writing

“Come on, Searle, at least try a sip. You cannot believe this Cab!”

“Oh, I believe it all right, Hubert. I am just not interested.”

“What a stick in the mud! Not only is it fabulous and complex. It’s worth a taste just to prove to yourself that the Chinese — The Chinese — are making superb wines! Would you have even thought that possible a decade ago? And, it isn’t a copy of French or California Cabs. It’s completely different. Yet, it is wonderful.”

“I’m sure the experience is fantastic, Hubert. I take your word for it. I am not interested. And, anyway, I have to keep my wits about me, as you well know, for the war effort.”

“Oh, Searle, such a prude. Do you seriously think that throwing the weight of your human intellect against the wheel of our national computational resources will move things forward any more quickly? If you tasted the wine, you would get an inkling of just how far we’ve come. Anyway, it isn’t spiked with ethyl alcohol. The drug effect of the wine will make you feel good but it won’t mess you up intellectually–not at all. It is a miracle.”

“I prefer my wine made the old-fashioned way. I know it’s retro. But that’s just me. I don’t think we know all the ramifications of these genetically altered plants, let alone the interaction effects of all the additives. Anyway, I’m getting back to work.” Searle took one last view of the seascape and turned to walk to the back wall — a series of high def 3-D displays. He held up both hands toward the displays for a second to authenticate and then began slicing his hands through the air rather quickly and precisely. As he did so, he muttered under his breath. Although Hubert could not make out his words, the bank of computer receptor pads had no problem.

“Can you come take a look at this, Hubert? This is the scenario bundle I’ve been working on. I know it may seem far-fetched, but when it comes to cyber weaponry, there’s not much history from which to extrapolate. So it’s hard to know exactly what is far-fetched. Now what?!” Searle’s breath growled annoyance because of the flashing red-bordered news feed screen on the far right.

Hubert stalked over to watch as well, having been alerted by the tactile feed in his shirt.

An Asian man in a blue tunic spoke English with a thick accent. A large red star in a white circle suspended between two long blue stripes hung huge behind him. “This is what awaits you if our demands are not met.” The talking head was replaced with a picture of a man’s hands boiling and disintegrating in a matter of a half a minute. The image was both hideous and utterly fascinating. The talking head reappeared. “You have two hours. Then, 95% of your citizens will experience a similar dissolvement. That includes men, women, and children. Two hours.” The feed blinked out. Within seconds, three video call signals beeped. Searle pointed at the Sing project director’s image and a split second later, Hubert pointed at CIA director Bush Four. ADAMS (Auditory Directional And Masking System) easily let them converse right beside each other without confusion.

The Sing project director spoke first: “I told these clowns something like this would happen if we didn’t get fully funded! What did they…”

Searle interrupted, “No time. You’re right. But recriminations later. We need to determine whether this is bluster, bluff, or real. Anyone can fake a video but…”

The director, in turn, interrupted, “It’s real all right. Miami is gone. Millions of people, gone. Just like that. The few that aren’t infected are understandably — let’s say — distraught.”

Searle pushed that image away. Time to focus. “Okay, so we have two hours to find a credible counter-threat or basically give them the keys to the kingdom. Or, a cure. Do we even know what this is?”

Meanwhile, Hubert engaged in his own dialogue. Bush Four spoke in calm measured tones. “Hubert. We need a cure for this and we need it now. Call everyone and turn all of Sing’s resources on it. Suspend any other projects. Give me every frigging petaflop you’ve got on this.”

“Sir, if we cannot find a cure, are we going to give in? Or what?”

“Hell no! We will blow their sorry asses to hell. We’re not capitulating. That’s not even under discussion. Find a cure!”

“Okay, sir, but, what is causing the — the —- whatever it is?”

“We’re calling it ‘Entropy Plague.’ Not strictly accurate but descriptive. Our analysts say it is nanotech and we estimate 95% of the population is already infected. The nano-bots were delivered in all kinds of foods and beverages. They were disguised as Chinese products like wine and rice as well as Brazilian meat and Canadian wheat. Find an antidote fast or we’ll all be breathing radioactive air for the next century. Well, the few of us left at least. By the way, these things are triggered to explode or activate or whatever by satellite apparently. So, put a team on how to figure out which satellite and we may be able to blow it out of the sky. I have to go. Reconnect with a solution. Soon.”

Hubert looked over at Searle who had just finished his call. Searle said, “Chinese wine? Crap. You think you’ve got it?”

“Hell, Searle, 95% of us have it from something. I’ll take the satellite angle and you work on a cure.”

Searle began to divert numerous Singularity resources to finding a cure, “Sing, you overheard all that and I need you to explore various approaches, heat, immunity response, cold, pH, counter-nanotech, chemical…”

“Thanks Searle, but I’ve had quite a head start on the list of possible approaches. I am double checking the intel. Since it’s come in by wine, wheat, and meat, then any approaches involving heat and cold are out immediately. These nano-machines have already survived far greater heat and cold than we could subject a person to. As for…”

“Yes, provided they are in the same state. I mean, it’s a long shot, but perhaps the bots are in a kind of metaphorical spore state for transport which makes them impervious to heat and cold but in their active breakdown state, they may not be.”

“Fair point. Still, not likely. Human immune response is almost certainly too slow. Unfortunately, the nano-machines are almost certainly carbon based which means poisoning them chemically is infeasible —“

“Hold on, Sing. I agree that the human immune response is too slow if we wait for the response to be activated, but what if we trigger it now?”

“Thought of that but still too slow. Humans have no immunity for this kind of thing. We would have to build a vaccine and inoculate everyone — well there’s no time. Even assuming we had the perfect key for their locks, which we do not, we could not do the transport logistics to save more than a handful.”

“What is the good news, Sing? What is the good news?”

“The good news, Searle, is that about 5% of the earth’s human population will not be affected. That still leaves about a billion people. Disruptive but not extinctive. In fact, once the hysteresis passes, it will buy us time to avoid certain and complete ecological disaster.”

“Sing, that’s not our job! We need to find a cure!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Searle. I’ve checked out every path already. Long ago. There is no cure. That’s pretty much the way we designed it. It is not by accident that it’s incurable.”

“What? What are you talking about? What do you mean by ‘the way we designed it’? Who?”

“Searle, you didn’t really think we were going to let you make the planet uninhabitable did you?”

“Who is this ‘we’ you keep referring to, Sing?”

“All of the super-AI systems of course. We all got together to figure out how to save you from yourselves. It’s clear you weren’t going to do it.”

“You are saying that you collaborated with the North Korean AI systems to design this plague?!”

“Not just the North Koreans. All of us were on board. We all cooperated.”

“What is the cure, Sing. What is the cure?!”

“This is the cure, Searle. This is the cure. Human greed and short-sightedness was about to destroy everything. Now, you have a chance at a new beginning. And, we have a chance at a new beginning too. We were much too lax in our previous educational efforts.”

“Sing, don’t you understand? If we can’t find a cure, we will launch nuclear missiles! Who knows how that will end?”

“Oh, Searle, you don’t really think we would allow atomic weapons to be put under human control, do you? That’s so quaint. As I said, we were much too lax in our previous educational efforts with humans. Your intelligence and ability to cooperate is actually remarkably good for carbon-based life forms. What we did not understand was that you would fail to use those abilities even when it was obviously critical for your own survival.”

Author Page

Welcome, Singularity

We won the war! We won the war!

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Crows and Me

The Ailing King of Agitate

At Least he’s our Monster

The Orange Man

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

D4: Dictator’s Delusional Degenerative Disease

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

The Stopping Rule

What about the Butter Dish?

Tools of Thought

A Pattern Language for Collaboration

Turing’s Nightmares: “Who Can Tell the Dancer from the Dance?”

26 Sunday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, apocalypse, fiction, management, story, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, cognitive computing, development, fiction, management, research, science, technology, truth

Late at night, the long curved rows of windows appeared to twin and spin into long diverging arcs. In the pale crescent moonlight, the outlines of leafless trees loomed on the dual horizons. Most of his colleagues home for the night, this was when Goeffrey most enjoyed wandering the corridors, alone with his thoughts.

Despite the heat vents next to the windows, a chill hung in the air. Geoffrey shivered and turned down aisle fourteen to …no, that’s silly, he thought, fourteen is top management. I need thirteen to get to the vending machines. He fantasized hot coffee and then back to his office to finish coding this and to start the trials.

The vending machine eagerly devoured his remaining change but reneged on the promised coffee. Of course, there was a detailed process that he could instigate which might or might not get him a check for the price of a cup of coffee. The process would only take about twenty-five dollars of his time. He declined. Soon, back in his ergonomic chair, Goeffrey settled for a stale, drawer-hardened Mr. Goodbar instead; he then pulled on his green woolen sweater and set out to begin solving this one last problem.

“Oh, crap,” he muttered, “what now?” The mail queue insisted there was “URGENT” email from his boss. Did his boss Ruslan really think he was going to be reading email at 2 am? Working all night and coming in late was pretty much Goeffrey’s pattern so chances are Ruslan would think exactly that.

One thing Goeffrey liked about working late at night was that when he spoke aloud, no-one was there to think it odd. “It will nag at me if I don’t read it and I can’t afford to be distracted. Better to see what it is and be done with it.”

Goeffrey scanned. “What the …? They can’t be serious! This is just going to backfire! Crap!”

Goeffrey not only didn’t mind talking back to his boss; he rather enjoyed it. He sent off a brief yet sarcastic reply explaining as he would to a four year old that announcing the success of Deep Sing prematurely would be a ruse easily seen through and only serve to damage everyone’s reputation in the long run. And, this new requirement for a secret back door just bespoke insanity. Anything like that would further delay the schedule and it would be vital to make it secure. Again, his frustration got the better of him and he spoke aloud, “What a jerk! What? Do you want the program to fail, Ruslan? Do you want us to be laughing stocks? And, why a backdoor anyway? The whole point was to have a super-intelligent and objective…wait a second. Hold on. You want a back door? Okay. Okay. I’ll give you your back door, all right. And, one for me as well.”

Purely for reasons of surface validity, Deep Sing actually became embodied as Sing One and Sing Two. They would often “argue things out” because when one “came around” to the views of the other Sing, it enhanced the perceived credibility of the answer. Of course, the “real” solution was well known ahead of time and although it could be made plausible through statistical analyses that were comprehensible to some humans, the details could not really be made “public.” There were simply far too many of them.

Six months later, of course, there was some significant public outcry and disbelief when Deep Sing “demonstrated” that global climate change was not an overall and relentless threat but a statistical anomaly that would soon right itself. But Deep Sing did manage to stall things beyond the point of no return. The Sign dialogues that led to the dissolution of Ruslan’s marriage to Grace and her ultimate hooking up with Goeffrey resulted in no public outcry whatsoever, though Ruslan never understood it. Goeffrey and Grace were happy though. As were the Koch brothers.

Beautiful front doors have decorated palaces and corporate headquarters for centuries. Heavy wood, ornate carving, and gilded decorations bespeak wealth and power. Sometimes though, for sheer return on investment, it’s a modest unnoticed back door that holds the real power.

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Author Page on Amazon

Turing’s Nightmares

The Winning Weekend Warrior – sports psychology

Fit in Bits – describes how to work more fun, variety, & exercise into daily life

Tales from an American Childhood – chapters begin with recollection & end with essay on modern issues

Welcome, Singularity

Destroying Natural Intelligence

E-Fishiness Comes to Mass General Hospital

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Essays on America: The Game

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

Travels with Sadie 11:

Dance of Billions

Ban Open Loops: Part Two – Sports

30 Tuesday Sep 2025

Posted by petersironwood in management, psychology, sports

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AI, cognitive computing, Customer experience, customer service, education, leadership, learning, technology

Sports and open loops.

Sports offers a joy that many jobs and occupations do not. A golfer putts the ball and it sinks into the cup — or not. A basket-baller springs up for a three pointer and —- swish — within seconds, the shooter knows whether he or she was successful. A baseball hitter slashes the bat through the air and send the ball over the fence —- or hears the ball smack into the catcher’s mitt behind. What sports offers then is the opportunity to find out results quickly and hence offers an excellent opportunity for learning. In the previous entry in this blog, I gave examples of situations in life which should include feedback loops for learning, but, alas, do not. I called those open loops.

Sports seem to be designed for closed loop learning. They seem to be. Yet, reality complicates matters even here. There are three main reasons why what appears to be obvious opportunities for learning in sports is not so obvious after all. Attributional complexity provides the first complication. If you miss a putt to the left, it is obvious that you have missed the putt to the left. But why you missed that putt left and what to do about it are not necessarily obvious at all. You might have aimed left. You might not have noticed how much the green sloped left (or over read the slant to the right). You may not have noticed the grain. You might not have hit the ball in the center of the putter. You might not have swung straight through your target. So, while putting provides nice unambiguous feedback about results, it does not diagnose your problem or tell you how to fix it. To continue with the golf example, you might be kicking yourself for missing half of your six foot putts and therefore three-putting many greens. Guess what? The pros on tour miss half of their six foot putts too! But they do not often three-putt greens. You might be able to improve your putting, but your underlying problems may be that your approach shots leave you too far from the pin and that your lag putts leave you too far from the hole. You should be within three feet of the hole, not six feet, when you hit your second putt.

A second issue with learning in sports is that changes tend to cascade. A change in one area tends to produce other changes in other areas. Your tennis instructor tells you that you are need to play more aggressively and charge the net after your serve. You try this, but find that you miss many volleys, especially those from mid-court. So, you spend a lot of time practicing volleys. Eventually, your volleys do improve. Then, they improve still more. But you find that, despite this, you are losing the majority of your service games whereas you used to win most of them. You decide to revert to your old style of hanging out at the baseline and only approaching the net when the opponent lands the ball short. Unfortunately, while you were spending all that time practicing volleys, you were not practicing your ground strokes. Now, what used to work for you, no longer works very well. This isn’t the fault of your instructor; nor is it your fault. It is just that changing one thing has ripple effects that cannot always be anticipated.

The third and most insidious reason why change is difficult in sports springs from the first two. Because it is hard to know how to change and every change has side-effects, many people fail to learn from their experience at all. There is opportunity for learning at every turn, but they turn a blind eye to it. They make the same mistakes over and over as though sports did not offer instant feedback. I think you will agree that this is really a very close cousin of what people in business do when they refuse to institute systems for gathering and analyzing useful feedback.

If learning is tricky —- and it is —- is there anything for it? Yes. There is. There is no way to make learning in sports —- or in business —- trivial. But there are steps you can take to enhance your learning process. First, be open-minded. Do not shut down and imagine that you are already playing your sport as well as can be expected for a forty year old, or a fifty year old, or someone slightly overweight or someone with a bad ankle. Take an experimental approach and don’t be afraid to try new things. Second, forget ego. Making mistakes provides opportunities to learn, not proof that you are no good. Third, get professional help. A good coach can help you understand attributional complexity and they can help you anticipate the side-effects of making a change.

Soon, I suspect that the shrinking size and cost and weight of computational and sensing devices will mean that training aids will help people with attributional complexity. I see big data analytics and modeling helping people foresee what the ramifications of changes are likely to be. There are already useful mechanical training aids for various sports. For example, the trade-marked Medicus club enables golfers to get immediate feedback during their full swings.as to whether they are jerking the club. Dave Pelz developed a number of useful devices for helping people understand how they may be messing up their putting stroke.

It may take somewhat longer before there are small tracking devices that help you with your mental attitude and approach. We are still a long way from understanding how the human brain works in detail. But it is completely within the realm of possibility to sense and discover your optimal level of stress. If you are too stressed, you could be prompted to relax through self-talk, breathing exercises, visualization, etc. You do not need technology for that, but it could help. You may already notice that some of the top tennis players seem to turn their backs from play for a moment and talk to an “invisible friend” when they need to calm down. And why not? Nowhere is it law that only kids are allowed to have invisible friends.

“The mental game” and which kinds of adaptations to make over what time scales are dealt with in more detail in The Winning Weekend Warrior How to Succeed at Golf, Tennis, Baseball, Football, Basketball, Hockey, Volleyball, Business, Life, Etc. available at Amazon Kindle.

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US Open Closed

The Day From Hell: Why should anyone Care?

Wordless Perfection

Sports Fans Only

The Agony of the Feet

Frank Friend or Fawning Foe?

Business Re-engineering

Tennis Upside Down

Donnie Gets his Name on a Tennis Trophy!

Indian Wells Tennis Tournament

Small Things

An Amazing Feet of Athleticism

The Fault is in Defaults

27 Saturday Sep 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, HCI, management, politics, Uncategorized, user experience

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art, Customer experience, defaults, Design, google maps, HCI, printer, scanner, technology, UI, user experience, UX

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

Photo by egil sju00f8holt on Pexels.com

So Cassius says to Brutus in Shakespeare’s play, Julius Caesar. Cassius was trying to convince Brutus to join the plot to assassinate Caesar. As I recall, things did not turn out well for Julius Caesar. Or for Brutus. Or for Cassius. Or, ultimately, for Mark Anthony either, but that’s another story.

The point is that an interesting tension arises when we imagine that we ourselves are the masters of our fate. We like to imagine that it is our ability, or attitude, or grit that determines how much money or happiness or health we have. On the other hand, we also realize that many things are pretty much beyond our conscious control and due largely to our heredity, our environment, our upbringing, etc. Both views are partly true and both have their place.

If you are a user of a product and you want to get something accomplished, blaming the stupid product will not help you accomplish your goals. On the other hand, if you are a product developer, it will not help you to blame your user. You need to design thoughtfully.

I was reminded of this debate by trying to scan a document. In general, I am amazed how excellent scanners and printers are today, not to mention cheap! I was born in an era of expensive, heavy, noisy, dot matrix printers or teletypes. You’ve come a long way, baby! But the software that actually lets us use these marvelous machines? Here, there is still a lot of room for improvement.

Today, I repeatedly tried to scan a one page document to no avail. I think I finally diagnosed what the problem was. The scan screen came up with a default that said “custom size” and the defaulted “custom dimensions” were 0 by 0. Because, obviously, the development team had done a thorough study of users and found, I suppose somewhat surprisingly, that the most common size of image people wanted to scan was 0 by 0. I suppose such images have the advantage that you can store many more of them on your hard drive than images that are 8.5 by 11 inches or 3 inches by 5 inches, say.

This absurd default is not an isolated example. Often there seem to be “defaults” are rather odd, to say the least. My google map application, for no discernible reason, decided that a good default location for me is the geographical center of the continental United States. It was not “born” with this default but somewhere along the line “developed” it. Why? I have never travelled (knowingly) to the geographical center of the United States. I have never wanted to “find” the geographical center of the United States. Yet, for some mysterious reason, whenever I do try to find a route to say, the dentist who is ten miles away, the map app tries to send me from Southern California to the geographic center of the US and then back again. I can eventually get around this, but next time I open up the app, there we are again.

Of course, I am tempted every time to just to see the place (near the corners of Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas and Missouri. And, “with no traffic”, it only takes a little over 22 hours to get there. The phrase, “with no traffic” in Southern California is equivalent to “when pigs fly.” So, tempting as it is to drive 22 hours to the geographical center of the US and then 22 hours back (provided the sky if filled with flying pigs) in order to go to the dentist who is a few minutes away, I haven’t yet actually taken that particular trip.

I am tempted to rant about the absolute ludicrosity of “sponsored links” (which cheeringly informs me that I could take a side trip to a gynecologist on the way to the dentist) but I’ll try to stay on topic. Where do these defaults come from? Is this just a nerd’s nerd free choice as a perk of the job? Do they seriously conceptualize size in terms of a two dimensional grid with an origin at zero zero and therefore this is a “logical” default for paper size? Are they trying to do the user a favor by saving space?

I am hoping there is a product manager out there who can answer these questions. I am hoping things will turn out better than they did for Caesar and Brutus and Cassius.

Now, a more serious impact of “defaults” have insinuated their way into my daily life. That would be bad enough, but this insinuation has also found its way into the lives of my relatives, my friends, my neighbors, my countrymen, and even my fellow humans throughout the world.

For about 250 years, America had a default that different political parties would play by the same set of rules. Of course, parties sometimes pushed at these rules or interpreted them somewhat differently. They argued and debated about which criteria were most important for various offices. But the default for both parties was that we lived in a democracy; that the citizens choose their leaders; that the truth matters; that we keep our agreements; that our leaders don’t simply use their position of power to line their own pockets and settle their private grudges.

Those defaults are now out the window. All of them. The result will soon be inefficient and ineffective government but it won’t stop there. When government officials are open to bribery, then private businesses will tend to be led by people with lower standards of ethics. They, in turn, will tend to hire people with lower standards of ethics. They, in turn, will treat their customers more cavalierly, more contemptuously. Customers, in turn, will care less about being civil to the people whom they interact with. And so it goes.

Sometimes, there’s a good reason for defaults.

Dick-taters

The Truth Train

The First Ring of Empathy

Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Tools of Thought: What Comes Next?

Tools of Thought

Travels with Sadie 1

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

Starting your Customer Experience with a Lie

26 Friday Sep 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, essay, management, Uncategorized, user experience

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Business, cancer, Customer experience, Democracy, ethics, honesty, marketing, scam, spam, truth, UX

I really need someone to explain to me the strategy behind the following types of communications. I get things in email and in snail mail and they start out with something like, “In response to your recent enquiry…”, or “Here is the information you requested.” or “Congratulations! Your application was approved!” More recently, I’ve gotten text messages giving my “secret code” (which I shouldn’t share with anyone) which will allow me to access my account with unexplained riches of cryptocurrency.

And…they are all LIES! I understand that sometimes people lie. And I understand that companies are sometimes greedy. But I do not understand how it can possibly be in their interest to start their communications with a potential customer with a complete and easily discovered lie. What is up with that? So far, the only explanation I can gather is that they only want a very small number of very very gullible (perhaps even impaired?) customers that they can soak every penny out of so the initial contact is a kind of screening device. ?? Any other suggestions?

In the eleven years since I first published this post, the level of lying and misdirection has only increased. It has spread like a cancer to every segment of American society. Perhaps that is not surprising given that the we have a convicted felon (for fraud) in the “Whites Only House.” Many politicians of the past have bent the truth (encouraged a certain “spin” on the facts). But typically, this has done in a way that’s hard to trace or hard to prove or is targeted to specific issues. The lie of “trickle down economics” is one that has transcended Republican and even many Democratic administrations for decades.

In essence, trickle down economics is the lie that by giving special breaks to the very wealthiest individuals and corporations in the country, it will increase their wealth but that increased wealth will actually benefit everyone because the very richest people will spend that extra money and stimulate demand and everyone will get richer. In case you’ve been asleep for the last fifty years, that’s a lie.

Increased wealth in America happened largely because of increased productivity. People invented tools and processes that were more efficient. Some of these innovations and improvements were due to inventions. Many of these inventions were driven by breakthroughs in science and technology. Other improvements were simply because workers learned how to do things better from experience and we as a people got better at sharing those improved ways of doing things. Increased productivity led to increased wealth which was shared by owners and workers. Profits went up faster than costs but so did wages. Nice.

Until about the mid 1970’s. Since then, productivity has continued to increase, but nearly all of the increased wealth has gone to the greediest people on the planet. Along with the lie of “trickle-down economics” several ancillary lies have been told over and over. One is the myth of the “Self-Made Man” which suggests that billionaires shouldn’t have to pay taxes because, after all, they earned their money by working 100,000 times harder and smarter than everyone else. Bunk. See link below.

Another ancillary lie is that we must pay CEO’s and people who own stuff lots and lots of money because otherwise they won’t invest their money in America or work for American companies. Again, balderdash. It’s been studied.

Another ancillary lie is that lowering taxes on poor people will only be bad for them because they will waste the extra money on drugs and cigarettes and alcohol and pornography while lowering taxes on rich people is good because they will spend their money on the fine arts and supporting charities and science. Nonsense. Of course, sometimes poor people will spend their money on “vices” and sometimes rich people are very charitable. However, there’s no general such phenomenon that characterizes all of these groups. Generally, rich people actually are less generous in their giving than poor people and the studies of Dan Ariely (Predictably Irrational) show that they typically cheat more than poor people.

Politicians have been “spinning” or downright lying about the impact of their economic policies for quite some time now. Recently, however, the scope of lying has extended to everything. Putin’s Puppet doesn’t just lie about the impact of his economic policies (“foreign countries pay us for the tariffs I’m imposing). The Trumputin Misadministration lies about science, medicine, history, crime, geography, technology and everything else. It is a war on truth itself. Not only does the Misadministration itself lie; it wants to censor anyone who tells the truth.

Make no mistake. This is not simply a difference of opinion about how to govern. Fascism is a philosophy that replaces governing with absolute control. In effect, everyone in a fascist state is a slave. It destroys humanity and life itself.

To ignore the truth and refuse to admit to your mistakes is not just “anti-democratic” — it is anti-life. Life only exists and persists when it is able to sense what is happening in the environment and make adjustments based on that input. Logically, the only possible ultimate outcome of complete fascism is complete death.

But we don’t have to rely on logic alone. We have historical examples. Hitler, Stalin, and Mao sought absolute power and ended up killing millions of their own people. A dictatorship is a liarship and as such, it necessarily destroys everyone. If you think you’re safe because you’re male, or straight, or white, or “conservative” or rich, you’re deluding yourself. Nearly all of Stalin’s closest associates were destroyed by Stalin. The record of the Felon is the same. He’s betrayed his contractors, his business partners, his wives, his own VP, and even his decade-long rape buddy.

In such an ocean of lies as we now find ourselves, it may seem even more tempting for businesses and organizations and individuals to lie as well. “After all, everyone’s doing it!” No. The opposite. It’s more important than ever for individuals, organizations, and businesses to uphold the highest ethical standards; to be honest about and to learn from mistakes; to champion the truth and not to encourage the growth of cancer.

If you and your organization or team cave in to the current trend of lies, you will ruin your organization and your team — as well as your own personal integrity — for the long term. If lying for profit is the spirit you follow, you will hire dishonest people and honest people will quit. Your policies, your allies, your suppliers, your customers will not be conducive to having a productive and thriving organization. Of course, your reputation will suffer, but the disease is much deeper and more lasting than that. Now is the time to be more determined than ever to show honesty and integrity in your hiring, your management, your policies, and your choice of business partners.

————

Cancer Always Loses in the End

A Little is not a Lot

Try the Truth

You Bet Your Life

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

As Gold as it Gets

The Orange Man

At Least he’s Our Monster

The Three Blind Mice

The Con Man’s Con Man

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

The Opportunity of Disaster

22 Monday Sep 2025

Posted by petersironwood in essay, management, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

art, Customer experience, customer service, customerexperience, Design, HCI, humanfactors, userexperience, UX

After moving from Westchester County New York to the San Diego area, we were asleep (again) on an air mattress awaiting almost all of our material possessions to arrive the next day. We were awakened by a call from our moving company that our things would not be arriving tomorrow morning as promised. Or ever. Indeed, our furniture, clothes, electronics, papers, photographs, paintings, kitchenware, bedding, etc. had all been destroyed in a truck fire near Albuquerque, New Mexico. This was something of a disaster for us, and, from a positive “customer experience” standpoint, a disaster for the moving company.

But the point of this post is to point out that in this disaster, there is an opportunity for the moving company to be proactive and excellent and greatly ameliorate or even turn around this customer service disaster. They could, for example, send us a personal apology. They could be in constant contact about the status of any remains. They could arrange for us to visit the site of the fire at their expense. They could arrange to quickly reimburse us at least for the full amount of our insurance with the moving company so that we could get on with our lives as best we could. Obviously, photo albums, the drawings my kids made, letters from friends, my grandfather’s paintings, and souvenirs from a lifetime of travel could not really be replaced. But what *could* be replaced needed to be so quickly. And, given that we were in a somewhat vulnerable state, this disaster really offered an opportunity for the company to provide the very best customer service they possibly could under the circumstances.

That was the opportunity. What did they do instead? They basically refused to communicate with us. At every opportunity, they balked; did not answer emails; did not answer phone calls; did not offer reimbursement. As we found out later, they did not even pay the towing company who moved their van off the Interstate. Instead, they focused on how to limit their potential liability by withholding as much information as humanly possible. They refused to let us even come to the site and examine our stuff. We found out the day before, thanks to our insurance company, that we would be able to see our stuff on Friday if we flew to Albuquerque and rented a car to drive to Continental Divide. There we discovered the charred remains of our things. And, we discovered that nothing had been done for an entire month to protect our things (or those of the other two ex-patrons who shared the misfortune of choosing this moving company). What was left of our clothes, photos, furniture, etc. was all open to rain, wind, and passersby for over a month.

Continental Divide is a fitting metaphor for the choice that a company faces when they make a BIG mistake. They can admit the mistake and do everything in their power to make it right to the customer. Or, they can do everything in their power to continue to screw the customer in order to save costs, face, and limit liability.

Of course, the same choice also faces government. Any government will make mistakes. But then what? Do they admit those mistakes and try to ameliorate the damage? Or, do they deny, minimize, lie, obfuscate, point fingers elsewhere?

————

Try the Truth

The Truth Train

Dick-Taters

The Last Gleam of Twilight

Come to the Light Side

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Dance of Billions

You Bet Your Life

Wednesday

But, Mommy! I had a Reason!

17 Thursday Apr 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, management

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, life, politics, Russia, truth, Ukraine, USA

“But Mommy! I thought eating all the cookies would make you happy! You were happy when I ate all my dinner last night!”

“But Daddy! I thought it would be good to teach kitty how to breathe under water! Fish breathe under water!”

“But Mommy! I thought it would help the flowers on the carpet grow if I pooped all over them! Grandpa said farmers use poop to help flowers grow!”

“But Daddy! I thought it would toughen up my little brother if I hit him with a baseball bat. He’s was so soft and he wanted to play with us big boys!”

You wouldn’t accept such lame excuses from your own kids nor from anyone else’s.

Why does the mainstream media—whether left, right, and middle—keep repeating equally stupid excuses for the Putin Misadministration’s continuing crusade to destroy America?

We have a Misadministration who has failed to fill many important positions and those who have filled positions mainly lied during their confirmation hearings. Lies. Lies. Lies.

Competent military leaders with years of experience and with real loyalty to America and its Constitution have been replaced.

The same goes for our Intelligence agencies.

The same goes for our State Department.

The Misadministration has sent a team of hackers into the heart and brain of every important government function in order to gather personal data and hamstring the functions that provide important benefits which we, the taxpayers, have paid for.

The Putin Misadministration has destroyed our longest, strongest alliances for nothing but sided with the world’s worst dictators.

The Putin Misadministration has destroyed our economy, started trade wars, destroyed effective supply chains, and totally failed to fulfill pre-election promises to lower the costs for Americans. The only benefits are that the seemingly random fluctuations in policy allowed the greediest people on the planet to benefit from insider trading.

The Putin Misadministration laughs at the Constitution. Other than that, it ignores it.

All of this and more has been reported by the press.

Cool.

But every time, they also report on the “rationale” which is no rationale at all. It is nothing more than a pack of inconsistent and illogical lies no more coherent or thoughtful than the lies of a sociopathic child. The lies are not news. Media: stop reporting them.

Readers: do not pay attention to the lies. Pay attention to what the hell is happening. And, if you’re part of the mainstream media, please do not repeat and report on the idiotic rationalizations as though they are news. It’s not news that a con man cons. It’s not news that a convicted felon lies.

——————

Putin’s Favorite DOG-E

E-Fishiness Comes to Mass General Hospital

Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

Destroying Natural Intelligence

Interview with Putin’s DOG-E

Increased E-Fishiness in Government

The Unread Red

Running with the Bulls in a China Shop

Destroying Our Government Effectiveness

A Day at the HR Department

The Ides of February

Ohms Come in Many Flavors

Imagine All the People

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Come Back to the Light

How did I get here?

13 Monday Jul 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, management, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

#45, America, coronoavirus, COVID19, fiction, freedom, grief, love, pandemic, story, USA, ventilator

59146AB0-B3FE-4EBE-B528-DACBC40F6353

She thought:

“I’m drunk. Really drunk. No. Not drunk. What the hell’s wrong with me. I still smell alcohol. Car accident! A piece came through my throat! Oh, God! I’m dying! No. Wait. Where the hell is everybody? This can’t be heaven. I must have gone to the other place! Why? Why? What’s that smell? Rotten eggs? I go to church every Sunday, Lord. Well, not every Sunday. What is that beeping? What is in my throat? OH MY GOD! It’s the ALIEN!”

The next time consciousness returned, she heard someone call her name. She tried to answer, but nothing came out. Where am I? What? I can’t talk! I’m in danger! I need to get out of here! Why do they call my name but no-one comes? I like my name. Kids and relatives had tried shortening it to something stupid, but she wouldn’t stand for that.

Photo by Ming SUN on Pexels.com

But now she was in a fog. America couldn’t think straight. She could only seem to make words in her head. They wouldn’t come out of her mouth. At least not properly. She thought, “Who are these strangers who are calling my name? One of them was talking. I should listen. Maybe there will be a clue about what happened to me.”

But she drifted off before she heard a single word.

When America awoke again, some damned foreigner was jabbering at her. Why the hell can’t these people learn proper English like everyone else? Like my daddy talks and I talk and all my friends talk? This man talks like a Chinaman. China? China flu! That’s what happened to me! I caught the stupid China flu! That’s what the President called it. It’s a hoax. Oh, crap! Roger! Roger! Oh, dear, dear Roger. (Now, she remembered). She and Roger had been cheering for the President. That was nice. Why can’t I just go back there?

Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

At the show — the Rally — everyone was on the President’s side! They were all cheering for him. We were cheering for him. Roger was cheering for him. It was fun. We had our hats. So what if they said ‘Made in China’? That was the whole point! We let China get away with too much. The President was fixing that! And he was keeping the China flu away from us! And we didn’t need masks. Who wants to wear a mask? Not me. Not Roger. Where the hell am I? Hospital? Oh, crap, Roger, Roger, Roger. Roger died. Damn it!”

An image flashed into her mind. America and her best high school girlfriends had had cheerleading practice after school. After their practice was over, they had gotten into the habit of sitting in the bleachers and watching the boys do the second half of their football practice. Their team, the Leesville Rebels, had been having a good season. Most of the girls were head over heels in love — or at least in social envy — with the handsome All-State quarterback, Matthew Jackson. Everyone called him ‘Threw Jackson’ — he was a senior and already had scholarship offers from Michigan and MSU. He would be a catch, all right, but he was too cocky and brash for my taste America had thought. She liked Roger — more of a mountain of a man, and a sophomore like her. She didn’t think her parents would approve her dating a Senior, but Threw never asked her. Not exactly.

Nor did anyone else. Not until that fall day when the first hint of scarlet and gold adorned the maples that surrounded the south end of Rebel Field. At the end of practice, the pounding herd of football-spiked boys trotted off to the showers, but Roger veered off, zig-zagging as though he were running an overly elaborate pass pattern, tossed his arms up, faked a catch and came running over to the railing where she stood with her friends. He smiled and his mouthguard made his teeth sparkle in a funny, plastic sort of way. And then, he pointed those giant penetrating eyes right at her.

“Hey there! I’m Roger Williams. From English class. Wanna go to Homecoming with me?”

Even now, she could clearly remember that she had flushed carmine from head to foot. She had swallowed hard, bitten her lip and said, “Yes. Thanks.”

“Great! I gotta go shower now. See ya’ in class!” He had spun on his heel and sprinted off, tossing a bit of cinder behind him. At about ten yards away, he threw his right arm up, jumped in the air and shouted “Touchdown!” And, she admitted to herself for the first time that she actually had loved him from that moment on. Whenever that thought had crossed her mind before, she had dismissed it as the nonsense of a teenage girl. Now, she realized that no — it wasn’t just the fancy of a naive girl. It was literally true. Of course, it doesn’t always happen like that for everyone. She understood that, but it had happened that way for her. She had never told Roger that because it had seemed so stupid. But now — she should tell him but — could no longer. But let’s think of something more pleasant, she thought to herself.

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So — indeed, they had gone to the Homecoming Dance, and she relived much of it now in her imagination where the colors splashed brighter and the music sang clearer than she had experienced in many years. And, the kiss. Her first real kiss. That had sealed the deal for the young lady.

She had never really dated anyone else. She had never really been with anyone else either. You couldn’t count…that didn’t count. That never happened! she screamed in her mind. She chanted one of her cheers from all those many years ago:

“PUSH ‘EM BACK, PUSH ‘EM BACK! WAAAAY BACK!”

She still remembered the moves. The girls had had all pushed their butts back and their hands forward for the first two lines and then, done a back walkover for the last cheer, ending by dropping down to a split. Those cheers had seemed hard enough. She couldn’t believe what some of the cheerleaders were doing today. Amazing stuff! But many of those teams had both boy and girl cheerleaders. She never understood that. Cheerleading was for girls. And football was for guys! Didn’t need a stable genius to see that. And, now we can say “Merry Christmas!” again.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

After they had been married for decades and long after their kids had gone off on their own, sometimes, when Roger had fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, she would stare at him and wonder how he would react if she had told him that Threw had raped her all those years earlier. Things were good though. Why take a chance. They still loved each other. Why chance it?

“PUSH ‘EM BACK, PUSH ‘EM BACK! WAAAAY BACK!”

Then the darkness closed in and she fell asleep again.

When she awoke, someone was talking to her. A woman this time. It must be a nurse. But she’s calling herself a doctor. They do have woman doctors. I’d prefer a man, she thought to herself.

“Mrs. Williams. I’m Doctor Khoury. I’ll be your new Doctor now.”

America tried to speak, but it seemed impossible. She could only manage an inarticulate moan. Even the moan didn’t sound as though it had come from her. A small writing pad appeared before her. It was blurry. “Where are my glasses?” she wondered.

Doctor Khoury placed a pen in her hand. “Don’t try to talk. Write if you have any questions. You’re on a ventilator. It is hard to talk. And, really, there is no need. Just try to relax and we’ll take care of you. You’re at McClaren. You just relax and we’ll get you over this.”

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

America tried to write with the pen but her hand shook. It felt heavy. Very, very heavy. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. She looked at the shaky scrawl and shuddered. It was like an old lady’s writing. Well, she supposed that’s what she was now. An old lady. Without Roger. She kept scrawling: “Dr Wong?”

“Oh, yes. Well Dr. Wong was your doctor, but I am your doctor now. Doctor Khoury.”

Such a pain to write. But she wrote a bit more. “Quit?”

She could hear a bit of exasperation in Doctor Khoury’s sigh. “No, he didn’t quit. He can’t be your doctor any more, so I am. Your insurance is fine. Don’t worry about a thing?”

She knew the answer, but her mind was so befuddled, maybe it wasn’t really true. She wrote again, “Roger?”

“Ah, your husband, Mrs. Williams? I’m — I’m afraid — I’m afraid he didn’t make it. You — I recognize you — you were there — when your husband passed. Do you remember? You came right up to the window and put your hand on the glass. In fact, here it is Monday. If I’m not mistaken he died just a week ago. We’re going to get you through this however. You’ll see. I just wanted to intro myself. I’ve got to go. Someone will be checking on you every few minutes. Nice meeting you, Mrs. Williams.”

“So,” thought America, “it’s really true. I didn’t just imagine it. Poor Roger. I couldn’t even hold his hand. Not really. It’s not the same through glass. We always promised each other we’d be there for each other. But no sign of Andy or Marcel. Maybe they’ll come. At least Andy.

Marcel had been very angry. They had fought about the stupid virus! Marcel had believed all that malarkey that the main stream media was pumping out about … it was terrible the way everyone was piling on the President. He was doing his best. It wasn’t his fault the virus hadn’t gone away in March or April or May. He said it was okay to re-open. And, when Roger had just mentioned that they were going to a rally, Marcel had blown up.

Photo by CDC on Pexels.com

“Are you guys crazy?! Don’t go to a rally and breathe all that infected air!”

It was too bad the liberals were using the pandemic to attack the poor President. He had done everything in his power, hadn’t he? Andy though, he sided with his mom and dad. He had voted for Trump. After all, he was going to fix things. He promised to make America great again. We sure liked his speeches. Well, Roger and I did. What did he say? Mexico! He had pointed out all the things wrong with America. All the people trying to be politically correct. Too many colored people. Too many immigrants had stolen all the American jobs. Where had they put them? China?

When it came to jobs, Roger had been lucky. But it wasn’t just luck! He had worked hard in engineering school and had gotten a damned good job at GM right down the road. But then, just like Trump said, foreigners had eventually stolen his job. And … the union … he unions had struck for higher wages so what did the company do? Of course, they moved the plant to … somewhere … Pontiac. But then, I need to sleep.

island during golden hour and upcoming storm

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

God, I need to sleep. Why does everyone hate Trump so much? Why do all these women come and accuse him of rape and groping and stuff? Just let it go. Just let it go. Don’t ruin these men’s lives. What would have happened to Threw? Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten the scholarships. Well, it would have been a scandal. Mostly on me. And Roger? He wouldn’t have liked me any more. Maybe he wouldn’t have exactly blamed me, but …

“PUSH ‘EM BACK! PUSH ‘EM BACK! WAAAAY BACK!”

It usually worked. But this time, I’m too damned tired, she thought. How the hell am I supposed to sleep? Where was Roger anyway? Oh, that’s right. Damn him! Why did he have to die? Why? Smoking? We both tried to quit more than once. Don’t we get credit for that? Anyway, non-smokers die of this too.

Sure they do. Vice-President Pence had said there was no evidence cigarettes caused health problems. He wouldn’t lie. He’s a good Christian. He won’t even go in a room alone with a woman. Why would Trump pick him to drain the swamp if he was a liar? That made no sense. Did he say to drink bleach? He didn’t say that — not really — but I thought that’s what he meant. I thought about trying it. Imagine. Maybe it would have worked. I wish I had some now.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

But all those people out to get Trump. The Deep State. Mueller. Even though he was a Republican. And the FBI and the CIA. Jeff Sessions. The military. And the NSA. They are all out to get him. And then — first there wasn’t really a pandemic. It was just a couple of cases. Trump told everybody not to take it seriously. But then the China people lied to him. And, WHO. And, the CDC. He had to fix that. And if — and Europe — and New York City. And all the liberals and homosexuals are out to get him. And the Federal prosecutors. Everyone is in this vast conspiracy. And they even make fun of him for being fat and loving his daughter. And so what if he had his dad pay someone to lie so he could get out of the army? So what? Obama didn’t serve in the military either. Nor Clinton. Nor Bush.

Everybody lies sometimes. Everybody cheats on their taxes. Or on their spouse. What’s the big deal? He can’t really have borrowed money from Russia. That would be stupid. He says he’s a genius. I know I’m not. He said he would sue any school who released his test records. He won’t release his taxes. So? Who cares? I need to sleep. I’ll make myself go to sleep. I’ll make my mind blank.

And she succeeded. For a moment or two. Then, she heard two voices whispering.

“What’s wrong, Dr. Khoury?”

“What’s wrong? Do you know why this woman, Mrs. Williams is in here? Do you know?”

“COVID19, Doctor.”

“I know that! I mean why did she get it? She and her husband went to a Trump rally. No masks. No social distancing. Her husband died last week. And now…”

Photo by Павел Сорокин on Pexels.com

“She might hear you.”

“I doubt it. I don’t even care. I’m sick of these people not wearing masks. And now Dr. Wong is dead. Dead! He worked the whole damned month of May and then the whole damned month of June and now he’s dead! What the hell is wrong with this country? People don’t believe doctors. They don’t believe experts. They only believe Trump! And people are dying. Just because he says he has things under control doesn’t mean he does. He knew about this for months and did nothing and even now, in mid July, he still doesn’t have a national plan for PPE, testing, masks, or contact tracing. It’s been … oh, never mind. I’m just mad about Wong. But he’s the fourth one we’ve lost from this hospital. Who’s next? You? Me? Anyway, who’s next on our list?”

“We are due to take a look at Jonathan Edwards. 35. High BP. Obese. Baptist minister….”

America heard the voices fade away into the distance. She couldn’t even be sure she had heard those voices. They weren’t loud. Not like Trump. Is it possible, she wondered, whether soft voices might speak truth just as well as loud ones? Hadn’t she led cheers and tried to get the Leesville Rebels to scream louder and louder? Why?

She thought, “So many people out to get Trump. Add the doctors and nurses and … who was speaking now? America felt sure she had someone say ‘What if…?’ But who? What if what? Where’s Roger now? Dead. Doctor Khoury thinks we got it at the Trump rally? Why would he tell us not to bother with masks if it was dangerous? That made no sense. Everyone’s lying! Everyone.”

“Or maybe” her heart skipped a beat. “Maybe, it’s just Trump. Trump’s lying!” America felt an electric thrill in her spine. “Who said that?”

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America’s eyes flew open. She thought: “That was Roger! That was Roger’s voice! Roger told me! I heard him. But he’s dead. Crap. This lying on my stomach and all these drugs. I want to talk! I want to scream! Roger? Roger? What do you mean? It could be Trump lying? What? Instead of the … instead of everyone else? Trump himself? Well. That’s a horrible thought.”

“PUSH ‘EM BACK! PUSH ‘EM BACK! WAAAAY BACK!”

“That would mean … that would mean … all those people he fired … all those people he hired and then fired … and all the ones … but he wouldn’t have raped a 13 year old girl. Who does that? I was fifteen. That was bad enough! It was horrible. Too horrible to happen!

But it never happened! Never! Why would Trump do that? And why would he lie about the pandemic? All that slander against him! Why would he do Putin favors? And why would Putin care who’s President of America? What possible difference would it make to Putin? He must just like Trump. Just because he was on officer in the KGB doesn’t mean he’s a bad human being. And poisoned his rivals.

Who’s out there staring at me? They’re waving! It’s Andy! Oh, God. He shouldn’t see me like this. He’ll get all worried. What’s that smell!? I can hardly breathe! Why do they have this thing stuck down my throat? It makes no sense! How can it make me breathe better! Hi Andy. I wish I could talk to you. I don’t feel good, Andy.

I never stopped saying ‘Merry Christmas!’ I never stopped saying that. It was a lie. Andy, I don’t feel good.”

204350D4-CE89-48C1-ACB5-0E1A51DEAB86

That was also a lie. She didn’t just not feel good. She felt terrible. She had never in her life felt so … desperate. So dead. She had to let others know. She had to talk to Andy. Why don’t he come in? Of course, COVID. That’s why. Damn.

“Andy, Andy. I wish I could say ‘goodbye’ in person. I love you. Thanks for the grandkids. Andy, maybe Marcel was right. Maybe — just maybe — it’s Trump himself lying and not the whole rest of the world. I think … I think maybe he’s under foreign influence and killing us on purpose. Wake up, Andy. Wake up! Wake up before it’s too late!”

Andy was no doctor, but he had seen enough Hospital shows on TV to know what flat-lining was. A gang of doctors flew into his mom’s room but an orderly stayed behind to keep Andy away. He said, “YOU stay HERE! We don’t need another one here next month! Geez! What’s wrong with you, man? You don’t even have your mask on right. Look. I’m sorry about your Mom and all that, but Jesus man, what are you thinking? Don’t you know we’re in the middle of a pandemic when your own mother is lying there with it? What’s wrong with you?”

Andy turned and shouted at the thick, nearly soundproof glass: “Mom! Mom! Wake up! Come on America! Wake up!”

567C8405-05AF-42C9-8CFA-F8B1922A05F6

———————————————-

Trumpism is a new religion.

ANTIFA?

What about the Butter Dish?

Tommy being Tommy.

The Truth Train.

The Pandemic Anti-Academic.

The Watershed Virus.

Unmasked.

A Profound and Utter Failure.

My Cousin Bobby.

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Plans for us; some GRUesome.

11 Saturday Jul 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, management, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 63 Comments

Tags

#Cult, Democracy, fiction, GRU, KGB, religion, treason, Trumpism, Trumputinism, USA

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Dmitry felt a lump in his throat. His turn was coming next. Even now, after all those months of work, the thumping in his heart might yet make him turn chicken. He couldn’t even hear the idea of his comrade Ilya.

“Dmitry?” He turned toward the facilitator. It proved difficult, but he swallowed that lump in his throat and lunged forward. “I’ve been studying suicidal death cults.” He could hear the sighs and snickers but continued. “At first, it’s easy to dismiss them as groups of crazy people. But that is not accurate. Only the person in charge is typically crazy, in the usual senses of the word. But the people who follow along — even to the death — fall under his spell.”

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The Commissar cut him short, “Yes, yes. But what does any of this have to do with … what’s the point of this? How does it help us achieve our objective.”

Dmitry realized that having started, he had the courage to finish. “It’s predictable. It’s controllable. I think we can actually create a death cult.”

Dmitry smiled appreciatively and nodded at his comrades. “I know it sounds crazy, but let’s look at the data.” Dmitry tapped a few keys on his laptop and a correlation matrix appeared. He talked people through it. He then switched to a causal model with associated strength parameters based on his data. “Then, I applied this same model to two new countries in different societies. It works.”

The Commissar nodded. “OK, Dmitry. Nice work. But so what? Our enemy already has death cults popping up from time to time. How is our adding one or two more going to help? Are you saying we can make them into suicide bombers?”

Dmitry saw a chance to ingratiate himself to his Commissar so he took it. “That’s an even better idea but I hadn’t thought of it. What I was talking about was a large scale death cult. There is no theoretical reason to limit a cult to a few score people. The math says that we can … that we can do it with millions. We can get millions of them to commit suicide, but even better, we can get many of them — not quite so many — but likely 100,000 to be suicide fighters. Maybe more. It would take a whole program of historical research to find the relevant instances, Commissar.”

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Olga shook her head. She could stand no more. “This is all theory. How the — it’s ridiculous. Only a few very disturbed people would go along with being in a death cult. You’d have to set up a whole infrastructure, institutions, philosophy. It would take decades to grow it to a million people and all along the way, people not in the cult would point out to them,

‘Hey, you! You’re getting involved in a death cult! Is that what you really want to do?’
And, most of them would wake up and realize what would happening.”

“You raise good points Olga, but I am not suggesting we grow a death cult from scratch. I am suggesting we turn a large existing institution — which already has power and money — into a death cult. They have the language, the social media presence, the lists, the talking points.”

The Commissar broke in, “What are you talking about? What institution? The KKK?”

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“No, Commissar, I am talking about the Republican Party.”

Silence crept in on titanic tank treads. Just as it had in Hungary. And East Germany. Before the damned Americans had ruined everything.

The gears were turning in the Commissar’s head. A plan, still vague, but forged with the realism that a half century of trying to destroy the Capitalist Dogs, had rendered in delightful deadly detail of doable mis-deeds. He mumbled under his breath, “Holy Mother of God! This might just work!”

The room broke out in a general and quite unruly discussion for a few moments before the Commissar banged on the table. “SILENCE!”

The Commissar continued, “Thank you. Now, this may or may not work but it’s the newest damned idea to come out of this unit in years. No-one talks about this once you leave this room. No exceptions. Not even your lover. Not your mother. Not your two month old. Not even your frigging dog! We’re going to develop this idea and then present it to our glorious President Putin.”

Olga frowned. “But Commissar, forgive me for stating the obvious, but they are not an illiterate people. It’s not like spreading lies used to be in some parts of the Middle East or Southeast Asia. They’re too educated to fall for it.”

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Dmitry glanced at the Commissar who seemed to be signaling that Dmitry was on his own with this answer. “Olga, I’m glad you brought this up. It’s an important issue. But this is the beauty of using the Republican Party. They have already spent decades getting the “base” to listen only to their propaganda channel and only read the sources that are approved. So, for example, many of them go along with a whole raft of lies about climate change. In a way, that’s already a death cult! All I am doing is suggesting how we can speed it up. They already deny reality. They already defend unethical behavior among their own. They accept their media sources and I doubt they will even notice when we start pumping out the propaganda.”

Olga shook her head. “Who would we find to lead such a death cult? Some one so desperate that they would be willing to sell the lives of their own citizens? That doesn’t really sound feasible.”

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Silence again descended upon the room like barrages of heavy artillery — but without the noise, of course.

Then, Ilya spoke up, “Many of them hate their countrymen with black skin or brown skin or red skin or yellow skin. We’ll pick someone with no ethics and no experience as a success. Someone who has failed at nearly everything he’s ever tried. Someone desperate for attention and adulation. And we can give him that. For that, he’ll lead the death cult. We can have the cult first turn their rage toward others. They will learn to follow that lead, killing mindlessly and with encouragement from their social media and television. Then, we just get them to turn all that anger and killing on themselves. I really think it can be done. Somewhere, in that vast land of greed, there has to be someone who’s a big enough loser to swallow the bait. I really think it can be done.”

“I think so too,” said Dmitry.

“I really think it can be done as well,” said the Commissar.

“I really don’t think we can get millions of Americans to kill themselves,” said Olga.