tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16569216349402247752024-03-16T14:52:45.555-04:00Richard's PretensionRichard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.comBlogger960125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-40055255095357029572024-03-01T15:21:00.003-05:002024-03-01T15:22:25.412-05:00<p>Richard Bellush Jr. 1952-2024</p><p>May this blog honor your memory. </p><p>To all who have been reading- thank you</p>Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-2445446840528386232024-02-16T22:14:00.002-05:002024-02-16T22:18:11.023-05:00The Fun of Low Bars<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">We are often exhorted to challenge
ourselves – to seek new heights. That is all well and good for some single
facet (or handful of facets) of our lives where doing that is actually fun in
its own way: some hobby or sport, say, or even something more remunerative such
as securities trading. Maybe you’ll one-up Albert with a successful Unified
Field Theory. (I doubt it, but give it a shot.) But as a general way of life it
has its drawbacks. Happiness sometimes is defined as reality divided by
expectations when the quotient is greater than 1. (Since we’re talking about
lowering the bar, one might prefer the even simpler reality-minus-expectations
with the answer a positive number.) This is because we irrational humans judge
success in relative terms. We’re giddy when things go better than expected and upset
when they go worse.<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">We all see this every day. For years I
was a real estate broker, and customers, especially when unaccompanied by
spouse, often were surprisingly (and unsolicitedly) open about their
disappointments in life. I remember showing one woman, who drove a $65,000
Mercedes, an $800,000 suburban house. (Both items would cost perhaps 25% more
today.) “I can’t believe this is my life,” she said despondently. She was serious.
I’m aware that there is more to life than material well-being, and that there
are many legitimate reasons why moneyed people nonetheless might be unhappy.
Maybe she had them, but I couldn’t help (unnoticed I hope) raising an eyebrow.
If her material expectations had been even grander however (e.g. French villas
and private jets) maybe the shortfall in that area alone was the disappointment.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Self-reported happiness in the US has
been declining since the 1950s. Analysts have blamed everything from obesity
rates to social media addiction for the trend. At bottom, though, it seems our
expectations have changed. After a desperate Depression and a brutal war, those
who in the 1950s achieved the dream of a little ranch house with a Chevy in the
driveway thought they were in pig heaven – it was more than for which they
could have hoped a decade earlier. They were happy days. Compare that to the
previous story.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">If we consider only the material portion
of life, how much money would it take today for Americans to be happy by their
own reckoning? The numbers vary significantly by generation. According to a survey
by the financial services company Empower, the median minimum net worth it
would take are as follows:<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Zoomers: <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>$487,000<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Millennials<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>$1,700,000<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Gen X<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>$1,200,000<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Boomers<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>$1,000,000<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Annual salaries would have to be<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Zoomers: <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>$128,084<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Millennials: <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>$525,947<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Gen X: <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>$130,344<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Boomers: <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>$124,165<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Zoomers actually have more realistic
goals than Millennials, though it may just be that that they haven’t yet
learned how much a dollar is really worth (or, more importantly, isn’t). All of
these numbers are high, of course. The median household income according to the
Census Bureau is $74,580. (The median household size in 2023 was 2.51; for a
single-person-household the median income for a full-time employed worker was
$57,200.)<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">A little greater pessimism about goals
and expectations might cheer the whole lot of them up in the long run. They can
get some surprises on the upside.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The power of lowering the expectations bar
is evident in the counter-intuitive finding that seniors are the happiest age
group. They don’t expect much anymore and so are not much disappointed. I can
relate. If I wake up in the morning feeling hale, that is enough. It’s a good
day.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Doors
– <i>Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to
Me</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Mgw5j9h8528" width="320" youtube-src-id="Mgw5j9h8528"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></b></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-80144563222844436472024-02-09T21:05:00.003-05:002024-02-09T21:45:55.637-05:00Updike Redux<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The discount bookseller Hamilton is one
of my go-to sites for perusing titles for possible purchase. More often than
not I’ll toss something in the virtual shopping cart. Recently two by John
Updike (1932-2009) caught my eye: his 1992 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Memories
of the Ford Administration</i> and 1994 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brazil</i>.
I wasn’t looking for (or expecting) signed hardcover private editions but those
are what arrived – apparently publisher’s surplus.<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">I first read Updike in high school in
the 1968-69 school year. The English teacher Mr. Drew (a former monk and
well-educated eccentric) mixed books by contemporary authors in with classics on
the class reading list just to make the point that literature was still a flourishing
art form. John Updike was youngish (36) and still considered up-and-coming at
the time. So, for one of our assignments, Mr. Drew chose Updikes’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rabbit Run, </i>a novel about 26-y.o. Harry
“Rabbit” Angstrom whose dull marriage and duller job don’t measure up to his
glory days as a high school athlete. As a student I found the book painless
enough that I bought and read the sequel <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rabbit
Redux</i> (1971) just for recreational reading despite my already hefty reading
list at college. The four Rabbit novels written between 1960 and 1990 capture
their times consummately as well as one man’s stages of life. Yet, in a general
way they made me not so much an avid fan of Updike as a lukewarm fan – but a fan
nonetheless. I fully understand Gore Vidal's remarks that Updike is an
accomplished writer but that he wasn’t particularly interested in the man’s preferred
subject matters and suburban protagonists. Updike does get more adventurous in
his plots occasionally, as in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Witches
of Eastwick</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Coup</i>, but
suburbs in his native Pennsylvania or adopted New England are indeed his most
likely settings. The two books from Hamilton, however, were a step up from an
already pretty high level.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukHtAZ0xwBA_bEA7mXOQwe1B0H3euP5zwu2-BzUd5TkChuiE8aGf0uf76NnqTGpvhMTdRyXiQus9WOfQ4Wks75SoOlgTp59s03c5iM-c7d37JsQWPaDkZN9rd2jYa5PVUnzVshwrVIuvtT8LZmS3_vsDidjw6wD-RmeNsHGVjVVqyDUM-ZZxRgZFjASaa/s3685/rabbitrun.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2647" data-original-width="3685" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukHtAZ0xwBA_bEA7mXOQwe1B0H3euP5zwu2-BzUd5TkChuiE8aGf0uf76NnqTGpvhMTdRyXiQus9WOfQ4Wks75SoOlgTp59s03c5iM-c7d37JsQWPaDkZN9rd2jYa5PVUnzVshwrVIuvtT8LZmS3_vsDidjw6wD-RmeNsHGVjVVqyDUM-ZZxRgZFjASaa/s320/rabbitrun.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In PA just west of Delaware River. I'm guessing<br />the novel by native son Updike came first and<br />the street second, but maybe not.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">By fits and starts from the mid-1950s
Updike worked on a historical novel about James Buchanan, the only President
from Pennsylvania. Buchanan is also, by most historians’ reckoning, the worst
President ever for failing to avoid the Civil War when a show of force might
have prevented it, since even in South Carolina there was at the outset
substantial Unionist sentiment. He took the curious view that states had no
authority to secede but that the federal government had no authority to stop
them, so he just wagged a finger and let secession happen. Most of today’s
general public have forgotten Buchanan altogether. The novel didn’t come
together for Updike for more than three decades. At last he hit on the solution
of removing himself a couple steps from the subject matter by making the novel about
a Professor Alf Clayton writing about the Ford Administration (another widely
forgotten Presidency) while simultaneously writing a biography of Buchanan. This
also allowed Updike to use a more deeply literary style than he usually employs
since we expect a professor to write in professor-ese. Accordingly, the novel
is every bit as much about the 1970s as the 1850s – as well as life as a New
Hampshire college professor. It is worth a read on all three of its levels.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">A greater departure from Updike’s usual
fare is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brazil</i>, which deserves a big
thumbs up. Set (mostly) in the 1960s during the era of military rule, the
Brazil of Updike’s novel is part starkly realistic and part sensual magical fantasy.
The plot is basically <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tristan and Isolde</i>
featuring wealthy families and slum dwellers instead of courts and commoners.
In case there is any doubt about this, the protagonists are named Tristao and
Isabel. A country that then (as now) prided itself on being colorblind, Brazil
really wasn’t (isn’t) though the more thorough blending of the population makes
the matter far more nuanced than in North America. This adds a crucial
dimension to class differences in the tale.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The millennium-old story of Tristan and
Isolde has numerous permutations, blending with Arthurian legends in England
while taking other directions on the continent. All of them, though, up to and
including Wagner’s over-the-top opera, are about a love supreme that survives
suppression, violence, kidnapping, betrayal on various levels (including of each
other at least superficially), escape, recapture, romance and bromance. All of
that is in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brazil</i>, forcing one to
ask, “Why are the two lovers putting themselves through this brutal punishment?
It can’t be worth it. Split up already.” The key is in Isabel’s realization during
some of the worst of it that she is happy. The mutual willingness to endure
punishment proves to her a love that illumines their lives in an otherwise
meaningless world.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">It is a strangely masochistic vision,
but one that may be all too relatable. How many of us have experienced a
self-destructive relationship and delayed far too long an escape from it? (I’m
raising a hand high here.) If that is, we did escape. There is much to be said
for being kinder to oneself – for living a calmer life in a softer light. If we
don’t get a novel out it, much less an opera, so be it.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Paul
McCartney - Back In Brazil</span></b></div></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/okqNDGSNUUI" width="320" youtube-src-id="okqNDGSNUUI"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-82848625348430497052024-02-02T13:39:00.001-05:002024-02-02T13:51:20.511-05:00Intergenerational Money Grumps<p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Numerous
articles in news and commentary sites lately have reported the difficulties
Millennials and Zoomers are facing in their attempts to establish independent
lives. High rents and college debt are cited as serious drags on them. A
minority is very successful indeed almost directly out of college, but the
majority struggle. I recall similar articles in past decades about Boomers and
Xers, but that is not to deny actual changes in the challenges faced by the
young in the 80 years since World War 2. At this stage in my life, the issue in a personal way is largely academic, but I do see friends and relatives affected by it.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The
immediate post-war period was a remarkable anomaly. After a decade and a half
of desperate times, members of the GI and Silent Generations created for
themselves a civilian economic boom in the US and most of the rest of the West
that set an unprecedented standard of widespread (not universal by any means,
but widespread) middle class prosperity. They started adulting (a word that
didn’t exist at the time) early; it doesn’t seem to have occurred to them to do
anything else. My parents were typical: my dad was discharged from the service
in 1946, he and my mom married at ages 21 and 19 in 1947, and they built their
first house (a suburban ranch) in 1949. A loose regulatory environment for land
development resulted in a construction boom that made housing 1945-65 as
affordable as it ever had been or has been since.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqH-vrSkQ7PEdlZxuRT22-h1Ogtou_TLnuzqc_XJz8KuEs0ApYWSZ8AGT5Qa3w74S_mQSnuhH16XJDyTnnZ9aMTrTp89QwnGwkOxBnS7Hd6O8qR5hDNbSgY4Ldb63lxrcGCvPbBpAbIijunkX3ltniOZ_SdcS8Pxq2yaSLdY84h8yNf7779jK-tV-2Cja-/s2028/house1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1434" data-original-width="2028" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqH-vrSkQ7PEdlZxuRT22-h1Ogtou_TLnuzqc_XJz8KuEs0ApYWSZ8AGT5Qa3w74S_mQSnuhH16XJDyTnnZ9aMTrTp89QwnGwkOxBnS7Hd6O8qR5hDNbSgY4Ldb63lxrcGCvPbBpAbIijunkX3ltniOZ_SdcS8Pxq2yaSLdY84h8yNf7779jK-tV-2Cja-/s320/house1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My parents at work on their house. 1949.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Each
generation since then has launched a little later than the one before. (They
are Boomers 1946-64, Xers 1965-79, Millennials 1980-94, and Zoomers 1995-2012;
the oldest of the upcoming Alphas won’t be legal adults for another 6 years.)
Each generation blames the one before for shutting economic doors on them (e.g.
through zoning and licensing) and each in turn blames the one after it for
being laggards. There always is some truth in both accusations, but just some:
the matter looks more complex, unsurprisingly, in detail.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Millennials
and Zoomers have had particular trouble affording housing in the 2020s. In
consequence, according to RentCafe, 68% of adult Zoomers live with parents or
some other relative. 20% of Millennials still do. Of those, nearly half have no
plans to move in the next two years. Of those that do move out, roommates are a
commonplace way to afford rental units. Some even opt for alternative housing
such as RVs. News sites are rife with stories about how most live paycheck to
paycheck without so much as $1000 for emergency expenses; they rely on credit
card debt for those. Yet, Millennials and Zoomers are not in as bad shape as
all the stories suggest. Every generation takes time to build net worth and
savings. The current crop of young people are a few years behind, but not by all
that much. Housing for purchase was actually less affordable in the early 1980s
(when mortgage interest rates were in double digits) than today. To be fair, rents
and (especially) education costs really are significantly higher today in
inflation adjusted terms than in previous decades. However, a windfall is
coming.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Baby
Boomers have capital – much of it is in home values rather than liquid but it nonetheless
adds up to a lot. (To be sure, there are plenty of broke Boomers, especially
among those needing long term health care, but we are talking about the center line
of the bell curve.) According to the Federal Reserve’s 2023 Survey of Consumer
Finances, the median US household net worth (i.e. 50% have more and 50% have
less) in 2023 was $409,000 for those aged 65-74 and $335,600 for those over 75.
This gives a falsely low impression of how much is in this generation’s hands. Thanks
to the millionaires among them, the average (not the median) net worth for
Boomers is closer to $2,000,000; most of those wealthy people will have
multiple heirs. So, an unprecedented transfer of wealth, mostly to Millennials
and Zoomers, is set to take place as the Boomer generation passes: some 84
trillion dollars. Together with their own earnings, the kids should be alright
– again, talking about the generation collectively. Individually, every person’s
story will be different. At least half of Zoomers shouldn’t count on any rescue
by inheritance – especially if health care saps Boomers’ bottom lines in the
years ahead – but this was the case for earlier generations too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br /></span></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The
generation in most immediate trouble is X. According to a 1000-person survey by
Clever Real Estate, 56% of Xers said they had less than $100,000 in savings and
22% said they had none at all. Two thirds said recent inflation has seriously harmed
them financially and 40% don’t think they ever can afford to retire. The
windfall from Boomers will largely pass over them. The oldest of the Xers turn
59 this year, so they are not entirely out of time to repair their finances,
but it is getting short.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">No
one wants to be old and broke. (No one wants to be young and broke either, but
one can recover from that easier.) So, it is natural to worry about these
things. But there are limits to the value of worry too. We do what we can with
what cards we have at each point in life. We can do no more.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Ray Charles – <i>Busted</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RhzSallqb-w" width="320" youtube-src-id="RhzSallqb-w"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br /><p></p>Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-26338416425249422562024-01-26T12:35:00.000-05:002024-01-26T12:35:00.075-05:00Attachment to Music<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">It is not uncommon for friends on Facebook
or other social media to post links to music videos for the sake of nostalgia, or
because the artist is in the news (possibly deceased), or just to express the
poster’s current state of mind. Unless I have some history with or personal
connection to the song or artist (such as my Bobby Darin story), I seldom
comment on the post whether I like the song or not. It means something to the
poster, and that is enough: de gustibus and all that. However, it is well known
(and a subject of recurrent research) that our musical tastes say much about
our personalities, so perhaps we reveal more than we intend when we post music
vids.<br /></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">An acquaintance (the actual
face-to-face kind) who is also is a frequenter of my posts on this blogsite (and
thereby one of a smallish but I like to think discerning readership) asked me
the other day whether the music videos attached to most of them reflect my
personal taste. (I sensed a bit of judgment in the question, but didn’t pursue that
aspect of it.) The answer is by-and-large yes. Not always. Sometimes the title
or lyrics of a song are just apt for the topic of the blog, so I’ll attach it
even if I personally don’t like it much. But 9 times out of 10 I like the
attachment at least a little. Occasionally a lot. I’m not sure what that
reveals, but an online test purports to do so.<br /></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Research over the past 30 years
(confirming what was already obvious to casual observers) has shown that the
overwhelming majority of people form their musical tastes between the ages of
10 and 30, with 14 being the peak year. People remember notes and lyrics of
songs from this stage of life better than any they heard before or hear later. The
songs typically remain a core preference for life with ever deepening nostalgia
value. Our tastes as we grow older and more experienced may well expand far
beyond what we liked in youth, of course, (mine did) but usually in ways that
are unsurprising if you know the core. For example, heavy metal enthusiasts if
and when they explore classical tend to like Wagner. I get this completely.
Wagner is definitely the most metal of the classical composers.<br /></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">For
this reason the most recent studies on musical preferences and personality
traits have focused less on broad genres <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">per
se </i>(e.g. country, rap, folk, classical, etc.) and more on </span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">musical attributes
within and across genres, such as arousal, valence and depth. David M.
Greenberg at Bar-Ilan University and the University of Cambridge in a 2021
study, also found that listeners tended to like artists who appeared to express
in their music personality traits similar to their own according to the Big 5
model. (The Big Five traits are Openness, Conscientiousness, Extraversion,
Agreeableness and Neuroticism (OCEAN). “The match between the [personality of
the] listener and the artist was predictive of the musical preferences for the
artist beyond just the attributes from the music,” Greenberg said according to
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Washington Post</i>.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Anyway, I took his 35-question test on personality
and musical taste. It can be found at </span><a href="https://musicaluniverse.io/"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">https://musicaluniverse.io/</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> – if you take it, note
the warning to save the results manually. My first page results:<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Score Summary<br /></span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Below is a summary of your scores based on
comparisons to 350,000 people worldwide. To learn details and get personalized
recommendations based on your scores, download your 15-page eReport on the next
page.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Personality
Traits:<br /></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Openness</span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> | Average (25 to 75th
Percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Conscientiousness</span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> | Average (25 to 75th
Percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Extraversion</span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> | Average (25 to 75th
Percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Agreeableness</span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> | High (76 to 91st
Percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Emotional
Stability</span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> |
Average (25 to 75th Percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Musical
Preferences:<br /></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mellow</span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> | Average (25 to 75th
Percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Unpretentious </span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">| Average (25 to 75th
Percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sophisticated</span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> | Average (25 to 75th
Percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Intense</span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> | Average (25 to 75th
Percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Contemporary </span></b><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">| Low (9 to 24th percentile)<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Those are disturbingly normal results. So much for being
eccentric. An agreeable average Joe who doesn’t get newfangled stuff? I’ve been
called worse.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I’m not sure how any of that relates to
the musical attachments on this site – well OK, you’d be hard-pressed to find
much newfangled pop, I suppose. You’ll find new rock (e.g. Dorothy, Rival Sons,
The Pretty Reckless), though admittedly the style of these groups is much like
the rock of my 10-30 youth.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">When I started blogging on this
site on a whim in 2009 (Yikes! That’s 15 years ago) the posts were just prose –
even photos were rare. The videos came along later to add a bit more… well…
pretension – and perhaps to inspire in the reader the question “Why THAT song?
My pick would have been much better.” You’re probably right, too. Hey, what do
you expect? </span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I’m
just an agreeable average Joe who doesn’t get newfangled stuff.<br /></span><b><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Nostalgia
Post: I first heard this number by Janis (when she was with Big Brother and the
Holding Company) on the radio in 1968 at age 15 – right in that 10-30 sweet
spot. I like several of her other numbers better but the first counts for
something. It ultimately prompted me to buy 4 albums between 1968 and 1971
including the posthumous <i>Pearl</i>. Janis
Joplin – <i>Piece of My Heart</i></span></b></div><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/D8JzwrD5dvk" width="320" youtube-src-id="D8JzwrD5dvk"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-31195679122914244232024-01-19T21:29:00.002-05:002024-01-19T21:29:25.270-05:00Brrr<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It is cold outside. In NJ in late
January that is no surprise, but it is cold outside… and snowing. As a kid I
rather liked living in a region with four distinct seasons: each one had its
own opportunities for play. (There was also a comfortable home to which to
retreat, for which I didn’t have to pay.) Each season brought its own labors
too, but my parents didn’t drive me and sister too hard on those. Nowadays the
winter labors far outweigh the joys. Winter sports are not my thing: skiing is
physically dangerous for me at this point in life, skating is plausible but at
my skill level will result in some thumps on my butt, while the appeal of snowmobiling
(icy particles blasting one’s face at 60kph) always has escaped me. I am left
with snow shovels and snowblowers, which are not nearly so fun. I understand
more with each passing year why so many retirees relocate to places like Sarasota
or Tucson: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxNvFVI2G38" target="_blank">let the sunshine in</a>.
I won’t be joining them, but only because I am too rooted to where I live. All
my stuff is here – and I don’t mean just material possessions.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">My own personal inertia aside, humans,
like all great apes, evolved as tropical creatures. All the ones besides humans
had the good sense to remain in warm environments. (I’ll modify that statement
if a Yeti specimen ever turns up.) Our direct ancestors lacked that level of
sanity. 500,000 years ago Homo heidelbergensis (a species predating both Neanderthal
and modern humans) lived in an England far colder than the one of today. There
is no evidence they had clothes and no physical evidence (such as ancient
hearths) they had fire. (I suspect they did, but only because of the
difficulties of being so far north without it.) They must have been cold. By
30,000 years ago migrating anatomically modern humans occupied pretty much every
environment up to the arctic. Why go so far north? Riches – at least by the
standards of hunter-gatherers. While not ideal environments for vegans the cold
North hosts abundant wildlife, including fish and herds of caribou and
reindeer. Scoring a meal was easy – but damn it was still cold.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There are numerous health benefits to
living in colder regions. Despite annual flu season, cold weather actually
reduces exposure to communicable diseases overall. (You’re not likely to be bit
by a malaria-carrying mosquito when it’s -20C.) It reduces common infections.
It rejuvenates skin. It improves sleep. It reduces inflammations and allergies.
It even boosts brain function: people in cool rooms do better on cognitive
tests than when in warm rooms. Nor are humans the only beneficiaries. According
to a study published in the <i>Proceedings
of the National Academy of Sciences</i> latitude and lifespan were correlated
in 85% of examined animal species.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0v5YYegUcfJz_9zQKrHBhi4P3KvaKD1YcV2lE7B_NSN2mlWvnyixTS4KGTJAGTd5WTEjkS8IPFU51RvrH0wFYSrnGpqDRBmuM44JasdxAn4hvz3ytdpdS9vEA1YcMcTGlK-gWxMC7KIsi5eeJUJad9fyyzh5u6I22yA8k7XKncXdFw-PxGoJzEGW4rJU/s4320/f2feb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3240" data-original-width="4320" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0v5YYegUcfJz_9zQKrHBhi4P3KvaKD1YcV2lE7B_NSN2mlWvnyixTS4KGTJAGTd5WTEjkS8IPFU51RvrH0wFYSrnGpqDRBmuM44JasdxAn4hvz3ytdpdS9vEA1YcMcTGlK-gWxMC7KIsi5eeJUJad9fyyzh5u6I22yA8k7XKncXdFw-PxGoJzEGW4rJU/w200-h150/f2feb.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">All that may be so, but I’d rather be
warm. If I cannot bring myself to the heat, I’ll bring the heat to me. That’s
what fireplaces are for.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The
Rolling Stones – <i>Winter</i></span></b></div></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/W3U_fP1dXq4" width="320" youtube-src-id="W3U_fP1dXq4"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-17580639564785676102024-01-12T09:07:00.000-05:002024-01-12T09:07:14.373-05:00The Fall of the House of Bell-Usher<p></p><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Simplified, the first two laws of
thermodynamics are 1) you can’t win and 2) you can’t break even. Said Stephen
Hawking in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Brief History of Time,</i> “The
increase of disorder or entropy is what distinguishes the past from the future,
giving a direction to time.” Though he was not the first to notice the effect, Rudolf
Clausius (1822–1888) is credited with formalizing the concept of entropy (</span><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">ΔS=∫[dq/T]) </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">in the 1850s. In a closed system </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">spontaneous change is always in the direction of a reduction of energy available</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">for useful work. This is another way of saying </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">net disorder always increases overall; an increase of order in some corner of the
system is always bought with a greater decrease in the system as a whole. Things
decay. We decay. We can fight decay selectively, but we use up limited
resources in the process. Our ability to combat decay decays. Entropy wins in
the end.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This doesn’t happen right away. We have
our glory days when we exploit our surroundings effectively to make our
particular corner of the system splendid and strong. As Roderick Usher sings in
allusion to his family home in Poe’s story,<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Banners yellow, glorious, golden,<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">On its roof did float and flow<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">(This—all this—was in the olden<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Time long ago)...”<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But of course the good times don’t last
forever for either his estate or his family. (He and his twin sister Madeline are
the last of the family lineage.) So,<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“And round about his home the glory<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That blushed and bloomed<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Is but a dim-remembered story<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Of the old time entombed...”<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Like Roderick, I (also the last of a
lineage) feel somehow connected almost physically to my home (built decades ago
by my dad in sunnier times), and both of us are falling apart. The roof leaks,
my teeth rot. The plumbing has problems, so does mine. The house visibly ages,
so do I. Its furnaces cough, so do my lungs. Its minor systems (e.g. garage
door openers) wear out, my physical abilities wane. Carpets fray, hair thins. The
house more easily suffers damage from use, my stamina is much diminished. Both
of us have become very expensive to maintain even in far less than ideal
condition.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajeWMMsg7d5HrXA-3zP995n9LVqH5BG4vf7VQ6hYp4qgPEyXeLF4I5Wtd6bdnu6LZ3w0oKCQfrVUj3mzuq7n7sHRhC4jXJp1KGW5lAuWn4_u31UESylSnTXsVKNG5k2wHVsqmDXl8BS6nz_OTZNLZ_mz_xMkRAjkwhXVwBmXzYPsx6dtltUta_aiCfQ3C/s636/saddle75%20(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="635" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajeWMMsg7d5HrXA-3zP995n9LVqH5BG4vf7VQ6hYp4qgPEyXeLF4I5Wtd6bdnu6LZ3w0oKCQfrVUj3mzuq7n7sHRhC4jXJp1KGW5lAuWn4_u31UESylSnTXsVKNG5k2wHVsqmDXl8BS6nz_OTZNLZ_mz_xMkRAjkwhXVwBmXzYPsx6dtltUta_aiCfQ3C/w199-h200/saddle75%20(2).jpg" width="199" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back when order was still increasing on what is now my plot of land. The<br />house was not yet built, I had a Donny Osmund haircut, and area codes were <br />unnecessary on local calls.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Don’t get me wrong. I’m not giving up on
either of us quite yet. I’ll continue to invest time, energy, and money to keep
us both functional, but in both our cases some realism is in order about what
effects of entropy are reversible and what are not. Unlike a human being, a
house in principle can be rebuilt totally of course, but that usually is not a
pragmatic course of action for owners with limited funds – it is not a
pragmatic course of action for me. Still, I’ll not yet let either the house or
me just split in two and sink into the tarn.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Nonetheless, I’m acutely aware that
neither of my parents lived past 74. Entropy caught up with them. My intention
is to exceed that benchmark (not a very high bar nowadays), but entropy might
play the prankster with me by then, too. One never knows.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I don’t hold a grudge, though of course
I miss being 18, at least in terms of youthful vigor. (It and youthful
foolishness were a package deal.) Entropy is a condition of existence. Without
it there could be no life at all. Better some than none. So on balance I’d call
it a positive. Meanwhile, there even may remain time to float yet another yellow,
glorious, golden banner or two on the roof. I’ll get on that.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Kelly
Osborne – <i>Entropy</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mHx51D3tIN8" width="320" youtube-src-id="mHx51D3tIN8"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
<br /><p></p>Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-27004255644836775122024-01-05T10:21:00.000-05:002024-01-05T10:21:11.363-05:00Giving Vice Its Due<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This being the first week of 2024, some
readers might have had some experience with alcohol sometime in the past seven
days. Some may regret it. Others not. Some might even be participating in Dry
January, though I suspect most of those doing so are non-drinkers anyway. We
all know the health risks of alcohol overindulgence. I blogged on this not long
ago: <a href="https://richardbellush.blogspot.com/2023/10/the-booze-bin.html" target="_blank"><i>The Booze Bin</i></a></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">. Those affected directly
and indirectly by alcohol abuse are not few. As many as 1 in 8 drinkers may
qualify as alcoholics and (according to the CDC) as many as 1 in 3 (while not necessarily
meeting criteria for alcoholism) drink excessively. Nonetheless, these are
still minorities – sizable ones, but minorities. For the moderate majority of
drinkers are there benefits besides (possibly dubious) health ones? They
obviously think so or they wouldn’t do it. First let’s first dabble in statistics,
some of which are counterintuitive.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHKEcMf5V0ieTmbtskXRzeSB4SW26bKO06EIYhLHqHgDnZpbOUQAmt7RhGelUJ7ca-BDUOvIi7slB2_PsDvPDK9bKcqyq85g32MH26F4gAMriUFzHmTmihzJXPFkTEJfbm4zNYA-bNdFH2DEOeh4bEodqYCWD2YgbYFalf68WrxPJvbFUDMV2zq_etZAV/s1280/spilledwhiskey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHKEcMf5V0ieTmbtskXRzeSB4SW26bKO06EIYhLHqHgDnZpbOUQAmt7RhGelUJ7ca-BDUOvIi7slB2_PsDvPDK9bKcqyq85g32MH26F4gAMriUFzHmTmihzJXPFkTEJfbm4zNYA-bNdFH2DEOeh4bEodqYCWD2YgbYFalf68WrxPJvbFUDMV2zq_etZAV/w200-h200/spilledwhiskey.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Per capita consumption of alcohol in the
U.S. (counting only alcohol content itself, whether in beer, wine, cider, or
spirits) peaked in the 1970s, which is pretty much as I remember the decade. It
declined through the 1980s and 1990s and then started to rise again after 2000.
It spiked in 2020. Though it fell back a little in 2021, it remained higher
than pre-pandemic levels. In 2022-23 it again trended slowly upward. 62% of
adults (over 18) say they drink at least sometimes; the number is 65% of those
over 21, the legal age in the U.S. This compares to 71% back in the 1970s. The average
annual per capita consumption for Americans over 21 (abstainers included in the
total) currently is 2.83 gallons [10.71 liters] of pure alcohol or 603 standard
drinks. Oddly, alcohol consumption is positively correlated with income: 79% of
those with incomes over $100,000 are regular drinkers, 58% of those earning
over $40,000 but less than $100,000 are drinkers, and 53% of those earning
under $40,000 are drinkers. College graduates are more likely to drink (74%)
than non-grads (56%). Unsurprisingly, weekly attendees of religious services
are less likely to drink (48%) than non-attendees (67%). Non-Hispanic whites
are more likely to drink (68%) than either Hispanics (59%) or non-Hispanic
blacks (50%) according to the Pew Research Center. The differences among adult
age groups are significant but not massive, though there is considerable variance by
age of beverage choices, with older Americans preferring more traditional
spirits, beers, and wines; the percentage of drinkers 18-34 is 58%, 35-54 is
66%, and over 55 is 61%. Among older Americans, health issues might affect the
percentages.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Getting back to the matter of non-health
benefits, are there any? For moderate – and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only</i>
for moderate – consumers of alcohol the answer is a qualified yes. (“Moderate”
according to the CDC is no more than 2 drinks per day for a man, 1, for a
woman, and no more than 14 in any one week; “binge drinking” is more than 4 in
a day. I haven’t had 14 in any one week in at least a decade… maybe 2 decades…
maybe 3.) An article on the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harvard T.H.
Chan School of Public Health</i> site states, “The social and psychological
benefits of alcohol can’t be ignored. A drink before a meal can improve
digestion or offer a soothing respite at the end of a stressful day; the
occasional drink with friends can be a social tonic. These physical and social
effects may also contribute to health and well-being.” Professor Robin Dunbar
of the University of Oxford’s Experimental Psychology department agrees. He
says, “Our social networks provide us with the single most important buffer
against mental and physical illness. While pubs traditionally have a role as a
place for community socialising, alcohol’s role appears to be in triggering the
endorphin system, which promotes social bonding.” A more detailed analysis can
be found in the study <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s40750-016-0058-4" target="_blank">Functional Benefits of (Modest) Alcohol Consumption</a>, </i>which states in the Abstract, “We combine
data from a national survey with data from more detailed behavioural and
observational studies to show that social drinkers have more friends on whom
they can depend for emotional and other support, and feel more engaged with,
and trusting of, their local community."</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It turns out that even just bending the
long-suffering bartender's ear can be as therapeutic as cliché would have it.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Note, however, the social aspect of the
tippling mentioned above. Drinking alone, with all due respect to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4E9ydw_aDMg" target="_blank">GeorgeThorogood</a></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">, misses much of the
point. Maybe one to unwind upon arriving home alone is OK, but think twice
before pouring a second. Skip the third, and maybe join the sober minority if
you find that hard to do. They have a point to make, too.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Ida
Lupino - <i>One for My Baby (and One More
for the Road)</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">[One trusts that it’s the metaphorical
road back to happiness]</span></div></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/en8Mwx1RJyQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="en8Mwx1RJyQ"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-44632575087293133192023-12-29T22:10:00.004-05:002023-12-30T19:35:02.598-05:00Auld Times<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">Auld Lang
Syne</span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"> will fill the airwaves in a couple days. The song itself is
part of the nostalgia it is intended to evoke. We resist updating the
old-fashioned Scots lyrics because that is not the way we heard it in our
youths. Besides, we get the gist of it as is.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">We all know how a song can stimulate the memory
of a special place, person or event. Most of us can experience that not just
from a few but from hundreds of songs. There are several though (besides the
Robert Burns ditty) that might come to my mind on New Year’s Eve but seldom
anytime else. Oddly, most of the ones of that sort on my list I don’t even like very much, if at all. But
they pop into my head as the clock runs out in the current year. A
non-exhaustive sample:<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CI-0E_jses" target="_blank">In the Mood </a> performed by the Glenn Miller Orchestra. My mom loved to dance (especially
after a scotch and soda, but without one as well) and my dad wasn’t bad at it. (I
did not inherit this trait: I dance like a wounded buffalo.) She had little
trouble talking him into it, commonly in the living room in the presence of
company. They had dated during WW2, so my mom’s most frequently (but
non-exclusively) preferred dance was the jitterbug. Her record of choice was
typically a Glenn Miller album, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In
the Mood</i> was the first track. She never skipped it. It is actually a pretty
good number, but I heard it so many times growing up that I was sick of it as an adult – until recent years and only on New Year’s Eve. It transports me
back to when my parents were half my current age and dancing in our living
room.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">In October 1957 the Soviets launched Sputnik, the
first artificial satellite. On a clear night it was visible from the ground. My
dad thought this was the start of something important so he made a point of
taking my sister, my mom, and I (and the dog for some reason) out to the
driveway on a very clear night. I’m guessing a local radio station must have
mentioned what time the satellite would pass overhead. It came and went on
schedule. Just to impress upon us further the memory of this (I was not yet 5)
my dad announced firmly, “OK, we’ve seen Sputnik.” In 1958 the novelty song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5jV-E09efRE " target="_blank">The Purple People Eater </a> about a space alien playing rock’n’roll became a hit; at age 5 I loved it and
played a 45 of it repeatedly. Even though this was months <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">after</i> the driveway viewing, the song and that event are tangled in
my head somehow; I cannot think of one without the other. The song is silly and
I seldom think of it except at the very end of a year.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">Having a sister two years older was a huge
advantage in matters of pop culture right up through high school. This was
especially so because Sharon was pretty hip for her entire life. She was always
in step with the times, which I by nature was not. Because of her, I
nonetheless was introduced to social trends and artists (Bob Dylan, for
instance) when they were still cutting edge. Left to myself I would have missed
them until they were passé. This started early. Sharon (b. 1950) loved the
Everly Brothers for a few years straddling 1960. I would play her 45s of them,
and particularly liked the 1962 <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1UntuPVcvd0" target="_blank">Crying in the Rain</a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">. Once again, it
is not a song I play as an adult at any other time, but I might just do so on
the 31<sup>st</sup>. It reminds me of my sister. Hi Sharon.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">Janis Joplin’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rd3pCS4fkFA" target="_blank">I Need a Man to Love</a> is
the second track on the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cheap Thrills</i>
album, which came out in 1968. I liked Janis from the get-go, and still do, but
she grew on me more and more between 1968 and 1970. (Our psyches and tastes
often evolve a lot between age 15 and 18 – mine did.) Initially, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Need a Man to Love</i> was not one of my
favorite tracks on the album. A prep school buddy named George (a troubled
young man, but surprisingly insightful at times) told me to give it a deeper
listen. He said it was undefensively soulful. I did. He was right. All of Janis
evokes an extended era in my mind, but of course that track also reminds me of
George. He died of HIV related illnesses two decades ago.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">The Commodores – <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saaLW0jiiUE" target="_blank">Easy</a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.</i> This is a song about which I had and
have no strong feelings as a song. I neither like it nor dislike it. In the 70s
I never played it on purpose but didn’t change the station if it came on the
car radio either. I would react the same today, though one seldom hears this
number anymore even on an oldies station. The reason it is memorable for me is
that my 70s girlfriend Angela once sang it (with radio accompaniment) in the
passenger seat of my car as we drove to NYC. I don’t know why. I didn’t
interrupt or ask afterward. We all sometimes do things that are hard to
explain. That memory sticks with me and makes the tune a possible New Year’s
Eve play.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdQY7BusJNU" target="_blank">Time after Time </a>by Cyndi Lauper.
In 1984 I owned a property on Schoolhouse Lane with two small houses on
it. I moved into the smaller cottage and rented out the other. It was the first
real estate actually in my own name. The first home that is really yours tends
to be special in a way that later ones are not, and I accordingly put a lot of
work into it – not all at once but steadily. The grounds in particular got
attention: I installed decorative 2-rail fencing, reworked the driveway, and planted
blue spruce to delineate the northern boundary line. On the cottage itself I replaced
exterior trim and repaired the back deck, which had seriously dry rotted in
places. I recall Cyndi Lauper’s song playing on the radio while I worked on the
deck; I cannot hear the song without remembering feeling at home in that home.
Incidentally, the official video of that song was filmed nearby; the train
station scene is in the NJ Transit train station in Morristown. Am I a Lauper
fan? No, not really though I don’t dislike her either.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisl7v3mAapaqDypg3AUz7cPRRa4-PdKtcAlFxU-EaVaGXyZ_BN_jRzVGyFwF5VXVnr2u8dsEpT-yFZ0wMvh_qKlnWTgzpW1OEnlqFick_XgyJEJv_BjGEhudrVLgs61UNR33BG99dslDvjRxOndkjj669Cgy7x5ILPJ_KzuqrtS_KN0JAy__iH47soPOQX/s2994/cottage.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2370" data-original-width="2994" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisl7v3mAapaqDypg3AUz7cPRRa4-PdKtcAlFxU-EaVaGXyZ_BN_jRzVGyFwF5VXVnr2u8dsEpT-yFZ0wMvh_qKlnWTgzpW1OEnlqFick_XgyJEJv_BjGEhudrVLgs61UNR33BG99dslDvjRxOndkjj669Cgy7x5ILPJ_KzuqrtS_KN0JAy__iH47soPOQX/w200-h158/cottage.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My old Schoolhouse Lane cottage</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">Frank Sinatra <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2rDb4Ur2dw" target="_blank">Fly Me to the Moon</a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.</i> A night club in the 1990s, where
someone important to my life worked, closed every night playing this number on
the sound system. The relationship that this song evokes would require a book rather than a
paragraph to begin to describe. So let’s just call it intense rather than characterize
it any other way here.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">That’s one per decade (OK, two in the 1960s -- three counting when I most commonly heard <i>In the Mood</i>) up
to the 21<sup>st</sup> century. I’ll leave the next three for another blog
someday – maybe.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">Once again, not one of these is a favorite song on its own terms (though I do like the Joplin number). My general taste tends more to
bluesier and/or harder rock. But that is not the point, is it? The point is a memory –
maybe a good one, maybe a bad one, but a poignant one either way.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">There are also entire genres of music with a
nostalgia factor. I’ve grown to like much 1940s fare far more than I did when
my parents played it on the stereo for instance. I see I’m not alone in that with groups
such as the Postmodern Jukebox covering songs such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve</i>, charted by Kay Kyser in 1947. In
the case of people as young as that, they are nostalgic for an era they never
experienced. True, I wasn’t around in the 40s either, but the music definitely
was in the house when I grew up.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">So, December 31 – on which I plan a quiet evening
– I may not only hear <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Auld Lang Syne</i>
but some unfavorite yet special tunes from my youth. Perhaps also, some Kitty
Kallen and Harry James. Then on January 1 to welcome the new year I’ll try
something new.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Postmodern
Jukebox – <i>What Are You Doing New Year's
Eve?</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EFIgMlBcKAs" width="320" youtube-src-id="EFIgMlBcKAs"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-46300184185817948992023-12-22T08:47:00.001-05:002023-12-22T08:49:37.162-05:00Creaky<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">Some days I feel my age and others not. If there
is a reason for the day to day differences (sleep length, diet, exercise, or
whatever) I haven’t been able to discern it. The creaky days occur more
frequently with each passing year, but the first hints of them appeared
surprisingly early: soon after 30. That is a time of life when the innate sense
of invulnerability of the 18-y.o. fades and mortality starts feeling real. This
is evident in much of the pop culture content aimed at thirtysomethings. It
accounts, for example, for the success of the movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Big Chill </i>among my fellow Boomers in 1983. Strangely enough, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Barbie</i>, directed and co-written by 40-y.o.
Millennial mom Greta Gerwig, likewise speaks to the sense of aging among
today’s Millennials (e.g. the bus stop bench scene). Thirtysomething (sometimes
fortysomething) is an age when many folks adopt exercise regimens and start
taking megavitamins to try to slow the hands of the clock. It’s when
entrepreneurs with the wherewithal start businesses that take on the Grim Reaper
himself.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">One such company is Altos Labs, formed by Jeff
Bezos and Yuri Milner, which seeks to extend life through a variety of methods,
but in particular through cellular reprogramming. The credentials of its
researchers are impressive. <a href="https://www.calicolabs.com/" target="_blank">Calico Life Sciences</a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">, a subsidiary of Alphabet
(Google), is similarly dedicated to combat aging. The company’s home page is
worth a look. BioSplice Therapeutics reveals its approach in its name. <a href="https://juvlabs.com/" target="_blank">Juvenescence</a></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"> reveals its goal in its name. If none of these
or competing labs produce sufficient results in time for you to dodge the
scythe, there is always Alcor.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">The notion of suspended animation has been around
in science fiction for more than a century. So, too, the similar notion of
deliberately freezing a body in hopes it can be thawed out and reanimated at
some future date when medical science has advanced to the point to make that
possible. Alcor, located in very unchilly Scottsdale Arizona, was founded in 1972
in order to do just that. When a “patient” (who, of course, must be legally
dead) arrives at the facility, s/he is injected with chemicals to prevent the
formation of damaging ice crystals. The body is lowered to a temperature of
-196 Celsius and then deposited in a tank of liquid nitrogen. There are
presently 224 patients plus about 100 pets. Among the patients are baseball
great Ted Williams and Bitcoin entrepreneur Hal Finney. You can reserve a spot
for yourself at a cost of over $200,000, though you can save some money if you
just preserve the head.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkSiOS09XjRKz8zMSTPBngCWQSykghURmpF3aJDztiE-TQDr3K4Iw2X8mAQpfHwsTwZSEJ2AivCX0diB4TnKydPmt8ngL4nsJnxXGzlmM7PNboyQGctgk8B2BJPiRNy8BHq9ew0SEBw8BQPWMm2-T3weoOhMESX8NgiHZ676XFRJEr1e7tmvU1TIPRaf8/s300/alcor.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="168" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkSiOS09XjRKz8zMSTPBngCWQSykghURmpF3aJDztiE-TQDr3K4Iw2X8mAQpfHwsTwZSEJ2AivCX0diB4TnKydPmt8ngL4nsJnxXGzlmM7PNboyQGctgk8B2BJPiRNy8BHq9ew0SEBw8BQPWMm2-T3weoOhMESX8NgiHZ676XFRJEr1e7tmvU1TIPRaf8/w112-h200/alcor.jpg" width="112" /></a></div><br /> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">It would be tempting to prank someone with an
Alcor reservation who awakes after some minor surgery: say the operation didn’t
go well, but not to worry because you’ve been thawed out, cured, and it is now
the year 2324. You can pay the bill at the desk. The temptation probably should
be suppressed.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Meantime, I’ll just deal with my creaks and aches
as best I can and hope that tomorrow is one of those days with a more youthful
spring in my step.</span><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Neil Young
– <i>Frozen Man</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/akQyM1mY34I" width="320" youtube-src-id="akQyM1mY34I"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-9394716153319214052023-12-15T10:46:00.001-05:002023-12-18T16:08:06.923-05:00Julia Gets By in the World As It Is<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">When I read </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">1984</i><span face="Arial, sans-serif">
(1949) by George Orwell as a school assignment back in the 1960s, the novel’s
timeline already had been overtaken by real historical events. That didn’t
matter. Alternate realities and parallel worlds long had existed in science
fiction by then, predating by decades the quite serious hypothesis by physicist
Hugh Everett in 1950s that they actually might exist. H.G. Wells has characters
drive through a portal into one in </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Men
Like Gods </i><span face="Arial, sans-serif">(1923), and it wasn’t his first exploration of the idea. Robert
Heinlein famously rescued his early fiction (see </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The Past through Tomorrow</i><span face="Arial, sans-serif">) by the tactic. </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">1984</i><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> is a book of ideas. What mattered was that those ideas
remained plausible and scary in the 1960s – as they still do in the 2020s.<br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"> <br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">In <i>1984</i>,
Winston Smith’s love interest Julia is a curious character. It is hard to see
exactly what she sees in the middle-aged Winston, but she sees something.
Winston himself seems surprised by her persistent affection. Julia gets her own
story in <i>Julia</i> by Sandra Newman, a novel
authorized by the Orwell estate. Nothing in <i>Julia</i>
contradicts <i>1984</i>, but the character
is not as shallow and emotion-driven as she sometimes seems in Orwell’s novel.
SPOILER ALERT: it is impossible to discuss what is special about this version
of Julia without SPOILERS, so, if you wish to be surprised, stop reading this
blog post now, read Newman’s book, and then return to this blog afterward.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><br /> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGcQ1SB5msIX_r2Jnitk6ui6-RnE88wlOt4I1-qctt6p6WSA5bKbp62MEq7V5zriV2Im_ev9jU0KVRrwHPHo1f548hPkJ2YA2qP_yNmFB7p8xbQyffWh9APYNLBK6XvYFjNmvX6qa9OTM1xOWXxCGmP7SEvM1jQhZxLhLZ9T86qHqumJ-k0dNtqKUSDzU/s400/Julia.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="267" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGcQ1SB5msIX_r2Jnitk6ui6-RnE88wlOt4I1-qctt6p6WSA5bKbp62MEq7V5zriV2Im_ev9jU0KVRrwHPHo1f548hPkJ2YA2qP_yNmFB7p8xbQyffWh9APYNLBK6XvYFjNmvX6qa9OTM1xOWXxCGmP7SEvM1jQhZxLhLZ9T86qHqumJ-k0dNtqKUSDzU/w134-h200/Julia.jpg" width="134" /></a></div><br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Both Winston and Julia work at Oceania’s Ministry
of Truth in London on Airstrip One, formerly known as Britain. (BTW, Oceania’s
flag is described in passing as stars and stripes.) Winston destroys objects
and old news articles that contradict current propaganda (e.g. previously
projected production targets that were missed) while Julia works in Fiction
where old literature is rewritten (and new literature created) in Newspeak to
be compatible with the ideology of Ingsoc. The corruption of language that is
Newspeak, which redefines old words and creates new ones (while always
shrinking the total number in the dictionary), is a particularly insidious form
of persuasion. It is difficult or impossible in Newspeak to say anything
contrary to the Party without calling oneself a criminal while doing it. The
words just don’t exist.<br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"> <br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">We learn that Julia’s parents before the
Revolution had been dangerously bourgeois, which would have tainted her too,
but when still a teen she informed on her mother, which won her a pass into the
Outer Party. Julia wears the sash of the Anti-Sex League, though she indulges
in clandestine affairs. As Winston grows increasingly troubled by the notion of
truth, which it is his job to destroy, Julia notices him and is genuinely
attracted to him as a bad boy. She picks up on his resistance to the Party
line, especially after spotting him leaving Charrington’s shop in the prole
district. Inner Party honcho and torturer O’Brien picks up on both of them. He
tempts Winston ideologically by pretending to be a link to the Resistance known
as the Brotherhood. He tempts Julia (who is more interested in her own personal
freedom than philosophy) by dangling in front of her the prospect of being
elevated to the Inner Party if she works for the thought police. She knows full
well that the room above Charrington’s shop where she meets Winston for trysts
is bugged. Nor is Winston (unknown to him) the only man she meets there and prompts
to incriminate himself while there. So, while she actually likes Winston
(unlike some of the other men), her professions of love are calculated. Given
the choices she has, however, it is hard to judge her as evil – just as
desperate to save herself.<br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"> <br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">What do the perpetrators of this system gain from
it? They have the joy of the raw exercise of power. This is especially true of
the Inner Party members, of course, but also applies to lower links in the
chain. As O’Brien explains, "If you want a picture of the future, imagine
a boot stamping on a human face – for ever." The fellow wearing the boot,
at least in that moment, is having fun.<br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"> <br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">The timeline of <i>Julia </i>extends beyond that of <i>1984</i>, which ends with Winston’s
conversion and execution. We learn there really is a Resistance on Airstrip
One. This seems improbable given the stability achieved by the thoroughness of
Oceania’s repression, but aid to the rebels from Eurasia (one of the three
superstates, the other being Eastasia, perpetually at war with each other in
different combinations) has upset the status quo. There is more than a little
hint, however, that even were they to succeed, it would be a false rescue: a
matter of “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”<br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"> <br /></span><i><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">1984</span></i><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"> at its
core is a dark vision of humanity – and one that is all too credible. <i>Julia</i> makes the title character’s
behavior in <i>1984</i> far more explicable
– again, all too credibly. We are easily tempted to ruthlessness and disregard
for truth in pursuit of lofty goals and also purely selfish ones. The two books
are complementary and are welcome warnings about where those temptations can
lead. Highly recommended.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><o:p><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">The Who - <i>Won't Get Fooled Again</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ts193VvyDGw" width="320" youtube-src-id="ts193VvyDGw"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></span></div><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span>Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-26658639808436544602023-12-08T08:34:00.002-05:002023-12-08T08:34:44.852-05:00Slipping and Sliding<div style="background: white; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The information center on my
Chevy has a lot to say to me about everything from tire pressure to remaining
oil life. Yesterday as the temperature dropped toward freezing, it warned me
that icy roads are possible and nagged me to drive carefully. That’s OK. It is
one reason I bought the car – not for the information center but for being a
better winter vehicle. Until a couple years ago I drove a 1998 4WD GMC 2500 Sierra
(previously my dad’s) and a 2014 Cruze. The ’98 was a great winter vehicle but
by 2020 it finally had grown too tired to keep on the road and had to be
replaced. New 4WD pickups have prices that are simply ridiculous, so I opted to
replace it with a </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">basic</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> 2WD Colorado
priced in the mid-20s, which to me seemed quite high enough. It served (and
serves) the workaday purposes for which I needed a pickup. The problem was that
both my vehicles were then 2WD, and the winter of 20/21 proved this to be a bad
idea. The Cruze was a small sedan runabout that was reliable enough on a dry
road, but all but useless in snow and ice. The Colorado was only marginally
better. There were days when neither of my vehicles could make it up my
driveway, which definitely has an incline but is hardly a cliff. So, in the
summer of 2021 I traded the Cruze for a Chevy Trailblazer with All Wheel Drive.
(AWD is distinguished from 4WD by a differential between the front and rear
axles.) It handles well in snow and, importantly, makes it up my driveway.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><o:p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIlWFl-OHsrnB8PCHvoq3Lt8s2sTZI9AxvJGWFPxfFFtJvhXgRXMgUTz3XMHvyhMyJl1AVJL8nSYKkoCl-tSMyq0zwPXgQXzMfw4bNF9X0tagfukaRUfbY0y1WsivsWxjYlcd-6aWL78T2sgLGzjoycbvEeiAi0VKAsSIgZGpERbzyq3c0KFayhtZ1vj8/s4320/s18g.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3240" data-original-width="4320" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIlWFl-OHsrnB8PCHvoq3Lt8s2sTZI9AxvJGWFPxfFFtJvhXgRXMgUTz3XMHvyhMyJl1AVJL8nSYKkoCl-tSMyq0zwPXgQXzMfw4bNF9X0tagfukaRUfbY0y1WsivsWxjYlcd-6aWL78T2sgLGzjoycbvEeiAi0VKAsSIgZGpERbzyq3c0KFayhtZ1vj8/w200-h150/s18g.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My driveway a few winters ago</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">4WD and AWD are well and good
for extra traction driving forward, but of course they are no help at all when
trying to stop. The Trailblazer’s information center is not wrong to warn about
ice. I’ve been lucky with cars and ice, but I’ve had close calls. As a
pedestrian I avoided getting struck by a car that lost control on black ice
only by leaping over a fence. In a Jeep (in 4WD) on an icy road I once managed
to maneuver around a pointlessly stopped vehicle when it was clear my brakes
weren’t going to do the job. My Cruze once slid over a small backroad bridge
sideways without incident. In the two latter cases it helped that I was driving
slowly and didn’t lock my brakes. On dry pavement AAA recommends at least 3 to
4 seconds braking time (adjust speed and distance accordingly) between you and
the car in front. Increase this to 8 to 10 seconds on icy roads. Even this
might not be enough. Over 150,000 auto accidents occur every year in the US due
to icy roads. There are over 1800 fatalities in those crashes. In the Northeast
only 11.4% of surveyed drivers say they haven’t driven on black ice. I think
those 11.4% are mistaken. I think they have but aren’t aware of it – that they
simply didn’t happen to step on the brakes while on top of it.<br /></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">The danger doesn’t stop when
you park and exit your vehicle. The CDC reports that 1 million people in the US
are injured each year by slips and falls on ice and snow. More than 17,000 of
those falls are fatal. For those 65 and older, falls are the leading cause of
accidental injury and death. Once again, I’ve been lucky so far. Every year I
slip and fall on ice at some point, but, other than the occasional sore butt,
as yet I have injured only my pride. Nonetheless, I’ve stocked up on salt and
sand for my sidewalks and driveway. NJ winters are unpredictable: some are
fierce with repeated blizzards while others are almost balmy. I hope for the
latter but am preparing for the former.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Little Richard – <i>Slippin' and
Slidin'</i></span></b></div><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9Ime0n-qJi4" width="320" youtube-src-id="9Ime0n-qJi4"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></b></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-82869477045724789052023-12-01T09:28:00.000-05:002023-12-01T09:28:09.773-05:00Roll of the Dice<p></p><div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">My choice for a movie last night was a
re-watch of the neo-noir <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Big Town</i>
starring Matt Dillon and Diane Lane at her most stunning. I recommend it. The
film was made in 1987 but is set in the mid-1950s. Matt plays a young
professional craps shooter in Chicago. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Big Town</i> can be enjoyed without expertise in the game which is fortunate
because I understand the rules of craps only in the broadest outline. In its
casino form the betting in craps is quite complicated. Street craps is usually
considerably simplified, but the fast pace still can make it hard to follow for
a newbie. For all that, it has a reputation as a workingman’s game, though at
the upper levels gamblers play for very large stakes. Craps was invented in New
Orleans in the early 19<sup>th</sup> century, apparently deriving from the
European dice game Hazard. It reached a peak in popularity in World War 2, but
still has plenty of aficionados today. It has never been my game, but as a kid
I generally liked board games with dice. They introduced a random element that
nonetheless was literally in one’s own hands, thereby mirroring life itself.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj01QA9AeS1EOfd85qJ-6MKOw1rl_ZmfnGoYGBIRDqF7dLhoDreB4XUbHBpJZKXpZAgArLj1Yecm_Gf8W19MnmganPtvSXvZH9VIwRwoclwDZu-qDtiWQowf0SCVHhyphenhyphenub6z0mKO9RN7uPE9f5zJGcom0QpUdzJ4NpgF8XwoYsZAcMtcue1POnvgj3jnH2h/s500/tbt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="353" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj01QA9AeS1EOfd85qJ-6MKOw1rl_ZmfnGoYGBIRDqF7dLhoDreB4XUbHBpJZKXpZAgArLj1Yecm_Gf8W19MnmganPtvSXvZH9VIwRwoclwDZu-qDtiWQowf0SCVHhyphenhyphenub6z0mKO9RN7uPE9f5zJGcom0QpUdzJ4NpgF8XwoYsZAcMtcue1POnvgj3jnH2h/w141-h200/tbt.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><br /></o:p></span><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Dice are very old, and probably derive from
the casting of bones for divination: 6-sided knucklebones in particular, which
continued to be used into Classical times. Ancient cube dice were commonly made
from bone (or ivory), which gives this idea further credence. The pips (the
dots) allowed numerology to enhance the divinations. Once dice were invented,
of course, secular gambling with them was a natural. The oldest dice ever found
were excavated in southeast Iran and date to at least 2500 BCE – perhaps
centuries older. Not far behind are bone dice found at Skara Brae in Scotland,
which date to at least 2400 BCE. They turn up in Egyptian tombs from 2000 BCE
and also are found both in ancient China and India. Given the geographic spread
of these finds, I think we can surmise that the actual origins long predate any
of them. Dice of alternate shapes (e.g. 4-sided pyramids and 20-sided
polyhedrons) also are ancient, but 6-sided cubes by far were, and are, the most
common. The arrangement of pips were largely catch-as-catch-can until Roman
times. The ancient Roman die was the same as a modern one, with opposite sides
adding up to 7. The Romans enjoyed dice enough to use them as metaphors for
taking a chance, just as we do today. Hence Caesar’s “Alea iacta est” (“the die
is cast”) when he crossed the Rubicon </span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">on January 10, 49 BCE for a do-or-die showdown
with the Senate. Dice didn’t disappear in the Middle Ages in Europe but became less
common and non-standard. They made a comeback in the Renaissance. The Roman pip
arrangement again became standard and has been with us ever since.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Modern dice come in three
basic types: loaded, commercial, and casino. It is best to avoid loaded dice if
one values one’s own health and safety. Commercial dice are the ones found in
board games and toy stores. They are inexpensive and produce results that are
random enough for informal purposes, but they almost certainly have unintended
small biases in them. Casino dice are carefully crafted to be as perfectly
balanced as possible; even the pips are filled with a polymer of the same
density as the die itself so that they don’t introduce a bias. These, though
somewhat costlier than commercial dice, are not actually expensive, but casinos
change them every 8 throws or so, so they go through a lot of them.<br /></span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Can a skilled dice player
beat the odds – at least by a little? Maybe. Casinos try to get around this
possibility in craps by requiring that thrown dice bounce off the back wall.
This introduces enough unpredictability to make nonrandom outcomes very
unlikely. Even in a straight throw, minor variations in motor control,
geometry, and air resistance should be enough to ensure random results with
balanced dice. Yet, maybe. Casinos make a good deal of money, though, off
shooters who think they can do it. My bet is always on the House.<br /></span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Have I ever made money with dice? Not much, but
some. Back in college in a Business class we were told the dart theory of
investing. Beating the S&P with any one investment is just a matter of
luck, we were told, and picking stocks by throwing darts at the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wall Street Journal</i> on average produces
returns no better or worse than picking them after assiduous research, which
necessarily is always incomplete. I believe this is still taught today. Some
years back, I figured dice should work as well as darts, so after jotting down
the names of a half dozen companies that I recognized, I rolled a die and
picked that number on the list. John Deere did all right. Too bad I didn’t buy
more.<br /></span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #0f0f0f;">Linda Ronstadt -
Tumbling Dice</span></b></div></o:p></span><span style="color: #040c28; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2I7GkHy5iOA" width="320" youtube-src-id="2I7GkHy5iOA"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></span></div><p></p>Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-17613574759109616632023-11-24T09:56:00.002-05:002023-11-24T10:06:53.676-05:00Whys and Wherefores<div style="background: white; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">Prologue: I added this prologue
after finishing what follows. I notice this blog rambles more than usual and also
ventures off into dorm-room-style philosophy. That tends to happen when still overfull
the day after a big meal. I’ll post it anyway but should regain my focus by
tomorrow.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">I’ve owned my current home
since 2001, and for the past two decades it has been my wont to host
Thanksgiving. Relatives plus a cadre of friends numbering between 12 and 18 would
fill my dining room and kitchen on that day. The friends were mostly, like
myself, single. The guests know each other but aren’t close friends otherwise in
a general way. It always has been an odd and eclectic mix, but everyone always
got along. Besides, I have the space to host the meal and I didn’t mind the
work since it was just once a year. But times change. Several of my former regulars
have found Significant Others along the way and now dine with them. No fewer
than three on my old guest list have passed on. Another undergoes physical rehabilitation
out-of-state following a freak accident. Another this year scheduled work on
Thanksgiving for the overtime pay. Two others have acquired special diets. Too
few of the rest remain for the critical mass that makes a party work except in
the case of family or the closest of friends. So, I abandoned my usual role of Thanksgiving
host – this year anyway. Maybe forever. (A future summer outdoor grill-fest is
still possible, but that is at least 7 months away.) I owe thanks to my aunt
for having hosted myself and one of my cousins for Thanksgiving this year. It
was pleasant and cozy.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">During my iconoclastic 20s and
early 30s I made a point of scheduling parties and get-togethers on
non-traditional holidays. (OK, a little hint of this spirit still persists with
my occasional equinox or solstice party.) “Why should I blithely accept someone
else’s designation of a holiday?” I asked myself. “I’m perfectly capable of
choosing my own dates and reasons for celebrations as is each and every one of
us.” So we all are, but the trouble with this sort of individualistic – almost
existentialist – approach is that it is hard to get people to show up to your
party on what seems to them a random date. They may not have the day off from
work or may have plans for the next day. In consequence, as a practical matter,
I eventually gave in and started hosting traditional Thanksgiving, Halloween,
and Christmas parties, simply because more guests showed up for them. But, in
principle, I still sympathize with the views of my younger self.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlFcpBpyWlk7C5ZjKH388o0iw_72KqdbYTrzqogLpcW5EeOcY06-eUAnTZjS45kBkiq-DLr8mXVPeAz6dKCx26mbzv9lQ1l3kq-LnZePb9R1M9qmJNqDqd3mvX5lEsOzbqvw-YIpjeBJ67fvIGsBJDyM2eYv5rox_jkOfjAmWl8twxuYRMbdn1mQ0WOa-T/s1280/turkeyoven.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlFcpBpyWlk7C5ZjKH388o0iw_72KqdbYTrzqogLpcW5EeOcY06-eUAnTZjS45kBkiq-DLr8mXVPeAz6dKCx26mbzv9lQ1l3kq-LnZePb9R1M9qmJNqDqd3mvX5lEsOzbqvw-YIpjeBJ67fvIGsBJDyM2eYv5rox_jkOfjAmWl8twxuYRMbdn1mQ0WOa-T/w200-h150/turkeyoven.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not in my oven this year</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">Many of us make compromises with
the philosophies of our youth. Adjusting party dates is a pretty minor practical
adjustment. I enjoyed discussing a more fundamental self-questioning with one
of my former Thanksgiving regulars (he now has a Significant Other and dines
elsewhere) a few weeks ago when he stopped at my house while he was bicycling
for the exercise. (It is weird to me that a 60-y.o. is a younger friend.) A
physicist, he is one of the few people with whom I still talk like a buzzed
college student. We both like the youtube channel of physicist Sabine
Hossenfelder and so we chatted for a while about some of her vids. Then we
veered into metaphysics. A longtime existentialist, he tells me he is having
trouble these days being satisfied with the precept that life and the universe
itself are inherently meaningless and that the only meaning is what we create
for ourselves. He said that was easier to accept when he was younger. Now he
finds it unsatisfying, even if true. I suspect he hears mortality knocking –
not an unusual response to a 60th birthday. He'd be happier with a better
answer to Why. I recalled Nietzsche’s line that people “will accept any how so
long as they have a why.” (Nietzsche predicted 20th century secular political fanaticism,
by the way, for this reason.) Religious folk do not have this problem, of
course, but we all believe or disbelieve what we must.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">I’ve been an atheist since the
8<sup>th</sup> grade. (An episcopal priest, of all people, at my prep school back
then correctly pointed out to me some contradictions in my thinking, though he
might have expected me to resolve them another way.) I then discovered
Objectivism, which served for a while as a secular philosophy since it is
coherent and consistent if you accept certain premises; however, those
premises, while reasonable, are still arbitrary as I was well aware. By the
time I was in college I stopped ignoring this, embraced arbitrariness, and became an existentialist
instead. Unlike my physicist friend, I still don’t have a problem with
existentialist precepts even though I’m a decade older with mortality a good
deal closer. We didn’t resolve anything of course, but it was pleasant just
to BS in this late-night-dorm-room kind of way again.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">So, is there an inherent
meaning in anything? I doubt it. But that’s OK. Life is good (for the most
part) anyway. And this year I’m thankful for not having to clean up after
Thanksgiving.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;">For the musical attachment I
almost went with the existential angst of Janis Joplin’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qg0UyCPmksQ " target="_blank">Kozmic Blues</a> simply because I like Janis, but this number from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hair</i> probably fits the topic better.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Original Broadway cast of <i>Hair</i>
– <i>Where Do I Go?</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MxQ_8-WPBZ0" width="320" youtube-src-id="MxQ_8-WPBZ0"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></b></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-3233374615179493562023-11-16T11:44:00.002-05:002023-11-16T11:53:42.385-05:00My Bad<div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">All of us are offensive some of the time –
usually in error but often enough on purpose. Anyone who thinks he or she isn’t
is in need of self-reflection. (I am speaking of genuine offense: the strategic
taking of offense as a passive aggressive method to backfoot an opponent or
gain an advantage is another topic altogether.) Humans are sometimes clumsy,
sometimes thoughtless, and sometimes cruel. No exceptions. Society and personal
relationships continue to function anyway partly by our willingness to let pass
the bulk of the (literal and metaphorical) pokes in the ribs and partly by
apologies for the rest – both the giving and the getting of them.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Why does “I’m sorry” matter? The expression
rarely fixes whatever the offense was, so what does it accomplish? It is really
about respect or the lack of it. Failing to acknowledge that we crossed a line
makes it seem as though the other person doesn’t matter. It verges on contempt.
That is probably a worse offense than the initial transgression. This is made
evident by reactions to politician-style non-apologies, as in “I’m sorry you
feel that way.” The listener hears this (correctly) as meaning he is in the
wrong for feeling that way. The defensive “I only did it because…” is similarly
intended to place the blame on the offended party. Both are likely to deepen any
seething resentment in the listener. A simple “I’m sorry” on the other hand,
means “I stepped on your toes, but I regret it and don’t disrespect you.”
Usually that is enough. Sometimes it isn’t (it depends on how big and damaging
the offense was) but even in those cases it is a step in the right direction.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZAeJ8LKOXvHO_HwE12Tq_je8RxY59Y7Yh2VS-rRUqoXgz6uVqVCSoG-INr5B6V0mtNYZPZc_lyT7bNpGX57RAohftKOL9PWC2eGs_7UtJXXnM_b2h-zP4TuRED17LQc3PTi0qurdWstgzWj81aSytX0nEpnNcHBi3U5b5RDcCFXZ2-sUBianmbLJ6Et6/s259/gs2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZAeJ8LKOXvHO_HwE12Tq_je8RxY59Y7Yh2VS-rRUqoXgz6uVqVCSoG-INr5B6V0mtNYZPZc_lyT7bNpGX57RAohftKOL9PWC2eGs_7UtJXXnM_b2h-zP4TuRED17LQc3PTi0qurdWstgzWj81aSytX0nEpnNcHBi3U5b5RDcCFXZ2-sUBianmbLJ6Et6/s1600/gs2.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recurring line in <i>Get Smart</i>: "Sorry about<br />that, Chief."</td></tr></tbody></table><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">The greatest cause of misunderstanding in the
realm of apologies is the differing thresholds people have for offense and what
they regard as offensive.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">After all,
just because someone doesn’t like what we say or do is no reason by itself to
apologize for it. Saying “It is bad to be a crack addict” does not require an
apology to crackheads who are offended by the statement, even if some might
think so. There is no way to eliminate these threshold differences completely,
but a little empathy can do no harm.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">Unsurprisingly
there are sex differences in thresholds. As always when discussing such
differences, it is important to note that we are talking about the centerlines
of bell curves; much of the curves overlap, so many men and women have
characteristics opposite to the average. Yet, the average still tells us
something. There is a stereotype that men rarely apologize (supposedly from
pride) whereas women apologize all the time. Professor Karina Schumann, PhD, at
the University of Pittsburgh decided to put this to the test. The results were
more nuanced than the stereotypes. She stated them in an APA podcast:<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">“And what I found across numerous studies was that women did
apologize more frequently in their daily life… but we also saw a higher
frequency of offenses reported. And what that means is when we looked at the
proportion of offenses that they were apologizing for, it was identical to
men's proportion of offenses that they were apologizing for… And so this made
us think, is there a difference in perceptions of severity here where men are
less likely to see an offense as occurring… because they just don't see it as
bothersome as women see it...<span style="background: white;"> And so we tested
this in a bunch of follow up studies with more controlled methods where we gave
men and women the exact same offenses, and we had them rate how severe they
were, and how much an apology was deserved and how likely they were to
apologize. And what we saw consistently study after study was that men and
women saw the identical offenses differently.”<br /><o:p></o:p></span></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In other words, men on average have a higher
threshold than women for what is apology-worthy whether on the giving or the
receiving end, leading all too often to regarding one another as either
unreasonable or disrespectful. I doubt there is any cure for this, but it helps
to be aware of it, and to recognize that there is a perspective from which the
other party is neither unreasonable nor disrespectful.</span><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: medium;">Joey
Heatherton – <i>I’m Sorry</i></span></b></div></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/F6SgcaVd0ZA" width="320" youtube-src-id="F6SgcaVd0ZA"></iframe></div><br /><p style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-37314110247937272572023-11-09T09:35:00.001-05:002023-11-09T09:35:22.284-05:00Big Bangs<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
first half of the 20<sup>th</sup> century hosted an amazingly gifted generation
of physicists. Foremost among them was Enrico Fermi, but even a genius runs a
risk of observation bias. In 1934 he attempted to create transuranic elements
(or at least heavier isotopes) by bombarding uranium atoms with neutrons. Instead
he split the atoms, but since he wasn’t looking for fission products he didn’t
see them. He was unaware of what he had done though he later berated himself
for not having seen what was going on immediately. Not until December 1938 did
Hahn, Strassmann, and Meitner in Berlin recognize that uranium was splitting in
similar experiments. The delay is sometimes called the 5-year-miracle. Had
Fermi noticed and pursued fission in 1934, World War 2 would have been an
atomic war – not just by the US at the very end but by all the major players.
Horrific as that war was, that would have been worse. It was not the last time
the world got lucky with nuclear weapons.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">During
the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 we ultimately were saved by the well-justified
fears of President Kennedy and Premier Khrushchev. (I wrote briefly of my own
childhood recollections of that episode, by the way, on my short story site: <a href="http://richardbellush2.blogspot.com/2012/10/october-22-1962.html" target="_blank">22 October</a></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">.) Throughout the Cold War there was a healthy dread of
nuclear war that underlay the public psyche and limited the escalation of
confrontations among the major powers. The term “existential threat” gets
tossed around lightly these days, but nuclear weapons really did pose a threat
to the existence of civilization. We understood that. They still do. I’m not so
sure we still understand it. The nuclear club today openly consists of the US,
UK, Russia, France, China, Pakistan, India, and North Korea. Israel does not
acknowledge possessing nukes though everyone assumes it has them. South Africa
dismantled its nuclear weapons in 1989, the only country ever to do so.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
end of the Cold War has brought complacency. Only a handful of fringe preppers
build fallout shelters anymore. Nuclear weapons are regarded as big sticks no
one ever will swing in anger since to do so would be suicide. Don’t be so sure.
Only China has a stated no-first-use policy – and no one believes it. All other
powers reserve the right to use them if the existence of the state is at stake.
The most likely scenario for a nuclear exchange is the field use of a tactical
weapon by a nuclear power that is losing a conventional war. The intent would
be to “escalate to deescalate” – to scare the other side into negotiating a
settlement. It might work, but it just as easily could turn rapidly into mutual
escalation instead. More than one war has begun with a miscalculation. A return
to a healthy dread will make that a little less likely with nukes.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Open
air testing of nuclear weapons between 1945 and 1974 was reckless in any number
of ways. Fallout proved to be more of a problem than anticipated, and some of the
particles traveled far. Iodine 131, for instance, has a half-life of 8 days.
This isn’t very long, but it was long enough for the isotope to be deposited on
grass hundreds of miles from the Nevada test site, be eaten by cows,
concentrated in milk, and then absorbed by the thyroid of milk drinkers. Other
radionuclides are less metabolically active but are dangerous for longer, e.g.
strontium 90 and cesium 137, which have half-lives of 30 years. On a global
scale the level of exposure from testing was relatively minor, but cancer risks
from radiation exposure are cumulative, so they did count for something. For
populations nearby the test sites they counted a lot, especially when there were
accidents. The 1954 Castle Bravo thermonuclear test at Bikini, for example, at
15 megatons was triple the anticipated yield. In consequence, a wide area in
the Pacific was unexpectedly contaminated by fallout including a Japanese
fishing boat, the crew of which received lethal doses.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_b3s8KxC70L88EdOoLmgo4v58Bfj14JUi2Uf87Hx2Gyv1saUzcobQrPxy5Jruyw8rikg1Hu3EueUgoXiVHvztMUTPisd_C3LxGxZ3UiKcVjyENyV4_3J5hQZeEiLTxvchtVzIw951ZYHlecOyXy-8h7CfmBRftRI_AqHnSj-LDjiHNNL9BTMam1H_HRM/s600/Blast7Large1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="600" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_b3s8KxC70L88EdOoLmgo4v58Bfj14JUi2Uf87Hx2Gyv1saUzcobQrPxy5Jruyw8rikg1Hu3EueUgoXiVHvztMUTPisd_C3LxGxZ3UiKcVjyENyV4_3J5hQZeEiLTxvchtVzIw951ZYHlecOyXy-8h7CfmBRftRI_AqHnSj-LDjiHNNL9BTMam1H_HRM/s320/Blast7Large1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blast effect of a low yield (16 kiloton) fission bomb on <br />a wood frame house at 1100 meters. "Annie" test 1953.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yet,
the tests did serve one unintended useful purpose. They were absolutely
terrifying. Maybe setting one off now and then on the surface would worth the
health risks if only to remind ourselves still to be terrified of them. After
all, using a single nuke in anger would do more harm than all of the tests
combined. The tests would remind us to think twice about playing chicken with
the devices or with those who wield them.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Marianne Faithfull – <i>What
Have They Done to the Rain</i></span></b></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/z98NEVWGi2w" width="320" youtube-src-id="z98NEVWGi2w"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-89840325173215191722023-11-02T09:23:00.001-04:002023-11-02T20:32:35.976-04:00A Little Knowledge<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">From
the time I graduated HS until about 15 years ago it was my habit each year to
buy and read an almanac full of obscure facts about the world: national GDPs, petroleum
production, demographics, and so on. Some of the info actually stuck. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pocket World in Figures</i> published by <i>The</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Economist</i> was a frequent pick, but I
also often opted for others. I just liked knowing random trivia and being known
for knowing random trivia. I don’t bother to do that anymore because all of that
information is just taps away on the screen of any smart phone. Besides, data
from a printed almanac are bound to be at least a year out of date. So, if
someone at the dinner table wonders aloud what country mines the most bauxite
(I have strange guests at my dinner table who are apt to wonder aloud about odd
things) the almanac-reader will find that he impresses no one by immediately
responding, “Australia produces 102.4 million metric tonnes annually.” Instead he surely
will be smugly corrected by someone else who quickly taps his phone and says,
“The latest figures are 104.8 million tonnes.” People are as proud of their
phone’s knowledge as of their own. I don’t know why. It is a human quirk.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuNJgjQoMIqbztFD1tcbxxFJDt4DzK-WOyiL4IHZcRPwTxk_ThU6cQQa-QnyUiSfA7b2mdmQ1kDY2yYBYU4q-u5ZUYbkk3pUq04QA-5ksUkIswKWM1j75UZsxq-Rbxjdq_tdRxYPznaJl4-uES0RPgX0SgQBKPIt9omyVINORSLQwv-q-553ghfsr57pZY/s2515/Pocket-World-22.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2515" data-original-width="1160" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuNJgjQoMIqbztFD1tcbxxFJDt4DzK-WOyiL4IHZcRPwTxk_ThU6cQQa-QnyUiSfA7b2mdmQ1kDY2yYBYU4q-u5ZUYbkk3pUq04QA-5ksUkIswKWM1j75UZsxq-Rbxjdq_tdRxYPznaJl4-uES0RPgX0SgQBKPIt9omyVINORSLQwv-q-553ghfsr57pZY/w93-h200/Pocket-World-22.jpg" width="93" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nonetheless,
just for my own personal entertainment, I still buy books that offer weird
information, such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What If? Serious
Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions</i> by Randall Munroe
Houghton, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Et Tu Brute: The Deaths of the
Roman Emperors</i> by Jason Novak, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Who
Knew? Things You Didn’t Know about Things You Know Well</i> by David Hoffman. I
keep them scattered here and there: the bed stand, the coffee table, the powder
room, etc. Sometimes the moment is best served by reading material that comes
in snippets.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkbbGiJlJMn5OC-OjMJkxQUtbLv-6GfPuQusswQRhXWCS7YNMvqpSyHlUH1MJZmrzD7OxhYvrjGUEeL-p0yY-s6QnJM8mgyYYQ2ZvZlwzynjLPYtWZ36Hc-cLjxsdzfl-YNAJ5wrbdnfcoDfi4cxA1uhQ5-rIB5PHDWOyEVwSb5FttPwWUhFgaev-uSij/s1000/whoknew.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="632" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkbbGiJlJMn5OC-OjMJkxQUtbLv-6GfPuQusswQRhXWCS7YNMvqpSyHlUH1MJZmrzD7OxhYvrjGUEeL-p0yY-s6QnJM8mgyYYQ2ZvZlwzynjLPYtWZ36Hc-cLjxsdzfl-YNAJ5wrbdnfcoDfi4cxA1uhQ5-rIB5PHDWOyEVwSb5FttPwWUhFgaev-uSij/w126-h200/whoknew.jpg" width="126" /></a></div><br /> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thanksgiving
is coming up, and perhaps the reader would like a few samples of factoids from
Hoffman’s book that can be used to divert attention from whatever political
argument is poisoning the meal:<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chocolate
chip cookies are not as old as one might think. Ruth Wakefield at Toll House
Restaurant in Whitman, Massachusetts, improvised them when she ran out of
powdered cocoa. She broke up solid chocolate into bits instead. The chocolate
chip cookies were a hit, so she included the recipe for the first time in her
1938 cookbook.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If
you factor options such as syrups, size, blends, and so on, there are 87,000
possible drink combinations on a standard Starbuck’s menu.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
word “nerd” is a coinage of Dr. Seuss from his book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If I Ran to the Zoo</i>.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Before
becoming a noted chef, Julia Child worked intelligence for the OSS in India and
China.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Socialite
Josephine Cochrane invented and patented the mechanical dishwasher in 1886
because her servants kept breaking her dishes. The machines became a hit with
restaurants and hotels in the 1890s. Her company was eventually bought out by
KitchenAid.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bond
author Ian Fleming in the early 1950s commuted from Kent to London. The bus he
took was 007.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Paul
Simon’s first version of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mrs Robinson</i>
was titled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mrs Roosevelt</i> and was
about Eleanor. He reworked the song when director Mike Nichols called on him
for the soundtrack of the upcoming movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Graduate</i>.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Houseflies
hum in the key of F.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Irish
coffee dates to 1945. Joe Sheridan at the restaurant at Foynes Airport had
closed the kitchen but decided to keep the counter open when he heard that a
transatlantic flight had turned back to Ireland because of bad weather. He
served the tired passengers mugs of coffee with whipped cream, sugar, and
whiskey. Asked what it was, he called it Irish coffee. It caught on.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lincoln
Logs were invented by John Lloyd Wright, son of architect Frank Lloyd Wright.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
arrangement of stars on the 50 star US flag was designed by Robert Heft for a
high school class project. His teacher gave him a B-. Congress chose his
design.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That
should get you started. Be prepared for the taps on phone screens as your
fellow diners check to see if you are peddling disinformation from whatever
news source they prefer to hate.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Peggy Lee – <i>I Don't
Know Enough about You</i></span></b></div></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZHunEs-ROPo" width="320" youtube-src-id="ZHunEs-ROPo"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-85307211807514821722023-10-26T09:18:00.000-04:002023-10-26T09:18:12.862-04:00My Favorite Mood-Altering Drug<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That
would be 1,3,7-Trimethxylaxanthine, better known as caffeine. My mornings get a
lot better after the first dose, usually contained in a mug of Colombian roast
coffee, black no sugar. This comes to mind due to a tragic news story about a
University of Pennsylvania student who, according to her family, died after
drinking a Panera Charged Lemonade. The charge in the drink comes from caffeine
to which, it is alleged, the young lady was sensitive. Any stimulant can be a
problem for those with certain sensitivities or disorders such as tachycardia
and arrhythmia. Caffeine is not an exception. However, most people are highly
tolerant of the stuff, which is fortunate since it is present in a wide array
of drinks and foods – often as a natural ingredient rather than something
added.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As
long ago as 1916 the FDA nearly put Coca-Cola out of business (see <i>United States vs Forty Barrels and Twenty
Kegs of Coca-Cola</i>) because of caffeine. The FDA alleged it was an
adulterant that (it would be hard to make this up) promoted promiscuity in
youth. Coca-Cola countered that caffeine was not an adulterant but a natural
ingredient; it wasn’t added, the company argued, but was naturally present in
the kola nut just as it was naturally present in cacao and coffee beans,
neither of which were targeted by the FDA. (In 1916, one should keep in mind,
opium and cocaine could be bought over the counter.) The case was touch-and-go
for a while, but there is still caffeine in Coca-Cola today.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Direct
lethal caffeine poisoning is possible to achieve but it takes dedication for an
average person of normal metabolism. 5 grams is a low-end estimate of fatal
toxicity for adults, though actual known cases involve much higher doses (such
as from diet pills). 5 grams is equivalent to 23 liters (6 gallons) of coffee
(standard McDonald’s blend) drunk at a single sitting. 23 liters of anything
(even water) drunk all at once is likely to cause trouble. Indirect health risks
are present at lower doses of course such as from an accelerated heart rate,
especially in someone who has preexisting cardio issues. For most people,
however, the effects of mild overdoses are limited to sleeplessness,
jitteriness, and anxiety. I experience none of that from the one or two mugs of
coffee with which I start a typical morning. The effects on me are all
positive.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tea
is the caffeinated drink with the deepest known history. (Black tea has about
half the caffeine of coffee of equivalent volume and strength.) Chinese legend
credits Emperor Shen Nung in 2737 BCE for accidently discovering it when leaves
blew into his boiling water. He enjoyed the flavor and the stimulation. Olmecs
in Mesoamerica cultivated cacao from around 1000 BCE if not earlier. The Aztec
“xocolatl” (which means “bitter water”) was favored in part for the stimulatory
effects. Coffee, originating in Ethiopia, spread across the Islamic world in
the 15<sup>th</sup> and 16<sup>th</sup> centuries. Coffee was popularized in
Europe in the 17<sup>th</sup> and 18<sup>th</sup> centuries. Coffee houses at
the time were noted mercantile centers where shippers, traders, and financiers
made deals. They were an improvement over taverns, at least for business, which
generally is better conducted sober. Coffee just might have been the unsung
fuel for the budding industrial revolution.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4IeGrjJSnp4JBqKXHHeZmy8bqhxgl7FdktjU7TWbIz2jPGB-xQ9pUOjtOVWN_JGcGyPRO6h0IEKuIvy-Tslhc-eEKbm4BvgGuYqsiExo53QLwaoN9QxjmqfwDIQMcob8wD5kbnxSJP3r3QjeHgRRsJmA8jN3om9uEGe_PdaAewrDFbRa8QozruJsF3sNl/s522/coffeepot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="522" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4IeGrjJSnp4JBqKXHHeZmy8bqhxgl7FdktjU7TWbIz2jPGB-xQ9pUOjtOVWN_JGcGyPRO6h0IEKuIvy-Tslhc-eEKbm4BvgGuYqsiExo53QLwaoN9QxjmqfwDIQMcob8wD5kbnxSJP3r3QjeHgRRsJmA8jN3om9uEGe_PdaAewrDFbRa8QozruJsF3sNl/w200-h174/coffeepot.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Decaffeinated
coffee seems a strange idea to caffeine lovers. Yet, it is older than one might
think. It was developed in 1903 in Bremen, first marketed in Germany in 1905,
and first sold in the US in 1909. The brand name Sanka derives from <i>sans caffeine</i>. Orange was the signature
packaging color, which is why decaffeinated coffee of any brand in diners to
this day is in pots with orange tops.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
won’t personally be switching to decaffeinated beverages anytime soon. On the
other hand two mugs of full strength coffee are enough. I’ll encounter enough
caffeine in other meals, snacks, and beverages to carry me though the rest of
the day without actively seeking it out. We all have different sensitivities
though. So if Java makes you jittery, by all means fill your cup from the pot
with the orange top.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Rival Sons - <i>Black
Coffee</i></span></b></div></span><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/A0LyzOh3ya8" width="320" youtube-src-id="A0LyzOh3ya8"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></b></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-19624537516526504492023-10-19T09:24:00.002-04:002023-10-19T09:36:44.558-04:00Running on Empty<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Even as earth’s population tops 8
billion, much public discussion lately has centered on declining birthrates
around the world. Elon Musk famously called it mankind’s greatest existential
threat. One informative treatment of the subject is <i>Empty Planet: The Shock of Global Population Decline </i>by Darrell
Bricker and John Ibbitson.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8e74VYx5bwh3PUKTQU8Ydn068eNkV72BoABcM17cl1MJXEMovBBHQlUxh2gTe19jGE1KStULUfKKFMY0Q7nz_pKHx6ueyN_O2QChc4zJWBY0ZDCir5_RXL83yONJeHAZTmXQDv8o7EHs-3owG8JMWnKUiVGpxrZBL1yPTTcIArH7FDWWOUm4hUYpEdqI5/s450/emptyp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="291" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8e74VYx5bwh3PUKTQU8Ydn068eNkV72BoABcM17cl1MJXEMovBBHQlUxh2gTe19jGE1KStULUfKKFMY0Q7nz_pKHx6ueyN_O2QChc4zJWBY0ZDCir5_RXL83yONJeHAZTmXQDv8o7EHs-3owG8JMWnKUiVGpxrZBL1yPTTcIArH7FDWWOUm4hUYpEdqI5/w129-h200/emptyp.jpg" width="129" /></a></div><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Half the countries in the world have
fertility rates lower than 2.1, the rate needed to sustain a constant
population over the long run. (The US is currently 1.78, which is a bit higher
than most Western countries.) Most of the other half are very close to this
replacement rate. Global population is still rising, but only 8 countries in
Africa and Asia will account for the majority of the increase between now and
2050: Democratic Republic of the Congo, Egypt, Ethiopia, the Philippines,
Nigeria, Pakistan, Tanzania, and India. (India actually has slipped slightly
below 2.1 already, but longer lifespans and the burgeoning elderly population
will keep India’s population rising for a few decades.) Bricker and Ibbitson
contend that the UN projection for global population to rise to 11 billion in
this century before leveling off is in error, for it is based on current
birthrates and doesn’t account for the ongoing birthrate decline in presently
high-fertility regions. The authors instead project a peak population of 9
billion followed by steady decline. Immigration keeps populations rising in
most Western countries despite low birthrates. Low-fertility-rate countries
that are culturally resistant to immigration however (e.g. China, Japan,
Hungary, Russia, Korea, et al.) are already experiencing actual declines. The
authors cite the usual list of economic problems that accompany declining
numbers: notably, fewer working-age people struggling to support social welfare
programs and a much larger generation of old people who live longer than ever.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Lower fertility rates are associated
around the world with rising education of women: the more years in school, the
fewer kids. It is also independently correlated with increasing urbanization.
This was as true in the 19<sup>th</sup> century as it is today, and already was
well noted by demographers at the beginning of the 20<sup>th</sup> century when
all but a few national populations were still mostly rural. The one historical exception
was the immediate postwar period when the birthrate rose despite ongoing urbanization.
The Baby Boom has to be regarded as a freak anomaly in an otherwise century-plus long
downward trend – an odd ephemeral reaction to the outsize traumas of Depression
and World War. By the mid-‘60s, however, the longer-term fertility decline had
resumed.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">While most commentators propose social
and economic causes, some analysts wonder if something more fundamentally
mammalian is at work. They refer to the famous rodent studies conducted by the
wonderfully named Dr. John Bumpass Calhoun of the NIH from the 1940s to the 1970s.
Rats and mice notoriously breed profusely in adverse conditions. All major
cities battle rat populations to little avail. Calhoun, working first with rats
and later with mice because of the latter’s shorter life cycle, decided to see
what would happen if he created rodent habitats with abundant food and ideal
environmental conditions. How crowded would they get? The results were
counterintuitive. Yes, as expected, the population of each habitat soared at
first, but then strangely fertility would fall, eventually below replacement
rate. Population would peak at well below the enclosure’s carrying capacity at
which point it would start to drop: slowly at first but then headlong. A crash never
reversed itself once it started. Mortality in the habitats was 100% every time.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">A typical example was Universe 25: a
mouse utopia abounding with tunnels, nests, nesting materials, plentiful food, pleasant
temperatures, and no predators. Universe 25 was able to accommodate 3000 mice
easily, but it never got there. Calhoun placed a handful of breeding pairs in
the enclosure in 1968. The mouse population doubled every 55 days in the
“exploit period” reaching 620 on day 315. Fertility then began a long decline
though at this point it still exceeded the replacement rate. The mice acted
ever more oddly as crowding grew. Mice huddled together in some nests while
leaving other nests nearly empty. The females grew more aggressive while the
males became either passive or violent. There were bursts of hypersexuality. By
day 560 a generation of mice that had grown up amid this weird adult murine behavior
showed diminished interest themselves in mating, competing, or raising young. A
few took possession of upper nests (mouse penthouses) exclusively for
themselves and a handful of their favorites – Calhoun dubbed them the
“beautiful ones.” The beautiful ones didn’t reproduce much either. The Universe
25 population peaked at 2,200 on day 920. The fertility rate then slipped below
replacement level and the population began to decline. The rate of decline
accelerated even when population dropped back below 620. The last baby mouse
was born in 1973. The remaining mice grew old and died to the last mouse.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">In his paper “Death Squared: The
Explosive Growth and Demise of a Mouse Population” (1973) published in <i>The Proceedings of the Royal Society of
Medicine</i>, Calhoun comments that part of the problem for the rodents (in
addition to simple crowding) was precisely the lack of struggle for resources
that keeps urban street rats in their brutal environments socially healthy and
relentlessly fecund. Calhoun wasn’t shy about suggesting parallels to human
societies: “I shall largely speak of mice, but my thoughts are on man.” To the
rejoinder that humans, with few exceptions, are neither mice nor rats, he would
answer that in many ways we kind-of are. However much we rationalize our
behavior as ideology, philosophy, and lifestyle choices, he suggests our actions
may be at least as much rooted in biology.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">If Calhoun was right, growing global
affluence is a big factor in declining human fertility. It is hard to see that
as a bad thing. In any event, I think Bricker, Ibbitson, and Calhoun are all
too pessimistic. To start, we are not yet at the equivalent of day 920 of
Universe 25: human population is still rising. Further, I think the socioeconomic challenges of
declining numbers are more manageable than the worrywarts imagine. The
population of Japan, for example, is dropping by over a half million per year. Nonetheless,
Japan remains a pretty nice and well-run place. There are advantages to smaller
numbers including a lower strain on resources. When I was born the global
population at 2.5 billion was less than a third of what it is today. The US
population was 152,000,000: well under half of what it is today. Yet, <i>no one</i> was complaining back then that
there weren’t enough people. No one will make that complaint if we return to
those lower numbers either – which even according to Bricker and Ibbitson will
not happen in this century anyway or probably the next. That is plenty of time
to come up with a “solution” if indeed a solution is necessary.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">An obvious answer is to pay people to
have kids. Many countries already do this both directly in cash payments and indirectly
via subsidized child care – in some cases the assistance is extraordinarily
generous and includes mandated lengthy paid parental leave. These efforts haven’t
made a notable difference in fertility anywhere, true enough, but that just
means the payments still aren’t high enough. I’m not suggesting they should be
made higher at the current time. I’d rather see some negative population growth
first. Taxpayers after the year 2100 then can step in if they wish. Meantime, I
think “Empty Planet” has rather a nice ring to it – emptier anyway.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Metric – <i>Empty</i></span></b></div></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UZDOa7_EV6Q" width="320" youtube-src-id="UZDOa7_EV6Q"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-84983587224273693592023-10-12T09:06:00.000-04:002023-10-12T09:06:46.140-04:00The Actuarial Gamble<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Some
recent unexpected hefty expenses brought back to mind a brief review I wrote in
June of Bill Perkins’ book <a href=" https://richardbellush.blogspot.com/2023/06/zero-out.html" target="_blank">Die with Zero</a></span><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> in which the author argued that if you die with money in the
bank you either retired too late or failed to experience the full benefit of
your savings. The caveat, of course, is that timing is everything: no one wants
to go broke before the big sleep, yet none of us knows when that is. Actuarial
tables can give you odds within populations, but those are pretty useless for
any one individual. So, it is best to err on the safe side. That is easier said
than done, especially in a time of market volatility – and of unexpected
expenses. Even if one manages to keep nominal savings constant, inflation
erodes their real purchasing power. It is no wonder that the risk to a retiree of
going broke is so much greater than risk of dying rich.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
surprising thing is that the risk of impoverishment isn’t even higher.
According to Sudipto Banerjee of the Employee Benefit Research Institute, in
the first 18 years of retirement, about one-third of US seniors actually
increase their assets. For his study he divided retirees into three groups:
those with more than $500,000 in investments (excluding the primary residence),
those with at least $200,000 but less than $500,000, and those with less than
$200,000 (median was $32,000). Unsurprisingly, seniors with more than $500,000 were
the most likely to see assets increase. Most of the gainers had ignored the
traditional advice to shift investments out of stocks and into bonds (which are
safer) as they age; stocks historically yield higher returns over time, but of
course they are risky. They can crash in value in any one year (or stretch of
years) so the stockholder needs enough alternate savings for living expenses to
wait out bear markets. Those in the middle group on average spent down a
quarter of their savings in the first 18 years after retirement. This is a lot,
but not terrible. However, this average is misleading, since 16% of this group
already exhausted 80% of their savings after 18 years. Those in the lowest
group also spent down about a quarter on average in 18 years, but again the
average disguises a substantial minority: one-fifth of this group spent 80% of
their savings in only 4 years. After 18 years the majority of seniors in all
groups showed a decline in net assets.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsJkM4cDafNQ2DKsZLQ7kCasjFF7F24qljogLR0otf4UldBapduipil3QoiHvQ26VjuLShTSuF8ncZ9MAETqDtlynmkZmUjUuBl5I69zo4r_xHFbXmpSddeTeeVVWfJWULqK9iaEwTphCMMEEZLeS4TO16E90dvSoVnz5Fxa_yLj0B7tYGVwkr7fcdiNU6/s1676/bank.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1676" data-original-width="1487" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsJkM4cDafNQ2DKsZLQ7kCasjFF7F24qljogLR0otf4UldBapduipil3QoiHvQ26VjuLShTSuF8ncZ9MAETqDtlynmkZmUjUuBl5I69zo4r_xHFbXmpSddeTeeVVWfJWULqK9iaEwTphCMMEEZLeS4TO16E90dvSoVnz5Fxa_yLj0B7tYGVwkr7fcdiNU6/w178-h200/bank.JPG" width="178" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never had an actual piggy bank but I had and still have<br />this. It previously had been my father's when he was a boy.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
largest single cause of asset depletion in all groups – again unsurprisingly –
was health care costs. Despite Medicare and other supplements, the remaining
out-of-pocket medical expenses can be devastating in the case of serious
illness, the risk of which increases with age. The cost of a nursing home or
assisted care should that be necessary is breathtaking. Less obvious causes
also can contribute to the problem such as late life divorce and aid to adult
children.<br /></span><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In light
of all this I think Perkin’s advice is, to put it gently, insufficiently
cautious. Flipping burgers in one’s 70s or 80s just to get by is not a welcome
prospect, even if one is healthy enough to still do it. I’d rather risk having savings
survive me. I just hope they can.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span style="background: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 12pt;">Bessie Smith - <i>Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out</i> (1929)</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="background-color: transparent;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kxTyV_cBz7o" width="320" youtube-src-id="kxTyV_cBz7o"></iframe></div><br /><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b></div></o:p></span><br /></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-57332835809331377882023-10-05T08:31:00.001-04:002023-10-05T10:16:02.288-04:00The Booze Bin<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">I peered into my liquor/wine cabinet
today and gave its contents a quick assessment. I hadn’t opened it in all of
September. I am not a teetotaler (though I was for about a decade following a spate
of excess in my 20s), but simply hadn’t had occasion to open the cabinet in the
past month. I don’t have a routine of a daily wine glass or cocktail, but will
join with company and participate in toasts and so on; there just didn’t happen
to be that sort of company at my house in September. Some months are like that.
Anyway, I don’t keep an opened bottle of spirits more than six months (a year
if only a shot or two has been poured from it) since the exposure to oxygen
spoils the taste. Unopened bottles have unlimited shelf life if not exposed to
excess light or heat. So, I occasionally check to see what, if anything, should
be removed and replaced. Lately I’ve considered deliberately upping my
consumption. Yes, really.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">A study published in <i>The Lancet</i> has gotten much play lately
in the popular press. The study, a meta-analysis of global studies on alcohol,
purports to debunk the notion that there are health benefits to moderate
consumption of alcohol. The authors conclude that there is no safe level of
consumption. Any amount is associated with negative health consequences. But
what of multiple studies over decades that show light to moderate consumption is
associated with better cardio health and reduced risk of strokes? Are they
simply wrong? Well, no. <i>The Lancet</i>
study and the others are measuring different things. <i>The Lancet</i> is looking at <i>all</i>
risks ranging from accidents to breast cancer to TB to the development of
alcohol dependency. A single drink per day is associated with a 0.5% increased
risk of developing one of 23 health problems, and the risk increases
nonlinearly with each additional drink. <i>The
Lancet</i> study also employs global data rather than just national data. The
older studies examined specific health issues in specific populations.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">This difference gives some researchers
pause about <i>The Lancet</i> study’s
conclusions. Harvard professor of epidemiology and nutrition Walter Willett, for
one, told <i>Time</i> that data supporting particular
benefits of moderate drinking are well established. He added,</span> <span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">“Our decisions about
drinking in the United States shouldn’t be influenced by what alcohol does to
tuberculosis.” He acknowledged, as does everyone, that heavy drinking and binge
drinking are serious health problems. What are the established particular benefits
to moderate consumption? The results of a new 2023 study that included more
than 50,000 people was published in the <i>Journal
of the American College of Cardiology, </i>and it confirms older studies. <i>The Harvard Gazette</i> reported the
findings: “The researchers found that light/moderate alcohol consumption was
associated with a substantial reduction in the risk of cardiovascular disease
events.” Of those for whom CAT or PET scans were available, the researchers
found “the brain imaging showed reduced stress signaling in the amygdala, the
brain region associated with stress responses, in individuals who were light to
moderate drinkers compared to those who abstained from alcohol or who drank
little.” Correlation doesn’t prove causation, but it is easy to speculate that
stress reduction may have something to do with the better cardiological
results.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Nonetheless, senior author of the <i>Journal of the American College of
Cardiology</i> study Ahmed Tawakol warns, “We are not advocating the use of alcohol
to reduce the risk of heart attacks or strokes because of other concerning
effects of alcohol on health.” This is surely a wise disclaimer. Alcohol abuse
(including but not limited to outright alcoholism) is responsible for 88,000
deaths in the US per year due to health effects (e.g. liver disease) and
accidents. According to a CDC press release, “1 in 3 adults is an excessive
drinker, and most of them binge drink, usually on multiple occasions. In
contrast, about 1 in 30 adults is classified as alcohol dependent.” Other
studies, however, define alcohol dependence less stringently and so give much higher
numbers for it. A study published in <i>JAMA
Psychiatry</i> as reported in <i>The
Washington Post</i>, for example, said 1 in 8 adult Americans meet the criteria
for alcoholism. It depends on where you draw the line, but we can acknowledge
that alcohol abuse is bad for oneself and others whether or not it meets some
specific definitional standard for alcohol dependency or alcoholism. Obviously,
there are no health benefits for alcohol abusers.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The contents of my cabinet remain
unchanged after my inspection, by the way, at least with regard to hard
spirits. (I removed one bottle of wine, but not to drink it; it will marinate a
roast.) I have just one bottle each of several spirits types: bourbon, scotch,
Irish whiskey, rye, Tennessee whiskey, Canadian whisky (everyone outside of the
US and Ireland spells “whisk(e)y” without the “e”), vodka, rum, gin, and
tequila. All are mid-shelf brands (none as much as $50, some under $30) since
I’m not enough of a connoisseur to warrant spending more, while on the other
hand I see no point in stocking rotgut. For now, those are enough. I do not
stock the various flavored whiskeys that have become popular in recent years
(honey, cinnamon, apple, etc.) since they do not appeal to me at all.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhvvc-O5MWnZRi3-d6FEop2rzysmUlk6G64IY9RuwGAh9y1b8HcBLhPz6zyW7Um75ev0DJJ7NObaKk2sg-qRJsEbEGRve7QH-HrBBbBdVodZJlUXnjnzmMdeCsqpFyStT8Glco_YKyOGF5E5imMrjGsKpgffw7PzRFmQd3ptxRtvuik2Z6vqET_tMgAEo/s500/Jack-Daniels.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhvvc-O5MWnZRi3-d6FEop2rzysmUlk6G64IY9RuwGAh9y1b8HcBLhPz6zyW7Um75ev0DJJ7NObaKk2sg-qRJsEbEGRve7QH-HrBBbBdVodZJlUXnjnzmMdeCsqpFyStT8Glco_YKyOGF5E5imMrjGsKpgffw7PzRFmQd3ptxRtvuik2Z6vqET_tMgAEo/s320/Jack-Daniels.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The only Jacks in my cabinet are an Old No. 7 and a Rye (not pictured)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">What is “moderate” consumption? Though
the CDC has indicated it may revisit its guidance in light of the <i>Lancet</i> paper, its current definition of
moderate is no more than 14 drinks per week (one US “drink” being 1.5 ounces
[44.36 ml] of 80 proof [40% ABV] liquor or its equivalent) for a man and no
more than 7 for a woman. On any one day consumption should not exceed 4. I
don’t think there has been a week in the past ten years when I’ve come close to
14, nor has there been a day when I’ve exceeded 4.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">At this point in my life (any impulse toward
excess being long past) the cardio benefits of moderate consumption may well
counterbalance or exceed any other risks. My amygdala might thank me. On the
other hand, I recall Frank Sinatra’s remark that he feels sorry for people who
don’t drink because “when they wake up in the morning that is as good as they
are going to feel all day.” That is not really as encouraging as he might have
intended.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">David
Allan Coe – <i>Jack Daniel's, If You Please</i></span></b></div></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WHs8a-zMpgE" width="320" youtube-src-id="WHs8a-zMpgE"></iframe></div><br /> </div></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-31159027302068928752023-09-28T08:57:00.006-04:002023-09-28T09:10:49.476-04:00One Way or the Other<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The political weather in the contemporary
USA is always stormy, but the intensity increases when candidates position themselves seriously for the primaries as they are doing now. I have no
intention of commenting directly on them. The airwaves, podcast channels, and
blogosphere are crowded with people doing that obsessively. There is no need to
add yet one more voice to the din. Besides, I generally vote third-party, which
tends to annoy my friends from both mainstream parties. Folks on both sides
tell me I’m helping the greater evil win by not supporting the lesser (meaning
their candidate). I don’t intend to comment on that argument here either,
though in conversation I sometimes do. But it illuminates something on which I
do wish to comment, which is the human tendency toward binary thinking. This is
by no means confined to politics. It is just more stark in that context.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKCwz4PXdj9lNoxZYCBRe9dVcA8ThirNxmQLONB-qKHqn0h9GI2mxeS3mi854mNSRk2igR_33n7rtA6gLTXZ7YtJ78mIaH5Y1BXxr-Wj01i3jDNZ4LGUHrLdxImKqb1M5BLPB-Mlp3OC_tvacwp6Ai6x_X0UiKQ072-tGEzaG_8udoWIAcXco8Eb5fTLM/s1500/binary%20brain.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKCwz4PXdj9lNoxZYCBRe9dVcA8ThirNxmQLONB-qKHqn0h9GI2mxeS3mi854mNSRk2igR_33n7rtA6gLTXZ7YtJ78mIaH5Y1BXxr-Wj01i3jDNZ4LGUHrLdxImKqb1M5BLPB-Mlp3OC_tvacwp6Ai6x_X0UiKQ072-tGEzaG_8udoWIAcXco8Eb5fTLM/w133-h200/binary%20brain.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Numerous books and articles on the subject exist. Most argue, as do Jack Denfield Wood and Gianpiero Petriglieri in their scholarly paper "Transcending
Polarization: Beyond Binary Thinking" published in <i>Transactional Analysis Journal,</i> that “individuals, groups, and larger
collectivities instinctively frame their predicaments in a binary way – as a
polarity encompassing a dimension of choice with two mutually exclusive
alternatives” as a consequence of human (or, for that matter, mammal)
evolutionary history. In a primordial environment rife with predators
(including other humans), identifying something/someone rapidly as “good” or
“bad” was a life or death matter: “Evolution has selected and conserved the
neural machinery that supports instinctive ‘good or bad’ binary thinking,
largely because of its survival value.”<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">We are capable of transcending this
natural tendency and viewing the world in a more nuanced way: an oversize
cortex would be a bit of a waste if we couldn’t. Not all of our judgments need
be split second ones, and if we take the time we can see shades of gray. We
even can step back and see colors completely outside the black-white spectrum. However,
it takes an effort. More often than not it is worth that effort.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Though by now we should know better, it
is still easy to be seduced by a binary formulation such as “You’re either with
us or against us.” Well, no. Not really. Moral questions cannot always be
simplified into Good vs. Evil. (Nietzsche dedicated a whole book to that one: <i>Beyond Good and Evil</i>, though I’m afraid
I raised few eyebrows while reading it while waiting in the jury pool at the
county courthouse.) A proposal is not necessarily smart or stupid – it can be a
bit of both. The same can be said about a person.<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">True, like our ancestors, we still
encounter circumstances when binary thought is good for us, e.g. fight or
flight. Binary judgment is a quick efficient rough-and-ready way to categorize
events, people, and things in our lives. After all we don’t always have the
luxury of time to give every matter deeper thought. We might never get around
to reacting at all were we to do that. But it behooves us to remain aware that
we are oversimplifying – and polarizing. If we have the time and the patience we
can do better: assuming, that is, that we want to. There is a certain amount of
fun to believing that there is a clear right side and a wrong side and that we
are on the right one. In some particular case we might even be correct. But
probably not.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Benny
Goodman – <i>Gotta Be This Or That</i>
(1945)</span></b></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1WVrA7QqynI" width="320" youtube-src-id="1WVrA7QqynI"></iframe></div><br /><div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-10501290313909955132023-09-21T21:24:00.003-04:002023-09-21T21:24:47.009-04:00Getting Past the Past<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Of those still above ground, one of my
go-to mystery/suspense authors for recreational reading is fellow New Jersey
native Harlan Coben. (South African author Deon Meyer is another.) Coben has a
formula for most of his novels: the comfy upper middle class suburban life of a
character (usually 35-45) is thrown into crisis by some grave threat – often
something reemerging from the protagonist’s past. It’s a formula that works
more often than not. I most recently read </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Stay
Close</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">, which was adapted for a Netflix miniseries that I haven’t seen. The
usual elements are there, but with more nuance than Coben typically delivers,
and the book is better for it. Suburban soccer mom Megan doesn’t want to give
up her American Dream lifestyle or her husband. Yet, she has some humanly mixed
feelings about both. She still feels the draw of her old pre-marriage party
life as a stripper in Atlantic City (to the point of visiting the club incognito),
and she still has feelings for a paparazzo named Ray whom she knew at the time.
Both she and Ray are haunted by a secret from those days. A murder in Atlantic
City with an old familiar pattern threatens their secret and their lives.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-5K3c_zB-niVWtvOqW_X0JjYIU1skRv7MbMUegN-exyoGoxES5h0F9XxfFsoskRrCA4N3FIZVFM6dpxeVtWe6tLRsU3KPE2bq6rZFhi1yALYUhO6lguSJo2dYcqLXlbPdMMunnGHAbBzF4L9lguPU76DiH3Bic20X6c9z73JO7iKuo3EssySXCFFkk-R/s500/stayclose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-5K3c_zB-niVWtvOqW_X0JjYIU1skRv7MbMUegN-exyoGoxES5h0F9XxfFsoskRrCA4N3FIZVFM6dpxeVtWe6tLRsU3KPE2bq6rZFhi1yALYUhO6lguSJo2dYcqLXlbPdMMunnGHAbBzF4L9lguPU76DiH3Bic20X6c9z73JO7iKuo3EssySXCFFkk-R/w133-h200/stayclose.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Megan’s mixed feelings are what make her
more relatable than most Coben protagonists, who tend to be single-minded
defenders of their homes and families. Megan is a defender but is more complex
than that. She is suffering from a midlife crisis. Most of us above a certain
age know what that is like. (I certainly do.) Every stage of life has its own
characteristic challenges, but the midlife crisis (usually setting in near 40
and possibly lasting to as late as 60) accompanies the nadir of the well-known
happiness U-curve; on average, self-reported subjective feelings of happiness
and contentment are high at 20, decline to a low around 40, and then recover
after 60. The reader may have encountered articles purporting to debunk the
U-curve, but they tend either deliberately to ignore the term “subjective” or
to ignore the bell curve. Of course we are talking about the centerline of the
bell curve; there are always going to be cheery people and miserable people on
the tails in every age group, but the average still counts for something. The
self-reports remain and they still fit a U.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The reasons for the midlife crisis are
numerous, but start with the recognition that youth has passed. This involves
not just the effects of physical aging but the understanding that doors are
closing: time is running out to make major changes in one’s life and career. Thoughts
of mortality come more to the fore, not least because many of us lose our
parents at this time – or at any rate witness them getting truly old. Kids grow
up and move out. Job changes (common these days) are more difficult.
Responsibilities (financial and otherwise) reach their peak. While not everyone
has existential crises (the “what’s it all about?” questions), many people do.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Responses to all this are well-known and
the butt of some mockery. We may try (unsuccessfully) to look and act much younger
than we are. Single people may impulsively marry, likely inappropriately and to
someone younger. Married people may divorce “while there is still time.”
Clothes and cars get suddenly flashy. Substance abuse may worsen. You know the
drill.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The good news is that the bottom of
U-curve gives nowhere to go but up. Those of us who get through this phase
without too much damage to ourselves probably will get happier, even if
objectively there doesn’t seem much reason. Health and strength may continue to
decline, but after a point we just don’t give a damn – or at least we give less
of one. Acceptance has much to recommend it.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Jerry Lee
Lewis – <i>Middle Age Crazy</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KDF31Vy42E0" width="320" youtube-src-id="KDF31Vy42E0"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></b></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-30293005496100847152023-09-14T20:32:00.001-04:002023-09-14T20:32:32.350-04:00Comforting Cliché's<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I’ve been soft-shoeing around the edges
of some of life’s vicissitudes this week. I won’t explain that further because
it is not really my story to tell, but I find myself spouting a lot of clichés
in consequence. That’s OK. Clichés are clichés because most of them are truisms
and truisms tend to be… well… true. I remember back in high school one of my
youngish teachers (perhaps 27) commenting that one of his most annoying life
lessons was discovering that all the trite old sayings from his parents at whom
he used to roll his eyes were true.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He wasn’t entirely right about that.
Take Nietzsche’s “What does not kill makes stronger.” That is only half-true.
Sometimes what does not kill permanently maims. Assuming a harm is fully
recoverable, however, Fred was onto something.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">My teacher was largely right however. One really
shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Life really is too short to sweat the
small stuff. Actions do speak louder than words. We do all share a common fate.
OK, the grass might not really be greener on the other side of the fence, but
it sure looks that way. (Horace actually translates as “the crops are riper in
the neighbor’s field,” which I like a bit better.)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What about clichés that are not homilies
but just hackneyed turns-of-phrase such as eat one’s words, cruel to be kind, wild
goose chase, be-all and end-all, heart of gold, and too much of a good thing
(all Shakespeare)? In everyday conversation I don’t think they’re so bad. They
convey the point in a way our listeners readily understand. Not everything we express need
be creative original oratory. We can save that for our acceptance speech for...
um… whatever we’re accepting.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh15oeg-CNjKUQSeUKm60w_LrRMKtLuAEFWqu0RNfNFUnkwhyMJMuiSwd-FVWOCjWWSdrInvVS11LMR1wJCthdY3pQtTsXppgUEPSfzx9V_4Jq2NvAdBonrsy-FRZvukFQmM-4FodGLkPKXfzUgoEVat8nu-CByH4DRef60yZZ7SMr-7DjmThpdbBfg7Cg-/s350/cliche.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="236" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh15oeg-CNjKUQSeUKm60w_LrRMKtLuAEFWqu0RNfNFUnkwhyMJMuiSwd-FVWOCjWWSdrInvVS11LMR1wJCthdY3pQtTsXppgUEPSfzx9V_4Jq2NvAdBonrsy-FRZvukFQmM-4FodGLkPKXfzUgoEVat8nu-CByH4DRef60yZZ7SMr-7DjmThpdbBfg7Cg-/w135-h200/cliche.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><br /> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Don’t get me wrong (a cliché admonition),
I value creativity in expression, too, but perhaps it is more important in one’s
fiction, essays, poetry, and reportage. Otherwise, it is no big offense to use clichés
all the live long day (Shakespeare again).<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Biff Rose
– <i>Ballad of Clichés</i> (1969)</span></b></div></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/87cRdjRyOZk" width="320" youtube-src-id="87cRdjRyOZk"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1656921634940224775.post-448222949500531152023-09-07T08:54:00.001-04:002023-09-07T10:19:37.053-04:00OK Boomer<p></p><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">A dismissal of my musical taste by a
young person yesterday prompts me to expand a bit on my last blog. (I smiled at the dismissal.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br /> </span></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Though the verbal equivalent of an
eye-roll, the “OK Boomer” mantra from exasperated Zoomers is not really an
insult. It may be intended as such but it isn’t, for Boomers are generally
pretty secure (rightly or wrongly) in their opinions on everything from music
to lifestyles. I think part of that has to do with history.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Contrasting generations is a pastime in
all eras. The conclusions are always somewhat misleading since every age group
contains people across a wide spectrum of attitudes and behaviors. But if we
acknowledge that we are talking about the centerline of bell curves with tails
that overlap, generational comparisons still can have merit. Some generations
really are (on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">average</i>) more
industrious than others, or technically adept than others, or strait-laced than
others, or whatever. The technological environment accounts for more of the differences
than we usually recognize, argues Jean Twenge in her book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Generations</i>, which is full of arcane data and graphs. Silents
(b.1926-1945), for example, grew up with radio, vinyl records, and movies.
Boomers (b.1946-1964) were the first television generation. Xers (1965-1980)
experienced cable TV and early personal computers in their youths. Millennials
(1981-1996) grew up with the internet. Zoomers (1997-2012) grew up with smart
phones. The oldest Zoomer was 10 when the iPhone appeared and the youngest doesn’t
remember a time without it.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmqj0iwfv_x8QJ0ndm-I9TxYzvYY9jiNombHfE9jNKG4pBbTCPCqt5dR3nxMuntNEauX8B8_1ISfJkRgfEiE2lZp1x7jwsaGNtHkDTEz_re60hNPr85xmMnDIO9F-rlyqEfcMYB8pPDLjZR21_CZNFgpeH3UhCmipWO35gCoOD8XAAeK-9zJZ6jF6seu2/s559/Generations.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="404" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmqj0iwfv_x8QJ0ndm-I9TxYzvYY9jiNombHfE9jNKG4pBbTCPCqt5dR3nxMuntNEauX8B8_1ISfJkRgfEiE2lZp1x7jwsaGNtHkDTEz_re60hNPr85xmMnDIO9F-rlyqEfcMYB8pPDLjZR21_CZNFgpeH3UhCmipWO35gCoOD8XAAeK-9zJZ6jF6seu2/w144-h200/Generations.jpg" width="144" /></a></div><br /> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">I don’t disagree with Twenge’s basic
point. I think those technologies and numerous others have had a profound
impact on the youth of each era. But I think that Boomers also have a peculiar
relationship with broader history purely by the accident of their birth years. To
some degree this is true of Silents, too, though their numbers are diminishing
rapidly while the GI Generation is gone but for a few centenarians. Attrition
is taking its toll on Baby Boomers as well, but there are a lot of us so we’ll
remain a cultural force for a while.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">The future arrived in the 20<sup>th</sup>
century. To be sure, its mechanical, scientific, and social foundations were
laid centuries earlier and the above-ground framing of it accelerated in the 19<sup>th</sup>,
but the structure took real recognizable shape in the 20<sup>th</sup>. Technology changed traditional lifestyles forever. The
experience of my paternal grandfather (b. 1896) illustrates the point. He left
Austria-Hungary shortly before World War 1 in a horse-drawn hay wagon. He
returned to Budapest for a visit five decades later in a Boeing 707. Manned
heavier-than-air flight was just a fantasy when he was born. He lived to see
Gemini spacecraft orbit the earth (though he missed seeing the moon landing by
a few years). My other grandparents were born in 1899, 1900, and 1900. All
lived on farms for at least part of their adult lives.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">Though Boomers experienced only the
second half of the century first-hand, we personally knew those who had lived
through the first half. I know the story of my maternal grandfather’s army
physical for World War 1. (His induction was canceled when the war ended in
1918.) I heard about the transition from literal horse power to mechanical
power; as late as the 1930s my paternal grandfather dug cellars with a draft
horse and scoop. I heard all about the hardship and angst of the Depression,
about my dad’s experiences in World War 2, and (from my mom) what high school
was like in the 1940s. My parents played big band music on the stereo when I
was a kid. I heard about rationing from those who experienced it and about
genuine horrors of war from immigrant survivors of them who were friends and
neighbors. All of this was from the mouths those who experienced it directly –
not third-hand from literary sources – which makes it feel very real. I won’t
mention the events Boomers experienced first-hand, since we spend plenty of
time talking about those (often nostalgically) so there is no need to repeat
all that here. The point is that none of the 20<sup>th</sup> century seems very
distant to me. I knew people who were around at the beginning of it. (I incorporated
some of their recollections into my own short stories, as in <a href="http://richardbellush2.blogspot.com/2012/10/how-to-avoid-work-and-flirt-with-butcher.html" target="_blank">How to Avoid Work and Flirt with the Butcher</a>.) The arrival of the future between 1900 and 1999 feels personal.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;">I think this gives Boomers a sense of place
in history that adds to their already high regard for themselves. It probably also
accentuates in us the natural tendency of those over a certain age to be
resistant to further change. We have become dinosaurs. That’s OK. Dinosaurs lasted 180
million years. They must have done something right. Theory of a Deadman needn’t
worry so much.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Theory of
a Deadman – <i>Dinosaur</i></span></b></div></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/A05zhJ2PtKs" width="320" youtube-src-id="A05zhJ2PtKs"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
<br /><p></p>Richard Bellushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108081864942272619noreply@blogger.com2