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May. 24th, 2014

Doubt and the Scientific Method

This took me by surprise: Over in that global laboratory of abnormal psychology that most of us call Facebook, a man I've know for almost 35 years grew furious at me. My crime? A longstanding contention of mine that doubt lies at the heart of the scientific method. Note well that we were not talking about Issues. Not evolution, not climate, not even the Paleo Diet. None of that had even come up. No: We were talking about the scientific method itself.

I've seen this weird "doubt undermines science" business come up before, though never directed at me personally. Nonsense, of course. Doubt really does lie at the heart of the scientific method. This is not some opinion of mine that I pulled out of thin air. Hey, if somebody wants to start a new game show called "Are You Smarter Than Karl Popper?" I can recommend the first season's contestants.

Here's my understanding: The scientific method requires a trigger, and that trigger is doubt. Some smart guy or gal looks at something we think we know, often but not always after examining a pile of new data, and says, "This smells fishy. Let's take a closer look and see what we can learn." That initial insight leads to hypothesis, experiment, repeatable results, and eventually (one would hope) new or corrected knowledge. Absent doubt, nobody thinks anything smells fishy, no closer look happens, and whatever booboo might be in there somewhere never comes to light. Without doubt, there is no science.

It's pretty much that simple.

So how do we explain my excoriation for stating the obvious? I have a theory, heh. It involves those idiotic Facebook memes that set religion against science. Some are worse than others; my personal antifavorite is the one that reads, "Religion flies aircraft into buildings. Science flies spacecraft to the Moon." Gosh, was it the Episcopalians? And did engineering maybe have a role? Let it pass; there are plenty more. What they represent is tribal chest-thumping by people who want to replace religion with science. That sounds fishy to me. I probed a little and began to get a suspicion that what the chest-thumpers really want is the certainty of religion under a new name.

What tipped me off is the fact that the chest-thumpers were always talking about scientific knowledge, but never the scientific method. The reason is pretty simple: The scientific method is the single most subversive system of thought that humanity has ever created. Nothing that we know (or think we know) is safe from the scientific method. Not even physical laws. Back in the 1950s there was a physical law called the Law of Parity, holding that nature does not differentiate left from right at the subtomic level. Some physicists thought the Law of Parity smelled fishy. They put their heads together, came up with some truly brilliant experiments, and snick! They nailed the Law of Parity through an eye socket. They nailed it because they doubted it. And we're not talking the Paleo Diet here. We're talking a law of physics.

That scares people with a strong craving for certainty. At this point we need to talk a little bit about the religious impulse. Note well that I am not talking about religion itself here. I'm talking about the primal hunger for certain things that religion provides. The two biggies are meaning and certainty. (Belonging is a third biggie, but I feel that religion inherits the hunger for belonging from its primal sibling, the tribal impulse. I'll have to take that up another time.) As anyone who's read Viktor Frankl has learned, "meaning" is an important but slippery business. I've thought about it a lot, and it looks to me like the meaning we see in our lives grows out of order. There is huge comfort in living lives that follow a predictable template. We all imagine lives lived reliably in a certain way. We do not imagine chaotic lives, and generally avoid chaos when we can. (We may grumble about the template we're currently living, but what we want is a better template, not chaos.) When chaos strikes, our lives can quickly move from meaningful to meaningless. A need for certainty follows from the need for order. We want to be certain that we've chosen a path that leads toward meaning. As often as not, this means choosing templates that work for us and embracing them without doubt. Some people take this too far, and become reactionaries or fanatics who insist that the templates they've discovered are the only ones that anyone should embrace. Alas, this is where the religious impulse gets tangled up in the tribal impulse, which, unimpeded by laws or cultural norms, gallops straight toward genocide.

Religion satisfies the religious impulse by providing us with wisdom narratives that suggest life templates, calendars of rituals and festivals that repeat down the years and reinforce a sense of the orderly passing of time, and saints as heroes whose very meaningful lives may be emulated. (I hope my religious friends will relax a little here and look closely at what I'm saying: I am not denying that God is behind religion. I'm suggesting the mechanisms by which God gets our attention and calls us home.)

What's happening in our secular era is that religion is becoming less prevalent and (in our own culture, at least) less strident. People who feel the religious impulse strongly need to get their meaning (via order) and certainty somewhere else. Science is handy. Science makes for bad religion, however, because it creates its own heretics and subverts its own wisdom narratives. It creates disorder via doubt, in the cause of creating new order that more accurately reflects physical reality. Certainty in science is always tentative: What the scientific method gives, the scientific method can take away.

This makes people of certain psychologies batshit nuts.

I'll leave it there for now. I'm something of an anomaly, in that my need for order doesn't march in lockstep with any need for certainty. I'm an empiricist. I've created an orderly and meaningful life that works for me, but when circumstances require change, I grit my teeth and embrace the change. Incremental change is one way to avoid chaos, after all: Deal with it a little at a time, and you won't have to deal with an earthquake later on.

In a sense, I live my life by the scientific method. Sometimes I doubt that that what I'm doing is the right thing for me. I stop, think about it, and often discover a better way. Doubt keeps pointing me in the right direction, as it does for science. Certainty, well...that points in the opposite direction, toward brittleness and chaos. Science doesn't go there. None of us should either.

May. 18th, 2014

Odd Lots

  • Our new concrete gets its sealer coat tomorrow, and once it dries it'll be (finally!) done. I'll post a photo. So far we think it's gorgeous.
  • This article has been shared again and again and again on Facebook, and it caught my attention because it echoes something I wrote about in 2009: That because our stuff is lasting longer, we need less stuff, be it forks or cars. And the cars are piling up...or are they? Alas, the article is nonsense (it did smell a little funny to me) and here's the point-by-point takedown.
  • Here's the best detailed article on bacteriophage therapy I've seen in quite awhile. It's a hard read, but a good one. Sooner or later, as antibiotics fail us one by one, we're going to have to go this way. (Phages look very cool, as well.)
  • The scientific method wins again: We thought we knew the physics behind same-material static electricity. We were wrong. Doubt really does lie at the very heart of science, in that if we don't doubt what we think we know, we have no chance of finding our mistakes.
  • Now that eggs aren't evil anymore, it's worth exploring all the various ways to prepare them. If you like hard-boiled eggs, here's the best explanation I've seen of how to boil them so that they'll peel easily and without divots.
  • Adobe's Creative Cloud was down for some time. The issue's been resolved, but it just confirms my ancient suspicion that putting everything on the cloud is a really bad idea. If I can't access my software, I can't work. Pretty much end of story.
  • Blue light keeps you awake. Staying awake shortens your life. So as the day winds down, Turn the Damned Thing Off. Then read a book until you're sleepy. I recommend any substantial history book, with a special nod to histories of the Byzantine Empire. (Thanks to Dermot Dobson for the link.)
  • This is the company that makes the machines that play the songs on ice cream trucks. Or at least the ones in the UK.

May. 15th, 2014

Comment Harpies

Every so often I moderate a comment, and the commenter objects: "You're censoring me!" (Most of the time I just nuke it, and that's the last I hear.) Granted, it isn't often, though it's happening more and more over time. I'm discussing it today because of an interesting phenomenon that other bloggers may have seen, one I call comment harpies. It works like this: Some whackjob swoops in and tries to post a nasty comment on Contra, generally to an entry that happened months or even years ago. I've never seen the poster before. The comment is invariably angry, often insulting, and sometimes obscene. The general impression I get, however, is one of out-of-control desperation.

I picture a person awash in cortisol sitting at a machine, googling topics that the harpy's tribe disagrees with, plowing through long lists of blog hits with shaking hands and attempting to post condemnations anywhere the blogs will let them. This is the terminal state of the "someone, somewhere on the Internet is wrong" psychology. Disagreement used to be a learning opportunity. Then it became insult. Now it appears to be declaration of total war.

Sad, sad.

I moderate all comments from newcomers, and I pay attention to everything said by everyone. I began moderation to throttle comment spam, which tries to come in five or six times a day, sometimes more. You've probably seen these slightly surreal cookie-cutter posts on unmoderated blogs, invariably accompanied by one or more links:

"It is of nothing enjoyed to be better apart than reading insights of distinction sourced with your sight. Links are of to be permitted, yes? I make a mind out to return of oftener."

Links are of to be permitted, no. Lost, get apart now forever and my sight out of.

The harpies are different. The English is good, and the posts generally pertain to whatever topic the target entry discusses. There's rarely any link. Though usually short, there's an occasional multi-hundred-word rant. As a general policy I delete them immediately. Now and then the indignant harpy emails me and demands an explanation. When asked, I answer: "I don't allow angry/abusive/obscene comments." End of story, usually. Sometimes the cortisol-tripper reponds again, claiming that I'm engaging in censorship. At that point, their having crossed the bright line into delusional, I delete and forget them.

Some comments fall into a gray area. A year or two ago, when I began talking about my research into ice ages for my caveman novel, I got a one-liner:

"Don't be an idiot. There will never be another ice age."

This is less angry than most, and I've certainly been called worse. With faint hope that he/she might have something interesting to say, I wrote back and suggested a politer comment with factual content, links permitted. The email address (which was qwertygargle and suspicious to begin with) turned out to be fake.

So what can we make of this? Some of my friends have suggested that posts like these are paid compaigns intended to discredit the blogger or the topic the blogger is discussing. That seems unlikely to me. Anger and insult won't change anybody's mind except perhaps in the direction opposite the harpy's intent. And when someone calls you a "Foux News watcher," what else can you do but giggle? I wonder if these people have any least idea how utterly pathetic they make themselves and their ideologies look.

Are they bored? Unemployed? Crazy? Are they crawling with toxoplasma gondii? As with all manifestations of tribal fury, the comment harpy phenomenon probably has deep roots in our primate past, where the addled tribal footsoldiers throw poop at each other while their alphas live the good life at their expense. If you have any better explanations, I'll certainly hear them.

May. 14th, 2014

Here Comes the Putzmeister!

Putzmeister Machine - 500 Wide.jpg

This is the machine that yesterday pumped liquid concrete into a hose, allowing it to be precisely (and rapidly) distributed into the voids that the crew had leveled, filled, compacted, and rebar-ed late last week. Ok, Michael Covington correctly tells us that "Putzmeister" translates from the German as "cleaning master." That other definition you're thinking of is actually Yiddish.

Quick aside: Seeing the machine reminded me of a very silly song my mother used to sing to us, called "Cement Mixer." The key line (and what stuck in my memory) is "Cement mixer, putzy-putzy." I think we may have had it on 78, possibly by piano maniac Slim Gaillard, who is the only man I've ever heard of who could play the piano with his hands held upside-down.

Before Pour 500 Wide.jpg

No matter. The machine and the concreters did a helluva job. We have a driveway, a front walk, and a front porch again, in a nice sandy color and fairly subtle texture. It's now cured enough to walk on (carefully) though we can't drive on it for several more days. The texture-mold releaser dust has to be power-washed off of it before I can actually show you a picture of how it's going to look. That'll happen on Friday.

Pouring Walk - 500 Wide.jpg

Texture Pattern Molds - 500 Wide.jpg

The photo above is of the plastic sheets that apply the texture to the still-soft concrete. The bucket is the releaser dust that keeps the pattern sheets from sticking to the concrete. In use, the sheets are laid on the concrete and manually rammed with a pole-mounted thumper about a foot square.

Smoothing Porch - 500 Wide.jpg

So far, wonderful. I definitely recommend the firm that did the work, Stivers Concrete. Rick Stivers got his big break by appearing with Ty Pennington on Extreme Home Makeover, back while he was still based in Escondido. Since then he's fled California's taxes and red tape to Colorado, and likes it much better here. We're very glad he did, and we're already looking ahead to summer 2015 for the garage slab and retaining wall projects. That's about as soon as we think we can handle it, given that I have to put my lathe, drill press, and extensive scrap metal collection in storage, which in turn means that we still have a great deal of clean-up-and-put-away to do out there.

Whatever. My driveway is no longer an eyesore and a safety hazard. That's victory enough for this year.

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May. 13th, 2014

Odd Lots

  • The forms are in place. The new roadbase fill has been leveled and compacted, and the rebar laid. Concrete should be here in less than an hour. Damn, we're ready.
  • Here's a concise (and hilarious) summary of everything wrong with science journalism, which is (alas) pretty much everything.
  • If the human mind can't be modeled, it can't be emulated. Which makes me wonder what sort of non-human intelligence we may be able to create computationlly, and whether we'd recognize it as intelligence if we did.
  • One of my very favorite scientists, the Vatican Observatory's Dr. Guy Consolmagno, said four years ago that if aliens come to Earth and ask to be baptised, the Church would be happy to do it--but only if they asked. There are theological questions here: Would all aliens be subject to original sin? Would each world have its own Incarnation? James Blish explored this a little (if in a rather 50s way) in A Case of Conscience . Now Pope Francis has apparently reiterated it on the Vatican news site.
  • Students remember lectures better when they take notes in longhand. I've noticed this effect myself, and it's real. The article suggests that writing notes longhand requires you to process information before writing it down, but that's true of keyboarding as well. I admit I don't take a lot of longhand notes anymore, but it's also true that keyboarding and presenting aloud seem to use entirely separate parts of my mind. (I tried to write a story once by dictating into Dragon Naturally Speaking...and it just didn't work.)
  • In crafting parody, I've run afoul of Poe's Law more than once. Far too many people are so dumb they can't detect hit-you-with-a-shovel sarcasm when they see it. (Thanks to Jim Mischel for the link.)
  • I just ordered this. Will review when I've had a chance to devour and digest it. Fat has certainly been good for me, judging by my weight and blood numbers since I stopped fearing it.
  • Coffee is good for eye health. Isn't it?
  • Wine is a lot more complicated than you probably thought, and a whole lot less romantic. Nay, it's industrial, almost...urban.
  • And still more reasons to view so-called studies with extreme caution. If you want to pass off an agenda or some sort of ideological/political/hate campaign, the best way to do it these days is hang a sign on it that says, "Trust me! I'm Science!" (Thanks to Damon Smithwick for the link.)
  • And if you've ever used a graph to try to prove something, this may give you pause. (Thanks to Roberta Crownover for the link.)

May. 5th, 2014

Creative Destruction (We Hope)

Bobcat Jackhammer 1 Cropped - 500 Wide.jpg

I had hoped to write more about the Cayman Islands today, but we learned soon after rising that the Big Duntemann Concrete Project would begin elevenses. And so it did.

Those outside my inner circle know that we've been having concrete issues since four months after we moved in. Actually, as soon as the first big rain happened circa May 2004, our front walk caved in. The developer replaced it. We were good for a few months, but toward the end of 2004 the driveway started cracking. By early 2005 it was looking serious, and not long after it started looking serious, the developer vanished. (Coincidence!) So we had the driveway mudjacked at our own expense in the summer of 2005.

Peace reigned for a few years. By 2008 the driveway had begun to crack again, and by 2010 was rapidly descending into rubble. Carol was taking care of her mom in that era, so we didn't have the bandwidth to confront the problem--and we were in Chicago as much as we were here. Just after the Taos Toolbox workshop in July 2011, the gas riser pipe on the street side of our gas meter cracked after being pulled down into the settling soil for seven years. Toward the end of 2011 we had to have the lower level slab mudjacked, which destroyed the carpeting and made a mess of our lower level generally. I pulled my left supinator badly trying to move boxes filled (carelessly) full of books. I like what we have on the lower level now, but man, getting here sucked.

After Jackhammering 1 - 500 Wide.jpg

So at last we're having the topside concrete bashed out and replaced. It was funny to watch the Bobcat jackhammer work on the concrete slab. In many spots, the bam-bam-bam was not sharp but hollow-sounding. After a few hits, the jackhammer tip broke through and went down five or six inches instantly, which suggests--nay, shouts--that there were six inches of dead air under the slab.

My driveway now looks like a bombing range, and will for what might be a couple of days yet. At some point (soon?) the dump trucks will come, schlep out the rubble, and then bring back roadbase fill to bring the area up to compaction code. After that, the rebar and the pouring can begin.

We're having the front porch slab cut out and manually removed as well, which means that getting in and out of the house is going to be problematic for a few days, especially given Carol's ongoing recuperation from three foot surgeries. The cars are parked on the street, and the freezer is reasonably full, as is the dog food bin. Concrete cocooning? Hey, I've got steaks, wine, red peppers, and a grill on the back deck.

We're ready.

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May. 4th, 2014

Odd Lots

  • This is where we stayed on Grand Cayman last week. Unless I misrecall, it was about $150 a night. Don't forget that it was not air conditioned.
  • For deep reading, print may be the way to go, for reasons we don't yet understand. In looking back a year or so, I realize that I generally read fiction on my Transformer Prime, and nonfiction on paper. It wasn't a conscious decision--and may simply be due to a reluctance of nonfiction publishers to issue ebooks--but it was probably the correct one.
  • Here's yet another reason why I've decided to let the Sun actually reach my skin.
  • It's starting to look like diet has little or no effect on cancer risk. This has been my suspicion for a long time. Obesity, yes. Diet itself, no. (Thanks to Bruce Baker for the link.)
  • Ohh, Ancel Key's beautiful wickedness is all starting to unravel. Saturated fat has nothing to do with heart disease. This has also been a suspicion of mine for some time, along with the suspicion that eating fat will make you lose weight more quickly than simply going low-carb. It certainly worked that way for me. I now weigh only eight pounds more than I did when I was 24, and a good deal of that is probably muscle I put on via ten years of weight training. (Thanks to Trevor Tompkins for the link.)
  • Interesting paper on why the Neanderthals died out. They didn't necessarily die out becausethey were inferior. (Maybe they didn't die out at all but are still here, pretending to be ugly Saps.) If I had to guess, I'd say their skulls got so big as to make childbirth problematic. But what were they doing with all that gray matter? (Thanks to Erik Hanson for the link.)
  • I stumbled on a year-old article that pretty much captures my reaction to weather.com. I will add, however, that weather.com beats the living hell out of The Weather Channel.
  • I'm still waiting for reports of cataclysmic pwnage on XP machines. The number "2000" comes to mind.
  • Speaking of which, I still need XP because my HP S20 slide scanner has no driver that will run on Windows 7. Haven't tried the VM trick yet, but ultimately that's the way I'll have to go.
  • I knew there was a reason I only lived in Baltimore for 23 months.

May. 3rd, 2014

Second Honeymoon, Part 1

Carol Flying Kite 500 Wide.jpg

Yesterday evening, while on layover at George Bush International Airport in Houston, I was in the men's room wondering whythehell they always put mirrors over urinals, when it hit me: I am now a person of melanin.

Really. I haven't had a tan like this in I don't know how long. We've been to Hawaii several times in recent years, but I always hid under a metric tonne of sunblock and came back as pasty as I left. Not this time. Carol and I just returned from a long-delayed expedition to the same resort (or what remains of it) where we stayed on our honeymoon in early October 1976. 38 years had not been kind to the resort, much of which was destroyed by Hurricane Ivan in 2004. The surviving beachfront cottages were sold for condos, and we rented one for the week.

We used sunblock sparingly. I actually sat out in the sun on our back deck in Colorado the week prior to the trip to get a little color. It was an experiment in mood management. This ugly frigid long winter had me in a bit of a funk, and I wanted to know if some vitamin D would improve my mood. I'm guessing that I got a serious load of vitamin D. Did it help my mood?

Well, my mood certainly improved. But between frolicking on a deserted beach with my transcendentally gorgeous forever girlfriend, flying kites together, drinking pina coladas at Rum Point, almost running into Baron Barracuda, and not doing much else of serious consequence for almost nine days (including not checking Facebook at all), well, I'm sure I don't know.

Carol Flying Kite Caymans - 10-1976 - 500 Wide.jpg

The two photos above of Carol flying kites are at almost precisely the same physical location, just 38 years apart. Did 38 years matter? Sure. We know and love each other immeasurably better than we did on our honeymoon. I've traded some hair for muscles I didn't have when I was 24, but Carol, well, she hasn't had to trade in anything at all.

Tomorrow: more stories and photos of The Week Without Either Air Conditioning or Facebook.

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Apr. 21st, 2014

Jiminies, Like Dust

Just about everybody in the free world was disgusted by this news story, which describes a 15-year-old Pennsylvania boy with learning disabilities who was arrested and threatened with a felony for recording a video of several bullies who were taunting him. Go back and read that again. The school did nothing to discipline the bullies, but wanted to make a felon of the victim. The Wrath of Net then fell upon the worthless school, and without admitting what they'd done, they were kind enough to let the vicious, special-needs student slide. For filming the bullies who were tormenting him.

What the hell is going on here?

My first thought was that the bullies were school sports heroes. We inexplicably idolize jocks, and cut them a great deal of slack even when they're being insufferable jerks. Ending team sports in schools would go a long way toward eliminating this problem, as I've suggested before. Well, I thought about it a little more and changed my mind. No, there's more at stake here. Much more. And this is one time where I could have predicted it 22 years ago, but didn't. My bad.

Back when I was editing PC Techniques/Visual Developer I wrote a number of editorials describing my vision of the computing future. I scored a few hits and a fair number of misses. I pretty much predicted Wikipedia in 1994. In 1992 I also predicted wearable computing, in the form of the Jiminy, a lapel-pin computer with 256 cores and 64 TB of storage. The Jiminy has imagers, and enough storage to record literally weeks of video. And all I could think to do with it is create a P2P network for passing queries around.

Silly boy. Readers tut-tutted my failure of imagination, and in the next issue of PC Techniques I went far beyond the Jiminy, and in an essay called "Computers, Like Dirt" I postulated free-range imaging nanocomputers the size of dirt particles. I don't have that editorial OCRed and laid out yet, but here's the last 200 words:

"Naked" nanocomputers will certainly have their uses. Imagine a device the size of a particle of dirt with one face an image sensor. The rest of the device is a bucket-brigade image storage system that stores millions of images, clocking in a new one every second, or minute, or hour, in effect taking "movies" lasting hours, days, or years. Now imagine untold trillions of these little camcorders released into the environment and carried by the winds to every corner of the earth.

No matter where you go, the very dirt on the street is taking your picture. Even in your own home, the dust that Mr. Byte tracks in watches your arguments, your deceits, literally your every move, at 5000 X 5000 resolution.

Want to solve a crime? Go back to the murder site and dig a thimbleful of dust from several points, and you've got millions of movies of the murder as it happened. Rob a bank and the dirt on the floor convicts you. Cleanliness is statistical; no matter how clean an environment, the dust is there somewhere.

Nanocomputers could make it impossible to commit crimes of any sort undetected...or to keep secrets of any kind at all. Virtue imposed by the dust on the wind: How's that for an endpoint to the evolution of computing?

Scared yet? I wasn't back in 1992...probably because I assumed I'd be dead long before anything like this came about. But now we've got Google Glass, dashcams, copcams, and lots of other mechanisms that basically do nothing but sit around taking pictures all...the...time.

This is what the schools are afraid of. And as much a critic as I am of knuckleheaded public school administrators, I can almost feel their pain here. Nearly everybody has some bitch about our schools and colleges, all of them different, but every one a complaint. The schools are afraid we'll sue them for doing something, or doing nothing, where "nothing" and "something" embrace everything. Nor are lawsuits necessary. If thousands of students each with hundreds of friends begin to engage in Internet vigilantism, the schools cannot help but lose, and lose big. If every student has a Jiminy on their lapels and a legal right to take pictures of everything that goes on around them, there will be no dodging administrator or teacher misfeasance or malfeasance. Even if the schools get such things outlawed (which they will desperately try to do, and in some places like Pennsylvania they already have) illicit videos of bullies and misbehaving admins or teachers will reach the Net and thus become eternal. Education as a whole would change radically.

As would a lot of other things, few of which I (or anyone else) can predict. I may leave it to your imagination. I will go out on a limb and postulate a quieter, more deliberate, and much more polite sort of world, because no behavior could ever be reliably hidden. I doubt it'll happen while I'm still around, but by Jiminy, we're moving slowly but inexorably in that direction. Better behave, guys--because everybody will be watching.

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Apr. 17th, 2014

Odd Lots

  • This exploit isn't new, but may be the most devilish thing I've seen in a couple of years: Using the Unicode "right-to-left override" character in a filename to make a .exe file look like a .pdf, a .jpg, .txt, or anything else. Double-click on that PDF, and you'll get pwned...because it isn't a PDF.
  • Working 16-hour days and sleeping a couple of hours under your desk may contribute to the high percentage of failures among startups. Basically, people who short on sleep think dumb thoughts and chase dumb ideas. They seem to wear their wilfull sleeplessness like a badge of honor, even as it kills their startups. Or themselves.
  • Note the near-obligatory Ekirch reference in the above article. I've still not found much evidence for his theory of "divided sleep" outside of his own book, but the guy gets citations all over the place.
  • This article on food myths is less interesting than the comments, which generally confirm my conclusion (having seen lots of similar comment sections) that nobody really knows what healthy eating is. (Thanks to Roy Harvey for the link.)
  • My own advice runs like this, with no apologies whatsoever to Michael Pollan: Eat food. Not too much. And sometimes plants.
  • Much activity in this realm recently. Bruce Baker sends this link from the New York Times . Comments section very similar. The whole field, in fact, is a virtual food fight. Proving you're right by insulting your opponents is very in right now, especially on Facebook.
  • Neil Rest sends a link suggesting that exposure to bright light in the morning lowers BMI. Now, I think BMI itself is bogus--the metric doesn't differentiate between fat and muscle, sheesh!--but if morning sunlight does indeed goose metabolism, getting out in the sun is a good thing. We should be cautious here: It's been established that losing sleep does promote weight gain, and it's mostly night people who lose sleep.
  • Name brand diet soda sales are in free-fall. I think that this is less about health and more about cost: People are probably reacting to price hikes from Big Soda over the past couple of years by moving to house brands from Wal-Mart and the major grocery chains.
  • House brands are a fascinating business, and there's very little out there on how this titanic but virtually invisible industry operates. Who makes the Cheerios that aren't Cheerios?
  • Is the Internet taking away religious faith? Hardly. What it's doing is providing secular religions (like political ideology) to satisfy the tribal hunger of the 50% whose disaffiliation from organized religion can't be explained in other ways. Tribal ideology is cheap (no churches or clergy to support) and once you've given yourself permission to hate others who differ from you, it provides the perfect excuse.

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