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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: America

Essays on America: Addictions

28 Friday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

addiction, America, greed, inequality, racism, story

two clear wine glasses

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“Brad! Glad you made it. A glass of Dom P to celebrate?”

“Great! Nice tie.”

Brad smiled; poured the drink; gestured out the penthouse window. “Should be, Taylor. Two hundred bucks at Bellini’s.”

Glasses clinked. Taylor smiled. “Well, Brad, the market liked your move. Up 4 and 3/8. Not bad.”

“Just the beginning, Taylor. Once we announce the ‘synergies’ between the two companies, we’ll make real money on our options.”

“How many ‘synergies’ are you talking about?”

“At least 50,000 off the payroll,” said Brad, pausing to take another sip. “Machines do most of the Amazon clear-cutting now anyway.”

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“Cool. Mary, I take it, will be bidding on a few more Monets?”

“Mary’s ‘on vacation’, Taylor. Put her up in a private place. Good doctors, the right drugs, etc. It’s cheaper than a divorce.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.”

“She found out about Jenny and temporarily lost touch with reality. Even started talked divorce. My doctors are calling it a dissociative disorder. I don’t want any negative publicity to queer our deal. Hopefully, she’ll be back to her senses by Christmas, or she can just stay there. Anyway, are we still on for next Thursday at Pebble Beach?”

“Try to keep me away!” Taylor chuckled.

Taylor and Brad stared into the sparkling streets of Manhattan, laid out before them like attractive derivatives.

“Oh, Christ. Taylor! Look at that. Addicts. I hate that crap. Jewelsananny should clean junkies off of the streets permanently.”

“No kidding. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have your life run by addiction. Those people will do anything to get their drug. Pathetic.”

“Amen.”

pile of gold round coins

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Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Essays on America: The Temperature Gauge

09 Thursday Jan 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, driverless cars, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

AI, America, cancer, Democracy, driverless cars, ethics, government

green leafed trees

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The sun is shining! Spring is here at last, and the trees are in bloom. You’re driving down the road and you see … 

That your “Engine over-heating” light goes on! 

You think: My engine’s over-heating! 

Or,  you think, it isn’t over-heating at all; I just have a bad sensor. 

Over the next few months, the red light goes on several other times, and each time, you pull over and try to judge whether the engine is really over-heated. No easy task. But you get back in and turn the car on and lo and behold, the light’s no longer on. Aloud, you mutter: “I’ve got to get that damned sensor fixed. Maybe next week.”

In the olden days of driving cars, I had a continuous gauge of the temperature. It was more obvious if it was acting oddly because I had more information. I could track it day to day. If I went on a long trip I could see whether the behavior of the gauge “made sense.” I might go up a long mountain road on a hot sunny day, and I expect to see the temperature gauge climb. On the other hand, if I went back down that same mountain at night and the temperature gauge climbed, I would know to get it checked. 

aerial view of road in the middle of trees

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Suppose instead of a gauge, you or I only get is one bit of information: “Temperature sensor says overheated,”  it’s much harder judge the veracity of the source. But, if we cannot even trust the reliability of the sensor, then we don’t even get one bit of information. Before the light comes on, there are four possible states (not equally likely, by the way, but that’s not important for the following argument). 

Engine OK, Sensor OK; 

Engine OK, Sensor ~OK; 

Engine ~OK, Sensor OK; 

Engine ~OK, Sensor ~OK. 

When the red light comes on, you have some information because the state of:

Engine OK, Sensor OK is eliminated. 

But is it? 

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It certainly is — under a certain set of assumptions — but let’s try to tease apart what those assumptions are and see whether they necessarily hold in today’s world, or in tomorrow’s world. 

Let’s imagine for a moment that your automobile is bewitched and inhabited by an evil demon with limited magical powers, mainly to do with the car itself. If you’ve seen the movie Christine you’ll know what I mean. If you haven’t seen it, please buy the book instead. It’s so much better. But let’s get back to our own evil-spirited car. This car, let’s call him “URUMPUT” because it sounds a bit like a car engine and because — you know, just because. Let’s imagine the car has a lot of mileage and is painted a kind of sickly orange color. The tires are bald, and it’s a real gas guzzler. It’s actually more of a jalopy than a car. Your friends would have assumed you could have done much better, but it is apparently what you’re stuck with for now. 

URUMPUT, unbeknownst to you, is actually out to kill you, but his powers are limited. He cannot simply lock the doors and reroute the exhaust till you pass out from the fumes. So, what it does is to over-ride the sensor so that you get out to take a look at your car so you open the hood and you look inside and BLAM! Down comes the hood on your head with enough force to snap your neck. When your neck is snapped, you don’t die instantaneously. You are aware that something is terribly wrong. Your brain sends signals for you to move; to get the damned hood off; but you can’t move. And, worse, you can’t breathe. Soon, but much too late, you realize something has gone terribly wrong.

You. 

Are. 

Dead! 

That blasted URUMPUT got you. Why?  Just because he could. He paid you no more mind than had you been an ant on the road. He gave you misinformation. That is information that you thought you had because you assumed you were dealing with a system that, although imperfect, had some degree of transparency. You certainly did not think you were dealing with an actively evil agent. But you were. And, now you’re dead. (But go ahead and read the rest as though you were still alive.) 

Of course, in real life, there are no bewitched cars. We all know that. 

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Do we? 

Let’s consider how much electronics and “smarts” already exists in cars. The amount will skyrocket with driverless cars. For one thing, the human “occupants” will be able to have much more engaging entertainment. Perhaps more importantly, the “brain” of the car will be able to react to a much wider array of data more quickly than most human drivers could. 

With all the extra sensors, communications, components, functions, protocols, etc. there will be greatly enhanced functionality. 

There will also be all sorts of places where a “bad actor” might intentionally harm the vehicle or even harm the occupants. Your insurance company, for instance, might fake some of the data in the black box of your car to indicate that you drove a lot during nighttime hours. It doesn’t seem to match your recollection, but how would you double check? You grudgingly pay the increased premium. 

white graphing paper

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Behind on your loan shark payments? Oops? Your driverless car just steered itself off a cliff and all the occupants were killed. 

Oh, but how, you ask, would loan sharks get hold of the software in your car? 

Then, I have to ask you a question right back. Have you been watching the news the last couple of years? People who owe a great deal of money to the wrong people will do anything to avoid the promised punishments that follow non-payment. 

Our government at this point is definitely not much like old time cars that allowed you to see what was going on and make judgments for yourself. This government just sends out signals that say, “Everything’s Fine!” and “Do as I say!” and “Those people NOT like you? They are the cause of all your troubles.” 

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That is not transparency. 

That is not even informational. 

That is misinformation. 

But it is not misinformation of the sort where a student says: “Akron is the capital of Ohio.” That’s wrong, but it’s not maliciously wrong. 

When people lose a limb as a result of an accident, cancer, or war, they often experience something called the “Phantom Limb Experience.” They have distinct sensations, including pain, “in” the limb that is no longer there. The engine’s not working but the sensor is also bad. 

That’s where we are. 

The engine’s not working. The feedback to us about whether it’s working is also malicious misinformation. 

We have the Phantom Limb Experience of having a government that is working for American interests. 

We need to regrow the missing limb or get a really good prosthetic. 

We need straight information from the government which is supposed to take input from all of us and then make decisions for all of us. It’s never been perfect, but this is the first time it is not even trying or pretending to be fair or even accurate. People in top level positions in our government think that their oath of office is a joke. 

We live in a monster car — and not the fun kind — the Christine kind. 

The engine’s not working. And the sensor light means nothing. If you look under the hood to find out what’s really going on, you’d better have a partner ready to grab the hood and prevent it from being slammed down on your head. Because URUMPUT would do it with as little regard for you as he would have to out and destroy any other whistleblower. 

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———————————————

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

Author Page on Amazon

Story about Driverless Cars (from Turing’s Nightmares). 

Essay Index for 2019

03 Friday Jan 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 45 Comments

Tags

2019, America, essays, index, Resistance, story, Storytelling, summary

Thanks, dear reader, for stopping by! Happy New Year!

photo of fireworks

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In 2019, my blog saw roughly 14,000 views from 122 different countries spanning every continent but Antartica. If you happen to know someone in Antarctica, I’d appreciate it if you could get them to stop by and comment on something for 2020. Even if you don’t know anyone in Antarctica, you could move there, but that’s likely too much to ask. Anyway, comments are always welcome from any part of the globe.

This post is meant to make finding things within this blog a little easier by providing an index.

There were three main topics that I dealt with in 2019.

Informal Lessons on Stories, Storytelling, & Their Use in Creating Value.

Essays about contemporary politics and psychology.

Book II of The Myths of the Veritas.

I began with a series of expository posts on stories and storytelling. These were associated with a design course I taught at the University of California, San Diego. These informal articles should prove useful for business leaders, writers, and particularly for those in HCI, UX, design, Human Factors and related fields. Stories are useful throughout the design, development, and deployment of systems and services. Below is an index to those informal papers on stories and storytelling.

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The Story of Story: 1

The Story of Story: 2

The Story of Story: 3

The Story of Story: 4 (Character)

Using Story in Design – 1

Using Story in Design – 2

Using Story in Design – 3

Using Story in Design – 4

Using Story in Design – 5

The second major class of posts are essays. Mainly, these essays have been inspired by actual 2019 events, large and small. Beyond the immediate danger of Trump, there are also additional essays and these are indexed below as well.

What’s Wrong with People, Anyway?

Essays on America: You Bet Your Life!

Doing the Dishes.

Essays on America: Winning by Cheating is Losing. It is not Winning

Corn on the Cob (An Essay on Gratitude).

three yellow corn cobs bell pepper cucumbers and chili peppers

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Essays on America: How do you Re-culture a Culture? 

Mobility

Essays on America: Declaration of Interdependence

Essays on America: Labelism

Essays on America: Wimbledon 

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: Mueller Time?

Finding the Mustard

Essays on America: A Tale of Two Nannies

Essays on America: A Little is not a Lot.

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Essays on America: Ice.

Essays on America: The Game

Essays on America: “At Least he’s our Monster!”

A Once-Baked Potato

baked potatoes with rosemary garnish

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Essays on America: A Profound and Utter Failure

Essays on America: Sexual Fantasies for Political Gain? 

Horror Story

close up photo of spider

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Essays on America: Level the Playing Field 

Interview with Giant Slug

Essays on America: RIP, GOP.

Essays on America: “It’s Just Tommy being Tommy.”

baby child close up crying

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Essays on America: “It’s your call!”

Essays on America: Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing.

Essays on America: The Screaming Defense

Essays on America: Rejecting Adulthood

The final class of posts are fictional. With the last post of 2019, I finished Book Two of The Myths of the Veritas. These will be indexed tomorrow in a separte post.

——————————

Next year, I will finish the trilogy of The Myths of the Veritas in the blog. I also plan to publish four books next year. Two of these will be the first two books of The Myths of the Veritas.

A different book will comprise a Pattern Language for Collaboration and Teamwork. The fourth book will be Essays on America. 

All of these should be available on Amazon.

Happy New Year!!

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It’s Just Tommy being Tommy!

11 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

America, Democracy, Dictatorship, politics, psychology, truth, USA

It’s Just Tommy being Tommy!

group of people eating together

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Imagine for a moment that you pack your family into your car and drive to your in-laws for the holidays. Of course, the traffic is horrendous. When you arrive at the nicely decorated house, a few snowflakes waft through the air. You and your family walk up the flagstone walk to the wreathed door and you’re greeted warmly. In you go, all five of you, each carrying a nicely wrapped present or two. Christmas music plays in the background and the smell of turkey with all the trimmings is in the air. Your mouth is watering! Your tempted to to short-circuit the introductory phase and head straight to the buffet — just for a taste. But that would be impolite. 

Yet, something seems amiss. What is that noise? Their spoiled little brat, Tommy is running amok in the living room shooting the loudest cap guns you’ve ever heard in your life. It slowly dawns on you that no cap gun makes that kind of noise. Those are actual bullets! They must have given their ten-year old who mistreats pets, bikes, and toys actual working guns for early Christmas presents. 

two men standing beside brown wooden cabinet

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What do you do now? I mean, on the one hand, your in-laws have prepared a wonderful Christmas Dinner. Your stomach is growling. Besides, it will be embarrassing to just walk out. 

On the other hand, you don’t want your kids to be accidentally killed or maimed for the rest of their life. You don’t really want yourself or your spouse to be killed either. 

Sounds like a pretty absurd scenario, doesn’t it? 

But polls indicate that many Americans are just fine sitting down to dinner in this scenario. 

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If you are one of those folks, you don’t even insist that the guns be taken away from Tommy. In fact, many of you even encourage the parents. “It’s great that you’ve finally found something Tommy can feel responsible for.” Or, “Oh, well, that’s just Tommy being Tommy! After all, no-one’s perfect!” Or, “Well, yes, Tommy might hurt someone, but that’s true of all kids.” 

And that weekend, assuming there are no casualties at dinner, you are happy to send your kids over for a playdate. And there’s Tommy with his real guns loaded with real bullets putting real lives at danger. But I guess you wouldn’t want to embarrass your in-laws. And, who doesn’t like a free meal or free baby-sitting?

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It’s just Tommy being Tommy! 

——————————————- 

My first experience with real guns could well have been my last. Free chapter 

from “Tales from an American Childhood” 

Author Page on Amazon. 

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Teamwork. 

The Myths of the Veritas. 

RIP, GOP

31 Thursday Oct 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

America, Cover-up, Democracy, Impeachment, lies, obstruction, politics, treason, truth, USA

Context: Today, after weeks of moaning and complaining that there needed to be a defined open process for impeachment, the Democrats in the House brought a motion to define an open process for impeachment. Not a single Republican voted for the motion. NOTE: This was not a vote on impeachment. It was a vote to do what the Republicans had been asking for over the last few weeks. Their obsequious partisan fawning over a treasonous, cruel, inept President signals, I think, the death of the Republican Party.

UPDATE (1/29/2021). That was the context back then, when I didn’t think the Republican Party (I was born into a Republican family) would sink any lower. But I was wrong! Now, there are Senators and Representatives who claim to be Republican, who are openly lying about the election and some of whom went so far as to incite violence against the peaceful transition of power. Many embrace absurd conspiracy theories and openly call for the death of their political rivals. They openly support White Supremacists. A new verse or two needs to be added to the dingbat dirge they drone as over the cliff they happily plummet.

UPDATE (6/25/2022). Just when you are absolutely sure that the Trumputinists — who, by the way, are the *actual* RINOS — Republicans in Name Only — but that’s where we are — just when you’re sure that the Trumputinists cannot sink any lower — that they have licked the bottom of the septic tank and made themselves beholden to and in thrall of the very worst dregs of humanity and therefore must — positively must — be now on an upward trend, you discover, nope. They can sink still lower. The 1/6 Congressional hearings reveal that it wasn’t simply that an angry mob spontaneously tried to overthrow our government and replace it with a Trumputin dick-tatership — nope, it was *planned* to happen that way. The Proud Boys and the Oath Keepers didn’t even bother to listen to Trump’s rambling hate speech. They went, as planned, straight to the Capitol for recon & waited for his angry mob to show up to breach. Then, we discover that many if not all of the Trumputinists in Congress who voted not to certify the election were in on the coup plot! Then, just when you find it hard to even think about their treason without getting nauseous, you find that Extreme Court is in on the plot to destroy America as well! Recent rulings reveal Putin’s dual agenda: Divide the Country racially, economically, and by gender and at the same time flood the country with lethal weapons. That’s what the Trumputinists in the Extreme Court are up to.

UPDATE: August 27, 2022 Just as cancer of the body is ultimately self-destructive, so too is cancer of the society — AKA Fascism AKA Nazism AKA Trumputinism and sadly, at this point AKA the GOP which has indeed become a death cult worshiping the golden calf in the form of a fat, out of shape, old, bald white guy whose grasp on reality is non-existent. Yet, the Trumputinists are too cowardly to tell the truth — that the would-be emperor has no clothes — and no leg to stand on to defend his treasonous actions in stealing — yes stealing, not removing — TOP SECRET documents and then lying about it.

close up photography of brown wasp

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RIP GOP

I know a Grand Old Party 

Who swallowed a lie. 

Now, I don’t know why 

They swallowed the lie. 

Perhaps they’ll die. 

I know of a Party 

Who swallowed obstruction. 

They swallowed obstruction to hide a base lie.

But I don’t know why

They swallowed the lie. 

Perhaps they’ll die. 

closeup photo of vulture

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I know an old Party 

Who’s now quite absurd, 

They got absurd to hide obstruction.

They swallowed obstruction to hide the lie.

But I don’t know why

They swallowed the lie. 

Perhaps they’ll die. 

I know an old Party 

That’s blind as a bat. 

Think of that! 

As blind as a bat. 

They won’t open their eyes

Because they’d see lies. 

But I can’t surmise why, 

They swallowed the lie. 

Perhaps they’ll die. 

close up photo of dog

Photo by Helena Lopes on Pexels.com

I know of a Party- 

Who says they like dogs, 

But they act more like hogs. 

They pollute the sky; 

They feed in their sty.

They swallowed the bat

(Think of that! To swallow a bat!)

To catch the absurd

Lies that they told. 

Too afraid to be bold,

They embraced the absurd

To hide the obstruction.

They swallowed obstruction to hid the lie.

But I don’t know why 

They swallowed the lie. 

Perhaps they’ll die.  

white goat eating grass during daytime

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I know of a Party — 

It’s full of old goats.

Truth gets stuck in their throats, 

But I don’t know why, 

They’d let our earth die.

To cover the lie

That hides the obstruction 

That covers the lie?

But I don’t know why.

They swallowed that lie.

Perhaps they’ll die.

nature animal agriculture cow

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I know an old Party 

Who once sued a cow

I don’t even know how

They once sued a cow. 

They all swore an oath

To uphold the law. 

But Barr and Mitch? They both

Said “naw, we’re now Putin’s kitsch.” 

They swallowed their treason 

The whole summer season.

They gave as the reason: 

They swallowed the goat, 

That caught in their throat. 

They swallowed that goat, 

To catch the dog.  

Why such a hog? 

To swallow a dog?

They swallowed a dog

To hide the absurd. 

They claimed the absurd

To distract from obstruction, 

They all know they heard. 

They wouldn’t vote to protect our elections.

(Too worried about their own protections?)

They didn’t vote for needed construction.

But they swallowed obstruction 

To hide the lie — 

But I don’t know why 

They swallowed the lie. 

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I know an old Party

Who swallowed a Trump. 

Now it lies in the Dump.

As still as a Lump;

As dead as a Stump. 

I know an old Party

Who lost an election.

And their teeny erection.

So they swallowed more lies

Adorned with sick flies

They brewed insurrection.

Without any reason,

They swallow his treason,

In every season.

They think a fascist state

Would help them masticate

The rotten meat of Putingate.

A party that once was grand and great.

Is now a mere degenerate.

RIP

GOP

(New Verses):

I know an old Party

Grown all fat and farty

Some love their beer and all fear the queer

They swallowed Trump’s lies

And covered their eyes

Held tight their noses

So poop on their faces

Might seem slightly less racist.

Lead Capitol tours for thug saboteurs

Said to women who get raped:

“Your vagina ain’t yours

We enslave you today!

If you’re poor or your black

We’ll place more on your back.

We cite the burners of witches

To prove you’re our bitches.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I don’t know why

GOP wants to die.

But they’ve gotten so bad

I’m not the least sad.

Treasonous cowards and traitorous sheep

They take the knife & plunge it deep

To stupid to see that when America’s dead

With a sulfurous head

Their own will be on the same chopping block.

The Civil War that they desperately seek

Won’t destroy just liberals or those who are geek.

The death will stink the entire landscape

The young and the old and most important of all

Even fertilized eggs will finally fall.

Not even the wealthy will find an escape.

Not a reasoning being on this planet earth

Can explain the cancerous GOP birth

That kills our sweet democracy

To replace with cruel theocracy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know an old party,

Who worships a warthog

Who cares not a whit

Instead he throws CONiption fit

Wallows in infinity snit

Trashes and thrashes both this way and that

Treasonous Season with no honest reason

Trumputinists dove through the deepest of slime

And just kept going double time

Silent as sin on sedition and crime.

Perhaps they’ll die.

I know of a Party

Who swallowed obstruction.

They swallowed obstruction to hide a base lie.

But I don’t know why

They swallowed the lie.

But now they can’t die.

‘Cause they’re already dead.

In the heart and the head

Just a cancerous mass

That’s a pain in the pass.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know an old party 

Who likes to like kids

In a way that’s not good

And how they should 

They hide behind lies

Pretend they don’t see

They’re proud of their party

The Party is Not-See

Nor feel nor think nor build

Kill and steal is all they do

The bill is paid by me.

The bill is paid by you.

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Author Page 

Dick-Taters

Absolute is not just a vodka

The Extreme Court

Alito and the Egg

The Originalists

The Ailing King of Agitate

Guernica

After All

Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

Roar, Ocean, Roar

An Open Sore

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

The Declaration of Interdependence

04 Thursday Jul 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, Uncategorized

≈ 29 Comments

Tags

America, Democ, equality, fairness, Fourth of July, Independence, Interdependence, truth

The Declaration of Interdependence

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The first fireworks I recall seeing: Camp Y-Noah, when I was about 7 or 8. Before, I had seen some from a distance — little sprays of colored lights in the sky followed by a distant boom. Even those distant booms terrified my dog Mel, a wonderful, loving, honey-colored Cocker Spaniel. 

Being right next to the action at Y-Noah was an entirely different experience. The sound thumped by chest! The spreading streamers of bright explosives filled the sky! The sparkling threads were red, white, and blue as well as gold, silver, green, and purple — all the colors of the rainbow and more besides!

I watched with one of the kids from my cabin. I cannot recall his name but I do recall that he had a blond crew cut and was a bit on the chubby side. At Camp Y-Noah, we slept in log cabins on bunk beds, about 10 kids to a cabin. Our days included swimming, archery, shooting 22 rifles, hiking, and various contests, including “morning inspection” pitting one cabin against another, or volleyball (pitting one cabin against another) or softball (pitting one cabin against another). We generally hung out with the other kids in our own cabin; they were on our “team” and the ones we spent most of our time with. 

For that reason, I was surprised when a kid we didn’t know came to watch the fireworks with us. This kid, whose name I also don’t recall, was an African-American with short curly hair.  After silently watching for a couple minutes, began commenting on every firework. But instead of saying “Oh, WOW!” as we were, he likened each firework to what he was going to do to one of the kids in his cabin. It seemed odd that he would dislike one of the boys from his own cabin and especially that he would passionately dislike him. 

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He soon solved that mystery for us. His cabin mate kept calling him the N-word. I grew up in a very segregated white neighborhood and school. Nonetheless, I knew from an early age that this was not a word to be used. I associated using the word with “bad people” and found the idea that one of the kids at Camp Y-Noah would use it rather amazing and a bit upsetting. I also found it amazing that this kid from another cabin would be so upset. 

Of course, kids being kids, I had lots of experience with kids calling each other names. While I didn’t typically start such insults, I would respond in kind and sometimes “pile on” when someone had a nasty nick-name applied to them. In the first grade though, these nasty nick-names never perseverated. And none of the names we came up with were associated with racism, hatred, and lynching.

The first time I recall an unlucky recipient keeping a nasty nick-name for more than a few days took place about four years later. We were studying American myths and legends at the time and one of these legendary figures was “Pecos Bill” who supposedly tried to jump over the Grand Canyon, got half-way over, realized it was too far and turned around in mid-jump and came back. (Don’t try this at home). For some reason, all the other boys in the class, and quite a few of the girls, dubbed “Bill” “Puke-us Bill.” He hated it and told us of his hatred of the name. That made it all the more fun for us as fifth graders. 

Although cruel, the name was unique. It had nothing to do with Bill’s race, religion, or country of origin. Though he hated it, and we teased him with it for the rest of the year, he still hadn’t reacted as passionately as the kid from camp had done to being called the N-word. 

And with good reason. Bill’s ancestors had not been enslaved whole-sale and stolen from their native land and torn apart from their families. The women had not been systematically raped. Men who tried to escape had not been castrated or had their foot chopped off. They had not endured centuries of oppression. Even after slavery was abolished, citizens of America descended from those slaves were tied up and tortured, lynched, and to this day are more likely to be shot dead for no better reason than complying with a police request by pulling out their wallets to show their ID’s or by not pulling out their wallets to show their ID’s. White people, in the year 2019, are calling 911 to report black people doing such dastardly deeds as having a picnic, or playing in their own yards. 

fullsizeoutput_193d.jpeg

Fireworks are explosives. They may look very pretty. But every year, thousands of Americans end up in the ER from fireworks. Fireworks are violent explosions. They need to be treated with great care. It’s very common for a fuse to be shorter than it seems. And explosions don’t always go as planned. 

And racist slurs? To people who are in a minority, a racial slur is nothing like a “nick name.” I really didn’t understand that when I was a seven year old camper. But I do now. What I also understand is that playing to racism or religious differences have led to millions of innocent people killed. And, the distance between freely using racial slurs and millions of innocent people killed is not as long as you might think it is. 

Today is a day for all Americans to celebrate our independence from tyranny. We should celebrate. The American colonists were taxed by the British government but had no vote and no representative in Parliament. The rationale for our declaring our independence was based on many grievances, and eventually some of those influenced the Bill of Rights. But having a vote is absolutely fundamental to having a democracy. If it isn’t a democracy for all of us, it isn’t a democracy. 

america ancient architecture art

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

When it comes to measures to disenfranchise citizens, those are a blow to democracy itself. That should concern everyone, not just those who are not disenfranchised. And, so should applying racial slurs and killing innocent people. And, so should intentionally inflicted cruelty of any kind. We breathe the same air. We are all inter-connected. The Declaration of Independence speaks to independence from tyranny, but when it comes to defending those freedoms, we are all in it together. E pluribus unum. 

———————————

Ever stop to think about how much even commonplace things that you take for granted depend upon the efforts and knowledge of others across the globe — and millions of other people who lived in ages past? https://petersironwood.com/2019/05/06/corn-on-the-cob/ 

Still confused about how much you’ll be able to “recreate” modern conveniences based on your own hard work and knowledge? Maybe this video will help. https://www.ted.com/talks/thomas_thwaites_how_i_built_a_toaster_from_scratch?language=en

My title is hardly original, and here is a link to some of the earlier uses of the title. 

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

Here’s another take on the fact that people around the world have developed slightly different skin colors and somewhat different cultures. https://petersironwood.com/2018/08/03/the-myths-of-the-veritas-the-forgotten-field/

Big Zig Zag Canyon

20 Monday Feb 2017

Posted by petersironwood in America, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

America, ecology, hiking, Mt. Hood, politics

Big Zig Zag Canyon

mthood

Ever since I can remember, I have enjoyed hiking. Where I grew up, in Northeastern Ohio, woods, fields, streams and hills provided the typical backdrop. I still cannot deny that every new vista, every turn of the path provides a coursing-through-your-body pleasure…unless of course, the path becomes actually dangerous rather than simply breathtaking. People differ a lot on where that boundary lies between thrilling and insanely stupid. Personally, I find that I get plenty of “adrenaline rushes” simply from being a driver or pedestrian or cyclist. Walking across a fallen log 50 feet above a ravine has never been my idea of a good time. I would, of course, try it if necessary but I wouldn’t enjoy it. On the other hand, speaking in public has always seemed pleasurable although it is definitely nerve-wracking. In any case, it has always seemed to me that there are millions of interesting, beautiful, unique paths, in just America’s own 50 states, that have very little intrinsic danger. All of them are worth pursuing.

I never saw “real” mountains till I visited the West Coast. I hiked a few times on Mt. Ranier with my brothers-in-law. When some of them attended college at Reed in Portland, we decided to take a hike on Mt. Hood in order to take advantage of the clear day. The odd thing about climbing a mounting, at least in the Pacific NW is that often your view of the mountain becomes more and more obscured as you come closer to the parking lot where you begin your journey. By the time you park, you actually possess zero sensory evidence that you are anywhere near a mountain and have to believe it must be there somewhere because of your general orientation in space and because of your belief in social cooperation in providing actual rather than false trails, accurate maps, compasses that more or less work, etc.

Imagine instead that we lived in a society where it was more common to make false trails than real ones; a society where it was more common to publish false maps than real ones; a society where compasses were all digital — and regularly hacked. Would you still bother to try to climb a mountain for pleasure? At the very least, you would build a completely different strategy.

For our actual hike, however, we lived in a society wherein we could generally trust people. We had a map and headed out for what we estimated to be a hike to get us back to the car right before dark. We were not attempting the summit, but it certainly appeared to be a serious hike. We were basically doing a kind of helical partial circumference trek. The scenery began as spruce and pine gradually giving way to more scrub and less forest. Occasionally, we were rewarded with glimpses of the summit. A fair amount of the hike soon consisted of taking zig zag paths up and down small canyons. As we continued these became larger. And larger. And larger. Now our elevation map indeed warned us of “Little Zig Zag Canyon” and “Big Zig Zag Canyon” but we weren’t precisely sure where we were.

As we encountered ever larger canyons, we kept revising our idea about where we were. As we finished one canyon, we would always say, “Well, that must have been Big Zig Zag Canyon, so we must be *here* on the map.” At one point, after just deciding that we had conquered Big Zig Zag Canyon, we emerged from a grove of hemlock to a gaping maw of the mountain. It completely dwarfed anything we had seen before. Obviously, the much lesser giant we had already conquered was only “Little Zig Zag Canyon” and we were only now facing “Big Zig Zag Canyon.” It probably took at least an hour to descend and re-ascend. As those of you who have ever climbed on a mountain know, changing elevation is much like traveling in time. As we descended, the cold frozen ground of winter gave way to the first signs of spring. As we continued our descent, weeds and flowers abound and trees bud and leaf.  At the bottom of the ravine, it felt like a summer day. And, again, on the way up, there was the feeling of time travel compression. We were climbing through weeks of season change in minutes.  At last we reached the top of the trail and looked back at this canyon which would have been much better named “Gargantuan Zig Zag Canyon”! One last look and we turned back to the path into another forests. At the entrance to the forest, I noticed there was a small wooden sign oriented toward people leaving the forest and entering the canyon. Curious, I ventured forth and looked back to read: “Little Zig Zag Canyon.” What!!?? That enormous chasm in the earth was little Zig Zag Canyon?

Up to this point, our hike had been vigorous but not dangerous. However, now a small and subtle danger did present itself. We might be lucky to make it back to the car by dark. We had not bought provisions for an over-night stay. Hiking in the dark is dangerous. And, it gets really cold at night. So, now the question was, could we still cross the next canyon and still get back by dark? We decided we could. We did make it back before dark, but barely. Clearly, “Big” Zig Zag Canyon was a name chosen in a paroxysm of understatement while “Little” Zig Zag Canyon was just a bald-faced lie.

Like it or not, we journey now on spaceship earth. We are traveling together with everyone else on the planet. Neither a single person on the planet nor all of us collectively have a guaranteed comprehensive well thought out plan for how to avoid any one of a number of ecological disasters. Throughout the planet, there are numerous religions and cultures. Getting along with each other is critical, even if many countries did not have nuclear weapons, which we do. To enhance the adrenaline rush, these various countries and cultures and religions are associated with many different languages and stories about how we got to where we are today. Everyone, in other words, has a different map. There are no posted signs. And no-one owns a compass.

I could say, “Fasten Your Seat Belts Folks. We are in for turbulence.” I could say that to bend the spaceship metaphor. But if we think of ourselves as passengers on a plane that someone else, perhaps even someone competent, is piloting, I believe that stance pretty much guarantees that humanity’s day’s are numbered. No, I think a vigorous and potentially dangerous hike is more in order. Sometimes, it will feel as though you are going backwards in time and sometimes forward at lightning speed. Everywhere along the path, you will have to watch your step, even as you take the time to appreciate the beauty still surrounding you. And just when you think you have conquered the biggest challenge we have ever faced, a still larger challenge will appear.

I am hopeful.

 

panorama of Big Zig Zag Canyon

(The story above and many cousins like it are compiled now in a book available on Amazon: Tales from an American Childhood: Recollection and Revelation. I recount early experiences and then related them to contemporary issues and challenges in society).

Tales from an American Childhood

Author Page on Amazon

website of stories, poems

Parametric Recipes and American Democracy

11 Saturday Feb 2017

Posted by petersironwood in psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

America, Cooking, Democracy, Recipes, Resist, Vote

On the Value of Parametric Recipes and American Democracy

IMG_5478

Most people are familiar with the concept of a recipe. It typically lists a set of proportions or amounts of various ingredients and the steps that should be taken in producing a food item for consumption. The goal of a recipe is to encapsulate a “best practice” which has been developed over time. Following the steps is important for a good result. If you cook a cake too little, it will be gooey but if you cook it too much, it will be burned. If you put in too much sugar or too little or too much flour or too little, the result will not be as good in terms of texture or taste.

If you stray from a recipe, there are many ways to go wrong. My mother used to make peanut butter cookies. Homemade peanut butter cookies still warm from the oven are amazing! And, this wonderful taste treat was repeated every time…except for the time that she accidentally put in salt instead of sugar. Randomly replacing one ingredient with another typically results in a recipe for disaster.

A “parameter” is something that can be changed from one situation to another. While randomly changing ingredients does not often work, there are many recipes which allow for huge flexibility among some of their ingredients. For example, I often make a salad for lunch. On top of the fresh vegetables and greens, I use pepper and one teaspoon of olive oil along with one teaspoon of balsamic vinegar. But which greens and vegetables are in these salads?

That depends. In every salad, I include vegetables according to which ones are the freshest. I also include a variety of colors. To me, a green salad that is all green is not so attractive as one with bits of color. Adding red peppers, radishes, tomatoes, yellow peppers, carrots, red onion, radicchio, or cheese makes it more appealing. To some extent, that is probably just because variety itself is interesting. Beyond that, people may react to the bright colors that typically signal important and biologically useful phytochemicals.  While people have long known the value of vegetables, more recent research has confirmed that brightly colored fruits and vegetables often contain substances that help prevent cancer among other benefits.

A salad is more interesting, at least to me, when there is a variety of textures as well as colors and tastes. A carrot, cucumber, tomato, lettuce and snap peas all have quite different textures and this adds to the pleasure of the salad. So, when I “create” a salad, I take care to include a variety of textures as well as colors and tastes. The only substances which are “measured” are the olive oil and vinegar. I do not need to follow a strict recipe regarding the vegetables. Since I typically shop and prepare food only for two people, I need to “use up” ingredients while they are still fresh. Indeed, the choice is even more complicated. I know from experience approximately how long various vegetables will still be fresh and so choose, not just the very freshest, but also vegetables that are fresh today but may not be so tomorrow. Parametric recipes, when appropriate, prevent boredom, are economical and healthy.

Salads are not the only example of a “parametric recipe.” I also use such a scheme for making an omelet. My omelet always contains eggs and cheese but could include any number of a host of other vegetables. There are “constraints” on the vegetables. I would not typically make an omelet with only hot peppers, onions, and garlic for example, because it would be too hot for my taste. I use a variety for color and texture, but to a large extent, the omelets I make are never the same twice. I also use a variety of cheeses. I suppose if I had access to numerous types of eggs, I could also vary the egg type but I do not do that in practice. Other common “parametric recipes include stews, soups, fried rice, beans and greens, curried vegetables, baked potato with vegetable/cheese toppings, burritos, tacos, fruit salads, bean salads, and pizza. To be sure, some parts of these “recipes” are more parametric than others. The pizza dough must be prepared according to much stricter “rules” than the selection and proportion of toppings.

IMG_6515

Needless to say, many recipes require very strict adherence. Many recipes for baking must be followed closely in terms of ingredients, proportions, and the steps taken in preparation. Even more vitally, you do not want your pharmacist improvising in compounding your prescriptions. In other words, there are cases where parametric recipes are extremely useful and practical. There are other situations where strict adherence to recipes is better. And, there are many situations where certain aspects of the recipe require strict adherence while other aspects of the same recipe can be varied quite a bit. When you use a parametric recipe, some attention is required along the way. Simply adding different vegetables to an omelet or salad will always add variety, but for best results, you need to think about what you are adding in order to optimize color, texture, etc. as well as individual tastes.  While my wife and I both love kale, collard greens, garlic, onions, and cilantro, for example, I know that not everyone likes these ingredients so when making an omelet for a guest, I enquire about the vegetables and cheeses that are incorporated.

OK. So what does the culinary conundrum of “parametric recipes” have to do with American Democracy?

Everything.

Anarchy is much like grabbing a handful of ingredients that are closest at hand and simply throwing them in a pot and cooking them for a random period of time. There is no structure and there is no learning from best practices and there is no accountability. On the other hand, fascism is like finding one recipe you like, if you are the one in power, and insisting that everyone like it because you like it. Imagine you were a guest in my house and I insisted you eat my blue cheese and shiitake mushroom omelet even though you hated blue cheese and hated mushrooms. I could say, “Well it’s my house! Eat what I make!” Some people were pretty much brought up that way. At the other extreme, some parents will end up making four omelets for four different people because they want to please everyone. With infinite time and resources, this may not be a horrible way to go. But most people are limited both with respect to time and with respect to resources so when it comes to making an omelet for four very different people some compromise may be necessary. Indeed, in some cases, omelets may not be the best option.

The problem with a purely fascist approach is not simply that it is mean and mean spirited. It is worse than that. First of all, if you never get the omelet you want (or indeed any omelet you can even stomach) eventually, you are going to try to “overthrow” the damned chef and make your own omelet. You might not like omelets at all and prefer cereal for breakfast. In “normal” American Democracy, that’s fine. I can make an omelet for myself and you can have cereal. But if I have forced you to eat omelets for a year even though you hate them, you can bet that once you’re in power, you’ll be forcing me to eat your ridiculous cereal for at least a year. Fascism leads to power grabs and ultimately to violence.

The second problem with fascism is that only a very few people in power are really happy with the results. I force my “optimal recipe” omelet on everyone all the time and more and more people get sick of it over time. The person in power, I suppose, gets some kind of pleasure from “forcing” their will on everyone else, but it is nothing compared with the pleasure that normal people get from creating something that “works” for all the people involved. Fascism is not about love, cooperation, or pleasure. It feeds on fear, hate, and meanness. It doesn’t really matter whether the fascism has some quasi-religious affiliation (like the Taliban who outlaw music and trees) or some racial bias like Hitler’s Germany. Such a regime is not conducive to people’s pleasure.

Third, fascism is ultimately not very practical. At first, it might seem “efficient.” Someone in power gets the “best” recipe for an omelet and then everyone has to fall in line and eat that kind of omelet whether or not it tastes good. If the omelet calls only for asparagus as the vegetable, then the entire supply chain can be geared toward asparagus. Efficient! But only under extremely limited circumstances. Suppose that the lack of crop rotation and variety helps cause an asparagus mold plague. Asparagus first becomes very expensive and then non-existent. Or, suppose a foreign agent, knowing everyone has to eat asparagus, finds a way to poison the supply chain. Now, instead of only a few people dying from the poison, everyone will. Or, suppose science discovers that asparagus actually causes kidney stones. Even worse, fascism hates change. In order to prevent change, fascism hates news, science, opinion variety, free speech etc. So, under fascism, when science discovers that the state-approved asparagus is actually poisonous or causes kidney stones, rather than changing the omelet recipe, fascism imprisons the scientist who discovered the problem and tortures him or her until then recant their findings. Problem solved! Recipe unchanged! Efficient! But meanwhile, people are dying from being required to use the recipe.

If everyone is an island unto themselves, there would be no information sharing and people would have to come up with their own omelet recipes. Instead, imagine a world in which people trade recipes informally, are free to discuss, restaurants introduce people to a variety of tastes, people write, publish and read cook books. In that world, people are free to improvise, experiment,  find what works, share the information, cater to the situation of what’s available, cater to their specific guests, and so on. All this culinary activity is carried out in a very broad context of rules that cannot be broken without penalty. You cannot willingly poison your guests with your omelet without going to prison. You cannot even cook in peanut oil when you know your guest is allergic to peanut oil. People are not allowed knowingly to sell you tainted eggs. This is a good system. This is, essentially, American Democracy. We have collectively decided that some rules are necessary. (Don’t poison people). But we don’t demand that everyone use the same recipe. We don’t demand that everyone eat the same food. We do not try to enforce our preferences on other people, even when we have the power to.

To me, the advantages of a Democracy over fascism are so obvious that I never imagined for an instant that we might get rid of Democracy in America in favor of fascism. Until now.

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Now, we have elected a mean-spirited egomaniac who wants to tell us what to eat, whose clothing to wear, what facts we’re allowed to pay attention to, who we are allowed to be friends with, who we can have sex with, and who we can marry. Democracy is not yet dead, but it is already severely wounded. The Clown has limited powers so long as Congress has the guts to limit the powers of the Clown. So far, they haven’t. But they can. We all need to learn which people in Congress are “ours” and make sure they reign in the Clown immediately. Anyone who fails to do that needs to be voted out as soon as possible and never elected to any public office ever again. Even if you agree with some of the Clown’s executive orders, you have to understand that without a Congress willing to check the Clown, the Clown becomes the Dictator. The Clown has already surrounded himself with people who are chosen because he believes they will enhance his power completely irrespective of whether they have the slightest experience or ability to do the job. You must do what you can to make your Congress accountable to you. If you let the Congress be accountable only to the Clown, then you are dooming your children and your children’s children to live in a Fascist Circus run by a demented Clown. And, in another four years, you won’t have a say in Congress. And, you will be required to eat the omelet made with rancid cheese, moldy asparagus, and bad eggs. Every morning. Forever.

constitution

———————————

 

(The story above and many cousins like it are compiled now in a book available on Amazon: Tales from an American Childhood: Recollection and Revelation. I recount early experiences and then related them to contemporary issues and challenges in society).

https://www.amazon.com/author/truthtable

http://www.truthtable.com

http://tinyurl.com/ng2heq3

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