Archive for August, 2008

Thought For Food (TQP #0069)

Posted in Jeff Holland with tags on August 7, 2008 by braak

“Soup is the kindest course.” – Virginia Woolf

This quote is hanging up in Zoup!, a soup-sandwich franchise near my office. Staring at that quote while waiting for my order, all I could think was…man. THAT’S famous. When some off-hand comment you make about food gets hung up on a wall somewhere.

I wouldn’t mind a little notoriety in my life. And if it comes, I want to be prepared. So:

A pickle is to a sandwich as the trident is to mighty Poseiden.

The avocado: A mysterious man in an alley who gives you a gift.

Victory is never so sweet as when it is done with a belly full of egg salad.

The coney island hot dog: perhaps even more delightful than the amusement park it’s named for.

How is it that mustard can be so yellow, and yet so bold?

If you’ve never had the pleasure of sliced cucumber on a BLT, then you sir are a fool, and I will fight you.

-jkh

What do I have to talk about today? (TQP0068)

Posted in Braak with tags , on August 6, 2008 by braak

Nothing interesting, so I’m going to write about the 1974 fight between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman in Kinshasa, Congo. Or, I’m going to start writing about it. By the end, who knows what I’ll be talking about?

I saw this fight on ESPN Classic the other day. This is the last fight they show in the movie Ali, in case you’ve ever seen that. If you haven’t, let me tell you how it goes: Muhammad Ali is getting on in years by ’74, and he isn’t as fast as he used to be. He’d just lost his world heavyweight title to Joe Frazier, who himself lost it to Foreman.

Foreman is a great big guy. You see him now, shilling his (brilliant!) little grills or talking about his six kids all named George (because there’s a limit to how many names he can remember), and he’s all round and jolly. But in 1974 he’s a huge, grim, terrifying man. He looks like a machine, designed for no purpose other than to dispassionately pound things with his fists.

Ali looks like Ali. If you don’t know what he looks like, and what he looked like in 1974, there’s not a lot I can say. He was a handsome man, and this is probably the most remarkable thing about him–his job entailed huge men trying to punch him in the face, and he remained a handsome man throughout his career. This tells you something.

The ’74 world heavyweight bout, the Rumble in the Jungle, is when Ali demonstrated the effect of the rope-a-dope strategy. The strategy works like this: Ali lies back on the ropes, and lets George Foreman pound on him.

This seems like an incredibly stupid strategy, and what’s hilarious is that, when watching the fight, you can see EVERYONE IN THE STADIUM screaming at Ali to get off the ropes. “Get off the ropes! Hit him!” They’re jumping up and down, waving their arms, faces red, mouths flecked with spittle. They’re excited, furious; they feel betrayed. They came here for a fight, and Ali is taking a nap while his gigantic opponent pounds on him.

That was his plan. Muhammad Ali said, “What is the best way to beat this giant of a man, who is the world heavyweight champion, and just knocked the shit out of the guy that knocked me down, and took my title? I know! I will let him hit me!”

Did it work? Of course it worked. Have you ever punched something as hard as you can before? Then punched it again? Over and over? There’s nothing as exhausting as hitting something as hard as you can. Foreman was out of juice by the fifth round. The sixth and seventh, Ali finally rouses himself from his slumber on the ropes to throw a few punches, nails Foreman in the eighth and knocks him to the ground.

Here’s the thing I find amazing about this: common understanding is that Foreman was mostly throwing punches to Ali’s body–which still hurt, and are nearly as draining for both boxers, but with a much lower chance of knocking a person out–and was unable to score any solid blows to his head.

But this isn’t quite right. He does get Ali in the face, a dozen times at least in the first five. And Ali, in between lying on the ropes and giving Foreman a big boxer’s hug, throws a few punches of his own. Maybe three or four.

This is what happens: Foreman hits and hits, drops a half a dozen blows on Ali’s face, and the man remains unfazed. His face doesn’t swell, his eyes don’t turn black, nothing happens to him. Ali returns, one, two, three punches, and suddenly Foreman’s face is a mass of bruises. Red and black and blue, his right eye is half-swollen shut, he clearly is having trouble seeing.

That’s the part that blows my mind every time. It’s like Foreman and Ali are playing by different rules. Like they’re playing in universes that have different rules. The rules in Ali’s universe make him untouchable; in Foreman’s universe they make him vulnerable.

I don’t want to sound like I’m dissing on George Foreman here, because he was a great boxer, and he seems like a good man. He supports Meineke, and they did a good job fixing the tire of my car the other day, so I can get behind that. And the George Foreman grill–even if he didn’t invent it, man, that’s a great little appliance.

But Muhammad Ali is a legend, and he deserves to be a legend. He wasn’t simply a great boxer, or even the best boxer. He was a crystalline distillation of what a fighter is; he was a fighter for whom the universe cheered. He was so good at what he did that the laws of nature, equally impressed as the raving spectators at the fight, adjusted themselves to him.

I think this is remarkable, but I also think that ninety-five percent of people who watch that fight will see two grown men, often hugging, kind of hitting each other, until abruptly one of them falls down.

On Science, Religion, and Karl Giberson (TQP0067)

Posted in Braak with tags , on August 4, 2008 by braak

A friend of mine directed me, via the Facebook, to this article, which is about the problem with looking at science as a religion.

I have a lot of problems with this article–so many problems that, despite the fact that Karl Giberson has indeed referred to quite a lot of people, the net result is that he doesn’t really appear to know at all what he’s talking about.

It’s crazy, though. I mean, he mentions that he’s got a PhD in Physics, right? That means that he’s a scientist, and therefore what he’s saying is scientific. Right? Or, wait–what’s the rule with science? Is the rule that everything a scientist says is rational, or is it that a person is only behaving like a scientist when they’re saying rational things?

I just want to get off my chest what bothers me about the first paragraph. Giberson seems to have a problem with this Meyers guy for how he indiscriminately

excoriates those he views as hostile to science, a pantheon of straw men and women that includes theologians, journalists and churchgoers.”

This is something of immense frustration to me, when an author criticizes someone for using a straw man argument by creating a straw man argument. PZ Myers is not representative of science or scientists. I don’t even know who he is, and I wouldn’t have known who he was if this Giberson fellow hadn’t brought him up in the first place. I am in no way culpable for the zany antics of this character; using him as an example of the soul-damaging power of over-zealous science is specious at best, and malicious at worst.

Actually, the more I look at this article, the more fantastically retarded it becomes. Giberson actually says that certain of his remarks “got me condemned to whatever hell Myers believes in.” This is the same Myers that Giberson has just accused of being poisonously atheistic–meaning, obviously, that he doesn’t believe in hell. There is no Hell to which you can be condemned, Mr. Giberson, and the man to which you refer may be willing to judge the nature of your life on Earth, but makes no claims about the nature of your immortal soul. This is because he is not religious. You, Mr. Giberson, are purposefully misrepresenting Myers position in order to support your thesis! Stop! It makes you look like an idiot!

That’s enough of the nonsense; I want to actually get to the meat of the article. The essential points of Giberson’s arguments appear to be:

1) some (well, one, but let’s pretend he’s representative) scientists are as zealous about science as religious dogmatists are about religion.

2) science requires the belief in things that we want to believe (just like religion!), but is ultimately inferior to religion because

3) science does not obligate us to behave ethically, where religion does.

So, let’s look at this. Obviously, Mr. Giberson is right in saying that scientists should not be substituting faith for science, and he is accurately criticizing Peter Atkins for describing the origin of the universe in one particular way, (i.e., that it began formless and void, and by chance there was a fluctuation, and then POW! Universe) when Atkins knows that this theory is unproven and uncertain. He is less accurately criticizing Atkins for using Biblical language (and, I’m sure, Mr. Giberson knows it): the nature of the beginning of the universe beggars description by any ordinary function of language, and what physicists believe about it can basically be described only with math. This would make for a poor and not-especially-illuminating lecture, and physicists have been substituting metaphor for science in such conditions forever.

This is not the same thing as physicists believing their metaphors, I should add.

Or, what if it is? What if Peter Atkins really has abandoned his sense of inquiry when it comes to understanding the beginning of the universe? What if he has substituted faith for reason? What should we do? Well, Mr. Giberson appears upset by this idea. He appears to want something empirical and testable when we talk about the beginning of the universe. He appears to want to consign Atkins’ speculation to the trash, along with the eucharist that Mr. Myers pierced with a nail. Along with the pages of Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion that Mr. Myers threw out.

Oops. I guess you’re actually on the same side as Myers here, aren’t you Mr. Giberson? Turns out, you both don’t want people to believe when they should be considering. I don’t know what this does to your point; is Atkins wrong, and Myers right? Or do you think Atkins is actually right, and he just needs to admit that he’s making stuff up and believing that it’s true? If it’s the latter, you’re in trouble, because showing that he believes it now isn’t the same thing as showing that he believes that it’s irrefutable, which is a key difference between the scientific and religious ontologies. That leads nicely in to…

Issue 2…science requires the belief in things we can’t know for sure. This is usually coupled with the belief that there are aspects of the universe that fall out of the purview of science, things that we can’t know through rationality, and with the criticism of people who say that “science can explain everything.”

I’m very tired of this argument because it is, quite frankly, stupid. Science, by definition, can explain all that which is explicable. Does it require that we believe certain things are true, when we don’t really know them? Of course. For now, anyway, until we figure them out. In the mean time, believing them lets us draw conclusions that we can usually test (I’ve never seen, for example, an electron; but I know that my television works, at least half the time, so science must have gotten something right).

As for the belief that science will eventually explain everything, well, that’s a little bit of an unscientific claim in the first place–it doesn’t matter that a scientist said it, the same way it doesn’t matter whether or not Einstein believed in God. Science offers three possible responses to any question:

“We know this answer, here is the explanation.”
“We don’t know this answer, let’s figure it out.”
“We don’t know this answer, and we’ll probably never be able to figure it out.”

Scientists are not bothered by the fact that there are some things that they will never know; making up answers to questions because uncertainty bothers us is what gives rise to religious thinking, and religion and science are mutually exclusive systems.

So, actually, no. Science is the opposite of faith, and if you run into a man who says that he is using science, and he says that a thing is unequivocally true despite the fact that he can’t prove it, that man is not using science. Even if he is a famous scientist. Even if he is Albert Einstein.

As for 3, well…I don’t want religion to answer ethical decisions for us. Even though Stephen Jay Gould apparently said that it should (well, maybe if Stephen Jay Gould said it, I don’t know…). Here is why:

Some men want to have sex with other men. Catholics consider the desire sinful, and require a man who thinks sexy thoughts about another man repent. Mormons consider the activity sinful, and require that a man who wants to have sex with another man repress his natural urges. The American Episcopal Church is apparently down with the homos, and will even let them get married.

Who is right? Well, no one, obviously. All of the religious laws are either a) a formalization of the natural, biological foundations of human morality, or b) a mythopoeic product of some other crazy thing. Every law that is a) will turn up in science anyway. Any law that is b) is just as likely to be wrong as it is to be right, and even if it’s right, is probably right for the wrong reasons, and should be ignored.

Let’s get down to brass tacks here, Mr. Giberson. You ask whether or not the fact that you believe that there is more to the universe than science, that there is an infinite, infinitely good and rational mind behind the universe makes you dangerous. You admit that you believe it because you want to believe it, but you don’t admit that it’s an illusion that you made up to make yourself feel better.

I think this does make you dangerous. And I think that this kind of thinking is, ultimately, flawed. I will explain why.

If, tomorrow, Jesus appeared to me among a flight of angels, and he resurrected the dead and healed lepers by laying on his hands, and four-faced cherubim sounded the shofar at his return, and he said to me, “Lo, I am the Son of God,” I would say:

“Huh. I guess those religious guys were right after all.”

If, tomorrow, Richard Dawkins showed you irrefutable mathematical proof that there could be no God as you understand him, what would you do?

News to Astonish! (TQP0066)

Posted in Braak, Politics with tags , on August 1, 2008 by braak

The Wall Street Journal, ever the bastion of journalistic integrity, recently suggested, in an intelligent, reasoned way, that maybe Barack Obama was too skinny to be president.

Presented here is the WSJ article in its entirety, and I quote:

Yobama’s So Skinny
Amy Chozick
August 1, 2008, page W1

Yobama’s so skinny, he’s only two points ahead in the beanpoll.

Yobama’s so skinny, he dodges the raindrops.

Yobama’s so skinny, they couldn’t even find him in the straw poll.

Yobama’s so skinny, he asked if the Bible Belt came in a 20″ waist.

Yobama’s so skinny, Fox News won’t even call him “phat.”

Yobama’s so skinny, if he stood next to Rush Limbaugh, they’d be the number 10.

Yobama’s so skinny, his picture’s up on Al Gore’s wall as thinspo.

Yobama’s so skinny, he wasn’t absent for all those votes, he was just standing sideways.

Yobama’s so skinny, he’s choosing Jenny Craig as Veep.

Yobama’s so skinny, he lacks eating experience.

Yobama’s so skinny that he wouldn’t choke on a pretzel, he’d get it caught around his waist.

Yobama’s so skinny, 200,000 Germans turned out to buy him some schnitzel.

Yobama’s so skinny, when he talked to the Germans, he said he could fit through a donut.

Yobama’s so skinny that when he stepped on the cracks in America’s national security strategy, he fell through.

Yobama’s so skinny, he doesn’t bring home government pork, he brings home government salads.

Despite his proprosals, Yobama’s so skinny, if he moves to DC, there will be no Capitol gains.

(Actually, all of these jokes came from here, and are the product of the combined brilliance of many anonymous people.)

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