History

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Memento mori

Well, it’s the first day of a new month today.  September is that new month, of course, and despite its seven-related name, it is our ninth month, pushed back partly because of the egotism of two ancient dictators and those who revered them.

Not to say there weren’t things to admire about Julius Caesar or even Octavian (AKA Augustus, whose earlier name meant “eighth”, which at least suits the current month order).  But it is a fact that they are both just as dead as the veriest plebian or slave in their “empire”; their bodies are dust in the wind, if that.

Yes, we remember them‒a bit‒but that does them absolutely no good.  They returned to their initial state, as Mark Twain discussed at least once:  that he had been dead for millions of years before he was conceived, and it had not inconvenienced him in the slightest, so there was little to fear about returning to that state.

If you want to be remembered as a Roman Emperor (it’s probably too late for you to do that now, but let’s consider it for the sake of argument), be remembered like Marcus Aurelius, whose contributions to Stoic philosophy and the nature of a good life are still guiding and inspiring people today.  Aurelius continues actually to have effects even millennia after his death‒real ones, consequential ones, not just having people know the names of months that are named after him*.

Marcus Aurelius’s words continue to help stimulate thought and to help with psychological equanimity, and they do so in more logically defensible ways than those of most religious patriarchs (largely because the vast majority of religions are mere hodgepodges of various kinds of bullshit).

Of course, it’s almost certainly all futile.  All of it will be entirely effaced in all but the most theoretical sense (e.g., the law of conservation of quantum information) by the passage of time, as everything returns to the state mentioned by good ol’ Samuel Clemens, who is just as dead as Julius Caesar, himself.

I mean all this even if somehow “intelligent” life on Earth survives and advances long enough and successfully enough to become cosmically noticeable or even cosmically important (not a very high likelihood) and even if they discover or create ways to make the universe survive indefinitely or to make new universes or whatever.  There is still simply the matter of the signal and the noise.

This is the counter to the sometimes-heard claim that “the internet is forever”.  Well…maybe, but I doubt it.  Even if it is, though, your most embarrassing upload is already long-since unnoticeable amidst the cacophony.  You are merely one face in a crowd of billions, most of whom spend most of their time merely looking at themselves.

We live in troubled times, as the saying goes, and it is certainly true now.  But it has always been true, since the very origin of life itself.  Life is trouble, it has always been trouble, and I strongly suspect that it will always be trouble.  C’est la vie, c’est la guerre, c’est la mort.

The only state in which there is no suffering is death.  The state of Nevada may try to claim that spot, what with Las Vegas and Reno, legal gambling, legal prostitution, and whatnot, but just go wander out into the desert for a bit and see how it feels.  Don’t even get me started on California or New York or Florida as being states without suffering!

Okay, enough with the stupid, homonym-based jokes.

It is, whatever you call it, the beginning of the month in which, in the northern hemisphere, summer transitions into autumn (or fall).  Autumn is my favorite season, and not just because of the autumn people and Cooger and Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show**.

No, there are many things I like about autumn, aesthetically.  It has my favorite holiday, and it has my birthday, and up north it has the lovely changing of the leaves and so on.  In Florida, of course, the good things about autumn are strongly attenuated, but Florida has that effect on many of the pleasant things in life.  At least the weather begins to moderate in Florida in the autumn.

Of course, one of the two most important events in my life happened in September, shortly before the beginning of autumn.  And, less important, but still fun, September 22nd is the day Frodo set off on his journey in The Lord of the Rings.  It’s also his (and Bilbo’s birthday).

Frodo and Bilbo are fictional characters, of course.  Nevertheless, I strongly suspect that many millions of people know far more about them than they know about Julius Caesar or his nephew.  Those two imperators are at least as “fictional” now as entirely made-up characters.  Not much cop, this Roman Emperor lark, is it?

Well, have an enjoyable day if you can.  You might as well.

*I wonder how many people in the Western world even know where the names of August and July originate.  I would not be surprised if I learned that a higher percentage of Japanese people know about the etymology of those two fully summer months (or those two fully winter months in the southern hemisphere).  But what proportion of westerners know anything about Amaterasu or Tsukuyomi?  I’d bet it’s higher now than at any time in the past, but I’d also bet that it’s still mighty low.

**”We are the hungry ones.  We are drawn by your torments like dogs in the night, and we do feed…and feed well.”

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WARNING: The following may contain “sacrilege”. Proceed with caution.

Well, I would say “Thank God it’s Friday”, but I am working tomorrow, exclusis improvisis, and so it’s not the last day of the work week, which is what people are generally celebrating when they say, “Thank God it’s Friday”.

I suppose that tomorrow I could say, “Thank God it’s Saturday” as a replacement expression.  It’s a bit more cumbersome, but at least it would be sort of appropriate, since in Judaism, Saturday is Shabbat.  Then again, if one is an observant Jew, one does not work on Saturday.  Well, I guess if one is a rabbi or a cantor technically one works on Saturday, but that’s a whole nother* thing.

As for the thanking of any deity for the fact of it being Friday (or any other day), it seems gratuitous, because the days of the week and how we order them and what we do on specific ones seems very much a purely human convention.  It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that a god would arrange specifically, and certainly not for individual people.  After all, when it’s Friday for me, it’s Friday for everyone else, barring those far enough away for the clock to roll over and such.

Of course, I suppose, if there really were a God, and if that God were, as is generally described in the Abrahamic religions, omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent, then God would be literally responsible for everything, including every action and choice that any and all humans ever make.  So, it wouldn’t be absurd in that case to thank God for the fact of Friday, but it would also be reasonable to say, “Screw God, it’s Monday”.

If God can be given credit for all good things, then God must bear the blame for all bad things.  There is no other logical possibility as far as I can see.

I am open to being convinced otherwise, of course, but please spare me any trite and transparently nonsensical excuses like the whole “free will” thing or blaming Satan (or some other, similar entity) for the bad stuff.  If people have free will‒a fairly nonsensical notion in and of itself, at least as far as the so-called libertarian** free will as imagined by some in the Abrahamic faiths goes‒then God is not omnipotent, and cannot really even be omniscient.

As for the whole “blaming Satan” thing, well, did God not create Satan?  Who is to blame if Satan is faulty?  Likewise, who is to blame if humans are faulty?  If they were made by an omnipotent and omniscient being, along with everything else in the universe, then that being is the only one that can possibly be held ultimately responsible.

Of course, one could claim that Satan (or Ahriman or whoever) was not created by God, but came into existence separately.  That at least is more logically consistent (and somewhat more interesting) than the alternative, but it also inescapably implies that God is neither omnipotent nor omniscient (and it raises questions about the omnipresence thing as well, for where was such a God when its antagonist came into being?).

Of course, it’s all pretty much nonsense, though some of it can be entertaining.  We could replace “God” with Eru/Iluvatar and “Satan” with Morgoth and lose nothing from the above discussion.  Actually, the latter two are slightly more honest, for in the very first chapter of The Silmarillion, Iluvatar plainly and openly says that Melkor (aka Morgoth) can do nothing that does not have its uttermost source in Him (Eru/Iluvatar).  Neither can anyone else.  But of course, Tolkien was smarter, or at least better educated, than the men who wrote the Bible and other similar religious works.

An interesting (to me) aside:  the name Lucifer (“light-bearer”) referred initially to the morning star, and is referenced only thus in the “old testament”, though apparently there was some snark involved, since it was a taunt toward the King of Babylon, or so I am led to understand.  But of course, the morning star is the same astronomical body as the evening star (Eärendil in Tolkien’s world), both of which are actually the planet Venus, just at different times in its relative orbit.

Also interesting is the fact that Venus, supposedly representing the Goddess of Love, is the most hellish place in the solar system, with crushing surface pressure, searing heat, suffocating carbon dioxide atmosphere, and even sulfuric acid rain.  Maybe that’s appropriate for the Goddess of Love; love can be corrosive and crushing and searing and even suffocating a lot of the time.

It is funny that the same planet can have come to represent evil (Lucifer) and great good (Eärendil) depending on the story, and also that it can represent love while being the most hellish (though not the deadliest) planet in the solar system.  I don’t think the dichotomy or contradiction or whatever you want to call it has any deep meaning about the nature of the cosmos, or even the solar system, but it does say something about the nature of humans and their myths.

Anyway, if I haven’t irreparably offended you with the preceding, I hope you’ll look forward to my post for tomorrow, which I will be writing, exclusis improvisis.  It’s not as though you can look back to it, at least not today.

*I wonder if “a whole nother” counts as tmesis, the insertion of a word in the middle of another in order to add emphasis, e.g., abso-friggin-lutely.

**Not to be confused with the political ideology of Libertarianism.

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You’re in analysis, or something like that

I apologize for not writing a post yesterday.  As you may have guessed, I did not work yesterday, because I was out sick.

I think I mentioned the apparent URI I’ve had.  Really, it’s more of a middle respiratory infection, like bronchi to bronchiole level, but the acronym for that would be MRI and that might be confusing.  This is one of those issues with acronyms; when you shorten things enough, the code becomes ambiguous.

Anyway, I also had some weird urinary signs (not symptoms) that made me nervous that all the NSAIDS I’ve been taking have been starting to catch up with my kidneys.  So, I’ve taken a temporary NSAID sabbatical apart from aspirin.  I’m still taking some Tylenol (and CBD, which does at least some good).  Unfortunately, my pain level overall has predictably increased, and that certainly contributed to the fact that I stayed at the house yesterday.

Anyway, I’m trying to make sure to get lots of fluids and whatnot, and that process at least seems to be doing its thing.  I’ll do another UA today‒I have my own test strip bottle*.

Okay, enough of all that stuff.  I’m sure that nearly no one has any interest in reading about my adventures in analyzing my own bodily fluids.

Of course, I don’t have a lot else clawing its way out of me at the moment‒oh, those lazy xenomorph embryos!‒so I don’t know what I’ll use to fill the rest of this blog post.  But I do expect to be writing a post tomorrow, since the office should be open tomorrow, so maybe that will contain something interesting.

I guess today is the last day of July‒at least the last one in 2026 AD/CE.  Tomorrow will therefore be the first day of August in 2026 (AD or CE).  We go from one month named after the nominal first “emperor” of Rome to a month named after the first “official” emperor of Rome.  After that we start up with the ordinally named months, but they’ve all been pushed back two months because of the two dead Romans, so the nominal seventh month‒September‒is our official ninth month.

It would be slightly interesting if, when the calendar was changed from the Julian to the Gregorian, the month had also been changed.  Imagine if the months went May, June, Gregory, August, September…  That might be kind of funny.  Certainly there’s no less of a reason to give old Pope Gregory the Peccary (or whatever his official indicator was) a month named after him than Julius Caesar.

Okay, admittedly, Caesar was a more pivotal historical figure, but one feels (at least, this one does) that he was more a vessel for things that were happening through him and others rather than being the true author of any change.  And Shakespeare didn’t write any plays about the Pope, but then, he lived in Elizabethan England, so that was just a non-starter.  Imagine trying to write a play about a Pope during the reign of Henry VIII’s daughter.

Also, Shakespeare and Gregory the Nocturnal Gregarious Wild Swine were more or less contemporaries.  It’s hard to write popular plays about people who are still or were very recently alive, especially when they were part of a religious schism with one’s own country.  Whereas Julius Caesar was all but the stuff of legend by the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century CE/AD.

It’s too bad Shakespeare didn’t really know anything about ancient Egypt or any of the other ancient civilizations (some of which were as ancient to the Romans as the Romans were to the British of Shakespeare’s time).  He wrote about Antony and Cleopatra, of course, but imagine William Shakespeare’s Ramses the Second (the Great).  Or perhaps consider The Tragedy of Xerxes, Emperor of Persia.

Well, I’m not going to write any plays about them.  I’ve written plays (of sorts) before and have started others, and I have written some (very bad) screenplays and such, but it’s not my area of best creative work.  I’ll just make passing reference to historical figures here, more or less randomly, and maybe someone out there will write a play or show or movie about them, inspired by the reference.

Hey, they keep making movies based on the works of Homer (the Greek poet, not the Simpson).  Mind you, those works are highly fictionalized, if not entirely fictional; you can tell by the presence of things like gods and sirens and nearly invulnerable warriors who gained their protection by being dipped in the river Styx.  Achilles might as well have been bitten by a radioactive spider, for how realistic a figure he is.

Anyway, that’s enough for today.  Sorry if it’s weirder than usual.  Or, on the other hand, I’m sorry if it’s not weirder, but my blog is always this erratic.  I’m not sure about which of the two I ought to be sorrier.

Oh, well.  Please have a good day and a good weekend and a good month of August (but only once August starts‒if you try to have a good month of August on the last day of July, I think you’re setting yourself up for failure).

*It’s really more of a screw-top can, since it’s a cylinder, but because of the association with preserved food, it feels weird to say that I have a can of urinalysis test strips.

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Fictional birthdays, date misassignments, and the calendars of Caesar and the Pope

Hi, everybody.  It’s Wednesday, July 22nd, which means there are only two months left for you to buy something for Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday.  Though, actually, they’re pretty well-to-do hobbits, so it seems unlikely that you’ll be able to get them something they want that they don’t already have.

Oh, and also, hobbits give other people presents on their own birthdays, not the other way around.  This always struck me as odd, but kind of cool.  It’s almost like saying, “Here’s a little gift for you in celebration of my birth, just to remind you what a gift it is that I was born and that you know me.”

Well, at least that’s one way of looking at it.  Anyway, I don’t think you’re likely to receive a gift from Bilbo and/or Frodo, even on their birthday, apart from being able to read and/or watch The Hobbit and/or The Lord of the Rings.  That’s a lucky break for us all, when you think about it, and you don’t need to wait for September 22nd to partake of it.

I know, I know, why would one celebrate the birthday of a fictional character, anyway?  Well, it’s not as though mainstream culture doesn’t do it already, in oodles of major religious holidays.

Even if you’re convinced that Jesus really existed, biblical scholars agree (so I’m told) that he was not born on December 25th, but sometime in the summer, probably.  The later Church, never shy about playing free and loose with facts of reality (as religions tend to do), reset the date in order to appropriate the typical winter solstice-related festivals heavily celebrated by many cultures.  Such celebrations included Saturnalia (Roman culture‒you can tell because it’s got Saturn in it) and Yule (Norse, with the evergreens and mistletoe and holly and such like).  There were probably others.

The earlier Church cared more about Easter anyway, which makes a bit of internal sense.  That’s the purported miraculous day, when Jesus regenerated and flew to the heavens in his TARDIS.  Or whatever happened, if anything.

Of course, if we all wanted to avoid mislabeling Jeshua’s birthday, we could just celebrate Newtonmas on the previously celebrated day, since Isaac Newton was born on December 25th.  And he definitely did things that, while not literally miraculous, boggle the mind of nearly every mortal with knowledge enough to understand those contributions.

Mind you, he was, by all accounts, a serious dick and a born curmudgeon.  But he was effing smart, and his scientific accomplishments surely compensate for, say, his bloodthirsty reign as Warden of the Royal Mint, and even his really petty and childish vendettas against other scientists.

“‘A was a man.  Take him for all in all.  I shall not look upon his like again.”

Ah, but there’s a catch (or a rub, since we’re quoting Shakespeare):  Newton was born on December 25th according to the Julian calendar.  The Gregorian calendar* did already exist, but England did not adopt it until sometime after Newton’s birth.  They were sort of stubborn about going along with Catholic innovations, and it held them back.  I blame Oliver Cromwell.

Anyway, by the modern, “Gregorian” calendar, Newton would have been born sometime in about…January, something like the 7th, I think, but I’ll look it up (see below).

Why the disparity?  Well, as you may know, the Julian calendar does have leap years.  Earth’s trip around the sun takes 365 and about a quarter days, so the extra full day builds up and is added onto every 4th year.  Except…

…well, it’s not quite a full quarter of an extra day there in that orbital period.  So, over time, the Julian calendar gets ahead of the literal year a bit.  It’s a small bit, but it’s there, and it accumulates.  To correct for this, one of the things the Gregorian calendar does is to skip the leap day on any year divisible by 100**.  It also adds the leap day back on every year divisible by 1000, but I think that’s only applied once since the Gregorian calendar was created.

Anyway, by the time the Gregorian calendar was put in place in England, the Julian calendar had accumulated something like 11 extra leap days.  Maybe it was 12.  If January 7th was the Gregorian date of the 25th of December, Julian, that would be, let’s see…I think 14 days.  I suspect I’m off a bit in my recollection, so I’ll look it up and add a footnote***.

Wow, that was a weird, discursive post, wasn’t it?  I guess it’s probably more entertaining than hearing me talk about my problems with my mental health, at least.  Indeed, one might say that I am instead hereby demonstrating my problems with my mental health‒some of them, at least.  Anyway, I hope this was at least mildly entertaining and possibly informative.  It’s at least probably better than my previous two posts.  In any case, I hope you have a very good day.

*Named for Pope Gregory Peccary the Nocturnal Gregarious Wild Swine.

**I mean “evenly divisible”, of course.  Every number is divisible by 100.  Pi is divisible by 100:  ℼ/100.  “i” is divisible by 100:  i/100.  See?  But they don’t give integer quotients.

***Here goes:  Newton’s birthday would have been January 4th of the following year according to the Gregorian calendar.  This is ten days that needed to be skipped by the Gregorian calendar, or a thousand years worth of Julian calendar mismatch.  By now there would have been about five more extra days in the Julian calendar, so your birthday would be officially labelled as whatever day is 15 days before what it is, Gregorian Style.

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“…deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed…”

Well, first of all, happy Independence Eve to all my fellow USians out there.  I’m greeting you today because I will not be writing a blog post tomorrow, since I will not be working tomorrow, barring the unforeseen (exclusis improvisis one might say in Latin).

I suppose I could pre-write a post for tomorrow and schedule it to be published in the morning, but that would require a fair bit of extra work, and I barely have the energy to survive to the end of any given day as it is.

As for tomorrow’s holiday, I think it is important for US citizens (“Americans”) to remember what tomorrow represents: the signing (and publication) of the Declaration of Independence, asserting the end of British rule in the colonies and the formation of a new, independent nation.

In this present time, when the extremes of both ends of the political spectrum show all too clear leanings toward authoritarianism, it’s worth rereading the Declaration of Independence in full, including the list of grievances.  I will link to it as part of this post.  It’s not very long, really‒the main text contains only 1320 words, barely longer than yesterday’s blog post‒and it’s worth rereading at least once a year (as is the Constitution).

It’s not that there’s anything astonishingly ingenious about those documents, let alone “divine” in character, though they are well thought out and nicely expressed.  It’s the notions they convey that matter, among which (implicitly) is:  human “authority” is almost always a misnomer.

Stephen King has authority over the universes of his books, because he actually authored them.  Ditto for me regarding my universes.  But the real world is under no one’s authority, since as far as we can tell, it has no author, and no one understands it completely.

There is such a thing as expertise‒it varies quite a bit in its quality, but experts do exist and it tends to be worthwhile to listen to them within their areas of knowledge.  But experts are fallible, and those who would take part in “running” the various governments are extremely fallible, since it is an area of poorly developed science.

It’s worthwhile to remember and emphasize this fact, because naked house apes are prone to be swayed by primate dominance hierarchical urges, just as much as Vervet monkeys and chimpanzees and baboons are.  And since these proclivities are more or less instinctive, they don’t feel like mere thoughts.  They feel like perceptions.  They feel like direct experiences of the nature of reality.

They are experiences of some aspects of reality, of course, but they are frequently misleading ones.  It’s worthwhile remembering that politics, especially politics with authoritarian leanings*, tends to attract those who want to have power for its own sake, for their own sake‒not only those who really want to look out for the people and institutions of their particular nation‒though often they will pretend, even to themselves, that they are seeking some “greater good”.

But if there is such a greater good, and if the glaringly mediocre minds that claim such things can understand it, then that notion can be carefully communicated, and if it truly is good and great, then that should be clear and convincing to any honest and intelligent interlocutor.

Admittedly, there may be many biases that prevent every living hominid from accepting even the clearest bodies of evidence and argument; there are people who claim to believe the Earth is flat, after all, and that is not very bright.  But one should at least find a tendency toward confluence of judgment among those who live by the intellect, such as philosophers, psychologists, neuroscientists, biologists, physicists, engineers, etc.  When ideas are tested honestly and rigorously against reality, they tend to converge over time, because as far as anyone can tell, reality is at root unitary.

But those who seek political power are not generally drawn from fields that encourage and focus on rationalism, empiricism, and fallibilism.  And though I do not doubt that many people go into politics hoping to do actual good and to be of service, there are also very many who crave power over others, for whatever reasons, or even without reasons.  Such people do not tend to be our best and brightest, for as someone once wrote, “power lust is a weed that grows only in an untended mind”**.

This is why checks and balances and votes that include inputs from many (potentially all) people in a society, as well as frequent changes of office, are useful.  Weird shit, being unconstrained by reality, tends to be all over the place, ceteris paribus, compared to more grounded, realistic shit.  So, hopefully, in most cases, the overall mean or median or mode of good ideas is going to tend to be more reality based.

It’s not perfect, and we can certainly strive to improve it.  We can seek increased and better education, and encourage ourselves to seek to understand reality and to traffic in rigorous and self improving ideas to make it ever better.  But a crucial point is that there is no human authority over the world, and the sorts of people who would arrogate to themselves such power are not among the best and brightest.

As the old song says, “He can’t even run his own life, be damned if he’ll run mine.”

Anyway, Happy Independence Eve, again, and have a happy Independence Day tomorrow if you are in the US and celebrate it.  Don’t be put off by the lamentable state of current politics.  The ideas in the Declaration of Independence are still worth celebrating.

*e.g., the “dictatorship of the proletariat”.

**Yes, I know who said it.  But though I do like to give credit for well-turned phrases, it’s often the case that naked house apes will either latch onto or dismiss out of hand ideas solely based upon who said them, not on the quality of the ideas.  This is not rational, but it is horribly typical.  I’ve written about this before, this problem of attribution.  So, since it’s the message that matters, not who said it, I will sometimes refrain from revealing a quotation’s source, with implicit apologies to such sources.

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“And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in a word…”

Hello again.  It’s Friday now, as usually happens immediately after Thursday (but also six days before Thursday, though not the same Thursday it follows).  It’s all very reassuring, this regular, cyclical procession of the days of the week…

…isn’t it?

Well, maybe it would be if they weren’t just arbitrary day names following an arbitrary convention of numbers of days in a week, which number was mainly based on the number of “unfixed” astronomical objects visible to the naked eye:  Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, the Sun, and the Moon.  Some of our modern English day names still refer to those objects, namely Sunday, Monday, and Saturday.  The other four, somehow, got saddled with references to Norse mythology.

I guess the Vikings really did have a significant impact on the British isles, didn’t they?

Anyway…

As I said, it’s Friday, and it’s the end of the typical, traditional work week, though I am working tomorrow, so I expect I’ll probably be writing another post.

It is interesting to think of what we mean by “tradition” and “traditional”, because not all traditions are of the same order by any means.  For instance, the “traditional” five-day work week is not really all that old.

Previously, people worked more days and longer hours per week (unless they had no need to work), but various workers’ rights movements over time got various laws passed and then new “traditions” began, and to some degree, people’s quality of life was somewhat protected.  Also, in the US, benefits like health insurance were tied to long-term employment by union contracts and sometimes by legislation.

Then, of course, we rebelled against being told that we could not work longer hours without special, extra compensation.  Why, that made our businesses less able to grind ahead and innovate and compete in global markets of various kinds (or so it was said).  We wouldn’t want that!  So, first salaried people were sort of exempted from the rules, and then that spread in various ways, as businesses and related enterprises tried to compete for more money, more resources, more power*.

Except, of course, plenty of other people and companies and countries were competing as well, so there was never any singular advantage that lasted for long; instead, like trees that evolved to grow taller and taller to compete with other trees for sunlight (while the other trees were subject to the same pressures), they raised the minimum requirement merely to stay alive, to which they were all subject, making life harder for each and every one of them, even the “winners”.

Such are natural equilibria.  Just because they become stable and persistent and “successful” doesn’t mean they are not immiserating for every organism in their structure.  And, of course, it is possible for such equilibria, as for species and for cells, to evolve to extinction.

Evolution by natural selection does not plan ahead, and it is neither benevolent nor malevolent, but it is instead entirely and completely uncaring**.

A somewhat parallel process happens in economies at various scales.  It’s not a perfect analogue, for there exists the capacity to learn from others’ practices without having to reinvent everything oneself, and one doesn’t have to wait for new generations to enact even small adjustments.  But it is still fundamentally a mindless process overall.

And, most pertinently, the mutual competition involved leads to higher and higher minimum requirements for success.  You’ve heard of the glass ceiling, of course, but even more subtly horrifying is the spike-ridden, trap-door-bearing, caustic and red hot floor.

I don’t know, maybe those metaphors don’t quite work.  I’m making these expressions up as I go along, as happens with all my blog posts.

I just wanted to remind everyone that nothing in the way the world is set up‒or, well, at least very few things‒is a necessity in anything but a highly local sense.  “Best practices” are not something inherent in nature; our financial and banking systems are not in any way equivalent to fundamental physics.  It’s all ad hoc, spontaneously self-assembled, no more inherently fundamental or necessary than is any one particular pattern of frost on a window pane.

So, don’t be fooled by the tendency to follow traditions, at least not blindly.  The oldest traditions humans have are only a few thousand years old, which is tiny compared to how long humans have existed.  And most traditions are far more recent.

Maybe your family has or had a tradition of getting together to watch The Ten Commandments every year around Passover/Easter.  But that tradition clearly cannot go back to before the movie was made, nor‒even more restrictive‒before televisions were available to most households.  That’s barely a few generations.

So, traditions are only as important as they are good and useful, though those measures depend very much on who is measuring and what the perceived use and good is from that person’s point of view.  That’s okay.  We don’t have any objective, external measures to use for such things.  They were invented by us, and for the most part, are only pertinent to us.

The universe doesn’t give the slightest f*ck.

Maybe, someday, the distant descendants of humans will gain so much knowledge and power that the universe will “notice” them.  I’m not going to hold my breath.

*The actual events involved in all this were far more involved than may seem implied by my summary, but I’m not trying to capture historical minutiae.  Rather, I’m trying to illustrate, to sketch, the general shape of the things that happened.

**This is not to be confused with saying that successful organisms are uncaring.  Caring, mutual support and protection, cooperation, love, can all be very successful survival attributes.  But that cooperation, that familial support, that maternal caring, that mutual love, as the case may be, does not exist just because it’s nice, or because it’s moral, or because it’s necessary; it exists because, for those organisms in those times and circumstances, it is successful, i.e., it tends to increase the odds of reproduction of the genes that engender that set of attributes.

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The footnote may make the best point in this post

Well, it’s the start of another work week, and it’s also the start of another month‒June, in case you don’t know.  I wouldn’t say it’s a “work month” since there are no real non-work months.  Though in some cultures, there is (or was) at least a part of this month when people took several days off.  The time around the summer solstice was, in some cultures, a festival time.  They even suspended the counting of the months at that point, to make up for the 5 days (6 on leap years) left after 12 thirty-day months.

Actually, I don’t know for sure if any real cultures did this, but the hobbits of the Shire, in Tolkien’s world, did something like this, and I have long thought that it seemed like a nice way to go.  However, apparently taking 5 days off completely in the middle of the year‒at the beginning of summer, though it’s sometimes called midsummer‒would fall afoul of commercial pressures, much as have most holidays in general in the modern world.

There is too great a perceived disadvantage to taking any time off when one’s competitors are working (and that perception is probably not entirely illusory).  So, one business working on the holidays is liable to spawn others who wish to compete.  Those that don’t may be less likely to survive ceteris paribus.

And the implementation of the decision to work on holidays is made by people in echelons so far removed from the consequences of overwork and the rat-race-ification of daily life that they feel no pressure not to grind their employees into dust; there are (so far) always more potential employees, and the stockholders only pay attention to the last three months if that when deciding how to tell the boards of directors to act.

It’s not so much that (as many young people seem to suspect) capitalism is an inherently evil system‒it is not.  It has indeed contributed greatly to the productivity and prosperity, to the physically good, that exists in the modern world.  But it is not a perfect system.  Or rather, it is a system that is useful for what it does, but it does not encompass or elicit or create all the good things that humans might need to prosper in any thoroughgoing way.  How could one expect it to do so?

Humans are displaced and distributed hunter-gatherers from sub-Saharan Africa; the “modern world” is an epiphenomenon that has developed and grown and is continuing to develop and grow and change, after have been created‒without any prior planning nor understanding of what it is or its implications‒by humans who were, as at all times, working almost entirely under the influence of local incentives and disincentives.

No one designed the world economy, nor any local economy, nor most of the other trappings of civilization.  I almost wanted to add “any more than any ant designs an ant hill”, but the human society/economy is far less a preplanned thing than is even the most haphazard ant hill or termite mound or beehive, for those structures are guided rather specifically by instincts selected and honed over countless generations and eons.

No human society has been in any kind of equilibrium anywhere near long enough for it to have had a very strong evolutionary impact on human attributes.  Some of the pre-civilization eras of humanity endured and were consistent enough to have impacts, certainly, but nothing in culture since the dawn of agriculture has stayed the same long enough for humans to adapt to it biologically in any significant way (though there are probably some effects).

I’m not sure what point I’m trying to make here, except perhaps to remind people that we should not expect pure capitalism and/or free markets alone to be perfectly conducive to every aspect of human thriving in and of itself.  It is useful and productive, far more so when dealing with primate hunter-gatherers than is any kind of pure socialism or communism, let alone any brand of authoritarianism or totalitarianism.

But there are certainly socialistic things that can be added as tweaks, if you will, to a society that is productive of goods and services thanks to capitalism, to try to counteract the tendencies of unregulated capitalism to produce inadequate and counterproductive* equilibria as well as uncompensated externalities.

We shouldn’t expect society to be simple, nor for any one notion of things to be adequate to ensure or even encourage health and well-being and flourishing in the people in the society.  This all relates to my earlier point about how all ideologies are wrong.  There are unlikely to be any simple answers that describe and ensure beneficent and productive cultures.  Like a building that exists for decades or centuries while still being used, there is going to need to be constant maintenance and updating and sometimes even rebuilding of portions that are crumbling.

It’s that or just knock the whole thing down‒but don’t expect to be able to build anything better from the wreckage.  The same forces and principles will apply to your new edifice as applied to the old one.

*They are counterproductive to the great majority of people in such cultures, at least.  There will often be individuals who do very well even while participating in the stagnation of such detrimental equilibria.  Someone who accumulates great wealth‒and, thanks to that wealth, can gain more, and so on, perhaps creating a monopoly‒might consider the system just peachy, at least for them.   But hoarded wealth does not do anything to contribute to an economy.  It’s like biological energy (calories) stored as nearly-impossible-to-mobilize fat.  Indeed, the stagnation of oligopolistic economies may have many similarities to someone who is obese and in a profound state of insulin resistance but with pathologically high insulin to compensate, so they cannot release their stored energy and feel miserable and constantly fatigued despite having plenty of calories in their bodies.

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It’s the end of the week, but weakness persists

It’s Friday again, at last, and this is indeed the final day of the work week for me.  I am not expected to work tomorrow, and I think that even if they decided they were going to hold the office open tomorrow, I would not go in.  I am too tired and dispirited to once again throw myself into the gears of the machine just because other people want me to do it*.  Honestly, I feel it’s more likely that I’ll throw myself into real machinery than that I will go to work tomorrow.

Speaking of such throwing, as I was leaving the train yesterday evening, I found myself looking under the engine, seeing where the wheels meet the tracks, and wondering if I would have the guts just to lay my head across the track‒my neck, really‒and let myself be run over.  It would be a quick death, I suspect.

I don’t think I have the guts, though, not right now.  Also, it would be rude to screw up people’s commutes.  But it does carry a weird kind of perverse attraction.

Nothing else of interest is happening, really.  Well, perhaps one might concede that there are many interesting things happening, in the sense of the old curse, “may you live in interesting times”.  Unfortunately, even those types of interesting things that are happening are so…well, almost so trite, so pathetic, so contemptible, so predictable, so “been done already”.  None of the weird, would-be interesting, things that are happening are impressive in any sense.

Okay, well, I’ll concede the relative interest and impressiveness of the Artemis II trip around the Moon recently.  It would be more interesting if it hadn’t been something we’d done literally before I was born (3 months before, to the date, for Apollo 11’s landing), using computer systems that were‒to use the most conservative definition‒28 iterations of Moore’s Law ago.  So, literally, by more (ha) than one measure of that “law”, we are at least 2 to the 28th times as advanced, computationally, as we were when we first went to the moon.  That’s conservative, because I’ve heard descriptions of Moore’s Law that put the doubling time at 18 months, in which case there would be about 37 doubling times since then.

For those of you for whom exponentials don’t carry quite the visceral impact they ought to carry, 2 to the 28th power is 268,435,456.  So, by more conservative, every-two-year characterizations of Moore’s Law, our current computational powers are more than 268 million times what they were in 1969.  By less conservative estimates they are 137,438,953,472 times, so more than 137 billion times as advanced.

To be fair, it’s just computer tech that has advanced like that.  The process of engineering rockets hasn’t improved to the same degree, because that’s a large-scale engineering thing, and is more constrained by the rate at which one can directly interrogate nature and build and test technology.  Still, we went from Kitty Hawk to the Moon in about two thirds of a century, but in the more than half a century since, we’ve certainly not extended that streak much.

Okay, to be fair, we got pretty good at sending out space probes and such.  Even then, though, our most distant and still most impressive probes were launched in the late seventies.  There have been some quite impressive things since, and I intend no shade to be thrown at them.  That Pluto thing was very impressive, as are almost all of the Mars missions and the probes sent to other planets (on the other hand, the ISS isn’t that much more impressive than Skylab was).

The things that have improved significantly have largely done so solely because the increased capacity of computers has assisted in modeling and, well, computing things.  So, rocket science has improved to the degree that computer science has improved, divided by the fraction of that improvement that cannot make a difference in how well rockets can be made.  Something like that, anyway.

Yeah, rocket science hasn’t advanced much in my lifetime.  Brain surgery has done a bit better, but not as much better as one might have reasonably expected.

Then again, we’ve certainly improved our ability to make memes and now AI images and videos to make fun of people and express our own loyalties or outrages.  Yes, in a real sense, many of our greatest advances in recent decades have been improvements in our ability to hurl feces at each other like the monkeys we all are.  We appear to be more engaged by such shit-flinging even then we are by sex, which seems mind-boggling.

I say “we” but that broad description does not apply to everyone.  Some people are still more interested in sex.  At first glance, that would seem to be the more evolutionarily stable of the approaches, but it’s an empirical question, so we can really just wait and see which, if either, of the two tendencies prevails in the long run.

To paraphrase Dave Barry, I myself plan to be dead.

Anyway, that’s about all I have to say for this week.  I don’t mean to make a post tomorrow, but of course, as always, that is barring the unforeseen.

I hope you have a good weekend.

*Okay, to be fair, that’s not really the reason.  I do it because I get paid.

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A pox upon those who do not learn the history of science and medicine

Well, I’m back to writing on the smartphone today, with mixed feelings.  One of these feelings is the residual soreness in my thumbs, of course, but the day-long break did seem to help a little bit.  Mind you, some of that is probably in my head, for I don’t write on my smartphone on Sundays, and I also don’t write on non-working Saturdays.  So, if resting is enough, I should feel least sore on Mondays following one of my two-day weekends.  If that is the case‒if I am least sore in those instances‒I certainly haven’t noticed.

Actually, if it isn’t the case, I haven’t noticed either, but at least there it would make sense, since there is nothing to notice.  It can be much harder to notice things that are not so than to notice things that are so.  That’s part of why people don’t give credit to vaccination, for instance:  they can’t see the sickness and death that are prevented.  There’s no It’s A Wonderful Life revelation about all the lives that have been saved and‒perhaps more important*‒all the suffering that has been prevented.

There’s a similar, lesser-known preventative effect of proton pump inhibitors (e.g., omeprazole).  These medicines (and their somewhat weaker predecessors, the H2 blockers**) have prevented untold suffering and death related to gastritis and peptic ulcer disease and esophageal cancers, all of which used to be major contributors to premature death, especially in young men (if memory serves).  So, using these medicines is not necessarily an overindulgence in avoiding transient discomfort.  They are very real and powerful preventative interventions‒though, as with all such things, they do have some long term side-effects, and these must always be weighed against the benefits of taking them.

This is one of the reasons that educating people about history is so important.  If one is not aware of just how horrifying and heartbreaking the effects of smallpox were (for instance), one might think that the smallpox vaccine***** was just a sort of convenience, not a response to a low-flying, slow-moving, global catastrophe.

I suppose it was easier for Ben Franklin to recognize that “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure” because there were far fewer preventable ailments and fewer avoidable disasters back in his day.  Still, he was a very smart person; he might have recognized the nature of such things even if he had lived in our more comfortable times.

It is useful, and it may be more than just useful, for people to learn how things were before the arrival of so many powerful technologies and knowledge and social and biological insights.  For 300,000 years, humans existed without (for instance) the internet, and then, starting around 30 years ago, it was here (and widely available).

But that’s a full generation of people who have never known a world without the internet, despite the fact that by default the world has no internet.  It can be immensely useful for those people to learn about what things were like pre-internet, not only so they can truly appreciate this remarkable phenomenon, but also so they can recognize some of its detriments.

Likewise for planes and cars and televisions and even books and agriculture.  What was life like before these things?  What would life be like if they disappeared?  Are their benefits worth their costs?  How can those costs be mitigated, even if they are bearable (for why not make things as net-beneficial as possible?)?

I encourage everyone, myself included, to take these notions seriously, to think about the contrafactual cases, not to accept that things simply are the way they are, because for the most part, historically, they were not that way.  Even humanity itself is a latecomer.

I don’t know how I got onto those subjects, but I guess I’m thinking of health (and particularly of gastric health) more than typically in recent days.  I still don’t feel too well, but that’s nothing unusual for me.  It’s just annoying because it’s a new, or at least atypical, discomfort.

Oh, well.  This brings us back to my point that decreasing/preventing suffering is more important than “saving lives”, since all such saved lives are merely saved for later, if you will.  Death (it seems) cannot be forever avoided, but suffering, in principle, can be eased and even sometimes prevented.  Though, sometimes, the only practical way to stop certain kinds of suffering is to hasten the inevitable other phenomenon.

In any case, I’ll draw at least one instance of your suffering to an end now, by finishing this blog post.  I hope you have a very good day, by any reasonable measure of goodness that you might choose.

*Because death is, as far as anyone can tell, completely inevitable‒it’s a matter of when, not if‒whereas suffering is variable, and boy can it vary, from person to person, from moment to moment, from culture to culture, and so on.

**No, they don’t block molecular hydrogen***, though if one thought that, one could certainly be excused.  Rather, they block the so-called type 2 histamine receptor, the one that responds to stimulus (histamine) by making the stomach secrete more acid.

***Interestingly enough, the proton pump inhibitors do block hydrogen, but it’s not molecular hydrogen, it atomic hydrogen‒or well actually, it’s ionic (cationic, specifically) hydrogen, which is a naked proton, since a hydrogen nucleus is just a proton****, and is the key effective part of essentially all acids, at least regarding their acidity.

****Sorry about all the footnotes within footnotes, but it just occurred to me to wonder what it would be like to make a sample of an acid but with all the ordinary hydrogen atoms replaced with deuterium, so-called heavy hydrogen, which has a neutron in its nucleus as well as a proton.  How would this affect the properties of such an acid?  Of course those properties are almost entirely related to the valence electron or the lack thereof, but when a positive ion of a substance is just a naked nucleus, one cannot completely dismiss the impact of that nucleus’s structure.  So, I would love to see an entirely deuteric acid being put through its paces.  An acid made entirely with tritium (one proton, two neutrons) would be interesting as well, but even in my imagination, that’s asking for a lot of the very tiny amount of tritium in the world.

*****This is the original source of the word “vaccination” since being exposed to Vaccinia (related to cowpox) provided resistance to Variola (smallpox).

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“I find myself growing fatigued, Doctor.”

Hey, everybody.  It’s Tuesday, and here I am writing another blog post.  Huzzah.

I’m rather tired today, which I guess shouldn’t be that surprising, given that I have chronic trouble sleeping.  Still, some days hit me worse than others, for reasons that are probably multifactorial and are certainly difficult to tease apart.  And today, so far, seems to be one of the “I feel more tired than usual by a noticeable margin” days.  You’ve probably all had such days, though you may not have used that specific term for them*.

There is some good news, news that in a way is not world news but is extraterrestrial news, at least temporarily:  the Artemis mission has flown ‘round the far side of the moon, and in so doing has brought humans farther away from Earth even than Apollo 13 did; this is now the farthest humans have ever been.

It’s quite momentous, but the fact of this mission and its (so far) success, raises questions.  I suspect the answers to them are disappointingly trivial, however.  For instance, why was there such a delay in returning to the Moon after the last time in 1972?  The answer to that is at least somewhat clear when one poses the related question:  why did we work so hard to go to the Moon back in the late 60s/early 70s?

Of course, the main reasons were:  primate dominance/hierarchy drives, writ large across the planet.  The Apollo program was, in a barely metaphorical sense, the ultimate dick-measuring contest, and the USA won that one pretty clearly at the time (“Mine reaches all the way to the Moon and back, how ‘bout yours, motherf#cker?”).  The fact that the Soviet Union basically admitted defeat in that region in that round is but one piece among the mountains of evidence confirming that, yes Victoria, humans did indeed land on the Moon.

It wasn’t for purely scientific reasons, though.  In fact, the science at the time took a very distant, rear-facing-storage-area-of-the-station-wagon place compared to the politics that was in the driver’s seat.

Alas, human nature being what it seems to be, perhaps truly amazing innovation and advancement is simply much more likely to occur during conflict (literal and figurative).  Maybe even the Beatles, for instance, were so great at least partly because of the (usually friendly) competitiveness between John and Paul, and also George once he found his considerable mojo.  Ringo was the Samwise Gamgee/Bodhisattva of the group, which seems appropriate for a drummer.

Humans presumably have always had the capacity to make the many scientific discoveries and technological advancements that have occurred in recent centuries.  But they needed to have an impetus before anyone would get anything done.  The two strongest inherent drives are survival and reproduction, and those drives interact and accumulate as humans gather in larger numbers, and they sublimate into national competitiveness‒for wealth and power, for luxury, for prestige, for all that nonsense.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could deliberately control our motivation?  We have crude means of affecting it already‒caffeine and various other stimulants‒but these are blunt yet jagged tools.  In principle, microelectrodes could be implanted into something like the nucleus accumbens or the reticular activating system or more well-chosen, finely tuned areas of the nervous system.  Then one could use a remote control to give oneself motivation when desired (?).  Presumably, other mental states could be manipulated, encouraged, discouraged, etc.  Just watch out that no one else gets their hands on your remote control!

Maybe it would be better to have a helmet with various directed electromagnets to stimulate specific brain regions at will.  This process is already in use in relatively simple form**, but it could be honed and made more precise and more powerful and useful.  It would be nice to be able to have large-scale motivation that didn’t require the tendency toward large-scale destruction.

It may be an inevitable challenge.  Powerful forces can inherently have very good and/or very bad effects depending on circumstances and, of course, depending on what one means by “good” and “bad”.

Not to say that we couldn’t rather easily be doing things better than we are.  We could.  But…it seems we aren’t sufficiently motivated to do so.

*If you did, that would be truly surprising.  It would be so surprising, in fact, that if you told me it was the case, I would more strongly suspect some manner of deception or illusion or delusion or cognitive bias than that it was actually true (this is reminiscent of Hume’s test for the veracity of supposed miracles).

**And is involved in the plot of my book(s) Unanimity, Books 1 and 2.