I often make fun of commercials on TOA (exhibit A) but I do make exceptions (exhibit B). The latter category doubled recently thanks to this Nike running ad; the important part starts after thirty-five seconds, where (SPOILER ALERT) Joan Benoit Samuelson runs in from the right side of the screen, and I learn something about running.
I've read quite a bit about "forward lean", which keeps most of my weight directly above my knees every time my feet hit the ground. This leads to an efficient running motion that manages the long-term stress to my legs, which is a vital concern at this stage of my life; today's subtle adjustments could add years to my running. I've read (and written) enough about this to exhaust any loyal reader; I'm hoping there are many more such sentences in my future. But no matter what I read about "forward lean", I don't think any book can explain it better than those three seconds in the video, when Joan Benoit Samuelson runs in just as she's done for forty years, and shows us how to keep running.
Wednesday, September 30, 2020
Tuesday, September 29, 2020
reading review - lost in translation, part three (quarterfinals #2)
Hi folks,
As I mentioned on Friday, if this post doesn't already make sense, refer back to that Friday post (and to the prior post referenced within it) before proceeding today.
For the rest of us, let's have a look at remainder of the quarterfinals:
7) Akihi (Hawaiian) – noun, listening to directions and then walking off and promptly forgetting them means you’ve gone ‘akihi’.
6) Trepverter (Yiddish) – noun, a witty riposte or comeback you think of only when it is too late to use – literally, ‘staircase words’.
It's interesting that these two words have the underlying quality of essentially happening after the ending, but that's about it for the similarities.
Akihi is truly a gem of a word, and not just because it sounds good - it also elevates a common forgetfulness to a higher plane, as if the support of a good word is all that was required to describe an ill-fated walk as some kind of special rite of passage. Amusingly, I've noticed this problem on the sidewalks of Boston, and I have a theory - when we need directions, we forget that we have no chance of remembering more than one or two sentences, and end up receiving a lot more information that we can handle. In other words, it's our forgetfulness about our short-term memory that manifests as forgetfulness about a set of directions. When I imagine the mechanics of a person going akihi, I blame an overloaded brain that short-circuited after the third left turn of the explanation. I don't suppose there is a solution to this problem, so when I give directions I usually point in the general direction, offer one or two additional steps, and suggest they ask someone else when they are a little closer to the destination; I'm sure they forget this last part, or give themselves credit for thinking it up on their own a little later.
Trepverter is a little closer to my experience - I'm more commonly rehashing conversations than giving directions, or getting lost - so I nudged it ahead in the ranking. It's an odd concept if you think about it - why do we feel bad hours later, when we've had time to think a little more, and perhaps cool down a hot temper? Trepverter suggests that the best and the worst of us are inseparable - we constantly demand the best in ourselves yet often unreasonably apply the standard; if I think of another clever insight about this word tomorrow, I won't beat myself up over it.
5) Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan) – noun, a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate).
I did a little side research and was surprised to learn that it's considered one of the most succinct words; I'm sure it scores high, but it does have a lot of letters. I'd think it's possible there is a more succinct 'succinct' word - how about "mom"? I don't know why anyone bothers ranking words, all you get is trouble.
Anyway, I think this word has an obvious angle of romance, and partnership more generally, that makes it instantly relatable across a wide range of people despite the vast differences we have with each other. But in these days of COVID, I'm also seeing this word playing out with the same drama on a much smaller yet less intimate stage. How many times do I approach someone on narrow sidewalk, with each of us starting those little missteps and wobbles from many strides away, as the moment of evasion approaches without a clear indication of whose foot is headed for the gutter? There are many large problems that seem knotted forever in a tangle of competing priorities and interests, but I suspect the reality is far simpler; we all know what must be done - whether it be as one individual, one country, or one human race - but we remain unwilling to initiate.
Semifinals
Down to a final four - here's what we have left:
Hiraeth (Welsh)
Iktsuarpok (Inuit)
Komorebi (Japanese)
Warmduscher (German)
Back in a few days with the next round - thanks for reading.
As I mentioned on Friday, if this post doesn't already make sense, refer back to that Friday post (and to the prior post referenced within it) before proceeding today.
For the rest of us, let's have a look at remainder of the quarterfinals:
7) Akihi (Hawaiian) – noun, listening to directions and then walking off and promptly forgetting them means you’ve gone ‘akihi’.
6) Trepverter (Yiddish) – noun, a witty riposte or comeback you think of only when it is too late to use – literally, ‘staircase words’.
It's interesting that these two words have the underlying quality of essentially happening after the ending, but that's about it for the similarities.
Akihi is truly a gem of a word, and not just because it sounds good - it also elevates a common forgetfulness to a higher plane, as if the support of a good word is all that was required to describe an ill-fated walk as some kind of special rite of passage. Amusingly, I've noticed this problem on the sidewalks of Boston, and I have a theory - when we need directions, we forget that we have no chance of remembering more than one or two sentences, and end up receiving a lot more information that we can handle. In other words, it's our forgetfulness about our short-term memory that manifests as forgetfulness about a set of directions. When I imagine the mechanics of a person going akihi, I blame an overloaded brain that short-circuited after the third left turn of the explanation. I don't suppose there is a solution to this problem, so when I give directions I usually point in the general direction, offer one or two additional steps, and suggest they ask someone else when they are a little closer to the destination; I'm sure they forget this last part, or give themselves credit for thinking it up on their own a little later.
Trepverter is a little closer to my experience - I'm more commonly rehashing conversations than giving directions, or getting lost - so I nudged it ahead in the ranking. It's an odd concept if you think about it - why do we feel bad hours later, when we've had time to think a little more, and perhaps cool down a hot temper? Trepverter suggests that the best and the worst of us are inseparable - we constantly demand the best in ourselves yet often unreasonably apply the standard; if I think of another clever insight about this word tomorrow, I won't beat myself up over it.
5) Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan) – noun, a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate).
I did a little side research and was surprised to learn that it's considered one of the most succinct words; I'm sure it scores high, but it does have a lot of letters. I'd think it's possible there is a more succinct 'succinct' word - how about "mom"? I don't know why anyone bothers ranking words, all you get is trouble.
Anyway, I think this word has an obvious angle of romance, and partnership more generally, that makes it instantly relatable across a wide range of people despite the vast differences we have with each other. But in these days of COVID, I'm also seeing this word playing out with the same drama on a much smaller yet less intimate stage. How many times do I approach someone on narrow sidewalk, with each of us starting those little missteps and wobbles from many strides away, as the moment of evasion approaches without a clear indication of whose foot is headed for the gutter? There are many large problems that seem knotted forever in a tangle of competing priorities and interests, but I suspect the reality is far simpler; we all know what must be done - whether it be as one individual, one country, or one human race - but we remain unwilling to initiate.
Semifinals
Down to a final four - here's what we have left:
Hiraeth (Welsh)
Iktsuarpok (Inuit)
Komorebi (Japanese)
Warmduscher (German)
Back in a few days with the next round - thanks for reading.
Monday, September 28, 2020
leftovers #3 - coining professor average (insurance)
A logical explanation for why we lack excess capacity throughout our society is the insurance industry. In one sense, insurance fills a massive need by charging policy holders a premium in exchange for storing value throughout the lifetime of the agreement. It's a way to hold excess capacity without taking on the full immediate cost. But there are at least two problems with this solution.
First, it means insurance seems to cost more than it's worth; not many see the wisdom in paying $11 for $10, even if the $1 is basically a service fee that ensures the $10 retains its value. Businesses and individuals with less money therefore opt for their own methods of keeping excess capacity. But for small-scale operations that are already cost-constrained, what does this actually mean? The coin laundry can keep some extra quarters on hand but it cannot afford to keep a massive stockpile; the local hospital might be able to keep a spare room or two for extra PPE but it needs to devote as much space as possible to earn revenue from other services. Insurance might seem like it's too expensive or just a bad deal, but this reasoning forgets an important fact; if you can't afford the insurance, you probably can't afford to buy your own spare capacity.
The second issue is that insurance fails when too many policies are cashed at once. The reason there is no such thing as 'quarter insurance' is because when one policyholder encountered circumstances that required quarters, it's likely these same circumstances apply to the other policyholders. It's not possible to run an insurance business when most premiums could be cashed out due to one event. This is why most hospitals couldn't sell their excess capacity to neighbors back in the spring - the catalyst for one hospital reaching capacity would quickly mean the same result for all others. If one passenger is boarding a lifeboat, you can be sure everyone is queuing up to do the same.
First, it means insurance seems to cost more than it's worth; not many see the wisdom in paying $11 for $10, even if the $1 is basically a service fee that ensures the $10 retains its value. Businesses and individuals with less money therefore opt for their own methods of keeping excess capacity. But for small-scale operations that are already cost-constrained, what does this actually mean? The coin laundry can keep some extra quarters on hand but it cannot afford to keep a massive stockpile; the local hospital might be able to keep a spare room or two for extra PPE but it needs to devote as much space as possible to earn revenue from other services. Insurance might seem like it's too expensive or just a bad deal, but this reasoning forgets an important fact; if you can't afford the insurance, you probably can't afford to buy your own spare capacity.
The second issue is that insurance fails when too many policies are cashed at once. The reason there is no such thing as 'quarter insurance' is because when one policyholder encountered circumstances that required quarters, it's likely these same circumstances apply to the other policyholders. It's not possible to run an insurance business when most premiums could be cashed out due to one event. This is why most hospitals couldn't sell their excess capacity to neighbors back in the spring - the catalyst for one hospital reaching capacity would quickly mean the same result for all others. If one passenger is boarding a lifeboat, you can be sure everyone is queuing up to do the same.
Sunday, September 27, 2020
proper corona admin, vol 84 - contact tracing devices
I learned during a recent helmet football telecast that the NFL was using Kinexon's technology as part of its COVID-19 contact tracing protocols. I browsed this company's website, and it seems like a brilliant product - have a look for yourself, reader. As I understand it, the device buzzes when you wander within six feet of another device, and in the event of an outbreak contact tracers use the stored location data to notify anyone who came within infection range of any sick person.
As I read more about Kinexon, I wondered about their future, at least in the context of this one product line. Surely, everything they advertise is possible with any smart device; I can't imagine the fierce competition there must be in this field. The winner will need to not just capture market share, it will almost certainly need the whole market - there's no point to this device unless everyone is using it. In other words, it's almost perfectly designed for capitalism, which means my conclusion here runs counter to many of my recent rants - the best firm for this technology is a monopolist, and we should hope the market gets there ASAP.
One interesting feature about this product is that although the basic idea of optimizing contact tracing should have universal approval, the minority who disagree will have outsized influence on the specifics of the implementation. It's a lot like something I highlighted about Nassim Nicholas Taleb's insight into the power of intolerant minorities, which I borrowed for an example last year. In the case of contact tracing and Kinexon, I suspect there will be a large enough minority who approve of this idea yet remain against having it on their phones; if such a group exists, it bodes well for Kinexon, or any company that produces a separate wearable device, because the majority will have little choice but to follow the minority. Some readers might be wondering at this point - why is this an important distinction? Isn't software just software? Who cares how it gets to me? The problem is that the urgency of the pandemic is perhaps obscuring the invasiveness of this technology; those in the minority are keeping it in mind.
The situation I outlined above reminds me of a seeming contradiction that I've thought about for the past few years - why do folks who seem to care about privacy also seem willing to hand over all their personal data to internet companies? I think the crux of the question isn't about the data, or even privacy - I think the issue is trust. Some people still trust internet companies enough to hand them their personal data; others suspect Alexa is always listening. The intolerant minority who will refuse to download a contact tracing app onto their phones are in the latter group - we know our data has reached every corner of the globe, often without our consent, and we know it can and will be used against us in the pursuit of profit; the companies in charge often pretend this isn't their fault, even as it benefits their stock price, which further erodes trust.
The contact tracing process - like that of privacy - is at its core a question of trust. A new, separate product that collects and uses data for the purpose of contact tracing - and solely for that purpose - seems much more trustworthy than the smart phones asking for an eleventh second chance. If I'm already on edge about how companies are using my data, I'm only going to divulge it to a confidant who never gossips, or at least has never gossiped before; if I were in the marketing department, this is the only selling point I would use for the product - what happens on Kinexon stays on Kinexon.
As I read more about Kinexon, I wondered about their future, at least in the context of this one product line. Surely, everything they advertise is possible with any smart device; I can't imagine the fierce competition there must be in this field. The winner will need to not just capture market share, it will almost certainly need the whole market - there's no point to this device unless everyone is using it. In other words, it's almost perfectly designed for capitalism, which means my conclusion here runs counter to many of my recent rants - the best firm for this technology is a monopolist, and we should hope the market gets there ASAP.
One interesting feature about this product is that although the basic idea of optimizing contact tracing should have universal approval, the minority who disagree will have outsized influence on the specifics of the implementation. It's a lot like something I highlighted about Nassim Nicholas Taleb's insight into the power of intolerant minorities, which I borrowed for an example last year. In the case of contact tracing and Kinexon, I suspect there will be a large enough minority who approve of this idea yet remain against having it on their phones; if such a group exists, it bodes well for Kinexon, or any company that produces a separate wearable device, because the majority will have little choice but to follow the minority. Some readers might be wondering at this point - why is this an important distinction? Isn't software just software? Who cares how it gets to me? The problem is that the urgency of the pandemic is perhaps obscuring the invasiveness of this technology; those in the minority are keeping it in mind.
The situation I outlined above reminds me of a seeming contradiction that I've thought about for the past few years - why do folks who seem to care about privacy also seem willing to hand over all their personal data to internet companies? I think the crux of the question isn't about the data, or even privacy - I think the issue is trust. Some people still trust internet companies enough to hand them their personal data; others suspect Alexa is always listening. The intolerant minority who will refuse to download a contact tracing app onto their phones are in the latter group - we know our data has reached every corner of the globe, often without our consent, and we know it can and will be used against us in the pursuit of profit; the companies in charge often pretend this isn't their fault, even as it benefits their stock price, which further erodes trust.
The contact tracing process - like that of privacy - is at its core a question of trust. A new, separate product that collects and uses data for the purpose of contact tracing - and solely for that purpose - seems much more trustworthy than the smart phones asking for an eleventh second chance. If I'm already on edge about how companies are using my data, I'm only going to divulge it to a confidant who never gossips, or at least has never gossiped before; if I were in the marketing department, this is the only selling point I would use for the product - what happens on Kinexon stays on Kinexon.
Saturday, September 26, 2020
leftovers - lost in translation, part two (the sistine chapel, and crystals)
I included a reference yesterday to Good Will Hunting, one of my favorite movies, with the clip I linked being among the most memorable in the film. The process reminded me of an odd problem I run into when I talk about the film with other fans - inevitably, there are some disagreements about how we saw the same scenes.
The clip from yesterday is a good example - here it is again, from the beginning. Viewers will inevitably hear the quip about The Sistine Chapel and conclude - you know, I should go and smell the ceilings for myself. When I watch the clip, I hear something else - you know, I should stop presuming to know what I'm talking about, especially as it regards another's experience. Amusingly, I will sometimes find myself on the other side of an argument, the crux of it being that my view is wrong; imagine, I share my perspective on the meaning, and instead of having the fascinated, all-in audience that is glorified by the scene as the gold standard, I get derisive attacks! I suppose there are some things that cannot be learned by watching some fucking movie, right? That said, broadly speaking I remain relaxed about these moments - two people seeing the same situation differently is essentially the only thing that happens in the movie.
As a final note, I tagged the post 'musically inclined'. This was due to my borrowing lyrics from the song 'Crystals' by Of Monsters and Men, which comes in at the end of the post. This version in particular came to mind as an example of commuovere; I suppose you will have to indulge me when I say a song is another form of a story.
The clip from yesterday is a good example - here it is again, from the beginning. Viewers will inevitably hear the quip about The Sistine Chapel and conclude - you know, I should go and smell the ceilings for myself. When I watch the clip, I hear something else - you know, I should stop presuming to know what I'm talking about, especially as it regards another's experience. Amusingly, I will sometimes find myself on the other side of an argument, the crux of it being that my view is wrong; imagine, I share my perspective on the meaning, and instead of having the fascinated, all-in audience that is glorified by the scene as the gold standard, I get derisive attacks! I suppose there are some things that cannot be learned by watching some fucking movie, right? That said, broadly speaking I remain relaxed about these moments - two people seeing the same situation differently is essentially the only thing that happens in the movie.
As a final note, I tagged the post 'musically inclined'. This was due to my borrowing lyrics from the song 'Crystals' by Of Monsters and Men, which comes in at the end of the post. This version in particular came to mind as an example of commuovere; I suppose you will have to indulge me when I say a song is another form of a story.
Friday, September 25, 2020
reading review - lost in translation, part two (quarterfinals #1)
Hi all,
Please see Sunday's post if this concept doesn't make any sense to you; the rest of us are marching on.
Quarterfinals
8) Commuovere (Italian) – verb, to be moved in a heartwarming way, usually relating to a story that moved you to tears.
I believe I dismissed this word at first glance because it read too much like 'feel good story'; a translation felt entirely unnecessary. I quickly came to my senses and acknowledged that there was a significant difference - this word expresses the way we feel about a story rather than forcing us to guess about its intrinsic qualities. We need more words like this, that help us bring our experience out of the shadows, where it forever lurks anytime the civilized folks suppress their emotions under the guise of a grave discussion about the work's permanent, inarguable characteristics.
We ask each other - was the book good? I always want to snap - who cares? We should ask instead - what did you feel about the book you read? Or, how did the book make your life better? Of course, maybe we don't ask, because we are terrified of what someone might say; we should be all in, we should be fascinated with each other. We can do so much better than resorting to clichés like 'feel good story', an expression that sounds like a C+ book report from a kindergarten; this phrase reinforces the divide of experience and expression that has stunted so many around me. Is it so bad to say a story made us feel good, so bad that we prefer to hide our feelings by attributing them to an inherent quality of the work, as if we had no choice in the matter, or that anyone else would have felt the same?
So, I thank the Italians for commuovere, a word that forces us to describe our feelings and live in our experience, where the walls are made of see-through skin; it's the house, the home that we are in, for all our time.
Back early next week to wrap up the quarterfinals - thanks for reading.
Please see Sunday's post if this concept doesn't make any sense to you; the rest of us are marching on.
Quarterfinals
8) Commuovere (Italian) – verb, to be moved in a heartwarming way, usually relating to a story that moved you to tears.
I believe I dismissed this word at first glance because it read too much like 'feel good story'; a translation felt entirely unnecessary. I quickly came to my senses and acknowledged that there was a significant difference - this word expresses the way we feel about a story rather than forcing us to guess about its intrinsic qualities. We need more words like this, that help us bring our experience out of the shadows, where it forever lurks anytime the civilized folks suppress their emotions under the guise of a grave discussion about the work's permanent, inarguable characteristics.
We ask each other - was the book good? I always want to snap - who cares? We should ask instead - what did you feel about the book you read? Or, how did the book make your life better? Of course, maybe we don't ask, because we are terrified of what someone might say; we should be all in, we should be fascinated with each other. We can do so much better than resorting to clichés like 'feel good story', an expression that sounds like a C+ book report from a kindergarten; this phrase reinforces the divide of experience and expression that has stunted so many around me. Is it so bad to say a story made us feel good, so bad that we prefer to hide our feelings by attributing them to an inherent quality of the work, as if we had no choice in the matter, or that anyone else would have felt the same?
So, I thank the Italians for commuovere, a word that forces us to describe our feelings and live in our experience, where the walls are made of see-through skin; it's the house, the home that we are in, for all our time.
Back early next week to wrap up the quarterfinals - thanks for reading.
Thursday, September 24, 2020
debt and credibility
Why does Liverpool FC find better transfer deals than Manchester United FC? There are many factors I can only guess at - scouting networks, internal politics, personalities, and so on. But there is one thing I'm pretty sure about, which has to do with debt and credibility.
Generally, MUFC runs a much higher debt burden relative to LFC; in soccer terms, LFC barely have any debt at all. This means if I'm a foreign club negotiating with these English giants, I have slightly different tactics - with MUFC, I can always entertain asking for more since they are willing to borrow; with LFC, I have to entertain the possibility of insufficient funds. If you have a reputation of carrying no debt, it's credible when you say you have no money; just open your empty wallet, and keep the credit card hidden.
Generally, MUFC runs a much higher debt burden relative to LFC; in soccer terms, LFC barely have any debt at all. This means if I'm a foreign club negotiating with these English giants, I have slightly different tactics - with MUFC, I can always entertain asking for more since they are willing to borrow; with LFC, I have to entertain the possibility of insufficient funds. If you have a reputation of carrying no debt, it's credible when you say you have no money; just open your empty wallet, and keep the credit card hidden.
Wednesday, September 23, 2020
sober by last call
Helmet football kicked off this month, which means I resumed watching commercials. The highlight was an Amazon spot that claimed a 'goal' of being carbon net-zero by 2040. Awesome, right?
Right.
You know what net-zero sounds like to me? It sounds to me like a drunk guy stumbling into a bar and announcing he'll have a water with each beer so he can drive himself home at last call. But what do I know? I know that back in my day, Amazon tried to win - it innovated, it competed, it went for the W - and it won. The Amazon I knew would have set a real goal, like maybe becoming a leader in negative-emissions technology, but I guess times are different; think big, insist on the highest standards, it all means net-zero.
Of course, it's possible I'm being unfair in classic TOA fashion, so I decided to see how Amazon stacked up among competitors. Maybe net-zero by 2040 is actually a favorable goal within Amazon's peer group? You never know if you don't check, right? Dive deep, learn and be curious, but I only got started, quitting as soon as I saw five of the eight firms ahead of it on the Forbes revenue ranking are oil and gas companies; forget the water, just pour me a shot, or shoot me, if the options are driving home or being here at last call.
Right.
You know what net-zero sounds like to me? It sounds to me like a drunk guy stumbling into a bar and announcing he'll have a water with each beer so he can drive himself home at last call. But what do I know? I know that back in my day, Amazon tried to win - it innovated, it competed, it went for the W - and it won. The Amazon I knew would have set a real goal, like maybe becoming a leader in negative-emissions technology, but I guess times are different; think big, insist on the highest standards, it all means net-zero.
Of course, it's possible I'm being unfair in classic TOA fashion, so I decided to see how Amazon stacked up among competitors. Maybe net-zero by 2040 is actually a favorable goal within Amazon's peer group? You never know if you don't check, right? Dive deep, learn and be curious, but I only got started, quitting as soon as I saw five of the eight firms ahead of it on the Forbes revenue ranking are oil and gas companies; forget the water, just pour me a shot, or shoot me, if the options are driving home or being here at last call.
Tuesday, September 22, 2020
the business bro bids adieu
The first time I used Dr. John Gottman's insights into bidding was back when I was starting off as a manager - I was looking for tactics that might help me overcome my tendency to, for the lack of a better expression, offend delicate sensibilities. Gottman's ideas, which included a rough guideline of five positive interactions for each negative one, proved a useful rule of thumb; if I had a bad interaction with someone, I wrote down in my little notepad "be positive with ___". This seemed to work pretty well - I had a relatively high rate of conflict with my team, yet I seem to have maintained a very good reputation.
The problem I ran into was outside my team. Over time, it's possible I maintained a healthy 5-to-1 ratio with all of my colleagues, but in practice the time frame was so wide it probably didn't matter. If I worked with someone six times a year - let's say every two months - then unless my 'bad' interaction came in the last of those half-dozen, I was surely sitting below the ratio for at least two months of each year. This isn't a path to success in any sense of the term.
The relevance of Gottman's research is not just the 5-to-1 number or the deliberate actions you can take to maintain the ratio; it's also about understanding that very few partnerships have the required dynamic for following his recommendations. In most of our relationships, we only see others every once in a while, so it's more important to simply remain receptive to all bids and ensure the ratio is well in excess of 5-to-1; I would recommend 500-to-1, just to be safe, with all but our most intimate relationships. It might mean I present an artificial representation of myself to most colleagues but I do so because I understand reality - no matter how well I get along with someone most of the time, the lingering taste of one bad interaction can forever imprint a weak connection with resentment.
The problem I ran into was outside my team. Over time, it's possible I maintained a healthy 5-to-1 ratio with all of my colleagues, but in practice the time frame was so wide it probably didn't matter. If I worked with someone six times a year - let's say every two months - then unless my 'bad' interaction came in the last of those half-dozen, I was surely sitting below the ratio for at least two months of each year. This isn't a path to success in any sense of the term.
The relevance of Gottman's research is not just the 5-to-1 number or the deliberate actions you can take to maintain the ratio; it's also about understanding that very few partnerships have the required dynamic for following his recommendations. In most of our relationships, we only see others every once in a while, so it's more important to simply remain receptive to all bids and ensure the ratio is well in excess of 5-to-1; I would recommend 500-to-1, just to be safe, with all but our most intimate relationships. It might mean I present an artificial representation of myself to most colleagues but I do so because I understand reality - no matter how well I get along with someone most of the time, the lingering taste of one bad interaction can forever imprint a weak connection with resentment.
Monday, September 21, 2020
leftovers #2 - coining professor average (trickle up economics)
Last week, I added an extra thought that innovation is unlikely when markets discourage profits. But that's a long-term thought - what about now? I think a lot of small businesses are on their last legs at the moment and laundromats are no exception. The landscape for local laundry will change in the future, likely toward a model that accepts new forms of payment; it's hard to imagine the next generation collecting quarters for the laundry, so we know we'll get there somehow.
My guess is that the coin shortage will be contribute, perhaps mightily, to the eventual extinction of the coin laundromat. As each coin laundry closes, customers will shift their business to surviving competitors, which will most likely accept card payment. The coin laundromats that survive will likely be among the stronger operations and might draw on their strength to invest in a new payment system. The government could step in and propose policy solutions to save some laundromats. A program that offers to help laundromats convert to card payment systems is sensible because it eliminates an existential threat, but this is expensive; I have no expectations for such a program to be implemented on a widespread scale. The better bet is some kind of cash injection into the economy, which might help some customers acquire quarters but eventually creates inflationary pressure. Inflation means an opportunity to pay off prior investments but this only benefits firms that made investments, which we determined last time does not include struggling firms due to the dynamics previously described; inflation reinforces the initial advantage for the wealthier firms.
In other words, my guess is that the coin shortage will put the weakest firms out of business, redistribute customers toward stronger firms, and in the long-term exacerbate existing inequality between Main Street and Wall Street. Ronald Reagan's smile surely trickles down from the heavens, or maybe these missing quarters are glinting in the sun as they accumulate to the top; in any case, an unrestrained free market fetish reinforces inequality by forcing market share to accumulate at the top.
My guess is that the coin shortage will be contribute, perhaps mightily, to the eventual extinction of the coin laundromat. As each coin laundry closes, customers will shift their business to surviving competitors, which will most likely accept card payment. The coin laundromats that survive will likely be among the stronger operations and might draw on their strength to invest in a new payment system. The government could step in and propose policy solutions to save some laundromats. A program that offers to help laundromats convert to card payment systems is sensible because it eliminates an existential threat, but this is expensive; I have no expectations for such a program to be implemented on a widespread scale. The better bet is some kind of cash injection into the economy, which might help some customers acquire quarters but eventually creates inflationary pressure. Inflation means an opportunity to pay off prior investments but this only benefits firms that made investments, which we determined last time does not include struggling firms due to the dynamics previously described; inflation reinforces the initial advantage for the wealthier firms.
In other words, my guess is that the coin shortage will put the weakest firms out of business, redistribute customers toward stronger firms, and in the long-term exacerbate existing inequality between Main Street and Wall Street. Ronald Reagan's smile surely trickles down from the heavens, or maybe these missing quarters are glinting in the sun as they accumulate to the top; in any case, an unrestrained free market fetish reinforces inequality by forcing market share to accumulate at the top.
Sunday, September 20, 2020
reading review - lost in translation
Longtime TOA readers will recall 2016’s Lost In Translation bracket, a well-intended linguistic circus that ultimately saw me crown 'iktsuarpok' as my favorite from among the book’s many untranslated, wonderful words. My 2019 December rereading exercise brought me back to this work, and I feel the time is right for an update. So, in lieu of a reading review (but how could anyone review this book, honestly) I'm giving you, dear reader, something you didn't have the courage to ask for - a sequel. This time, I’ve gone with a ranked list rather than a bracket, which is much less work for everyone (including you); as a homage to the original exercise, I roughly organized the list into bracket-sized blocks.
We'll begin today with the eight words that would have been knocked out in a theoretical Round of 16 (aka, the sweet sixteen, for those of you who don't like to pay athletes).
Lost In Translation by Ella Frances Sanders (December 2019)
Just missing the cut
17) Nunchi (Korean) – noun, the subtle, often unnoticed art of listening and gauging another’s mood.
Ha! You can't have a bracket without someone just missing out, so let's start at #17.
This word names a natural behavior and therefore enables us to both value and cultivate the skill. With words like nunchi, we elevate what gets taken for granted to an artform. I acknowledge that English at least recognizes the base behavior of nunchi, so a translation of this word isn't urgent, or even unnecessary; I left it just outside my top sixteen.
One and done
16) Goya (Urdu) – noun, a transporting suspension of disbelief – an ‘as-if’ that feels like reality – such as in good storytelling.
One common theme in this book is that the biggest threat to greatness is the modifier, which prevents the nuanced distinctions that would otherwise get lost as a torrent of '-ers' or '-ests' crowds around an overused base word. At first glance, goya seems like a small step above ‘wonderful’, but it's hardly the same thing as saying ‘pretty wonderful’; my advice to any storyteller is to reject the modifier, and guide the audience toward their own moment of goya.
15) Mangata (Swedish) – noun, the road-like reflection of the moon in the water.
14) Cafune (Brazilian Portuguese) – noun, the act of tenderly running your fingers through the hair of somebody you love.
13) Pisan zapra (Malay) – noun, the time needed to eat a banana.
Another theme throughout was the long list of words naming the mundane that might otherwise pass without a second thought. A name turns a moment into an experience – one day after starting this post, I noticed how the smoke-covered sun left its own mangata in the Charles, a clay-colored causeway across the rippling river. A fresh label can also be a catalyst for change - when we acknowledge how long it takes to eat a banana, it changes the way we think about eating; when we mark propaganda, oppression, or injustice, it changes the way we participate in our democracies.
In terms of the ranking, for these three words I felt that although each was an example of a charming way to use language, none of the trio was as insightful as the words higher in my list. I put mangata at the back because it's essentially a more colorful way to describe certain reflections; pisan zapra made me laugh so it ended up beating cafune by a hair.
12) Struisvogelpolitiek (Dutch) – noun, literally, ‘ostrich politics’, acting like you don’t notice when something bad happens and continuing on regardless, as you normally would.
This word is almost an extension of the previous three with the added bonus of an animal comparison, which seems to be a widely shared preference across various languages, and pushes this word up by one slot. I like this word because it names a behavior (and a pretty common one, as far as I can tell). This word, unlike the others thus far, seems to have purpose - it calls out absurdity in the hope of directing our elected officials toward better future performance. The mocking tone in the word is critical; don’t they say that the Devil is defeated with laughter? But as a word, I'm not sure it requires translation, so #12 seems appropriate.
To bring it back to the prior trio for a moment - if there was a word for how long it took a monkey to eat a banana, it would surely be much higher in the list. For those who are inventing new words, take note - if possible, use animal comparisons.
11) Saudade (Portuguese) – noun, a vague, constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist, a nostalgic longing for someone or something loved and then lost.
10) Szimpatikus (Hungarian) – adjective, when meeting someone for the first time, and your intuition tells you that they are a good person, you can refer to them as ‘szimpatikus’.
These words score higher for describing subtle variants on otherwise commonly shared feelings. The nostalgia of saudade may be especially relevant in these days of COVID, where so much of normal has been relegated to the drying ink on freshly revised history books. But I slotted it behind szimpatikus because the Hungarian word is a reminder that as social creatures our powers of interpersonal intuition can only be restrained, but never eliminated. These words are similar in a certain way for they establish a link between our emotions and our imaginations; szimpatikus looks forward and sees untapped potential, so it narrowly finishes ahead of saudade, which to me feels like the downside of applying the same instinct to the past.
9) Tima (Icelandic) – verb, not being ready to spend time or money on a specific thing, despite being able to afford it.
Tima is truly a word in the spirit of this book; it takes a common situation that we all understand - the stingy miser - and adds a subtle, brilliant nuance that changes our perspective. We see a pile of coins, and vilify Scrooge being consumed by greed; tima is the empathy required to help our imagination see in those dollars a protective shield, or a crutch, which will stand guard until the support is deemed surplus to requirements.
I suspect tima can also speak to both a problem and a solution at a societal level - the pandemic response has proven our ability to move and move quickly on important problems, spending freely once ready; I fear bringing the reluctant around will once again become an obstacle when the situation stabilizes and we look for our next problem. The horizon beckons with new challenges and the solutions will require another full collective effort. We must act now because at current prices, we can afford it; the sale will end soon.
Quarterfinals
I'll be back shortly with the quarterfinals, but for now I'll leave you with a list of those top eight words, presented here in alphabetical order:
Akihi (Hawaiian)
Commuovere (Italian)
Hiraeth (Welsh)
Iktsuarpok (Inuit)
Komorebi (Japanese)
Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan)
Trepverter (Yiddish)
Warmduscher (German)
Thanks for reading.
We'll begin today with the eight words that would have been knocked out in a theoretical Round of 16 (aka, the sweet sixteen, for those of you who don't like to pay athletes).
Lost In Translation by Ella Frances Sanders (December 2019)
Just missing the cut
17) Nunchi (Korean) – noun, the subtle, often unnoticed art of listening and gauging another’s mood.
Ha! You can't have a bracket without someone just missing out, so let's start at #17.
This word names a natural behavior and therefore enables us to both value and cultivate the skill. With words like nunchi, we elevate what gets taken for granted to an artform. I acknowledge that English at least recognizes the base behavior of nunchi, so a translation of this word isn't urgent, or even unnecessary; I left it just outside my top sixteen.
One and done
16) Goya (Urdu) – noun, a transporting suspension of disbelief – an ‘as-if’ that feels like reality – such as in good storytelling.
One common theme in this book is that the biggest threat to greatness is the modifier, which prevents the nuanced distinctions that would otherwise get lost as a torrent of '-ers' or '-ests' crowds around an overused base word. At first glance, goya seems like a small step above ‘wonderful’, but it's hardly the same thing as saying ‘pretty wonderful’; my advice to any storyteller is to reject the modifier, and guide the audience toward their own moment of goya.
15) Mangata (Swedish) – noun, the road-like reflection of the moon in the water.
14) Cafune (Brazilian Portuguese) – noun, the act of tenderly running your fingers through the hair of somebody you love.
13) Pisan zapra (Malay) – noun, the time needed to eat a banana.
Another theme throughout was the long list of words naming the mundane that might otherwise pass without a second thought. A name turns a moment into an experience – one day after starting this post, I noticed how the smoke-covered sun left its own mangata in the Charles, a clay-colored causeway across the rippling river. A fresh label can also be a catalyst for change - when we acknowledge how long it takes to eat a banana, it changes the way we think about eating; when we mark propaganda, oppression, or injustice, it changes the way we participate in our democracies.
In terms of the ranking, for these three words I felt that although each was an example of a charming way to use language, none of the trio was as insightful as the words higher in my list. I put mangata at the back because it's essentially a more colorful way to describe certain reflections; pisan zapra made me laugh so it ended up beating cafune by a hair.
12) Struisvogelpolitiek (Dutch) – noun, literally, ‘ostrich politics’, acting like you don’t notice when something bad happens and continuing on regardless, as you normally would.
This word is almost an extension of the previous three with the added bonus of an animal comparison, which seems to be a widely shared preference across various languages, and pushes this word up by one slot. I like this word because it names a behavior (and a pretty common one, as far as I can tell). This word, unlike the others thus far, seems to have purpose - it calls out absurdity in the hope of directing our elected officials toward better future performance. The mocking tone in the word is critical; don’t they say that the Devil is defeated with laughter? But as a word, I'm not sure it requires translation, so #12 seems appropriate.
To bring it back to the prior trio for a moment - if there was a word for how long it took a monkey to eat a banana, it would surely be much higher in the list. For those who are inventing new words, take note - if possible, use animal comparisons.
11) Saudade (Portuguese) – noun, a vague, constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist, a nostalgic longing for someone or something loved and then lost.
10) Szimpatikus (Hungarian) – adjective, when meeting someone for the first time, and your intuition tells you that they are a good person, you can refer to them as ‘szimpatikus’.
These words score higher for describing subtle variants on otherwise commonly shared feelings. The nostalgia of saudade may be especially relevant in these days of COVID, where so much of normal has been relegated to the drying ink on freshly revised history books. But I slotted it behind szimpatikus because the Hungarian word is a reminder that as social creatures our powers of interpersonal intuition can only be restrained, but never eliminated. These words are similar in a certain way for they establish a link between our emotions and our imaginations; szimpatikus looks forward and sees untapped potential, so it narrowly finishes ahead of saudade, which to me feels like the downside of applying the same instinct to the past.
9) Tima (Icelandic) – verb, not being ready to spend time or money on a specific thing, despite being able to afford it.
Tima is truly a word in the spirit of this book; it takes a common situation that we all understand - the stingy miser - and adds a subtle, brilliant nuance that changes our perspective. We see a pile of coins, and vilify Scrooge being consumed by greed; tima is the empathy required to help our imagination see in those dollars a protective shield, or a crutch, which will stand guard until the support is deemed surplus to requirements.
I suspect tima can also speak to both a problem and a solution at a societal level - the pandemic response has proven our ability to move and move quickly on important problems, spending freely once ready; I fear bringing the reluctant around will once again become an obstacle when the situation stabilizes and we look for our next problem. The horizon beckons with new challenges and the solutions will require another full collective effort. We must act now because at current prices, we can afford it; the sale will end soon.
Quarterfinals
I'll be back shortly with the quarterfinals, but for now I'll leave you with a list of those top eight words, presented here in alphabetical order:
Akihi (Hawaiian)
Commuovere (Italian)
Hiraeth (Welsh)
Iktsuarpok (Inuit)
Komorebi (Japanese)
Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan)
Trepverter (Yiddish)
Warmduscher (German)
Thanks for reading.
Saturday, September 19, 2020
a fair price
Apparently the city is expensive, but did you know that you can get a burrito around here for less than ten bucks? The Anna's Taqueria online menu explains that you get a main filling along with choices regarding cheese, beans, and so on; you can even choose a 'super' size, which is also less than ten bucks. All things considered, it's a good price.
I was thinking the other day that if I were rich - I'm talking rich, like a million or ten million or even one hundred millions bucks in the bank rick - anyway, I was thinking that if I were that rich, I'd still be charged less than ten bucks. It's only right, because no minimum-wage employee should know anything about me except my order - the filling, the cheese, the beans, and so on. Most things considered, it's a fair price.
I was thinking the other day that if I were rich - I'm talking rich, like a million or ten million or even one hundred millions bucks in the bank rick - anyway, I was thinking that if I were that rich, I'd still be charged less than ten bucks. It's only right, because no minimum-wage employee should know anything about me except my order - the filling, the cheese, the beans, and so on. Most things considered, it's a fair price.
Friday, September 18, 2020
reading review - to bless the space between us
This is a book of blessings, of which I noted three for a reread - 'At the End of the Day: A Mirror of Questions', 'For solitude', and 'For the Time of Necessary Decision'. As I noted back at the start of the year in a mini-review, the way O'Donohue delivers his message is perhaps more meaningful than the words themselves, and his presence infuses each page of this book with the support we need to keep a straight back as we step across each of life's thresholds.
To Bless the Space Between Us by John O'Donohue (May 2019)
The idea that has remained with me since reading this work is that modern culture has moved forward without replacing the rituals we once relied on to support us as we crossed the thresholds separating one stage of life from the next. The poetic words in this book are meant to fill in some of this empty space with the power of a word, phrase, or sentence to embolden our resolve, broaden our perspective, and enrich our journey.
Of course, most of life is spent in the in-between, where thresholds are but fading memories or far-off obligations; this suggests the real opportunity lies in helping others as they prepare for their own transitions. These blessings, rooted in the experience passed down over generations, give us a tool for helping others in these moments; they remind us that someone in the world will never forget today. Whether it be in showing someone how to follow the calling of their gift or lending an ear to those who cannot hear the soft, shy knocking of opportunity, the power of these blessings is the way they bring lifetimes of wisdom to the days, hours, or minutes we may experience just once. As O'Donohue notes, life experience is the clearest sign of grace; the mortal find a path to the divine simply by remaining true to the echo of experience, and amplifying this call for others.
I think the best idea I noted from this book is that wounds will always heal from the edges, as if health invades the injured area. The modern cult of progress and its habit for using the fringes to hide anything without immediate production value seems to have no room for this wisdom; no wonder the age is afflicted with a deep-seated anxiety, which seems to inch closer to becoming a permanent feature of the human genome with each passing day. When we disconnect from the edges, we become fearful of the horizons, the outer limits, and thresholds that inevitably confront us on the life journey. These are the places that, once crossed, forever separate past and future; they are the borders over which we can never retrace our steps. If we fear the edges, we become afraid of change, growth, and the truthful rhythm of emergence; we remain forever stuck in the center of the wounds that will never heal.
TOA Rating: three doorjambs out of four.
As a wrap up, here are a few selections from a list of questions that O'Donohue included among a larger list of things to ask yourself at the end of each day:
-Where was I hurt without anyone noticing?
-What did I learn today?
-What new thoughts visited me?
-What differences did I notice in those closest to me?
-With whom did I feel the most myself?
-What reached me today, and how deep did it imprint?
-What did I avoid today?
-Why was I given this day?
Those who need more have my blessing to look into my book notes.
To Bless the Space Between Us by John O'Donohue (May 2019)
The idea that has remained with me since reading this work is that modern culture has moved forward without replacing the rituals we once relied on to support us as we crossed the thresholds separating one stage of life from the next. The poetic words in this book are meant to fill in some of this empty space with the power of a word, phrase, or sentence to embolden our resolve, broaden our perspective, and enrich our journey.
Of course, most of life is spent in the in-between, where thresholds are but fading memories or far-off obligations; this suggests the real opportunity lies in helping others as they prepare for their own transitions. These blessings, rooted in the experience passed down over generations, give us a tool for helping others in these moments; they remind us that someone in the world will never forget today. Whether it be in showing someone how to follow the calling of their gift or lending an ear to those who cannot hear the soft, shy knocking of opportunity, the power of these blessings is the way they bring lifetimes of wisdom to the days, hours, or minutes we may experience just once. As O'Donohue notes, life experience is the clearest sign of grace; the mortal find a path to the divine simply by remaining true to the echo of experience, and amplifying this call for others.
I think the best idea I noted from this book is that wounds will always heal from the edges, as if health invades the injured area. The modern cult of progress and its habit for using the fringes to hide anything without immediate production value seems to have no room for this wisdom; no wonder the age is afflicted with a deep-seated anxiety, which seems to inch closer to becoming a permanent feature of the human genome with each passing day. When we disconnect from the edges, we become fearful of the horizons, the outer limits, and thresholds that inevitably confront us on the life journey. These are the places that, once crossed, forever separate past and future; they are the borders over which we can never retrace our steps. If we fear the edges, we become afraid of change, growth, and the truthful rhythm of emergence; we remain forever stuck in the center of the wounds that will never heal.
TOA Rating: three doorjambs out of four.
As a wrap up, here are a few selections from a list of questions that O'Donohue included among a larger list of things to ask yourself at the end of each day:
-Where was I hurt without anyone noticing?
-What did I learn today?
-What new thoughts visited me?
-What differences did I notice in those closest to me?
-With whom did I feel the most myself?
-What reached me today, and how deep did it imprint?
-What did I avoid today?
-Why was I given this day?
Those who need more have my blessing to look into my book notes.
Thursday, September 17, 2020
do your bidding
I've always been intrigued with Dr. John Gottman's research. I believe he's best known for what's called 'bidding', an idea that seems to be a result of his work with couples, which basically suggests that the way partners respond to each other is a critical factor in determining the relationship's success; there's much more to it, which you can read about if you go to his website, or if you know how to use a search engine. One thing that I noticed about his website is the way it highlights relationships where the participants are basically locked into the commitment, at least relative to other types of partnerships; there are drop-downs menus for couples, parents, and professionals. To put it another way, Gottman's research leans heavily toward long-term connections with a history (and expectation) of regular and frequent interactions.
The value of this work is obvious because any insights into these kinds of relationships has the possibility of enriching one of the most meaningful parts of life. But as a tool with which to think about relationships, it only completes part of the picture; most of our relationships don't fall into this category because they tend to be much shorter, and often involve near strangers. The disparate interactions that define these fleeting connections can almost blur together over time because of the way we take comfort in reciting well-worn lines from the cue cards of small talk; the original thinking of our unique selves remains nearly out of sight, like a shy child clutching her mother's knee while the adults discuss the weather. And yet, despite these initial posturings, occasionally inconsequential little connections become something more - a colleague from another team becomes a mentor, a neighbor a few doors away becomes a confidant, a local merchant in the sea of anonymous transactions becomes an unpaid therapist.
I clicked through Gottman's website a little earlier on a vague treasure hunt, looking for any glint of a golden rule that might explain why some weak connections improbably become treasured friendships. I gave up when I realized I knew the answer; the idea of bidding, where people simply respond to each other, is so powerful that it surely explains this phenomenon. When I think about all of my closest friends, I realize that in addition to my being their mutual friend they sometimes have only one other thing in common - they are responsive. And when I think back to the early days, I recognize that it's been there all along, whether it be in a shared interest that made responding easy, or a compatibility that made it natural. The most interesting thing is that I can almost always think of someone else who I met in similar circumstances to these close friends - maybe we were colleagues, or on the same sports team, or in the same friend group. I used to wonder why I remained friends with some while drifting from others; I suppose in life we either bid, or bid adieu.
The value of this work is obvious because any insights into these kinds of relationships has the possibility of enriching one of the most meaningful parts of life. But as a tool with which to think about relationships, it only completes part of the picture; most of our relationships don't fall into this category because they tend to be much shorter, and often involve near strangers. The disparate interactions that define these fleeting connections can almost blur together over time because of the way we take comfort in reciting well-worn lines from the cue cards of small talk; the original thinking of our unique selves remains nearly out of sight, like a shy child clutching her mother's knee while the adults discuss the weather. And yet, despite these initial posturings, occasionally inconsequential little connections become something more - a colleague from another team becomes a mentor, a neighbor a few doors away becomes a confidant, a local merchant in the sea of anonymous transactions becomes an unpaid therapist.
I clicked through Gottman's website a little earlier on a vague treasure hunt, looking for any glint of a golden rule that might explain why some weak connections improbably become treasured friendships. I gave up when I realized I knew the answer; the idea of bidding, where people simply respond to each other, is so powerful that it surely explains this phenomenon. When I think about all of my closest friends, I realize that in addition to my being their mutual friend they sometimes have only one other thing in common - they are responsive. And when I think back to the early days, I recognize that it's been there all along, whether it be in a shared interest that made responding easy, or a compatibility that made it natural. The most interesting thing is that I can almost always think of someone else who I met in similar circumstances to these close friends - maybe we were colleagues, or on the same sports team, or in the same friend group. I used to wonder why I remained friends with some while drifting from others; I suppose in life we either bid, or bid adieu.
Wednesday, September 16, 2020
sixes and sevens, part four - law and order, chicken and egg
OK reader, time for my monthly - and final - attempt to get my original point across within this framework, which I've failed to do in June, July, and August; I'm going to try a novel approach here in September, and instead of going on and on about topics like bridges, car culture, and ghost bikes I'm just going to state my point loud and clear in this first sentence - law and order politics is shameful bullshit (1).
The reason I kept trying to use those 'Sixes and Sevens' posts for the above idea was because I first had that thought on the bridge, which is of course where I also set the opening lines of the first post. It struck me then that in a country where people zip around on the roads at almost double the speed limit, the idea of being about 'law and order' is blinkered at best, and almost certainly total nonsense. Everyone knows the speed limit and everyone breaks the law; order remains. I understand the political sense of the expression - that in a sense it's code for stepping on the literal to reach higher ground - but what I'm getting at is simply a fact, or at least my observation, that we have order on the roads despite very little suggestion that speeding laws have any ongoing enforcement.
When I thought more about it, I realized that this fits a certain way of thinking about the relationship of the two concepts. A lazy thinker may initially link it to the chicken and egg framework - does the law create order or does order create law? - but I see the latter as the obvious answer; the laws merely record what's known to maintain order. Those who disagree with me would see it the other way - the law is enforced, with order the result. Like any duality, there are examples which support this opposing point - it's true that if I get pulled over for speeding, I stop speeding. But what happens if everyone is speeding? Well, everyone is, and it's not disorder, which implies something important about speeding laws and their relationship to order.
In this moment, when protesters around the country are making their voices heard on a nightly basis, understanding this law and order relationship feels more relevant than ever. Is the missing ingredient for restoring order a forceful reminder of law? Or should we consider that for a very long time we've had certain laws, which seem to exist only to excuse certain forms of murder, and that changing rather than enforcing these laws is a surer, safer, and more sustainable path to order? You'd think by now that we'd have learned to recognize disorder as the catalyst for changing laws; we have plenty to learn, and plenty more time to waste while others get caught up.
This might not sound so great; perhaps it disrupts your worldview. I'm happy to remind you that there are places on this planet where laws exist to enforce order. I will drive anyone who disagrees with me to the airport, and you can catch a flight to go see for yourself, but remember to bring your passport; you will not be on a domestic flight. Despite the frustrating pace, things do change in America; the tortoise will win in the long run. In the meantime, my offer stands for those who think slow is too fast, and prefer the status quo; I'm open to a lively discussion while I drive. Who knows, maybe I'll even learn something from you, like why some of our most consistently enforced laws - such as those against stealing - continue to be broken. Law, then order? You'd think by now we'd have tried a different approach, like maybe improving society such that any impulse or necessity to steal might be eliminated. But what do we know-it-alls know? It will be a long drive, with plenty of time for me to learn why I'm always wrong, once again; I can be convinced to break the speed limit.
Footnotes
1. Wow, that was easy....
I guess it's appropriate that I made this point in an unnecessarily long sentence.
The reason I kept trying to use those 'Sixes and Sevens' posts for the above idea was because I first had that thought on the bridge, which is of course where I also set the opening lines of the first post. It struck me then that in a country where people zip around on the roads at almost double the speed limit, the idea of being about 'law and order' is blinkered at best, and almost certainly total nonsense. Everyone knows the speed limit and everyone breaks the law; order remains. I understand the political sense of the expression - that in a sense it's code for stepping on the literal to reach higher ground - but what I'm getting at is simply a fact, or at least my observation, that we have order on the roads despite very little suggestion that speeding laws have any ongoing enforcement.
When I thought more about it, I realized that this fits a certain way of thinking about the relationship of the two concepts. A lazy thinker may initially link it to the chicken and egg framework - does the law create order or does order create law? - but I see the latter as the obvious answer; the laws merely record what's known to maintain order. Those who disagree with me would see it the other way - the law is enforced, with order the result. Like any duality, there are examples which support this opposing point - it's true that if I get pulled over for speeding, I stop speeding. But what happens if everyone is speeding? Well, everyone is, and it's not disorder, which implies something important about speeding laws and their relationship to order.
In this moment, when protesters around the country are making their voices heard on a nightly basis, understanding this law and order relationship feels more relevant than ever. Is the missing ingredient for restoring order a forceful reminder of law? Or should we consider that for a very long time we've had certain laws, which seem to exist only to excuse certain forms of murder, and that changing rather than enforcing these laws is a surer, safer, and more sustainable path to order? You'd think by now that we'd have learned to recognize disorder as the catalyst for changing laws; we have plenty to learn, and plenty more time to waste while others get caught up.
This might not sound so great; perhaps it disrupts your worldview. I'm happy to remind you that there are places on this planet where laws exist to enforce order. I will drive anyone who disagrees with me to the airport, and you can catch a flight to go see for yourself, but remember to bring your passport; you will not be on a domestic flight. Despite the frustrating pace, things do change in America; the tortoise will win in the long run. In the meantime, my offer stands for those who think slow is too fast, and prefer the status quo; I'm open to a lively discussion while I drive. Who knows, maybe I'll even learn something from you, like why some of our most consistently enforced laws - such as those against stealing - continue to be broken. Law, then order? You'd think by now we'd have tried a different approach, like maybe improving society such that any impulse or necessity to steal might be eliminated. But what do we know-it-alls know? It will be a long drive, with plenty of time for me to learn why I'm always wrong, once again; I can be convinced to break the speed limit.
Footnotes
1. Wow, that was easy....
I guess it's appropriate that I made this point in an unnecessarily long sentence.
Tuesday, September 15, 2020
leftovers - who is trader joe-san?
There was a brief moment as I wrote this post when I tried to include the pun "the land of the rising san" into the draft. But I quickly realized it wasn't the time, which meant there was no place.
This is a pretty common issue with some of my better posts; I think in some ways the surest sign of something good is a big pile of stuff that would otherwise survive in 99% of my writing. I could go on, but I fear I would make my point.
This is a pretty common issue with some of my better posts; I think in some ways the surest sign of something good is a big pile of stuff that would otherwise survive in 99% of my writing. I could go on, but I fear I would make my point.
Monday, September 14, 2020
leftovers - coining professor average (imperfect perfect)
One (sub) rant that didn't make the first team was about what I'll call 'the imperfection of perfect competition' - the inability to increase costs unless it also increases return. In my mind it's a huge problem, and kind of explains why excess capacity is a pipe dream for most businesses - not enough lifeboats on the Titanic, not enough N95 masks in the storage closet, not enough quarters at the laundromat.
It's also hard to convince a business to make certain obvious upgrades - like a laundromat installing an electronic payment system - if it creates a risk of going out of business before the investment translates to increased return. Think about it - are you going to pay $1.50 with a card to help the laundromat pay off the new payment system, or will you stick with the coin laundromat and its $1 price? But if the laundromat charges $1 via card, where will it get the money to pay off the upgrade? It doesn't matter because customers do the best thing for themselves; the end result is 2020.
I think underlying all of this is the lack of growth, specifically the kind that starts with innovation, and it makes sense when you think about how much America glorifies the free market. A laundromat cannot innovate in any meaningful way because each quarter on its expense sheet goes toward staying in business; every story about healthcare workers improvising PPE suggests an inability of hospitals to dedicate meaningful resources toward investment in spare capacity. It's the imperfection of perfect competition - if investment in innovation relies on profits yet perfect competition by design rules out profits, then there is no growth - markets where firms are unable to generate consistent profits experience zero growth.
It's also hard to convince a business to make certain obvious upgrades - like a laundromat installing an electronic payment system - if it creates a risk of going out of business before the investment translates to increased return. Think about it - are you going to pay $1.50 with a card to help the laundromat pay off the new payment system, or will you stick with the coin laundromat and its $1 price? But if the laundromat charges $1 via card, where will it get the money to pay off the upgrade? It doesn't matter because customers do the best thing for themselves; the end result is 2020.
I think underlying all of this is the lack of growth, specifically the kind that starts with innovation, and it makes sense when you think about how much America glorifies the free market. A laundromat cannot innovate in any meaningful way because each quarter on its expense sheet goes toward staying in business; every story about healthcare workers improvising PPE suggests an inability of hospitals to dedicate meaningful resources toward investment in spare capacity. It's the imperfection of perfect competition - if investment in innovation relies on profits yet perfect competition by design rules out profits, then there is no growth - markets where firms are unable to generate consistent profits experience zero growth.
Sunday, September 13, 2020
the business bro structures diversity
Imagine you were tasked with helping an organization understand the diversity of its staff composition. Your first task is an internal assessment, starting with a determination regarding potential bias in a hiring manager's decisions. Would you prefer to examine each of the hires one at a time or look at performance in the aggregate? I bring this up because the other day I heard a fascinating observation - when hiring managers fill one opening, they tend to reinforce the status quo; when they hire multiple people at once, they are more likely to bring in novel skills. This observation seems to speak to the same hunch as implied by my hypothetical assessment - when it comes to diversity, some feel simultaneous decisions lead to better outcomes.
I think there is something important in all that but I don't want to overstate my support for this hunch (which looks a lot like a process-oriented argument for quotas). Given the speculative nature of the above, it would be foolish to consider it a framework for some ironclad rule; this simply feels true to me, but more research is needed before it should be considered a tactic. Even if you do agree with me - which hardly seems like a given - there are plenty of examples that suggest this is not true across all forms of selection; there is not enough time in the day to list every college accused of selection bias. Perhaps most importantly of all, if the question of diversity in the workplace was a simple matter of batching decisions, there would be no issue to speak of at all, at least in the sense of what a hiring manager should do (I must note that I suspect TOA would fill many column inches in such a world regarding the rate of implementation, but let's leave that alone for today).
But there is no need to wait for more investigation into this idea before making use of some of the information at its foundation. After all, a hiring manager is someone who makes hiring decisions, so any insight into how people make decisions should be immediately valuable. The underlying concern here is the question of change, particularly within the context of a status quo. If I need to purchase coffee and I go to the store intending to buy just one bag, I'll probably come home with a similar style to one that I've drank in the past, if not an exact repeat of a prior product; if instead I go intending to buy ten bags, I suspect I become more likely to come home with a different style among my choices. It seems that everyone has a certain internalized idea of the appropriate balance between preserving the status quo and trying something new; the superior hiring manager recognizes this reality and accounts for its influence in any decision.
This understanding alone might not be enough if an organization's culture forces the balance too far toward a preference for the status quo. I can foresee why this might be true in a team where roles are strictly defined according to position; the challenge is compounded if one position alone retains responsibility for certain vital functions. The reliance on one position for a specific task means hiring someone lacking even one quality from a list of battle-tested qualifications will feel too risky for those adverse to trying new ideas; the eventual new hire is destined to reinforce the status quo. But the solution isn't to change risk-aversion, a natural human quality; the idea should be to redefine roles such that multiple team members share in any crucial responsibility, effectively limiting the potential damage that can be caused by a new hire who cannot immediately replicate a predecessor's success.
I feel an organization should always redefine roles as a first step toward identifying opportunities for increasing diversity. Unlike implementing the newest fad that ignores the underlying realities of human nature, a self-analysis that determines why the system causes team members to prefer the status quo points to the structural problems that support the existing culture. Although every organization is unique, the one truth that applies to them all is that whenever there is a diversity question the answer isn't in the future but the past; the processes, systems, and structures that produced the status quo will always reinforce it, no matter the good intentions of any initiative or the tireless efforts of any individual.
I think there is something important in all that but I don't want to overstate my support for this hunch (which looks a lot like a process-oriented argument for quotas). Given the speculative nature of the above, it would be foolish to consider it a framework for some ironclad rule; this simply feels true to me, but more research is needed before it should be considered a tactic. Even if you do agree with me - which hardly seems like a given - there are plenty of examples that suggest this is not true across all forms of selection; there is not enough time in the day to list every college accused of selection bias. Perhaps most importantly of all, if the question of diversity in the workplace was a simple matter of batching decisions, there would be no issue to speak of at all, at least in the sense of what a hiring manager should do (I must note that I suspect TOA would fill many column inches in such a world regarding the rate of implementation, but let's leave that alone for today).
But there is no need to wait for more investigation into this idea before making use of some of the information at its foundation. After all, a hiring manager is someone who makes hiring decisions, so any insight into how people make decisions should be immediately valuable. The underlying concern here is the question of change, particularly within the context of a status quo. If I need to purchase coffee and I go to the store intending to buy just one bag, I'll probably come home with a similar style to one that I've drank in the past, if not an exact repeat of a prior product; if instead I go intending to buy ten bags, I suspect I become more likely to come home with a different style among my choices. It seems that everyone has a certain internalized idea of the appropriate balance between preserving the status quo and trying something new; the superior hiring manager recognizes this reality and accounts for its influence in any decision.
This understanding alone might not be enough if an organization's culture forces the balance too far toward a preference for the status quo. I can foresee why this might be true in a team where roles are strictly defined according to position; the challenge is compounded if one position alone retains responsibility for certain vital functions. The reliance on one position for a specific task means hiring someone lacking even one quality from a list of battle-tested qualifications will feel too risky for those adverse to trying new ideas; the eventual new hire is destined to reinforce the status quo. But the solution isn't to change risk-aversion, a natural human quality; the idea should be to redefine roles such that multiple team members share in any crucial responsibility, effectively limiting the potential damage that can be caused by a new hire who cannot immediately replicate a predecessor's success.
I feel an organization should always redefine roles as a first step toward identifying opportunities for increasing diversity. Unlike implementing the newest fad that ignores the underlying realities of human nature, a self-analysis that determines why the system causes team members to prefer the status quo points to the structural problems that support the existing culture. Although every organization is unique, the one truth that applies to them all is that whenever there is a diversity question the answer isn't in the future but the past; the processes, systems, and structures that produced the status quo will always reinforce it, no matter the good intentions of any initiative or the tireless efforts of any individual.
Saturday, September 12, 2020
broken news
One of the joys of the fall is that I save time watching the local news; I know that if helmet football is mentioned in the first minute of the telecast there is actually no news that day, and I can do something else. But in 2020 I've realized this isn't exactly the best approach, primarily because I've realized the news doesn't seem very good at prioritizing coverage.
For example, I thought that if a police officer put a bag over someone's head, then that person died, and the autopsy ruled it a homicide, I suppose I thought it would be the only thing on the news for quite some time; it should at least be the lead story. I think the big news the next day was that Cam Newton was elected captain of the Patriots; voting is important.
For example, I thought that if a police officer put a bag over someone's head, then that person died, and the autopsy ruled it a homicide, I suppose I thought it would be the only thing on the news for quite some time; it should at least be the lead story. I think the big news the next day was that Cam Newton was elected captain of the Patriots; voting is important.
Friday, September 11, 2020
proper corona admin, vol 83 - my lucky day
I found twenty bucks today while walking home after my run. This should have been a moment of celebration; it was my lucky day. But as I took a closer look and confirmed my hunch - yup, twenty bills, no mistake about it - I was filled with an inconsolable sadness.
You see, I don't believe much in luck. Or, I should clarify this, as I know I'm lucky to be twenty dollars richer; I guess what I mean is that I don't believe in luck after luck. Anytime something goes my way, I kind of feel like that's the end of it, at least for a little while - there are no hot streaks during COVID.
I walked home slowly with my fortune in hand, knowing that there was nothing coming around the bend, nothing left to brighten my day. In fact, since I almost exclusively run at dusk, there was officially no chance of the day becoming any brighter. I followed the lengthening lines home like a train stuck on its tracks, where I would predictably pass the time until sleep, and try to remember something worth writing.
You see, I don't believe much in luck. Or, I should clarify this, as I know I'm lucky to be twenty dollars richer; I guess what I mean is that I don't believe in luck after luck. Anytime something goes my way, I kind of feel like that's the end of it, at least for a little while - there are no hot streaks during COVID.
I walked home slowly with my fortune in hand, knowing that there was nothing coming around the bend, nothing left to brighten my day. In fact, since I almost exclusively run at dusk, there was officially no chance of the day becoming any brighter. I followed the lengthening lines home like a train stuck on its tracks, where I would predictably pass the time until sleep, and try to remember something worth writing.
Thursday, September 10, 2020
reading review - call them by their true names
For a reader unfamiliar with Rebecca Solnit, this 2018 collection may be the best introduction to her work. Some may dispute this, suggesting that her better-known (and more highly regarded) books would serve as a more appropriate start, but I think the combination of shorter essays and the broad focus on the problems in present-day America make for an easier first read.
Call Them by Their True Names by Rebecca Solnit (April 2019)
The objective of these essays as suggested by the title is to use writing as a tool for calling out the truth wherever it cowers behind the justifications, narratives, and outright lies that seem to have taken center stage in the latter half of the past decade. A name, Solnit notes, is often a start to defeating a mysterious opponent, and throughout these essays she puts names to the vague notions, hunches, and feelings that infuse our daily lives with anxiety, uncertainty, and fear - the internal barriers created by anger and privilege, the legal system's dangerous balancing act between justice and retaliation, or the ongoing collective violence of ignoring climate change.
As I looked back over my notes from a over year ago, the idea that inequality feeds delusion came up a number of times. Inequality makes it easy to forget about the relationship between home ownership and the ability to secure a large bank loan. The imbalances in the status quo create obstacles, some unseen, to examining the role of institutions in various failures of American society. Solnit is not very interested in preserving current conditions; she points out that status quo bias is perhaps the most prevalent bias of all. When societal conditions drive us forward, it's like swimming faster due to an unseen undercurrent, but we sometimes move too fast to notice those being left behind; the way we use and revise language is one way to awaken the world to the reality that not everyone is benefiting from the same propulsion.
Endnotes and admin
0. TOA Rating
Three aliases out of four.
0a. Link to the book notes is here.
Call Them by Their True Names by Rebecca Solnit (April 2019)
The objective of these essays as suggested by the title is to use writing as a tool for calling out the truth wherever it cowers behind the justifications, narratives, and outright lies that seem to have taken center stage in the latter half of the past decade. A name, Solnit notes, is often a start to defeating a mysterious opponent, and throughout these essays she puts names to the vague notions, hunches, and feelings that infuse our daily lives with anxiety, uncertainty, and fear - the internal barriers created by anger and privilege, the legal system's dangerous balancing act between justice and retaliation, or the ongoing collective violence of ignoring climate change.
As I looked back over my notes from a over year ago, the idea that inequality feeds delusion came up a number of times. Inequality makes it easy to forget about the relationship between home ownership and the ability to secure a large bank loan. The imbalances in the status quo create obstacles, some unseen, to examining the role of institutions in various failures of American society. Solnit is not very interested in preserving current conditions; she points out that status quo bias is perhaps the most prevalent bias of all. When societal conditions drive us forward, it's like swimming faster due to an unseen undercurrent, but we sometimes move too fast to notice those being left behind; the way we use and revise language is one way to awaken the world to the reality that not everyone is benefiting from the same propulsion.
Endnotes and admin
0. TOA Rating
Three aliases out of four.
0a. Link to the book notes is here.
Wednesday, September 9, 2020
hurt by ignorance
I'm only halfway through Izzeldin Abuelaish's I Shall Not Hate but one thought is already resonating with me - you hurt people because you are ignorant. If I may say so, this isn't as impressive as my own observation that people being unable or unwilling to just... stop... is a major cause of harm in 2020, but I recognize that my idea is a subset of Abuelaish's more important concept.
The book itself is highly regarded; I recommend it. But I was not expecting so much of the first third to be strictly autobiographical; the book has a clear topic that seems relatable with less stage-setting, even if it's a compelling life story. In these moments, I suffer a brief moment of acknowledgement that those who insist on reading exclusively fiction have a point; a good story is never a disappointment.
The book itself is highly regarded; I recommend it. But I was not expecting so much of the first third to be strictly autobiographical; the book has a clear topic that seems relatable with less stage-setting, even if it's a compelling life story. In these moments, I suffer a brief moment of acknowledgement that those who insist on reading exclusively fiction have a point; a good story is never a disappointment.
Tuesday, September 8, 2020
leftovers #3 - the business bro is close enough to write
I've long considered spelling (and its far more obnoxious first cousin, grammar) a covert enemy of inclusion, diversity, and equity. I still remember a day around six years ago when our team had interviewed a candidate we liked in every imaginable way. All that remained was the writing sample, an idea I had implemented to help us get a sense of a candidate's written communication skills (1). Days later, our president told us he wouldn't hire the candidate because of her writing. I remember agreeing that the writing sample wasn't going to get an 800 on the SAT II, but what were we expecting from an international candidate?
When I tell this story, I can't help but think back to a conversation from a few months prior to that interview. Our company was split into onsite and remote halves; the team in the field was hired based on referrals, a rigorous technical exam, and - as far as I know - phone interviews. One day, everyone came onsite for an all-company meeting, our first one ever. A few hours into the day one of my remote colleagues - who was Black, like a number of those on the visiting team - pulled me aside while he was walking through the office and asked me what the diversity was all about. I didn't really get it, but when I looked around I saw what he saw - it was me, him, and a lot of other white people that I saw every day. I laughed because I knew what he meant, but it took me much longer before I got it.
Footnotes
1. The writing sample
As I remember it, when the interviews finished I would sit down with the candidate and explain the writing assignment, which was basically a reflection on the interview and an opportunity to add anything we hadn't covered during the conversation. I stand by it and look forward to using the tactic again in the future, but I need to make it clear to anyone involved in the decision that if the writing skills demonstrated in the cover letter don't strike a candidate from consideration, the final writing sample doesn't get veto power.
When I tell this story, I can't help but think back to a conversation from a few months prior to that interview. Our company was split into onsite and remote halves; the team in the field was hired based on referrals, a rigorous technical exam, and - as far as I know - phone interviews. One day, everyone came onsite for an all-company meeting, our first one ever. A few hours into the day one of my remote colleagues - who was Black, like a number of those on the visiting team - pulled me aside while he was walking through the office and asked me what the diversity was all about. I didn't really get it, but when I looked around I saw what he saw - it was me, him, and a lot of other white people that I saw every day. I laughed because I knew what he meant, but it took me much longer before I got it.
Footnotes
1. The writing sample
As I remember it, when the interviews finished I would sit down with the candidate and explain the writing assignment, which was basically a reflection on the interview and an opportunity to add anything we hadn't covered during the conversation. I stand by it and look forward to using the tactic again in the future, but I need to make it clear to anyone involved in the decision that if the writing skills demonstrated in the cover letter don't strike a candidate from consideration, the final writing sample doesn't get veto power.
Monday, September 7, 2020
in a sense and experience
I've gradually realized that when I incorporate experience into an essay I almost always improve on a first draft. In a sense, the experience brings the essence. That's not to say I can't write well without relating an experience, but it's almost always better than not, like a team preferring to play in front of its home crowd for a big game; it's a subtle but occasionally decisive advantage. If I reach a point in my work where two roads diverge at the crossroads of experience, I know what will make all the difference.
Why does a reference to experience seem to correlate with better writing? The temptation is to suggest that the experience itself informs the writing, that without experience I wouldn't know what I was writing about, but although this is indisputable I think it's a little too easy to be the best answer; you can write about a walk strictly in common terms, describing the who and the what, the when and the where, but if this were true the AP wire would carry the most compelling writing on the planet.
I think part of the answer is in the definition of a story. At its root, a story is about a decision, and in one sense an experience is everything associated with that decision. This is why the best business writing is told in the first-person; a business is defined by decisions, so compelling business writing must be about the ensuing experiences. It's still possible to write well about business without being involved in the decisions but these accounts are like the stories people tell about the things that happened to them, or in their vicinity; the entire account is underscored by the passive voice, which of course is the object of such stories.
But I'm still left with the question of why an experience unrelated to a decision improves my writing. The best answer I have at the moment is in the root of another word, essay, which in a sense means 'to try'. It suggests I must be trying something each time I start an essay but I often find it lacking until I inject a bit of experience. This makes a lot of sense to me because until I bring myself into the picture, I'm not really trying; even if I think through an idea on my own, it's likely someone else who can lay claim to the initial attempt. They say Newton invented gravity, but many apples fell before one impacted his thinking; scores sing the same song about Trader Joe-san, but only I can tell you why it makes me a background object.
Why does a reference to experience seem to correlate with better writing? The temptation is to suggest that the experience itself informs the writing, that without experience I wouldn't know what I was writing about, but although this is indisputable I think it's a little too easy to be the best answer; you can write about a walk strictly in common terms, describing the who and the what, the when and the where, but if this were true the AP wire would carry the most compelling writing on the planet.
I think part of the answer is in the definition of a story. At its root, a story is about a decision, and in one sense an experience is everything associated with that decision. This is why the best business writing is told in the first-person; a business is defined by decisions, so compelling business writing must be about the ensuing experiences. It's still possible to write well about business without being involved in the decisions but these accounts are like the stories people tell about the things that happened to them, or in their vicinity; the entire account is underscored by the passive voice, which of course is the object of such stories.
But I'm still left with the question of why an experience unrelated to a decision improves my writing. The best answer I have at the moment is in the root of another word, essay, which in a sense means 'to try'. It suggests I must be trying something each time I start an essay but I often find it lacking until I inject a bit of experience. This makes a lot of sense to me because until I bring myself into the picture, I'm not really trying; even if I think through an idea on my own, it's likely someone else who can lay claim to the initial attempt. They say Newton invented gravity, but many apples fell before one impacted his thinking; scores sing the same song about Trader Joe-san, but only I can tell you why it makes me a background object.
Sunday, September 6, 2020
apple just fell onto my head
I haven't written an update to my 'Final Exam' series - which reflected on my experience of becoming a bona fide soccer fan in America through the lens of Champions League Finals - since the 2015 contest. It might be worth a reboot given what has transpired since then - most notably for me the resurgence of Liverpool into an elite presence on the sport's biggest stage.
This year's final, however, will likely remain forever etched in my memory for non-sporting reasons. As plucky underdogs Bayern Munich maneuvered their way around upstart PSG, a line of thunderstorms barreled east across the commonwealth of pigskins and foul lines toward my little corner-kicking sanctuary. I can't remember exactly when the action started, but the air was soon filled with the percussive outbursts of an angry summer storm, and the space between me and the final was filled with an electric humidity that swirled through my apartment with more urgency than Neymar's desperate crusade to tie the score.
The final whistle was a starting gun; the rain drum-rolled rooftops and I strolled to the window for a front-row seat. A snap! But this wasn't nature, this was different, it was behind me... it had come from inside. I looked around with growing dread. A mouse? I couldn't see anything amiss in the apartment - again! The sound was right in front of me, ear level, and this time I saw it - the screen of an old iPod was separated, separating, and with each crack of its final song the plastic was rising slowly like a drawbridge making way for a showboat, or FFP tilting at the windmill of integrity. I pondered the irony that dead batteries have enough energy to explode, but collected myself to conduct a little research at Internet University; my findings suggested this was indeed a big problem, but no emergency. I moved the mousetrap-shaped iPod onto the stone of my faux fireplace - which I hoped was at least real enough to be fireproof - and I went out for a run in the relative calm of a wet and windy night under a lightning-streaked sky; it was comforting to remind myself with each stride that if I did die in the tempest, I wouldn't have to worry about the iPod.
The next day, I cursed my survival before grudgingly making space in my work schedule for a lunchtime trip to the Apple store; I had learned in my research that the tech giant will accept any of its products for recycling. I was actually quite nervous as I made the forty-minute walk, during which I carried the busted iPod in a can like Homer Simpson handling a glowing rod of uranium. My focus on the transportation task kept my mind off of an unpleasant reality - I knew that if the Apple store turned me down I was out of responsible options. There was no other place in the city that would accept a lithium ion battery for recycling and it was a couple of months before the next citywide collection event; a secondary option was north via bicycle, but I wasn't too keen on pedaling with the iPod in a backpack. Apple was my last and only resort - I don't know what I would have done next, but it's hard to imagine any destination except the trash.
Fortunately, Apple was an easy partner and I had no problem submitting everything for recycling. In fact, I was so pleased I joked later with my colleagues that my odds of getting an iPhone had increased 50%, and that it was my number one choice were I to get a smartphone the next day (though I should note that the odds of actually getting a smartphone had not changed, from almost zero). But is this an appropriate way to purchase smartphones? I think so because in the context of this product - which tends to have a two-to-four year turnover cycle - I'm unaware of how to make responsible decisions for the environment except for considering eventual disposal. The question of electronic waste is not the most relevant ecological concern at the moment but this is only because we have much bigger problems; as soon as certain challenges are addressed, we will have the luxury of becoming aghast with the condition of our landfills. In the meantime, I think the best we can do is buy from a company that is doing more than my city to make recycling and disposal of electronics not only feasible, but easy; some may dispute the following out of hand, but to me the ease of the method is a vital consideration that is often overlooked by those who advocate a grassroots approach for solving the environmental crisis.
The process of writing about this experience prompted me to consider a possibility - what is preventing Apple from contracting out its recycling program to cities and towns? The obvious answer is in my note above - consumers will buy from the company because the recycling program is a competitive advantage. But I'm not convinced by this argument, mostly because Apple is so powerful it should be more concerned about building a great reputation, which it would surely accomplish by partnering with municipal recycling programs. In Boston, I generally give Mayor Walsh an A for effort (again, in my book, which I look forward to writing) and I'm sure he is up for the challenge of envisioning a world-class electronics recycling program for Boston that would benefit the environment. But isn't the best-case scenario simply replicating Apple, where anyone can walk inside and hand over a product? I can't imagine anything created by our city government would beat contracting this specific problem of recycling lithium ion batteries to a company with the expertise and commitment required of the task.
Of course, the other angle is to look at it from the company's perspective. Apple currently seems to accept all of its own products plus those of any brand it owns; it doesn't seem like a stretch to imagine it could handle other devices, but it won't just start doing it for free. But should it? Again, there is the reputation concern noted above, but I think some could add that it owes us, and should opt to proactively give back rather than waiting for a contract that allows it to break even. Apple is one of many companies that benefited from research funded by taxpayer dollars but I'm currently in the dark regarding any version of a taxpayer dividend; perhaps President Trump will take a break from his golf commitments and get around to renegotiating this 'deal', if you can call it that, where a private company hoards all the profits despite some of its success being seeded by publicly-funded research. Or to put it another way, the current terms of the deal seem to be that one company, named after a food, can be worth at least $2 trillion while millions of Americans stand in line for bread; it seems like this would be low-hanging fruit for a president who likes to renegotiate bad deals on the behalf of all Americans, but who knows - maybe he thinks standing in line is OK since it's an opportunity to check your phone, which would explain why he is constantly filling Twitter with content. He's serving the country! Or maybe like any bully, he avoids fights with opponents who stand up to him.
Anyway, while the president remains busy making America great again by carrying out important tasks like removing every mailbox in the country, perhaps it might be a nice gesture if Apple simply offered its excess capacity and helped us get started with this looming recycling crisis. It's going to be necessary, I think, because by government's myopic standards getting ahead of any problem is simply beyond the imagination. If Apple opens its recycling program, I promise to stop pointing out how they could mail every American a $2,000 check tomorrow and still be worth one trillion dollars; I promise I won't mention it every month that this sorry little landfill called TOA continues to fill the internet with its own brand of explosive, electronic garbage.
This year's final, however, will likely remain forever etched in my memory for non-sporting reasons. As plucky underdogs Bayern Munich maneuvered their way around upstart PSG, a line of thunderstorms barreled east across the commonwealth of pigskins and foul lines toward my little corner-kicking sanctuary. I can't remember exactly when the action started, but the air was soon filled with the percussive outbursts of an angry summer storm, and the space between me and the final was filled with an electric humidity that swirled through my apartment with more urgency than Neymar's desperate crusade to tie the score.
The final whistle was a starting gun; the rain drum-rolled rooftops and I strolled to the window for a front-row seat. A snap! But this wasn't nature, this was different, it was behind me... it had come from inside. I looked around with growing dread. A mouse? I couldn't see anything amiss in the apartment - again! The sound was right in front of me, ear level, and this time I saw it - the screen of an old iPod was separated, separating, and with each crack of its final song the plastic was rising slowly like a drawbridge making way for a showboat, or FFP tilting at the windmill of integrity. I pondered the irony that dead batteries have enough energy to explode, but collected myself to conduct a little research at Internet University; my findings suggested this was indeed a big problem, but no emergency. I moved the mousetrap-shaped iPod onto the stone of my faux fireplace - which I hoped was at least real enough to be fireproof - and I went out for a run in the relative calm of a wet and windy night under a lightning-streaked sky; it was comforting to remind myself with each stride that if I did die in the tempest, I wouldn't have to worry about the iPod.
The next day, I cursed my survival before grudgingly making space in my work schedule for a lunchtime trip to the Apple store; I had learned in my research that the tech giant will accept any of its products for recycling. I was actually quite nervous as I made the forty-minute walk, during which I carried the busted iPod in a can like Homer Simpson handling a glowing rod of uranium. My focus on the transportation task kept my mind off of an unpleasant reality - I knew that if the Apple store turned me down I was out of responsible options. There was no other place in the city that would accept a lithium ion battery for recycling and it was a couple of months before the next citywide collection event; a secondary option was north via bicycle, but I wasn't too keen on pedaling with the iPod in a backpack. Apple was my last and only resort - I don't know what I would have done next, but it's hard to imagine any destination except the trash.
Fortunately, Apple was an easy partner and I had no problem submitting everything for recycling. In fact, I was so pleased I joked later with my colleagues that my odds of getting an iPhone had increased 50%, and that it was my number one choice were I to get a smartphone the next day (though I should note that the odds of actually getting a smartphone had not changed, from almost zero). But is this an appropriate way to purchase smartphones? I think so because in the context of this product - which tends to have a two-to-four year turnover cycle - I'm unaware of how to make responsible decisions for the environment except for considering eventual disposal. The question of electronic waste is not the most relevant ecological concern at the moment but this is only because we have much bigger problems; as soon as certain challenges are addressed, we will have the luxury of becoming aghast with the condition of our landfills. In the meantime, I think the best we can do is buy from a company that is doing more than my city to make recycling and disposal of electronics not only feasible, but easy; some may dispute the following out of hand, but to me the ease of the method is a vital consideration that is often overlooked by those who advocate a grassroots approach for solving the environmental crisis.
The process of writing about this experience prompted me to consider a possibility - what is preventing Apple from contracting out its recycling program to cities and towns? The obvious answer is in my note above - consumers will buy from the company because the recycling program is a competitive advantage. But I'm not convinced by this argument, mostly because Apple is so powerful it should be more concerned about building a great reputation, which it would surely accomplish by partnering with municipal recycling programs. In Boston, I generally give Mayor Walsh an A for effort (again, in my book, which I look forward to writing) and I'm sure he is up for the challenge of envisioning a world-class electronics recycling program for Boston that would benefit the environment. But isn't the best-case scenario simply replicating Apple, where anyone can walk inside and hand over a product? I can't imagine anything created by our city government would beat contracting this specific problem of recycling lithium ion batteries to a company with the expertise and commitment required of the task.
Of course, the other angle is to look at it from the company's perspective. Apple currently seems to accept all of its own products plus those of any brand it owns; it doesn't seem like a stretch to imagine it could handle other devices, but it won't just start doing it for free. But should it? Again, there is the reputation concern noted above, but I think some could add that it owes us, and should opt to proactively give back rather than waiting for a contract that allows it to break even. Apple is one of many companies that benefited from research funded by taxpayer dollars but I'm currently in the dark regarding any version of a taxpayer dividend; perhaps President Trump will take a break from his golf commitments and get around to renegotiating this 'deal', if you can call it that, where a private company hoards all the profits despite some of its success being seeded by publicly-funded research. Or to put it another way, the current terms of the deal seem to be that one company, named after a food, can be worth at least $2 trillion while millions of Americans stand in line for bread; it seems like this would be low-hanging fruit for a president who likes to renegotiate bad deals on the behalf of all Americans, but who knows - maybe he thinks standing in line is OK since it's an opportunity to check your phone, which would explain why he is constantly filling Twitter with content. He's serving the country! Or maybe like any bully, he avoids fights with opponents who stand up to him.
Anyway, while the president remains busy making America great again by carrying out important tasks like removing every mailbox in the country, perhaps it might be a nice gesture if Apple simply offered its excess capacity and helped us get started with this looming recycling crisis. It's going to be necessary, I think, because by government's myopic standards getting ahead of any problem is simply beyond the imagination. If Apple opens its recycling program, I promise to stop pointing out how they could mail every American a $2,000 check tomorrow and still be worth one trillion dollars; I promise I won't mention it every month that this sorry little landfill called TOA continues to fill the internet with its own brand of explosive, electronic garbage.
Saturday, September 5, 2020
proper corona admin, vol 82 - bamboo toilet paper
As a follow up to my August post about the coin shortage, I must clarify that the toilet paper shortage is probably over; I base this conclusion on having just returned home with a pack of 'unbleached bamboo tissue' which claims to be 'sustainable, durable, eco-friendly, and non-toxic'. (Amusingly, none of these descriptors will apply once I use the product; same shit, different toilet paper.)
Anyway, the interesting thing about the bamboo toilet paper is that it cost about as much as regular toilet paper. I'm sure sometime in the next year or two I will read some pop-economics book that uses this as an argument for why the shortage was actually a good thing, and an example of soaring economic theory in full flight - the shortage spurred innovation, which lowered the cost profiles for alternate products, which means we all pay less for toilet paper, plus it's better for the environment, on and on and on. Why reader, this book might even stretch the comparison by suggesting this process will play out on a larger scale and eventually solve climate change, and all we have to do is supply and demand - great!
Luckily, I'll be here to remind folks that although the toilet paper shortage was indeed intellectually interesting for the able-bodied folks who could afford to buy in bulk, for many the shortage was another difficult chapter in a challenging life; I'm not sure if I'll add that such lives are needlessly complicated anytime our so-called intellectuals ignore the human suffering that is often the makeweight which balances the relationship between theory and practice.
Anyway, the interesting thing about the bamboo toilet paper is that it cost about as much as regular toilet paper. I'm sure sometime in the next year or two I will read some pop-economics book that uses this as an argument for why the shortage was actually a good thing, and an example of soaring economic theory in full flight - the shortage spurred innovation, which lowered the cost profiles for alternate products, which means we all pay less for toilet paper, plus it's better for the environment, on and on and on. Why reader, this book might even stretch the comparison by suggesting this process will play out on a larger scale and eventually solve climate change, and all we have to do is supply and demand - great!
Luckily, I'll be here to remind folks that although the toilet paper shortage was indeed intellectually interesting for the able-bodied folks who could afford to buy in bulk, for many the shortage was another difficult chapter in a challenging life; I'm not sure if I'll add that such lives are needlessly complicated anytime our so-called intellectuals ignore the human suffering that is often the makeweight which balances the relationship between theory and practice.
Friday, September 4, 2020
how a runner should do yoga
I remember reading a few years ago that runners shouldn't do yoga because it increases the likelihood of injury. It must have convinced me as I haven't done any yoga in my life. It's too bad I don't remember the exact source of this insight, which claimed to have some basis in research; I think I'd have fun picking apart the method.
The first thing I'd look for is how the study identified subjects. If there was some element of self-selection I would immediately discount the findings. Let's think about the type of runner who might start doing yoga and the likelihood of this person being on the brink of injury - my guess is that those who felt really good about their running probably wouldn't be looking for new methods to take care of their bodies. If you studied runners who were turning to yoga, you were probably studying runners who had an elevated injury risk compared to those who were not turning to yoga.
I look for this self-selection flaw anytime I see some kind of data about running. For example, it's fairly common for a new type of sneaker to receive negative reviews because they cause some kind of injury. But what types of runners are buying new sneakers? Again, my guess (and that's the best I can do in most cases, due to lack of information) is that someone with worn out sneakers is the type of person in the market for new sneakers. And what type of person has worn out sneakers? Someone who runs enough miles to wear out sneakers; even if you think running risk is equally distributed, the fact that these people run more miles puts them at a higher risk if experiencing injury relative to less frequent runners (and their perfectly good sneakers). I'd suggest if you are looking into a new type of sneaker, study the reviews but ignore the comments about any injuries; if it looks good, buy the sneakers and try them once a week for a couple of months until you are sure they won't cause new injuries.
What I've learned about the data in running is that most of the time you can find a distinguishing feature between two comparison groups that might explain the result. This doesn't mean you should dismiss all research findings out of hand but I think it does preclude automatically running with any trendy new insight. As I noted above regarding the best way to try new sneakers, the key is to move slowly and incrementally through change so that the body has time to voice any concerns; no matter what the research says, runners are best advised to listen to their bodies as they move through the constant, controlled, and iterative process of regular experimentation with new techniques, strategies, and equipment.
The first thing I'd look for is how the study identified subjects. If there was some element of self-selection I would immediately discount the findings. Let's think about the type of runner who might start doing yoga and the likelihood of this person being on the brink of injury - my guess is that those who felt really good about their running probably wouldn't be looking for new methods to take care of their bodies. If you studied runners who were turning to yoga, you were probably studying runners who had an elevated injury risk compared to those who were not turning to yoga.
I look for this self-selection flaw anytime I see some kind of data about running. For example, it's fairly common for a new type of sneaker to receive negative reviews because they cause some kind of injury. But what types of runners are buying new sneakers? Again, my guess (and that's the best I can do in most cases, due to lack of information) is that someone with worn out sneakers is the type of person in the market for new sneakers. And what type of person has worn out sneakers? Someone who runs enough miles to wear out sneakers; even if you think running risk is equally distributed, the fact that these people run more miles puts them at a higher risk if experiencing injury relative to less frequent runners (and their perfectly good sneakers). I'd suggest if you are looking into a new type of sneaker, study the reviews but ignore the comments about any injuries; if it looks good, buy the sneakers and try them once a week for a couple of months until you are sure they won't cause new injuries.
What I've learned about the data in running is that most of the time you can find a distinguishing feature between two comparison groups that might explain the result. This doesn't mean you should dismiss all research findings out of hand but I think it does preclude automatically running with any trendy new insight. As I noted above regarding the best way to try new sneakers, the key is to move slowly and incrementally through change so that the body has time to voice any concerns; no matter what the research says, runners are best advised to listen to their bodies as they move through the constant, controlled, and iterative process of regular experimentation with new techniques, strategies, and equipment.
Thursday, September 3, 2020
why why not
There is an urban legend about a final exam question from a college philosophy course - why? Apparently, a student handed in "Why not?" and got an A. You probably know what I'm talking about, reader; I suspect it was popularized by a combination of word of mouth and appearances in nationally syndicated columns.
But imagine if this story was on tomorrow's morning news? I bet people would go ballistic. They might accuse the grading professor of bias or invoke arguments about privilege in higher education. I suppose the more muted reactions would include muttering about grade inflation, and maybe a contrarian thinker would call this the low point of a generation raised communicating via the short bursts of texting.
I'd like to think that a far simpler reaction might gain some attention - why should such a stupid answer get an A? Or even better, as I interpreted Marilyn vos Savant's reported quip in the above link, why should a professor who asks such stupid questions be allowed to keep the job? The first time I heard this joke I laughed; the next few times, I appreciated the clever student. These days, the joke doesn't seem that funny, or clever. If 'why not' is a plausible enough 'A' response, what does that suggest about how we view higher education? I guess it implies there is nothing wrong with sending a young adult into the world with a diploma, six figures of student debt, and the A+ reasoning skills seen whenever a five-year old justifies a third dessert.
But imagine if this story was on tomorrow's morning news? I bet people would go ballistic. They might accuse the grading professor of bias or invoke arguments about privilege in higher education. I suppose the more muted reactions would include muttering about grade inflation, and maybe a contrarian thinker would call this the low point of a generation raised communicating via the short bursts of texting.
I'd like to think that a far simpler reaction might gain some attention - why should such a stupid answer get an A? Or even better, as I interpreted Marilyn vos Savant's reported quip in the above link, why should a professor who asks such stupid questions be allowed to keep the job? The first time I heard this joke I laughed; the next few times, I appreciated the clever student. These days, the joke doesn't seem that funny, or clever. If 'why not' is a plausible enough 'A' response, what does that suggest about how we view higher education? I guess it implies there is nothing wrong with sending a young adult into the world with a diploma, six figures of student debt, and the A+ reasoning skills seen whenever a five-year old justifies a third dessert.
Wednesday, September 2, 2020
proper corona admin, vol 81 - not petty, just incompetent
Early on during the pandemic, I was annoyed whenever a runner zipped by at such close range that I could feel the COVID-filled air tickling my earlobes. Was I the only one taking this public health crisis seriously?
But I realize now that I was wrong; I'd forgotten that casual runners are not good at running. They do almost nothing to become better runners - no practicing, no stretching, no resting - they just continue in the same straight line doing the same exact thing incrementally faster than they did yesterday until their body gives up; there are injuries specific to casual runners. So why did I expect them to suddenly go out of their way? The problem wasn't a disdain for public health, it was a deficiency of skill and mindset combined with stopwatch obsession; looking back, it's shocking that anyone got out of the way at all.
But I realize now that I was wrong; I'd forgotten that casual runners are not good at running. They do almost nothing to become better runners - no practicing, no stretching, no resting - they just continue in the same straight line doing the same exact thing incrementally faster than they did yesterday until their body gives up; there are injuries specific to casual runners. So why did I expect them to suddenly go out of their way? The problem wasn't a disdain for public health, it was a deficiency of skill and mindset combined with stopwatch obsession; looking back, it's shocking that anyone got out of the way at all.
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
the toa newsletter - september 2020
Happy September reader,
Nothing special to say today so let's hide behind my little binky, which I more commonly refer to as Proper Admin.
The fifth Saturday
A glut of accumulating vacation time combined with a lack of vacation options has forced me into the position of inventing excuses for taking time off before it disappears into the annals of HR's time-tracking record. I think I've stumbled into a decent solution, and one I might maintain whenever possible as an extended self-care weekend - taking a day or two around the fifth Saturday of the month. The fact that it only rolls around four times a year is ideal - I won't use up all the time I need for a real vacation yet I'll have a consistent space on the calendar for personal maintenance work, which sometimes gets crowded out of my regular calendar.
Admin 360, or The Ancient Japanese Method of Doing Stuff
I've also started using three minutes as a rule of thumb for most tasks - if it takes less than three minutes, I try to do it as soon as possible, but anything longer than three minutes gets scheduled for a future date. A really useful consequence is what I'm calling the '360 list', which is a list of all non-urgent three-plus minute tasks - the idea is that once I get to around sixty minutes of work, I set aside an hour and take care of it all. If things continue to go well, I may even slap some tired marketing label ('Japanese') on the idea; I'll be one bestseller away from having a show no one can find on Peacock.
Gee, we are annoyed today, no?
I just heard Trump say 'China Virus' again, so I'm in a great mood.
Anything go your way in August?
So far this season, Taki has more goals than Messi and Ronaldo... combined.
So just sports.
Yes, speaking of sports, the NBA's return in their so-called bubble has been a vindicating experiment for me. I've always been an admirer of Damian Lillard and he has been outstanding this summer. I've also been a fan of Jamal Murray and it's been great to see him emerge as a potential superstar player. The rise of Luka Doncic has always been a matter of when, not if, at least as far as I've been concerned.
But the real star in my mind has been Jaylen Brown, who I've mentioned at times in the past on TOA. And again, it's been for reasons unrelated to his excellent performances on the court. Here's Jaylen, quoted from this article:
His comment reminded me about one of my (many, many) concerns as we approach the end of 2020 - everyone comes out to vote, the results go a certain way, and we all pat each other on the back and say "well done". By now we should all know large parties are a threat to our safety, but I'm not just talking about the ragers around the block; every four years we renew our commitment to a two-party system, which includes among its strengths a capacity to "promote centrism" and "encourage parties to find common positions". What two-party system is this?
Patience with an experiment is one thing but when I see the result going the opposite way of the supposed intent, I think it's a great idea to try something else. Another Jaylen quote I've highlighted here in the past suggested that America has a certain idea about requiring winners and losers - to have "people up top, and people down low." It's time to rethink this idea before it kills us all.
In the next month... of True On Average:
1) I start catching up on 2019's reading reviews.
2) Bamboo toilet paper?
3) Mayor Marty needs Apple.
Nothing special to say today so let's hide behind my little binky, which I more commonly refer to as Proper Admin.
The fifth Saturday
A glut of accumulating vacation time combined with a lack of vacation options has forced me into the position of inventing excuses for taking time off before it disappears into the annals of HR's time-tracking record. I think I've stumbled into a decent solution, and one I might maintain whenever possible as an extended self-care weekend - taking a day or two around the fifth Saturday of the month. The fact that it only rolls around four times a year is ideal - I won't use up all the time I need for a real vacation yet I'll have a consistent space on the calendar for personal maintenance work, which sometimes gets crowded out of my regular calendar.
Admin 360, or The Ancient Japanese Method of Doing Stuff
I've also started using three minutes as a rule of thumb for most tasks - if it takes less than three minutes, I try to do it as soon as possible, but anything longer than three minutes gets scheduled for a future date. A really useful consequence is what I'm calling the '360 list', which is a list of all non-urgent three-plus minute tasks - the idea is that once I get to around sixty minutes of work, I set aside an hour and take care of it all. If things continue to go well, I may even slap some tired marketing label ('Japanese') on the idea; I'll be one bestseller away from having a show no one can find on Peacock.
Gee, we are annoyed today, no?
I just heard Trump say 'China Virus' again, so I'm in a great mood.
Anything go your way in August?
So far this season, Taki has more goals than Messi and Ronaldo... combined.
So just sports.
Yes, speaking of sports, the NBA's return in their so-called bubble has been a vindicating experiment for me. I've always been an admirer of Damian Lillard and he has been outstanding this summer. I've also been a fan of Jamal Murray and it's been great to see him emerge as a potential superstar player. The rise of Luka Doncic has always been a matter of when, not if, at least as far as I've been concerned.
But the real star in my mind has been Jaylen Brown, who I've mentioned at times in the past on TOA. And again, it's been for reasons unrelated to his excellent performances on the court. Here's Jaylen, quoted from this article:
"Everybody keeps saying, 'Change is going to take this, change is going to take that.' That's the incrementalism idea that keeps stringing you along to make you feel like something's going to happen, something's going to happen. People were dying in 2014, and it's 2020 and people are still dying the same way. They keep saying 'reform, reform, reform,' and ain't nothing being reformed. I'm not as confident as I would like to be."
His comment reminded me about one of my (many, many) concerns as we approach the end of 2020 - everyone comes out to vote, the results go a certain way, and we all pat each other on the back and say "well done". By now we should all know large parties are a threat to our safety, but I'm not just talking about the ragers around the block; every four years we renew our commitment to a two-party system, which includes among its strengths a capacity to "promote centrism" and "encourage parties to find common positions". What two-party system is this?
Patience with an experiment is one thing but when I see the result going the opposite way of the supposed intent, I think it's a great idea to try something else. Another Jaylen quote I've highlighted here in the past suggested that America has a certain idea about requiring winners and losers - to have "people up top, and people down low." It's time to rethink this idea before it kills us all.
In the next month... of True On Average:
1) I start catching up on 2019's reading reviews.
2) Bamboo toilet paper?
3) Mayor Marty needs Apple.
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