|
| False Economy by Allan Beattie makes a lot of interesting points. For example, countries that import food are often just importing water -- it's more practical to import food than to use scarce water to grow it, even if the land is available. And pandas are pointless, while cats have identified a market niche for their services and exploited it to the fullest.
In the penultimate chapter, Beattie writes about being on a path and sticking with it no matter what. I guess we all know that the QWERTY keyboard was designed to make us type more slowly, since typewriters got jammed if people typed fast. I didn't know that it was also designed to make the work "typewriter" easy to type for salesmen who couldn't actually type but used to type that word out to demonstrate the machine.
After the mechanical reasons for the inefficient keyboard became obsolete, it still made sense for everyone to use the same keyboard as long as typists were trained. That is, there was a benefit to being able to train a typist and know that he or she would be able to use all the machines.
Now that we all have our own keyboards which cannot jam, and typists hardly even exist, there's absolutely no reason for us to use an intentionally inefficient keyboard, but we still do. For no reason.
How often do we continue in a path just because we're on that path, whether there's still a good reason for it or not?
Beattie shows how nations and economies set themselves on a path and just stay on it, regardless of the consequences. Maybe we do that as individuals sometimes, too.
| | |
| I'm working right now on a series of profiles of 15 influential men for an online magazine. I was given the names and numbers of these guys, and am calling them up and writing up their stories.
As I go through this, I'm finding that all of them are Republicans.
I didn't notice this at first, because I wasn't writing about their political views, and didn't ask them. But then I had a little rash of legislators, all of whom were Republicans. Then I had a right-wing radio show host, often compared with Rush Limbaugh. And it became hard to miss. It might just as well be called 15 Influential Right-Wing Men.
Now, it's not that I mind writing about Republicans. Nor do I have anything against these guys. I've enjoyed talking with them, and they've been interesting guys to research.
But I have a byline at this publication. What if people think that I'm the one who chose them -- this highly biased list? What if people think that I'm -- gasp -- a Republican?
One of these guys made a website of "sexy conservative chicks" featuring cheesecake photos matched up with statements about loving God and the flag and the right to bear arms.
And what does it say about the publication? I write for them regularly. I had never noticed this bias.
I've written about ethnically diverse men for them (it's always men, because they're a men's magazine), and have never noticed any censorship of the articles I've done. It doesn't come across as an extremist paper.
One of the people on my list, a gang violence expert, told me that the two biggest gangs aren't the Crips and the Bloods, but the Democrats and the Republicans. The unquestioning loyalty within them, the hostility between them -- that's the attitude that gang members have.
Something to think about.
| | |
| I was surprised to learn that half of plastic surgeons surveyed reported that they had done a procedure that was a gift.
I also found a plastic surgeon who is offering holiday specials on various non-invasive skin treatments. Apparently they can tighten up your skin with pulses of light nowadays. I tried to watch the videos so I'd know what I was writing about, but they creeped me out too much.
This week on the HGP (why yes, it is a bit late...) the only cleaning is our attics, which I don't plan to do. But it's time to make sure your table linens are clean, to make your centerpiece, and to write the names of all the dishes you plan to put out onto Post-it Notes or something. Then, a week from today, you set your table and put the notes into the respective serving dishes.
This is one of those things that sounds like too much trouble, but actually saves you trouble. If you don't do this, one of the following things will happen:
- You'll forget to put out those special rolls you worked so hard to make.
- You'll have a pan full of mashed potatoes and no dish to put them in.
- People will keep asking you, "What should I put the cranberry sauce into?" while you're doing delicate things with the desserts.
You should still be doing the gradual shopping, unless you are one of those mad people who likes to do it all on the day after Thanksgiving.
| | |
| Rehearsal sounded pretty good last night. I have a secret code for discounted tickets, if you plan to be in town for the performance.
La Bella was telling a very humorous story about the black being worn in performance by one of us altos. It made me feel that perhaps I should actually buy some new performance gear, since I haven't done so in... oh, a decade. It's true that your average choir looks pretty shlumpy -- the women, that is. The men generally look fairly sharp, having either sprung for dinner jackets at some point or gone and rented a tux. The women are often a fairly motley crew.
Not La Bella. She always looks smashing. And I stand next to her.
Late last night -- I had to work after rehearsal, because people have begun to check in with me and make sure that I am going to meet my deadlines, and I had said "I'll do it tonight without fail" -- I got another assignment, involving the idea of giving plastic surgery certificates as gifts to me.
A nice coupon in the stocking for gentleYag, which appears to be hair removal with lasers. Or a gift card for liposuction and Botox, both of which I'm told are popular with men.
I'd gone to lunch with Janalisa, who showed me a picture of a woman -- it's a long story. Anyway, she was showing me how young and cute this woman was.
"She'd not that young," I had to say, "and she'd not as cute as you."
Janalisa assured me that the woman was thirty-two.
I had spent the weekend with a really lovely young woman who was telling me how old she felt, since she'll be twenty-seven in a few months, so I had to point out that thirty-two isn't that young.
Janalisa went on to assure me that, while she cleans up good, if someone spent 24 hours with her, they'd see the horrors of what she really looks like. But I think that there's a point at which charm has to take over. Or virtue. Or something. Even with Botox and gentleYag, time marches on.
Among the assignments I'm working on (and being nudged about) is a story on 15 influential men. Not one of these guys -- speaking here for the ones whose pictures I've found online -- is cute. Yet they're influential. You can't get that by injection, right?
Still, I do have to write about how terrific cosmetic surgery is as a gift, so if you have thoughts on that subject, I'd be delighted to hear them.
| | |
|  We went out to the mill yesterday morning for whole grains and conversation.
The conversation was wide-ranging and lively. What's the best way to deal with students who monopolize the discussion? Should people have to be licensed to have children? What's the fairest way to grade papers? Is it possible to slow down global warming? Was the eugenics movement ever a good idea (this one included Nazism and Child Protective Services court)? Do most people hate their jobs? Why is the divorce rate slowing? If it's not possible to slow global warming, then is it possible to prepare? What's the difference between intelligence and learning, and is it possible to become smarter? Is getting married a good life goal? Just how laughable is the concept of privacy on the internet? Is a PS3 worth the price?
Having dealt with all these important questions, and eaten breakfast, we did a bit of holiday shopping. We also bought beans and cinnamon-pecan pancake mix and seven-grain cereal and flour.
We're going to see whether the mill would send one of their more picturesque boxes to New Zealand for us.
As we waited in line to pay for these things, an old gentleman came up and chatted with #1 daughter. He had no teeth, which made him hard to understand. #1 daughter and #1 son both laughed and smiled with him courteously, as though they had some notion of what he was saying. We think perhaps he was telling them how old he was.
We got up to the counter, which has a window with a grill, like a jail or something, but it's very old so it seems picturesque. The woman who wrapped up our stuff asked where we were from. People here, once we get out into the rural areas, tend to think we're from off. She had a bit of trouble getting our giant bag of foodstuffs back out to us under the grill. It had lots of brass curlicues and things.
On the way home, we discussed whether things ought to be beautiful.
I took the position that, if you're going to build a cell phone tower -- or a bridge or a grill at a window or whatever public item it might be -- then you ought to make a beautiful one. People have to look at it, after all. #1 daughter took a utilitarian position. #2 son did not, as I recall, commit himself, though he joined in with examples.
It was fun. #1 daughter left not long after, and then after a bit #1 son took off for climbing and then work, and it began to rain, and I did a bit of work but also spent some time lolling around reading.
| | |
|
True
Premium
