Category Archives: Passing thoughts

The perils of streaming movies while sleepy.

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I know I should be better about recognizing when it’s time to sleep, regardless of what the clock says. But darn it, there are only so many waking hours in a day, and now that I don’t have hundreds of papers in front of me to grade, I want to do fun things. Like watch movies with my better half.

Streaming video is, of course, a great boon for us (not least because I hate nodding off in the middle of a movie I’ve paid ten bucks to see).

But.

Sometimes, I end up as engrossed as possible (given my sleep debt) in one movie, then I drift off for what seems like just a moment, and I encounter something on the screen that seems like it might be the same movie … until it doesn’t.

And then I’m left having to double-check with my better half that the Benazir Bhutto assassination plot did not, in fact, involve zombies.

Holiday repost: words of advice about caroling mice.

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This was originally posted in December of 2007, when the elder Free-Ride offspring was eight years old. How the years fly.

Today I stumbled upon a story the elder Free-Ride offspring wrote. Possibly intended to strike a Charles Dickens-like tone, I think it ended up a bit closer to Dostoevsky.

Of course, I have to share it:

MiceTitle.jpg

When Mice Go Caroling

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When mice go caroling, you better watch out.
When they’re done, they will ask for cookies.

OK, so at this point I’m expecting a plot arc of the sort found in the classic book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Likely there will be some unforeseen consequence — or some elaborate chain of unforeseen consequences — following upon this innocent act of generosity. Hilarious hijinks will ensue.

Right?

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If you don’t give them cookies, they will kill you and eat you and eat your cookies.

Uhh … I’m guessing, then, that the smart think to do would be to give the caroling mice your cookies?

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If you give them cookies, they tell other animals.
Soon you’ll be dead broke and starve.
The end

Reading between the lines, I’d have to say the very best thing to do if you see or hear caroling mice approaching your door would be to kill the lights and call animal control.

Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

In which too much grading plus Mel Brooks leads me to ponder the nature of crowd reactions at scientific presentations.

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Fair warning: I have been grading for the last several days, and grading makes me silly. This post may give you a sense of just how silly.

Last night, during a brief break in grading, I caught the last half of Young Frankenstein on TV.

Dr. Frankenstein’s presentation of the Creature to the public, under the auspices of the Transylvania Neurological Society, is one of my favorite parts of the movie, not least because Dr. Frankenstein is so very quotable. “Please! Remain in your seats, I beg you! We are not children here, we are scientists!” and “For safety’s sake, don’t humiliate him!” are just two exhortations that I can imagine getting some good use in scientific presentations.

Also, when Dr. Frankenstein’s presentation of the Creature goes off the rails, members of the audience start pelting both scientist and monster with what look to be cabbages.

Which led me to notice that there are not too many scientific presentations nowadays at which audience members throw fruit or vegetables at the presenters.

Possibly this is a reflection of the current direction of scientific work — focused on findings so unsurprising (at least in a global sense) as to be unlikely to elicit strong reactions from those hearing them. Or, maybe scientists are channeling their disbelief and outrage to private channels, say, by fuming about presentations in lab meetings when they’ve returned from the conferences at which they’re presented, or saving the worst of their aggressive outburst for when they are the third reviewer.

On the other hand, maybe it reflects the limited supply of fruits and vegetables available at most venues for scientific presentations.

Your better complementary continental breakfast spreads can be counted on for apples, bananas, and oranges, but not so much for cabbages or overripe tomatoes. And, some conference venues (like the San Diego Convention Center) don’t really have free food so much as places to buy snacks — snacks which tend to be pretzels or muffins or cookies, items not traditionally hurled to register one’s disagreement with a research presentation.

Are warm pretzels too delicious an item to hurl at one’s fellow scientist to register one’s disbelief? Do muffins not fly well enough, nor generate sufficient force at impact? Or is it primarily a matter of the cost of these items that makes them unappealing as instruments of peer review?

Maybe this calls out for an economic analysis?

In the event that you had a cabbage handy, given the relative scarcity of cabbages at scientific meetings, would you tend to keep it rather than throwing it just in case the next presentation turned out to be even worse? And wouldn’t there be something like an opportunity cost associated with holding onto the cabbage, given how much room it would take up in the conference tote bag?

Really, someone should investigate this. But not me, because I still have grading to do.

From the cave of grading remote base: apparently stable patterns.

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I’m one of those people who is rather less confident about the existence of universal regularities in our world (and this has at least as much to do with the research component of my misspent scientific youth as it does with Hume and Popper and the whole problem of induction).

Nonetheless, if I had to bet money on certain patterns being stable features of my world, here’s where I’d lay my chips:

  • Not coming to lecture more than three times in the part of the semester preceding the midterm will be highly correlated with not doing well on the midterm. (My lectures seem to add value; who knew?!)
  • Not actually address the question that has been asked will be highly correlated with earning very few of the available points.
  • Using many, many words in the space available to answer the question (especially if they don’t engage with the question) is less likely to earn points than using fewer words that present a clear answer.
  • The ability to use a sanctioned cheat-sheet on the midterm means I’ll see a sizable proportion of papers (maybe 33%) where students have simply recopied on to their test papers every single thing they put on their cheat-sheet about philosopher X, regardless of what a question is asking them about philosopher X. This strategy seems to make it hard for the students using it to notice when they have “lost the plot” in their answers.
  • In at least 10% of the papers, I will encounter the phrase “solve science” and will need to pause for a facepalm or a headdesk.
  • That rascal DrugMonkey will put up a post to which I want to respond before the end to my grading is anywhere in sight. (Seriously, am I the only blogger with grading who has an angel on one shoulder and DrugMonkey on the other?)

Musings from cave of grading remote base.

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Casa Free-Ride, the location for the primary cave of grading, is currently abuzz with hammering and sawing and other noises, not to mention colder than usual on account of the removal of a ceiling and a bunch of obsolete insulation. So, I have decamped to a local cafe that has tables, heat, free wifi, and food and drink, establishing a remote grading outpost until it’s time to move in a soccer-ward direction.

I have always operated under the assumption that, if I’m going to occupy a table at a cafe to plow through grading (or writing, etc.), it is appropriate to purchase food and drink. (Today’s purchase: large coffee and chocolate truffle cheesecake.) The food can be a useful carrot (though not a literal one) to help me press through the task at hand: get through grading this section of the exam on 30 more papers and earn three more bites of cheesecake.

But, such a grading strategy carries with it the risk of getting chocolate truffle cheesecake on the papers being graded.

Indeed, in my grad school experiences with industrial scale grading (largely of exams for general chemistry and first term organic chemistry), there was nearly always some sort of food in play while we graders were marking the hundreds of papers we had to mark.

And, since solo-grading makes my mind wander, I’m now wondering what kinds of conclusions students might draw from the various and sundry stains that accompany the check marks and comments on their returned work. What might they make of

  • Coffee (cup ring)
  • Coffee (spilled)
  • Red wine
  • Tequila-scented salt crystals
  • Orange smudges consistent with Cheetos or Doritos
  • Smeared Cheez-Whiz
  • Pizza grease
  • Bacon grease
  • Chocolate
  • Creme Fraiche and/or raspberry coulis
  • Cigarette ashes
  • Singe marks and/or holes burned through the paper
  • Fish scales
  • Blood

I haven’t returned papers with each of these extra additives, and students seem not to comment (to me) on the odd coffee or chocolate stain on an exam paper.

My hunch is that they cannot detect the presence of tear stains at all. But maybe empirical research is in order here?

On fairness.

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Because, it seems, the younger Free-Ride offspring and I have different ideas of what counts as fair.

Younger Free-Ride offspring: (noticing a song on the radio) Hey, it’s “Poker Face”. That song is really old.

Dr. Free-Ride: Yes.

Younger Free-Ride offspring: It must be like 15 years old.

Dr. Free-Ride: No, it’s not.

Younger Free-Ride offspring: Yes, it is!

Dr. Free-Ride: Do you want to bet?

Younger Free-Ride offspring: OK, I’ll bet you a dollar.

Dr. Free-Ride: You sure now? I’m going to fire up Wikipedia to verify the date. And I’m quite sure that the song is no more than five years old.

Younger Free-Ride offspring: Go ahead and check. And if I’m right, lets make it two bucks?

Dr. Free-Ride: What?

Younger Free-Ride offspring: Just look it up. If it’s older than five years, I win, if it’s less, you win.

Dr. Free-Ride: OK. See, it came out in 2008, which means it’s only three years old. Will you be paying me my dollar now or later?

Younger Free-Ride offspring: That’s no fair! You knew it was less than five years old.

Dr. Free-Ride: Yes, I did. That’s why I was willing to bet on it.

Younger Free-Ride offspring: But I didn’t know that you knew.

Dr. Free-Ride: But I told you I was certain.

Younger Free-Ride offspring: I thought you were wrong that you knew it. And it wasn’t fair for you to bet me if you knew the answer for sure.

So, apparently, taking a gamble with too little uncertainty attached to it is unfair. Or maybe my crime is having absorbed some facts about young-person music.

* * * * *
Speaking of fairness, I don’t think it’s fair for public school kids to bear so much of the brunt of failing state and local budgets. If you agree, it would be awesome if you could donate even a few bucks to one of the projects in my giving page for the DonorsChoose Science Bloggers for Students 2011 drive.

And, for the next week, through the very last moment (Eastern Time) of Thursday, October 13th, bloggers in the challenge will be competing to get the most new donors to their giving pages. The five bloggers in the challenge who pick up the most new donors during this window will each receive a $50 gift certificate for ThinkGeek stuff.

I love ThinkGeek stuff, but I love reader participation even more — which means, if you all can help me get to the top five so I can win that gift certificate, I’m going to turn around and give each of my donors a chance to win one, too! I’m prepared to give away a $50 gift certificate, a $25 gift certificate, and a $10 gift certificate to randomly drawn donors to my giving page (because that would be fair). Just forward me a copy of the email DonorsChoose sends you to confirm your donation to my giving page and you’re in the drawing.

There may be some other incentives for your participation, too … stay tuned!

A modest proposal to Amazon.com or California big-box outlets.

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… whichever can muster a shred of corporate social responsibility.

As has been noted elsewhere, Amazon.com is put out that states are asking it to collect sales tax on online purchases. You may have had occasion to notice that most states are still experiencing major economic difficulties. Especially given major anti-tax sentiments among lawmakers, the states are relying on sales taxes for an ever increasing proportion of state revenue.

Yes, sales taxes are regressive, and tend to hit the poor more heavily than the rich. But my guess is that some non-negligible proportion of Californians making online purchases with Amazon are living comfortably above the poverty line.

Amazon.com is so committed to not collecting California sales tax that it is prepared to spend several buckets of money to get a measure on the ballot to free it from having to collect the sales tax.

Meanwhile, word on the streets is that the brick-and-mortar big-box retailers that are Amazon’s biggest competition here — who, naturally, collect sales tax on purchases — are prepared to spend their own buckets of money to urge a “no” vote on the ballot measure.

I offer this proposal in the hopes of being able to dodge yet another situation where we’re calling for a plague on both your houses.

Amazon:
The state of California needs that sales tax revenue at the moment, surely more than Jeff Bezos needs it. California consumers (at least the ones who still have disposable income to spend) are sold on the convenience you offer and the wide range of goods you sell. They happily pay sales tax on online purchases they make with other retailers. You won’t lose them by collecting sales tax, at least, not too many of them.

However, you may lose a bunch of them if you pour lots of money into a ballot measure. The whole governing-by-ballot-measure thing has gotten pretty tired, and it’s expensive, and we don’t love it when big corporations buy all that commercial time to lie to us about our best interests.

So, why not collect that sales tax and look like a benevolent corporate entity rather than greed made flesh (or whatever the cyber-retail equivalent of “flesh” might be)? Heck, you could even just meet us halfway and create a sales tax opt-in toggle for California consumers who would like to avail themselves of Amazon’s selection and convenience without feeling like greedhead-supporting scumbags?

Big-box retailers in California:
I get where you’re coming from here. You’re not wrong that Amazon gets an unfair advantage by dodging collecting California sales tax. And undoubtedly the Amazon-bankrolled ballot measure will be supported by all sorts of misleading (and self-serving) claims that you’ll want to counter.

But this is a golden opportunity to be the less evil of corporate entities here. That might reward you with dividends, whether from California consumers, or communities who make zoning decisions, or lawmakers, down the road.

Why not take that money that you’re prepared to spend to defeat the get-Amazon-out-of-sales-tax-collection ballot measure and use it to create jobs in California communities?

I reckon that embarking on such an unorthodox move would get you all sorts of free publicity from reporters on the economic and political beats, among others. Probably some bloggers would talk it up, too.

The California budget is broken enough that we need every dollar we can get to support crumbling infrastructure, essential services to the poor and the sick, little things like education. This is not an auspicious time to be pouring money into fighting about whether Amazon.com can keep stiffing California. The corporate entity that steps away from the expensive game of chicken and uses its power and money for good may end up winning lots goodwill from California consumers — goodwill that carries over to better economic times (assuming someday we’ll have those) when people have more money to spend and want to feel good about where they’re spending it.

On the other hand, both sides can stay the course and help Californians feel better about pulling back from consumer culture.

Helpful hint for ethics students.

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Let’s say you have been given a case study and asked to suggest an ethical course of action for the protagonist in the case.

If, in the course of explaining the course of action you are recommending, you find yourself writing, “Even though it would be unethical, the protagonist should …,” you may be doing it wrong.

A small happy parenting moment.

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A conversation yesterday at the dojo where my better half and the younger Free-Ride offspring do aikido:

Younger offspring: I think [Dr. Free-Ride’s better half] needs to man up and start coming to aikido regularly again.

Dr. Free-Ride: I get what you’re saying, but when you say “man up”, what are you suggesting about women?

Younger offspring: Oh, I didn’t think about that.

Dr. Free-Ride: Because the quality you want [Dr. Free-Ride’s better half] to summon isn’t something only men have, right?

Younger offspring: No, women have it too. I didn’t mean men were better.

Dr. Free-Ride: I know that. But sometimes our words seem to say things we don’t mean them to mean.

Younger offspring: I could say “toughen up” instead, ’cause that’s what I mean.

Dr. Free-Ride: That would totally work.

I’m especially happy that it took all of five minutes for the younger offspring, aged 10, to get the distinction between what she meant to say and what the words themselves might communicate — and that she was able to have this discussion without feeling attacked or turning it into an exchange focused on the innocence of her intent.

To me, this feels like significant progress towards maturity.

Astounding claims made on the internet.

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On this post, from a commenter named Zac*:

I’m a philosophy student. When we disagree we reason, we argue, we discuss. We do not, ever, ever call for a boycott of those with opposing views.

My thoughts on this:

  1. What would make you think that reasoning, arguing, and discussing necessarily rule out boycotting? Where’s the logical contradiction you’re assuming?
  2. Also, would you like to offer a positive argument that people with whom we disagree are entitled to our money? I means, if we take their goods and services they have a claim to our money, but do they have a right to demand that we not take our business elsewhere?
  3. And look, for this particular X, the claim that “Philosophers do not do X” turns out to be clearly false. Perhaps you meant to make a normative claim rather than a descriptive one. If this is the case, you’ll probably also want to offer a defense of the particular “oughts” you are asserting.

This edition of “Astounding claims made on the internet” brought to you by my current inability to settle down and grade case study responses.
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*The permalink may be wonky. The comments appears at July 13, 2011 at 01:51 AM.