March, 2007
17 posts under this date.
My first (self-)published joke. They should lock me.
All three of them long (9,000 words average), all three of them remarkable. Favorite to least-favorite-but-still-remarkable,
Unhappy Meals
By Michael Pollan
January 28, 2007
What should we eat?
Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.
..A little meat won’t kill you, though it’s better approached as a side dish than as a main. And you’re much better off eating whole fresh foods than processed food products. That’s what I mean by the recommendation to eat “food.” Once, food was all you could eat, but today there are lots of other edible foodlike substances in the supermarket. These novel products of food science often come in packages festooned with health claims, which brings me to a related rule of thumb: if you’re concerned about your health, you should probably avoid food products that make health claims. Why? Because a health claim on a food product is a good indication that it’s not really food, and food is what you want to eat.
Darwin’s God
By Robin Marantz Henig
March 4, 2007
How can we explain belief in God?
Stephen Jay Gould, the famed evolutionary biologist at Harvard who died in 2002, and his colleague Richard Lewontin proposed “spandrel” to describe a trait that has no adaptive value of its own. They borrowed the term from architecture, where it originally referred to the V-shaped structure formed between two rounded arches. The structure is not there for any purpose; it is there because that is what happens when arches align.
In architecture, a spandrel can be neutral or it can be made functional. Building a staircase, for instance, creates a space underneath that is innocuous, just a blank sort of triangle. But if you put a closet there, the under-stairs space takes on a function, unrelated to the staircase’s but useful nonetheless. Either way, functional or nonfunctional, the space under the stairs is a spandrel, an unintended byproduct.
“Natural selection made the human brain big,” Gould wrote, “but most of our mental properties and potentials may be spandrels—that is, nonadaptive side consequences of building a device with such structural complexity.”
The possibility that God could be a spandrel offered Atran a new way of understanding the evolution of religion. But a spandrel of what, exactly?
Hardships of early human life favored the evolution of certain cognitive tools, among them the ability to infer the presence of organisms that might do harm, to come up with causal narratives for natural events and to recognize that other people have minds of their own with their own beliefs, desires and intentions. Psychologists call these tools, respectively, agent detection, causal reasoning and theory of mind.
From 0 to 60 to World Domination
By Jon Gertner
February 18, 2007
A look at Toyota.
By any measure, Toyota’s performance last year, in a tepid market for car sales, was so striking, so outsize, that there seem to be few analogs, at least in the manufacturing world. A baseball team that wins 150 out of 162 games? Maybe. By late December, Toyota’s global projections for 2007 — the production of 9.34 million cars and trucks — indicated that it would soon pass G.M. as the world’s largest car company. For auto analysts, one of the more useful measures of consumer appeal is the “retail turn rate” — that is, the number of days a car sits on a dealer’s lot before it is turned over to a customer. As of November 2006, according to the Power Information Network, a division of J.D. Power & Associates that tracks such sales data, Toyota’s cars in the U.S. (including its Lexus and Scion brands) had an average turn rate of 27 days. BMW was second at 31; Honda was third at 32. Ford was at 82 and G.M. at 83. And Daimler-Chrysler was at 107. The financial markets reflected these contrasts. By year’s end, Toyota would record an annual net profit of $11.6 billion, and its market capitalization (the value of all its shares) would reach nearly $240 billion — greater than that of G.M., Ford, Daimler-Chrysler, Honda and Nissan combined.
That weird phone call I got weeks ago was from the prim (but ambitious) lil’ supermarket near my house (they got my number from my blog, go figure). Out of the blue they demanded, not rudely but not friendly either, my “cooperation” in taking down pictures of them I had uploaded to Flickr (for I wanted to write a review of how innovative and important the store really is—“The income level of a country is determined, above all, by the productivity of its largest industries. High productivity in the unglamorous “old-economy” sectors—retailing, wholesaling, construction—is most important, since more people work in them.”). Anyway, it sure looked like a big boatload of crap to me then. They weren’t giving me even hints of good reasons and still they threatened me—me, their most ardent former enthusiast—that they didn’t want to pursue the matter in a different way (wtf?). I instinctively groped for the freedom-speech martyr role, willing to fight the crusade against dimwitted, Pleistocene shopkeepers to its bitter end.
And so it would have likely been. But then father and Dragonball intervened ELZR. “If you do something that you later find upsets a friend, what you do is stop,” was father’s simple but crushing argument. Dragonball’s was more subtle in its nonverbalness but you could word it into this feel-good motto: “enemies are future friends waiting to be made.” I’ve never kept enemies and so it simply kills me to have one. I can’t. Because even if they never actively hurt me, I’ve always been aware that there will come a time when their help would come in handy—and I need all the help I can muster. In the case of this shoppe, I saw them immediately as customers. If this harebrained scheme I hatch of creating an ad-based online interface to Guadalajara is ever going to take off, I will need the help and patronage of every local business I can find.
It took me weeks to visit them (see previous fear post) but when I did, yesterday, it couldn’t have gone better. I went there and defused the whole thing by admitting error from the very beginning and promising to take down the pictures as soon as I came back home (which I’ve done). What followed was two persons trying to outapologize each other. My caller revealed himself a friendly, good-natured man. Most importantly, I finally got to understand what got them so upset. To begin with, being somewhat new to the retail business they’re paranoid about security after lots of bad experiences and it totally unnerved them when this random guy was able to sneak behind guards (some of them undercover) and take pictures nonchalantly. The crux of the matter, though, was that it turns out my Flickr page was the first Google hit for the store (that happens a lot whenever I talk about something from Mexico, Google gives me a totally disproportionate pride of place—Imagery’s aftermath, I suppose) and that, combined with the anxiety of having problems with their webdevelopers (who haven’t been able to upload anything—not even a lousy banner—in six months), got them all worked up—how can it be that some random stranger is the one that tells the world what we are?
Now I offered myself up for the job and I may be the one building their web presence, which I’m sure would be a fascinating job. Amazing isn’t it?
It has taken me some three years to realize it but when I did it was obvious. The crazy sleep schedule I’ve been riding since I dropped out of college is more than the pale-hacker tropism for long quiet nights. It’s more than manic-depression, which for a time I was sure of having. It’s more than youthful immaturity, which I’m sure of having.
I remember the first nights out from college, and some before, I would curl up on my bed, scared as I’ve ever been—fingers curled, fetal, with hamsters in my head and a stomach full of nothing, churning away anyway. Scared of what you say? Oh, the usual I guess, scared of failure, of success, of not being up to the challenge, of blowing it all away in search of some silly dream. Mostly, though, scared of this fear I knew not inside of me.
Those nights stopped without my realizing but I now know what happened to them: I tired them away. I would work (or idle) my way to exhaustion, till there was nothing left for me to do but tumble down. Sleeping was sure easier than facing my fears, and since everything could wait, what was the harm of sleeping on it? Again and again.
There’s been a recent, unnacounted-for change in me regarding architecture. Never having so much as glanced at it before, I now found it supremely soothing, liberating—it suddenly seems the most important thing in the world. This computer mockup of the Louvre Abu Dhabi with its canopy of light, for instance, has had me transfixed all day. See NYT’s feature, The Louvre’s Art: Priceless. The Louvre’s Name: Expensive.
I had never seen this before but it’s a neat idea. Have you seen other examples?
Never would’ve thought designing calendars was this fun. (PokeCalendario, btw, is a great turn of phrase by James P. Wack)
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