notesfromnokomis

Input > Output

Languishing has been something of an epidemic during the pandemic.[1] I prefer to think that I have been languidly accepting input, mainly from books, other publications, podcasts, and filmed programs (broadcast and streaming), while generating extremely little output. It’s probably not possible to generate more output than intake, but my ratio has been astonishingly low.

Some of the input is virtually valueless, that’s the languishing part. I have read a few Agatha Christie books this year, fun, diverting, virtue-free. I have watched the first nine seasons of the Perry Mason show, which my family delights in deriding me about.

To say the shows are formulaic is to belittle formulas. The victim or the alleged perpetrator (always of a murder) is invariably wealthy. The standard Mason client is innocent, if besieged with convincing evidence to the contrary. The actual murderer is typically unknown to anyone, except Mason, until the end of the show, when he or she breaks down under questioning and confesses to the crime.

Another part of the formula is the staggering creativity and determination of Mason. Though ably assisted by his secretary, Della Street, and his investigator, Paul Drake, they never solve the crime and rarely understand the big picture. Only Mason sees through the fake alibis, spurious motives, and callous hearts of the criminals. The bombastic prosecutor and his sycophantic police officers never even realize that it’s possible for someone other than Mason’s client to have committed the murder. How the supercilious, if honest, Hamilton Burger kept his job is astounding.

Fortunately, some of my current input is a bit more edifying. Rolf Dobelli, in The Art of Thinking Clearly (imagine “Thinking” to be upside down and red as it is on the cover of the book), is regaling me with three-page vignettes about how we don’t think clearly. Consider: the swimmer’s body illusion (swimming doesn’t give them that body type, they swim better because they have that body type) and the sunk cost[2] fallacy (considering costs to date causes us to improperly assess the cost/benefit of moving forward). There are many others: the winner’s curse, contagion bias, default effect, and planning fallacy to name a few, but I can’t give them all away – it would take too long.

Even deeper is Dambisa Moyo, who tackles a topic that should be near and dear to all of us in Edge of Chaos. The subtitle is Why Democracy is Failing to Deliver Economic Growth—and How to Fix it. Moyo was born and (mostly) raised in Zambia, then educated at universities in Zambia, the US, and England. After stints at the World Bank and Goldman Sachs, she became an author and speaker, and excels at both.

The book is wide-ranging, but I most enjoyed her discussion about suggested democratic reforms. She determined whether the following countries have adopted the following reforms: Australia, Brazil, Canada, France, Germany, India, Indonesia, Italy, Japan, Mexico, Russia, Singapore, United Kingdom, and United States.

1. Ability to commit to long-term agreements. This seems crucial, especially for military alliances. Whatever you think of the merits of the Paris Climate Agreement, you must agree that embracing them, then disengaging, then reengaging, does not look good. No country has a way to lock in long-term agreements.

2. Campaign finance restrictions. This is a bit open ended, but generally considered necessary to reduce the undue influence of great wealth. Given that 11 of the 14 countries in her list (including the US) have adopted some form of restrictions, it is a relatively easy standard to meet.

3. Restrictions on ability to take on high-pay opportunities. This is supposed to prevent government officials from moving to positions that might encourage graft and self-dealing, whether before or after government service. Seven countries (including the US) have adopted some form of this reform, typically a cooling off period.

4. Extended elector cycles (more than 5 years). No country has adopted this reform, though US senators serve for six years.

5. Term limits for legislative and executive offices. Six countries (including the US) limit executive terms; only Mexico limits the terms of legislators.

6. Minimum qualifications for office. Only two countries are listed as adopting this reform. Indonesia requires candidates to “believe in one true god,” to have attended high school, to be “physically and mentally healthy,” and to not have declared bankruptcy. I like that last part. In Singapore, candidates must be at least 45 years old. In the US, all federal elected offices are subject to an age minimum, but typically state office holders are not.

7. Design of electoral districts to incentivize competition. This is one of my favorites – we need less gerrymandering. We need voters to elect representatives, not for politicians to select or create safe seats. (Here think about Hillary Clinton deciding to move to NY to run for the Senate.) No country has adopted this reform. In the US, some states have or, in any event, have tried.

8. Mandatory voting. Four countries have adopted this reform. I think more people should vote, but I’m not comfortable forcing everyone to vote.

9. Minimum voting requirements. This seems incompatible with the former reform and has not yet been adopted by any of the 14 countries in this survey.

10. Weighted voting system. Only France has adopted this reform. Some states in the US use versions of a weighted system. I endorse this reform idea because I believe it would drive politicians toward the center, leading to fewer far-left or far-right extremists.

Mexico has adopted the most reforms (5); Germany the fewest (0). The US has adopted three. For the record, none of the adoptions have occurred because of the book.

Whether or not you have been languishing, please think about these suggested reforms and consider whether they or other reforms would enhance our political system.

[1] See for example — https://www.nytimes.com/2021/04/19/well/mind/covid-mental-health-languishing.html

[2] I have a sunk-cost story that is over 30 years old and still causes friends in the know to laugh out loud when they think of it.

Lexicon Valley

I’ve been listening to a podcast that my son recommended: Lexicon Valley, subtitled: A podcast about language, from pet peeves to syntax. If you like language, especially English, I recommend it.

Lexicon Valley was founded in 2012 by Bob Garfield and Mike Vuolo. Garfield is a long-time reporter and columnist with various publications from USA Today to Civilization. Vuolo is a producer of various radio shows and podcasts. They hosted the show from 2012 through mid-2016. They have great chemistry and provide lively interaction and commentary, displaying a great breadth of knowledge and wit. They often have guests join them, particularly Ben Zimmer, a lexicographer from the Oxford English Dictionary, which adds depth to the presentations. [The tense is troubling me. They recorded the podcasts years in the past (obviously), but I have been listening to them in the present and to me it’s as if the listening is still happening. So – present tense. Feel free to disagree.]

Vuolo is the researcher when the two hosts don’t have a guest, usually coaxing Garfield to guess about word origins or derivations. They tackle goofy words, for instance bozo, heebie jeebies, seersucker, pumpernickel, and cockamamie. They are entertaining and enlightening. They can range widely (and wildly) from the topic of the day, but always return to it.

One of their guests in 2016 was John McWhorter, a linguist and professor at Columbia University. Shortly thereafter, in what appears to have been a bloodless coup, McWhorter was the host, Vuolo the producer, and Garfield was heard from no more. As far as I can tell, the reasons behind the change have never been publicly explained. No matter – McWhorter is fantastic, very different from Garfield and Vuolo, no less irreverent, but more academic. The 80+ Garfield and Vuolo podcasts are zany and informative; the McWhorter podcasts are wry and educational, exactly what I would expect from him.

I have listened to him before. Some company, maybe the Great Courses, has a series of lectures that McWhorter did 15 or so years ago. I enjoyed him then, I enjoy him now. The podcast topics are one-offs, there is no theme or progression like there was in the lectures, which were styled like a class. The podcasts are about whatever happened to strike McWhorter’s fancy the week he produced them. One thing is certain, the podcast will contain clips from popular culture because McWhorter is an aficionado of show tunes, sit-coms, Looney-tunes, and all genres of music.

Recently and outside the context of the podcast or this post, a college friend referred to McWhorter as a genius. I do not doubt it, the scope and scale of his knowledge is astounding, his memory is phenomenal. As one minor example, McWhorter has been tracking the Loony Tunes shows that he’s watched since he was ten and says that he has watched almost 900 of the 1000 or so that were produced from 1930 to 1969. He appears to remember each one and the topic and the songs contained therein encyclopedically.

[Color trivia — if a language has only two colors – and some of them do – which two? The footnote has the answer, but if you look you might see the answer to the next question.[1]

If a language has only one more color – a third – what is it?[2]

If a language has only a fourth and/or fifth color, which two are they?[3]]

I learn something during every single podcast. Sometimes a misunderstanding is corrected, sometimes I learn about McWhorter. The “abominable” snowman is not detestable or odious, which is what the word means in English. Rather, the word in Nepali, from which abominable is derived (at least with respect to the snowman), means raggedy. There are no known photographs.

McWhorter recounted meeting the cabaret singer Bobby Short. He told Short that he owned every recording Short had ever made, which happens to be true. McWhorter said, “I could tell he didn’t believe me.” Vignettes like this spice up every McWhorter podcasts – he loves telling stories about his young daughters grappling with the nuance and intricacies of learning English. Another one-off personal comment: “every day I am thankful that I can see, that I can hear, and that I don’t have to go to camp.” Apparently, McWhorter did not have a good experience at camp as a child.

There is something for everyone. Shows have been devoted to Hamilton (the musical), Black English,[4] contractions, Strunk & White (he’s not a fan), numbers,[5] the singular “they,” and Proto-Indo-European,[6] among many others.

In one podcast, McWhorter had a throw-away paragraph about the frequentative tense. I had never heard of it, but it turns out there are languages that use a suffix or a prefix to indicate how often something happens.

Lexicon Valley comes in two flavors. The early years with Garfield and Vuolo, who were impromptu and entertaining, with more than a dash of information, and the later years (including now) with McWhorter, who is more scripted and educational but with plenty of wit and color. The key take-away from both versions is that our language is ever-changing, trending toward simpler pronunciation and fluctuating grammar that might be more or that might be less complex. Both approaches work for me and they will work for you if you give them a chance.

[1] Black and white.

[2] Red.

[3] Green and yellow. The next color is blue, then brown. And now you know why Homer referred to a “wine-dark sea” and “green honey,” the words to denote blue and yellow did not yet exist.

[4] Yes, some people sound Black. To McWhorter it’s as unremarkable as sounding like you’re from Boston or the south. There’s also a show about how southerners talk.

[5] “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe” is 1, 2, 3, 4 in an ancient Gaelic dialect; “hickory, dickory, dock” is 8, 9, 10 in a different Gaelic dialect.

[6] The prehistoric mother of many languages, including Spanish, English, Portuguese, Hindustani (Hindi and Urdu), Bengali, Russian, Punjabi, German, Persian, French, Marathi, Italian, and Gujarati.

Merry Christmas (Happy Holidays)

We haven’t heard much about the war on Christmas lately.[1] I think that’s a good thing. This year, festering election fraud claims, which are believed by many but proven by none, have been rather distracting.[2] There is also the matter of the resurgent pandemic caused by a tiny novel corona virus, which has disrupted the economy, many social practices, and virtually everything else. Fortunately, 95% effective vaccines are starting to be introduced. If they work as advertised, we should be on the road to quasi-normalcy within six months.

By then, the virus will have affected every single annual event. It started with the greatest show on Earth:[3] the NCAA basketball tournament. Then Wimbledon and The Open (golf, British) were cancelled. Countless weddings were postposed, graduations virtualized, and worlds turned upside down. Every person on the planet has been affected, either directly or indirectly. And recently, we learned that the virus has made its way to Antarctica. Why should the few people who live there miss out on the fun?

Thanksgiving was spent largely in small nuclear units, bubbles if you will. Christmas will likely be the same – for most, not all. Too many people continue to believe whatever they want to believe about the virus, which exacerbates community spread, which has resulted in many hospital intensive care units operating near or at capacity.

As different as this Christmas will be, it will still be Christmas: a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ for Christians and a celebration of Santa Claus for others. It wasn’t always that way. For instance, Christmas was not celebrated at all until approximately 300 years after Christ died. Moreover, the historical progenitor of Santa, St. Nicholas, was born about 50 years before that, although he wasn’t considered to be Santa for many centuries.

Through the years, different groups have actively opposed the celebration of Christmas, few more so than the Puritans who declared war on it. Not the intentionally divisive fake war that we have heard about over the last couple of decades or so, but an actual authentic war: an at times incredibly effective effort to eradicate the celebration entirely.[4]

Today’s so-called war on Christmas is a decent proxy for the entire political correctness battlefield. For some, saying “Merry Christmas,” although not wrong in and of itself, struck a divisive tone. It ignored the other holidays (Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Boxing Day, New Years Day) that take place on or around Christmas.[5] It excluded some people, who could be easily included with a more expansive expression, such as: Happy Holidays. There was no direct attack on Christmas, which was very much encompassed within Happy Holidays.

For some others, this attempt to be inclusive was considered an assault on religion. To them, Happy Holidays was effectively divisive, by separating away those for whom the religious aspects of Christmas are paramount, not inclusive. Any expression other than Merry Christmas was tantamount to elevating other cultures or holidays over and above Christmas because of the religious nature of Christmas.

In short, the well-intended attempt to be inclusive was deliberately misconstrued as an attack on religion. This concept of a war on Christmas never made any sense to me, especially when you consider the historical wars that have actually been levied against Christmas.

The Puritans knew how to wage war against Christmas. They were always so afraid that somebody somewhere might be having fun, that in 1647, they banned Christmas altogether. They were concerned that Christmas had descended into the depths of revelry from its true home: the Puritans’ metaphorical mountaintop of piety. And this was not a war of words, among other controls, shops were required to remain open, troops were deployed to break up parties and games, and, in London, to tear down decorations.

This war on Christmas was political; in essence, the losers of a civil war were protesting against restrictions imposed by the winner.[6] The war on Christmas was prosecuted so poorly in England that it led to a revival of the civil war and ultimately the repulse of the Puritans. But not their war on Christmas, which had traveled with them to North America. There, the celebration of Christmas was subject to a fine in some parts of their domain (New England) until the 19th century.

The great C.S. Lewis decried the amalgamation of religion and commerce that early 20th century Christmas engendered, loving only the former, not the commerce. Communist Russia and Nazi Germany decried Christmas itself, preferring the elevation of the state at the expense of anything related to religion.

Despite these and other efforts to eradicate or minimize Christmas, the holiday remains an important part of calendars around the world. Though atheists and Muslims would love to eliminate Christmas, that does not appear to be the goal of whomever is in charge of political correctness in the United States.

This year, the virus will affect how we commemorate Christmas, but it will not eliminate our celebration. To those of you who prefer it, “Merry Christmas,” and to the rest of you, “Happy Holidays.”[7]

Bibliography – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_controversies; https://www.historytoday.com/archive/feature/christmas-under-puritans; https://www.nationalgeographic.com/news/2018/12/131219-santa-claus-origin-history-christmas-facts-st-nicholas/; https://theconversation.com/when-christmas-was-cancelled-a-lesson-from-history-149310#:~:text=Christmas%20is%20cancelled,replaced%20by%20a%20Presbyterian%20system; https://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/15/opinion/the-puritan-war-on-christmas.html

[1] Though not long ago, President Trump sent out a fundraising letter that included: “This is a HUGE victory in the Democrats’ pathetic WAR ON CHRISTMAS, and I want YOU to be a part of it.”

[2] On December 17, Fareed Zakaria wrote that 60 million Americans believe Trump’s assertions about election fraud. This is good evidence of something he wrote in the same column: “Trump understands that a sensational lie is far more effective than a complicated truth.”

[3] “Earth” derives from the Anglo-Saxon word – erda – for dirt.

[4] Christmas did not become a national holiday in the US until 1870.

[5] There is no particular reason to believe that Christ was born on December 25. No date is mentioned in the Bible and various references contained therein point to different times of year. There isn’t even a consensus on what year Christ was born. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Date_of_birth_of_Jesus

[6] It was also about the desire to have some fun, at a time when “Christmas” consisted of as many as 12 days of festivities.

[7] If you say either “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” or even “Happy Birthday to a Jehovah’s Witness, they (third person plural used as first person plural because “he or she” is awkward) will inform you that they don’t celebrate any day. For most, this is religious conviction; for some (perhaps), it is a war on Christmas.

Pandemic Traffic

I have noticed a few things about traffic during the past six months or so – which coincides with the massive expansion of remote working associated with our attempt to ward off the coronavirus. First, traffic in the suburbs is pretty similar to what it was before the pandemic. I’m not in the suburbs as often as when I lived there (obviously), but when I drive to shopping areas, etc. in suburban areas, there is considerable traffic and relatively full parking lots.

Second, when driving to Maine last month, there was much less automobile traffic than normal. The number of trucks appeared roughly the same as in years past. But the number of passenger cars was way down and was especially noticeable at service areas, which usually teem with travelers, but this year didn’t.[1]

Third, in downtown Columbus, there is essentially no traffic. It has been over six months since I have had to wait for a second light cycle to get through an intersection. In at least 75% of my encounters with traffic lights downtown, I am the only car in my lane of traffic. Metered parking spaces that used to get extensive use sit empty at prime times. Returning from lunch last week around 1:00 pm, the ten spaces on Marconi Drive (right next to the Supreme Court of Ohio) were all empty. Pre-pandemic, it was unusual for even one of those spaces to be available mid-day.

Most striking of all is the parking lot across the river from downtown. Pre-pandemic, the lot was full every single weekday – with over 250 people parking there and walking across the river to work. Since the onset of “work from home,” I have not seen more than 15 cars in the lot.

This general lack of traffic has caused me to reconsider an old idea: increasing pedestrian and cycling access to streets. On Sundays during warm weather months, Memorial Drive in Cambridge, MA, which is a major thoroughfare otherwise, is closed to traffic. It is a great opportunity for skate boarders, bladers, cyclists, runners, parents with young children in strollers or on tricycles, and anyone else who wants to roam along the north side of the Charles River without worrying about motor vehicles.

Why not introduce some of that to Columbus and other cities? We could start with Capital Square on Sundays. No cars, just people. Driving around the closed off area would barely inconvenience drivers because there is so little traffic on Sundays.

Given the lack of traffic on weekdays and the possibility that it may never fully return (because, let’s face it, people enjoy working from home), it might even be possible to convert some streets permanently. Right outside my front door are two four-lane streets, which go one way (in opposite directions). What if we changed one street to two-way traffic and the other to no traffic? In the short term, it would not affect traffic because there is none. In the long term it might lead to out-of-control backups. If so, we could re-convert. There is no way to know whether it would be embraced by non-drivers (it would), but why not try and see what happens.

I encountered an out-of-control traffic backup the other night when returning to Columbus from Cincinnati. Miles of it. According to googlemaps, the last ten miles of the trip home were going to take over 80 minutes. So – I started driving in the left travel lane with a few other cars.

It was wide open because three lanes were merging into the two rightmost lanes. We were making good progress, passing dozens of immobile cars. When someone in the center lane moved over half a lane to block us, we drove around. Then we drove by dozens more unmoving vehicles. This time an unofficial traffic warden decided to sit in the middle of the left lane. That stymied us until one intrepid soul decided to use the shoulder to get around him. I followed even though the warden swerved in an attempt to cow me into submission.

After getting past him, there was at least a half mile of open road in the left lane. That enabled me to learn that the two right lanes were moving slowly but with lots of space between cars. There was no reason for the traffic to be as backed up as it was. But for the wardens, there would have been more cars in the left lane and shorter wait times for everybody. This last part is not made up.

I’m not a traffic engineer (or whatever the folks who monitor and study traffic are called) but I did read the book Traffic[2]about ten years ago.[3] What the book and other subsequent studies conclude is that drivers should stay in the lane that is disappearing – for the common good (not to mention their own). Ignoring the lane causes worse traffic. The warden who attempted to divert me was doing himself, other drivers, and almost my front bumper a disservice. As it turns out, I made it home in about 30 minutes after getting off the highway and taking an alternate route.

Traffic is quite good. The first 75 pages or so were a bit technical, but once the author started addressing roundabouts (rotaries) and traffic calming techniques, I was rather riveted. Traffic is a regular part of our lives, I enjoy dealing with less, hope it stays that way, and would love to see our cities experiment with ways to better utilize streets that currently are in oversupply based on current traffic conditions.

[1] A small ancillary benefit of wearing masks becomes quite obvious when traveling – high-use public restrooms are easier on the nose.

[2] Traffic – Why We Drive the Way We Do (and What It Says About Us) by Tom Vanderbilt.

[3] My books-read list indicates that I read the book 12 years ago, in October of 2008. Reading that book gave me much more knowledge about traffic than staying at a Holiday Inn Express would.

National Geographic

The iconic yellow border. The spectacular photography. The ground-breaking research and writing. The stacks of magazines in homes and libraries. The spine that always tells you what is in the issue. Of course, I’m talking about National Geographic (the title was something of a give-away).

I have been a subscriber for decades and there is no reason to stop now. The topics covered are legion. For instance, the spine of the June 2020 issue reads: World War II Voices, Hiroshima Memories, Emperor Penguins, Women in Politics, Skateboarding. I’d call that a little something for everyone.

Trivia – what river has the largest inland fishery? (Definition not provided – I take it to mean, the river where the most fish are caught annually.)

In May, there was an article about an American couple, Doug and Kris Tompkins, who founded North Face and have been buying land in Argentina and Chile for the express purpose of donating it for parkland. The pictures showcase a wild land, devoid of humans. The prose describes a love of the desolate landscape and the animals who live there. And the efforts to reintroduce several species that have been extirpated: macaws, jaguars, tapirs, and rheas.

The article also includes a map. I love National Geographic maps. Every couple of issues, the magazines includes a standalone map, the most recent is Asia’s Vital Rivers. National Geographic also offers maps for sale. A friend and I had one in our office, the largest single map that I have ever encountered. It was awesome and, though we abandoned that office, the map remains, providing a big picture view of the world to the office’s current occupants.

Another recent article entitled Where Have All the Insects Gone? describes the disappearance of annoying but vital species. Scientists determined that, between 1994 and 2016, the insect biomass in the areas of Germany that were tested declined approximately 75%. As much as we hate mosquitos and other biting insects, they are an essential part of the food chain. Insects live as high as 18,000 feet above sea level in mountains and as much as 3,000 feet below ground in caves. Insects are vital to ecosystems, performing the following roles: they are food, they help decompose organic matter, they eat other pests, they pollinate, and they engineer the soil. And we don’t have to pay them or even thank them.

Some insects even live on your face. That’s comforting, I’m sure. A different article from May states that face mites were first discovered in 1841. They live everywhere on your body that has hair – so not on your palms or the bottoms of your feet. They are, as you might imagine, rather small: as many as 14 have been found in a single pore. Turns out, we still aren’t sure whether they are harmful or beneficial.

Sometimes an entire issue is dedicated to a single topic. The July issue is Everest, Journey to the Roof of the World. A different recent special issue has more broad-based appeal. One side (cover) was titled How We Saved the World, an optimist’s guide to life on Earth in 2070. The other side (can you have two front covers) was titled How We Lost the Planet, a pessimist’s guide to life on Earth in 2070.

The optimist’s view is premised on our willingness to take action – reduce or capture carbon emissions, plant trees (it might take a trillion), drive electric cars, increase reliance on renewable energy. It’s possible. Not easy, but possible. And there could be residual benefits.

The world has seen incredible gains in many areas since the first Earth Day in 1970. Correlation – causation. Who knows. But calories consumed, life expectancy, time spent in classrooms, access to clean water and electricity are all markedly better around the world than they were in 1970.

The cost of solar panels has fallen 99% since the 1970s; leading California to require them to be installed on new homes. Still, solar energy provides only 2% of U.S. electricity, another 7% comes from wind. There is plenty of room for improvement.

Trivia answer – largest inland fishery – Mekong River. Derivative trivia – name any of the six countries through which the Mekong flows.

Different trivia – how many gas stations are there in the US?

The pessimist’s view is premised on an unwillingness or inability to effect change. It’s possible that the die has been cast, that our efforts are already too late. Ice in Greenland, the Andes, and the Third Pole (the many glaciers of Asia in the Himalayas and other mountain ranges) has already shrunk considerably. This will raise the ocean level and release less water to the billions of Asians who rely on it, primarily for irrigation. Chaotic weather could continue with more and worse wildfires and hurricanes. More land could become arid, decreasing food production. Cities (Venice, Dhaka, Miami) could sink under water, countries (the Netherlands, Bangladesh) could lose much land. Temperatures in already hot areas could soar. More flooding could result in less water, as dry places become drier and wet places become wetter. Obviously, this is truncated, but it’s all from one issue of National Geographic. There is so much that can be gleaned from every issue.

One hundred fifty thousand gas stations in the US. And about 4,500 electric charging stations.

I couldn’t remember the six countries of the Mekong watershed or find the answer in the magazine. A web search provided the answer easily from: of course, National Geographic. “Originating in the icy headwaters of the Tibetan highlands, the Mekong River flows through the steep canyons of China, known as the upper basin, through lower basin countries Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia, before fanning across an expansive delta in Vietnam and emptying into the South China Sea.”[1]

National Geographic is a true non-profit and a subscription costs just 19 tax-deductible dollars. Even if you only look at the pictures, the magazine is a great value. Now it you’ll excuse me, I have a couple of back issues that need reading.

[1] https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/2020/01/southeast-asia-most-critical-river-enters-uncharted-waters/#:~:text=Originating%20in%20the%20icy%20headwaters,into%20the%20South%20China%20Sea.

Deconstructing Trump

Deconstructing Trump by Dr. Mardy Grothe is subtitled The Trump Phenomenon Through the Lens of Quotation History. I enjoyed the book, which consists principally of quotes. Many are quite famous, others rather esoteric. All were written or uttered before 2000 and none of them mention or specifically address Donald J. Trump. So there is no particular reason to believe that any of the quotes apply to Trump – unless you have been paying attention.

There are so many good quotes, so relevant (in my mind) to our president, that it was hard to narrow down the list. The quotes should appeal (at some level) to all intelligent readers. Make of them what you will. Grothe occasionally discusses the relevance of a quote or supplements with his understanding of the quote. But really, it’s a book of quotes with no narrative or other cohesion apart from the alphabet, by author.

Here we go:

As democracy is perfected, the office [of US president] represents more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. On some great and glorious day, the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron. H.L. Mencken. I refer you to Donald J. Trump’s proud recitation of “person, woman, man, camera, tv” which is not even an appropriate list for this exceedingly modest memory test. Each item should be unrelated to the others.

We have a large public that is very ignorant about public affairs and very susceptible to simplistic slogans by candidates who appear out of nowhere, have no track record, but mouth appealing slogans. Zbigniew Brzezinski. Let me think, “simplistic slogans,” two come to mind. Make America Great Again is wonderfully nostalgic, sort of. Nobody has ever been able to tell me exactly, or even generally, when it stopped being great. Drain the Swamp is more oxymoronic than anything. A fair definition might be: flooding DC with yes-men and apologists.

There are conditions of blindness so voluntary that they become complicity. Paul Bourget. When the president decided to host the next G7 meeting at his own golf resort (since retracted), it, at a minimum, raised conflict of interest issues. Not for Senator Kevin Cramer; he tweeted that the president demonstrated “tremendous integrity in boldness and his transparency.” Blind, check. Complicit, check.

One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors. Plato. Based on my understanding of our history, we have never had a president so inferior to so many. The two prior presidents were quite different from each other personally and politically, but they were both decent men trying hard to do a difficult job well. Donald Trump is not decent and he doesn’t even try to get the job done, preferring to watch TV, tweet about what he sees, and golf. He has already golfed 285 more times than he predicted he would as president.[1] [2]

Elections are won by men and women chiefly because most people vote against somebody, rather than for somebody. Franklin P. Adams. True that. Hillary was not a great candidate, seemingly one of the few Democrats capable of losing to Trump. I have no doubt that she would have been a better president – but you have to win first. The upcoming election will be a referendum on Trump, not a celebration of Biden.

Practical politics consists in ignoring facts. Henry Brooks Adams. Though Adams never heard the term, he would instantly understand the meaning of “fake news.”

To be ignorant of the one’s ignorance is the malady of the ignorant. A. Bronson Alcott. So many examples abound that would embarrass an ordinary person. I’ll pick just one quote from our president: “Having a drone fly overhead — and I think nobody knows much more about technology, this type of technology certainly, than I do.”[3]

The less you speak of your greatness, the more I will think of it. Francis Bacon. Almost comically applicable to our boastful president. Two quotes: “I’m like, very smart” and “true stable genius,” tell much of the tale. “Stable genius” has always fascinated me because of the unlikelihood that the term has ever been used in any context other than Trump extolling Trump.

Never underestimate the power of self-absorption. Rita Mae Brown. For instance, it helped Donald J. Trump attain the presidency. Here’s an example: when asked about the legacy of the recently deceased John Lewis, President Trump said “He didn’t go to my inauguration.” Everything is first and foremost about Trump.

What embitters the world is not excess of criticism, but absence of self-criticism. G.K. Chesterton. The president was asked in May “with 4 percent of the world’s population and 30 percent of the outbreak what would you have done differently facing this crisis?” He answered: Well, nothing.[4] I would call that an “absence of self-criticism,” and I would call much of the country and the world embittered about Trump.

The superior man is distressed by his want of ability. Confucius needs no commentary from me.

Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s own ignorance. Confucius.

Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge. Charles Darwin. One of Donald Trump’s great strengths is an unshakeable confidence in himself. To wit: “Nobody knows the system better than me, which is why I alone can fix it.”[5] This is, of course, outweighed by his willful ignorance of virtually any issue involving serious thought or nuance.

Duplicity is a mark of second-rate ability. Luc De Clapiers. Ain’t nobody more duplicitous than Donald J. Trump.

Patriotism is when love of your own people comes first; nationalism, when hate for people other than your own comes first. Charles De Gaulle. To be fair, Trump hates most Americans too.

Quotations are a great way to learn from brilliant minds of the past. I recommend this book wholeheartedly. The first person who requests it can have my copy.

[1] https://thegolfnewsnet.com/golfnewsnetteam/2020/08/09/how-many-times-president-donald-trump-played-golf-in-office-103836/

[2] https://woay.com/i-wont-have-time-to-play-golf-if-im-elected-president-trump-set-to-embark-on-1st-vacation/

[3] https://www.axios.com/everything-trump-says-he-knows-more-about-than-anybody-b278b592-cff0-47dc-a75f-5767f42bcf1e.html?te=1&nl=frank-bruni&emc=edit_fb_20200311

[4] https://www.realclearpolitics.com/video/2020/05/20/trump_i_would_have_done_nothing_differently_with_coronavirus_weve_done_amazingly_well.html

[5] https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/elections/2016/07/21/donald-trump-republican-convention-acceptance-speech/87385658/

Bastille Day

Today is Bastille Day. Think for a moment about what that means to you. Does it have any personal significance? Is it a mere historical event? Does it show up on your calendar? Have you ever heard of it?

Some consider it the spark that ignited the French Revolution. If so, it lit a slow-burning, mile-long fuse. None of the stuff often associated with the French Revolution (death, destruction, famine) happened for at least two years, until the largely conservative National Assembly had been replaced by the more radical Legislative Assembly.[1]

The centuries-old Bastille was a fortress that had long been associated with royal repression and used to hold political prisoners. By the time of its storming, it was a shadow of its former self and had already been scheduled for demolition.

The short story of the “storming of the Bastille” is that a Parisian mob needed ammunition for the muskets they had taken earlier from the Hotel des Invalides (then a retirement/convalescent home for veterans, now a museum). The commander of the Bastille, hoping to avoid violence, was negotiating the turnover of the fortress. But the discussion dragged on and mobs are not known for their patience. This mob moved into an outer courtyard of the fortress and, as is wont to happen, shots were fired. Then mayhem – close to 100 attackers and one defender died. Such is the nature of soldiers fighting (mostly) unarmed civilians. A total of seven prisoners were released, none of any note, although the Marquis de Sade[2] had been released ten days earlier.

So the Bastille was stormed and nothing really changed. It was quite exciting for the gathered mob, but the National Constituent Assembly meeting several miles away in Versailles and the king, who lived there, were blissfully unaware. When told about the event the next day, the king asked if it was a revolt. The famous reply from the Duke of La Rochefoucauld: “No, sire, it’s not a revolt; it’s a revolution.”

On the first anniversary of the storming, July 14, 1790, the initial Fete de la Federation was held to celebrate the unity of the French nation and to symbolize peace. The symbolism was lost on the 17,000 or so people who were guillotined over the next few years, not to mention the 250,000 who lost their lives in the subsequent civil war.

The Fete de la Federation was a huge celebration and the feasting lasted for four days. Among the attendees were Americans John Paul Jones and Thomas Paine, who carried the United States flag, likely the first time is was flown outside of US territory. Ultimately the Fete de la Federation became a national holiday (1880) and is now known as Bastille Day to non-French people. The French call it la Fete Nationale (the National Holiday).

If you ever want to torture yourself, read The French Revolution by Thomas Carlyle. I received it as a gift from my son when he was young enough to care about whether I read the books he gave me, so I read it. It was excruciating. But like any dutiful father, I persevered (at great cost to my short-term sanity). Would that Carlyle had never reconstructed it.[3]

For a couple of years after I read it, I would occasionally challenge friends to open the book to any random page, read the shortest paragraph, and tell me whether they understood it. Nobody did.[4] I had to get rid of the book — seeing it on the shelf engendered a foul mood as I remembered the distressing experience of reading it. (I have since begrudgingly forgiven my son.)

I mentioned the Estates General earlier. When the members initially arrived in Paris, they tended to congregate with people from their home province or city. After the storming, the members decided to stop meeting at Versailles (then the home of Louis XVI and his administration, now a museum) and relocated to Paris. The first day at the new venue, the members, who now knew each other better, gathered with like-minded people. The more conservative members gathered on the right side of the room. The more liberal members gathered on the left side of the room. And that is the quotidian origin of the left/right convention that is used around the world as shorthand for liberal and conservative political parties and ideas.

Bastille Day remains a day of celebration in France and in several other countries.[5] The nearest analogue in our country is the Fourth of July. The French celebrate with fireworks and parades, including one that involves the French army marching down the Champs-Elysees, which is considered the largest and oldest military parade in Europe.

Happy Bastille Day!

[1] The French monarch, Louis XVI, was in desperate financial straits, caused in part by the loans he floated to help finance the American Revolution. He convened the Estates General, which had not met in well over a century, hoping to shore up royal finances. That body morphed into the National Assembly, then the National Constituent Assembly, which was replaced in toto by the Legislative Assembly. In the cleanest of breaks, people who had served in the earlier assemblies were ineligible for the Legislative Assembly.

[2] The Marquis lives on every time you use or hear the word “sadism.”

[3] John Stuart Mill accidently burned the first and only copy that Carlyle produced. Carlyle completely rewrote it. Having read the second version, I can well imagine that the first was more readable. It had to be. An alternate theory of my own imagination is that Mill burned it on purpose because he realized just how unreadable it was.

[4] Try for yourself, I dare you. And remember, these are the best quotes, not random ones. https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2101407-the-french-revolution-a-history

[5] https://www.worldfirst.com/uk/blog/economic-updates/daily-update/7-places-outside-france-bastille-day-celebrated/

Columbus Biathlon (and protesters)

The beating heart of Columbus, Ohio is Capitol Square. It is where the action is. Not retail action, that’s at Easton or Polaris.[1] Not food and beverage action, that’s in the Short North and scattered throughout the city.[2] But political action. The Governor works there, the General Assembly (Ohio’s legislature) meets there, and the Supreme Court of Ohio is just a block west. And when the times call for it, Capitol Square is where protests take place.

I have been using the area around Capital Square for my one-person Columbus Biathlon. I think I’ve mentioned that I like to read. Well, I also like to walk. And sometimes I combine the two, especially when it is hot. I walk until I start sweating, then sit down to read. I read until I stop dripping, then resume walking. And then I repeat. It’s pretty easy to read a few chapters and walk a few miles without losing interest in either activity.

Lately, I’ve been doing this against a backdrop of protesters. From our apartment we can see the rally point for the police, a large parking lot that has been hosting, at various times, mounted officers, jeeps, semi-armored vehicles, and plain old patrol cars.

Sometimes the vehicles sit all night and sometimes they deploy en masse, as they are here. Once, about 20 patrol cars parked on the Broad Street bridge, then officers piled out and marched to Capitol Square from there. We also have a great view of the helicopters. Usually at least one is aloft and, often, as the light wanes two helicopters cover the area, sometimes hovering over the protest group and sometimes circling downtown.

It is difficult to assess the damage that has been done, but it appears that most of it happened early, during the first couple of nights of protesting.[3] Many buildings have plywood concealing windows, whether to cover damage or prevent it is difficult to assess. Here is a picture of the Ohio Judicial Center, home of the Supreme Court. It was damaged enough to be closed for one day, which didn’t affect productivity because we are already working remotely because of covid-19. Windows are relatively easy to fix. Does anybody know how to clean graffiti off marble?

For the uninitiated, “12” is the unit number of the drug force used by the Columbus Police Department and is especially loathed by some. “ACAB” stands for “all cops are bastards,” which I know isn’t literally true. One of my son’s friends is a relatively new member of CPD and he is one of the nicest people I have ever met.

I have walked past Broad and High, which is one corner of Capitol Square and the starting point for most of the protests several times in the past week or so. Most days start slow, just a dozen or a few dozen protesters. But last Saturday was different. As I walked I saw that protesters were marshalling. Most of the people I have seen streaming toward the protest area have a suburban hipster vibe. That might not be fair, but mainly I see white young adults, carrying hand-made signs, with few non-adult or middle-aged compatriots. They dress in a lot of black clothing and, in the main, wear masks.

By 12:30 or so, the Statehouse grounds were crowded. There were so many people that two separate groups had formed. A smaller group, several hundred, gathered on the south side of the Statehouse, while a larger group, 2,000 plus, occupied the large expanse of lawn west of the Statehouse. Both groups were chanting independently of each other. Some were vulgar and not particularly helpful, such as “fuck the cops.” Some were eminently practical, such as “get out and vote.” Most of the chants were related to George Floyd – “I can’t breathe” and “George Floyd.”

Everyone seemed happy to be there, despite the circumstances that brought them together. The crowd exuded energy and compassion and displayed no disruptive behavior. There were a few vendors, just a couple of people either selling or providing bottles of water (it was hot). Despite all of these people, when I sat down to read on the north side of the Statehouse, it was quite serene; I could not hear either protest group.

Throughout the day, the Statehouse was patroled by State Troopers, who were both obvious and unobtrusive. They stuck close by the Statehouse, near all doors and corners, mainly mingled among themselves, and kept away from the protesters. Few protesters took notice of them and they ignored the protesters.

The east side of the Statehouse was also quiet. There are a couple of memorials and fountains and, for a splash of color, flowers in the shape of the US flag and the Ohio flag. It’s not obvious, given my poor photography, but the flag of Ohio is pennant shaped, the only non-rectangular state flag.

A close up of a flower

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I walked by Capital Square tonight. It was very quiet. There were a couple of people, looking like they missed the crowds. They had a canopy and plenty of bottles of water, but no people to sell or give them too. It was hot tonight, but I didn’t stop and read. The Columbus Biathlon is my event and nobody else is competing, so I can make or break rules as I see fit.

[1] Easton is a modern outdoor mall, designed to look something like an old downtown business district. It has never stopped growing since it was built. Polaris is a modern indoor mall that has been morphing to be more like Easton. Both are now quite sprawling with many big box retailers circumscribing the malls.

[2] Like most cities Columbus (with a metro of approximately two million) has many and varied restaurants. The largest aggregation is probably in the Short North, the area north of downtown but short of OSU’s massive campus.

[3] I am not a journalist and don’t pretend to understand everything that has been going on. But I do know what I have seen.

A Few Unnecessary Details (unless you are me)

1. I type in Times New Roman, font 14 because that is what the Supreme Court of Ohio uses. If it’s good enough for my employer of the past 20 or so years, it’s good enough for me.

2. The last post (“Pandemic Reading List”) was post 100. I should have created fanfare upfront, instead of mentioning it after the fact. I am not a born marketer, nor a learned or learned one either.

3. One hundred posts you say, how can I find the one I’m looking for? (Thank you for asking.) I just added an index, which has all 100 posts by title in chronological order. You can also search by broad category on the home page.

4. The picture on the home page is of friends hiking with me last September in Acadia National Park in Maine. Five couples went and there were no arguments — except about my hike selections and descriptions. For instance, the hike pictured is four miles long, starts at 100 feet above sea level and ends at 1,500 feet above sea level. I said the hike was “straight up,” meaning, colloquially, that it’s a continuous uphill climb. I didn’t think anyone would take me literally and think that we would essentially be climbing a ladder. But someone did. Not surprisingly, it was more gradual than that.

5. I wrote five short posts in 2015. I was testing the system and my desire to write. I took eight months off, testing my inertia (and passing I might add), then (in an unprecedented burst of energy) wrote 36 posts in the last six months of 2016, an average of six per month. Never again. In 2017, I published 38 posts, a seemingly tolerable three per month. Alas, the toll of trying to get a business off the ground sidelined me in 2018, when I fell to just 12 posts. And the negative momentum increased in 2019, with only six posts. I’m on that same approximate (slow) pace this year.

6. I read a fair amount and often chide myself about not remembering as much as I should. Then as I typed the titles of the posts for the index, I realized that I had no idea what some of them are about. How is that even possible?

7. Thank you for the comments you send, both public (on the blog) and private (email, text, face to face). You are encouraging, complimentary, and many times complementary (with additional details and stories). I also appreciate criticism and correction; I didn’t use to but like to think I have matured a bit over the years. (Ask Phillip sometime about the joys of having a discussion with a 25-year old me. Spoiler alert: not pleasant.)

8. Several posts generated zero public comments. “Are you well-read?” generated the most: 13. The most views on a day was 136 on September 9, 2016, which coincided with the publication of “Freedom of Speech.”

9. I’m not sure how people who don’t receive an email from me find the blog. Well – it turns out that not many do. But through the years, people have read the blog from some exotic places. For instance, this year, with only three posts, the blog has been viewed by people in China, New Zealand (college roommate), France, Australia (nephew), Finland, Dominican Republic (another college roommate on vacation), Netherlands, Spain, Germany, Belarus, and Pakistan. Last year, people from 23 countries read a post, including someone in Gabon.

10. Blogging for some people is a living. For me it is a hobby, which is good because my earnings so far would fit on a single coronavirus with room to spare.

11. One hundred posts at an average of 1000 words a post – wait, let me do the math – that’s 100,000 words, the approximate equivalent (in length) of a whole To Kill a Mockingbird (100,388) or half a Moby Dick (206,052).

12. I’m reading a book called Brief Lives by John Aubrey, who died in 1697. It’s a series of biographical sketches, including luminaries such as Thomas Hobbes and John Milton. Most of the lives are obscure and most of the sketches are indeed brief, and to be honest, rather dull.

The following vignette about Richard Corbet, the Bishop of Norwich, is not dull: “One time when they went in procession about the cathedral church, he would not do it the usual way in his surplice, hood, etc. on foot, but rode on a mare, thus habited, with the Common Prayer book in his hand reading. A stone-horse [stallion] happened to break loose, and smelled the mare, and ran and leapt her, and held the reverend dean all the time so hard in his embraces, that he could not get off till the horse had done his business. But he would never ride in the procession afterwards.”

The “but” is a strange usage; it may be archaic, like “stone-horse” in the same passage. Having witnessed a breeding session at a horse farm, I can quite understand why the good bishop was reluctant to get back on the horse.

As always, thank you for reading.

Pandemic Reading List

When you hear somebody say: who would have ever thought this or that, best practice suggests that she is trying to provide cover for something. Somebody has always thought of this or that. It might not be credible, it might not make sense, but somebody has thought of it. Over 500,000 books a year are published in English.[1] Not to mention all the articles, columns, blog posts, etc. published in various venues. And, of course, there are other languages, hundreds of them, in which books and articles are published. Lots of really smart (and some not so smart) people are out there thinking about things all the time. So when you hear a politician in the middle of a pandemic say “who would have ever thought there could be a pandemic,” rest assured that he is attempting to defend himself.

In May 2006, the CDC published National Strategy for Pandemic Influenza.[2] In April 2017, the CDC put out a 16-page brochure about pandemic flu.[3] In the July/August 2018 issue of The Atlantic, Ed Yong wrote an article entitled: The Next Plague is Coming. Is America Ready?, in which he noted that over the past 30 years, on average, “a new infectious has emerged every year.” And perhaps most poignantly, “seven days before Donald Trump took office, his aides faced a major test: the rapid, global spread of a dangerous virus in cities like London and Seoul, one serious enough that some countries were imposing travel bans. In a sober briefing, Trump’s incoming team learned that the disease was an emerging pandemic — a strain of novel influenza known as H9N2 — and that health systems were crashing in Asia, overwhelmed by the demand.”[4] Despite these warnings and a mock disaster for practice, a certain someone[5] has never considered the possibility that a pandemic could happen. You can’t make this stuff up.[6]

Well before these recent events, authors have addressed the perils and opportunities posed by plagues, pandemics, and pestilence. The topic is both fascinating and frightening; interesting enough (to me) to necessitate the creation of a pandemic reading list. Unlike Dave Grohl’s recently published Pandemic Playlist,[7] which is to be listened to during a pandemic, my list comprises books about pandemics. I have read each of these books and you can too, either during the pandemic or after.[8]

First, three general books that touch on the matter at hand:

The Human Web: A Bird's-Eye View of World History by John Robert ...

I recommend all three, each has its charms and an interesting thesis. The essential bottom line is that we are all in this together, that there is an inevitability to the merging and blending of people and the various pathogens that affect them.

If you are looking for something more specific, there are plenty of options.

Pandemic eBook by Sonia Shah - 9780374708740 | Rakuten Kobo

Sonia Shah looks at pandemics through the years, with cholera as a focus. One comforting takeaway is that even a scourge like cholera, that has killed untold millions, can be tamed. Education about clean water and treatment have essentially eliminated cholera from the developed world, though it still kills tens of thousands every year in the developing world.

This book is awesome, extremely well written, and rather disturbing. It presages our current situation by discussing diseases that spill over from animals to humans. By some measures, over 50% of the infections that afflict us originated with animals. Most of the diseases Quammen discusses are more deadly than covid-19, but, fortunately, not as contagious.

The Hot Zone: The Terrifying True Story of the Origins of the ...

Crisis in the Red Zone: The Story of the Deadliest Ebola Outbreak ...

The subtitle of The Hot Zone tells you everything to know: Ebola is terrifying. If that virus ever figures out how to spread easily, we won’t have to worry about overpopulating the planet. The book reads like a Michael Crighton thriller, except it is real. Preston can be a bit sensationalistic, but then the Ebola virus is a sensation. Crisis in the Red Zone is more measured, but not more reassuring. It describes how close the virus came to escaping the backwaters of Africa and spreading into urban centers in 2013.

Finally, we come to the book I have read that focuses on the last great global pandemic, during which as much as 5% of the world’s population died.

This book is already a classic, it described the advent of modern medicine and is written in a crisp engaging style. The book transports the reader to an earlier time; among other things, I learned that I’m glad I didn’t live then. Despite the many things we don’t know about covid-19, we at least have the people, resources, and tools to attempt to make sense of it. Throughout history, most victims of disease and pestilence could only guess.

Currently, there are research teams working on over 100 different vaccines. Many doctors and scientists are attempting to find a cure or a palliative. Public health experts are studying the various approaches taken thus far to determine best practices to stop or slow the spread of the virus. We don’t yet have all the any answers, we may never have all the answers, but we have a chance. Our ancesters never did.

If you want to read only one source mentioned in this post, I recommend Ed Yong’s Atlantic article. He foresaw the dangers to the U.S. of our just-in-time and decentralized medical economy, foreign supply chains, ineffective political leadership, and the defunding of infectious disease health resources. Who could have envisioned a pandemic like covid-19? Lots of people. I hope we listen to those people better next time. Because there will be a next time.

[1] https://www.worldometers.info/books/

[2] https://www.cdc.gov/flu/pandemic-resources/pdf/pandemic-influenza-implementation.pdf

[3] https://www.cdc.gov/nonpharmaceutical-interventions/pdf/gr-pan-flu-work-set.pdf

[4] https://www.politico.com/news/2020/03/16/trump-inauguration-warning-scenario-pandemic-132797

[5] President Trump

[6] A sentiment sadly relevant more than it should be, which is most commonly, and I think rightly, attributed to the great late Don Imus.

[7] https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#inbox/FMfcgxwHMjrsVBhNrzMMKrtzMkHStjPB

[8] Is it necessary for me to mention that you need not read any of these books or that there are dozens (hundreds) of others that I have not read?