This is interesting: African elephants are becoming tuskless. This appears to be in response to pressure imposed by generations of poachers killing tusked elephants. You can call it unintentional "selective breeding" if you want, but I would just call it evolution in response to environmental pressures.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Those newfangled "climate scientists" keep fearmongering about anthropogenic global warming (screenshot at right).
That's from a snippet published in a New Zealand newspaper, RODNEY AND OTAMATEA TIMES, WAITEMATA AND KAIPARA GAZETTE, 14 AUGUST 1912.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
This diagram offers no insights.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
I find most conspiracy theories – whether left, right, center, or way-out-there – implausible. My own response to most conspiracy theories can be summarized by the old quote from Goethe, "misunderstandings and neglect create more confusion in this world than trickery and malice. At any rate, the last two are certainly much less frequent." This idea has circulated more recently as "Hanlon's Razor": "Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity."
Mostly, I have given up trying to explain why conspiracy theories are implausible to those who espouse them, however. It seems a fruitless exercise, and anyway it's a lot of work.
I ran across an excellent debunking of the recently emergent conspiracy theory (being propagated by Trump et al.) that Democrats are rigging the upcoming US election. Written by a commenter who goes by "CrunchyFrog" on the Clintonist left-of-center blog "Lawyers, Guns & Money," it is so well reasoned I felt like sharing it. Not that I have the mistaken belief that someone who believes Trump's voter-fraud theory would be persuaded by this to change their minds, but I cite it just because I admire this kind of reasoning. I think the author would not mind having most of it reproduced here (I clipped off the gratuitous insults and Trumpist-baiting at either end as detracting from the clarity of argument).
Regarding the black voter busing scheme. Let’s think about this logically (not possible for the GOP, I know, but bear with me). If I were running such a scheme what would I have to do to make an effective dent in the results? As a starting point, a lot of Colorado wingnuts think that Obama won there in 2012 by cheating. He won by 138k votes, so let’s use 140k votes as a starting point. So let’s say I have a bus full of black voters – say 66 people (common capacity limit on school buses). So if every bus is filled to near capacity that’s about 2200 bus-visits to the polling stations. How many polling stations can a given bus hit in a day? Well, your typical precinct has 2-3 people checking voters in and each one processes about 2 per minute, so that’s over 30 minutes just to check in (of course there will be other voters, too), plus time to drive between precincts. Seriously, if you are counting on more than 10 precincts per bus per day you’re going to be disappointed. So that’s 220 buses chartered for the day, and a total of about 14k fraudulent voters.
Holy freaking crap. The logistical problems of arranging that many fraudulent voters, ALL of whom are risking felony sentences and NONE of whom have ever talked about it to anyone. Now plan to arrange for 140k fake registrations using the matching photos for each person and arrange it so that the manager of each bus makes sure that every voter gets the exact fake ID for each precinct. And NO MISTAKES – remember no one has ever been caught doing this because Democrats, who are inept in government, are utter geniuses when it comes to vote fraud. So that means there NEVER can be a situation where a fake voter encounters a registrar who says “Hey, I live on that street, I’ve never seen you” or similar.
By the way, the absolutely easiest logistical part of this scheme is arranging for photo ID. Assuming you have that many people willing to commit felonies for whatever you are paying them and have arranged everything else in detail, getting fake photo IDs for them is simple and routine. So photo ID laws do absolutely jack shit to stop massive vote fraud – but of course that wasn’t their real intention, was it?
[daily log: walking, 7km]
As I've mentioned before, I enjoy trying to understand neuroscience and cognition-related topics, although I'm not really very well equipped, intellectually.
I recently was led to a very dense bit of reading on the topic of just how the brain's structural components lead to its computational abilities, and the author was advocating the apparently radical idea that one aspect of brain-structure that deserves greater study is that of the role of neuronal mitochondria. Of course I don't get it all, but I was fascinated.
I was particularly struck by two interrelated conceptual bits:
I had one thought (I hesitate to call it an epiphanic moment), which I'm not sure better reflects understanding or lack of understanding: Is it possible that the electrical aspect of the brain's activity reflects not the computations taking place but rather the "clock", on the computer metaphor? That is to say, the electrical pulses are the clock, while the chemical activity taking place in mitochondria and at synapses are the actual computational work.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
This article, at a satirical linguistics website that I frequent, is pretty interesting – see if you can read it. It doesn’t require any knowledge of Chinese characters – it’s just a little visual “trick,” and after about 5 minutes, I was able to read it without problems. I reproduce it below, with a simple cut and paste.
与工以口-尺口爪凡以—凡 仍巨十十巨尺 与亡尺工尸十 斤口尺 巨以也乙工与廿
与巨以工口尺 巨刀工十口尺 片巨工十廿 与乙凡十巨尺
十廿巨 巨以也乙工与廿 与亡尺工尸十 工与 山凡丫 十口口 巨凡与丫 凡以刀 山凡丫 十口口 尸巨刀巨与十尺工凡以。 十口口 亡口爪爪口以。 凡以丫仍口刀丫 凡以刀 巨立巨尺丫仍口刀丫 凹与巨与 尺口爪凡以 与亡尺工尸十。
山巨 刀巨与巨尺立巨 仍巨十十巨尺。 山廿凡十 山巨 以巨巨刀 工与 与口爪巨十廿工以也 爪口尺巨 刀工与十工以亡十工立巨—与口爪巨十廿工以也 十廿凡十 与巨十与 巨以也乙工与廿 凡尸凡尺十 斤尺口爪 十廿巨 爪凡与与 口斤 巨凹尺口尸巨凡以 乙凡以也凹凡也巨与。
十廿巨尺巨斤口尺巨， 与尸巨亡凹乙凡十工立巨 也尺凡爪爪凡尺工凡以 工与 尸尺口凹刀 十口 尸尺巨与巨以十 与工以口-尺口爪凡以®©™—凡 以巨山 与亡尺工尸十 斤口尺 巨以也乙工与廿。
与工以口-尺口爪凡以 亡口爪仍工以巨与 十廿巨 仍巨与十 口斤 巨凡与十 凡以刀 山巨与十。 与凹工十凡仍乙巨 斤口尺 尺巨尸乙凡亡工以也 凡以丫 乙凡十工以-刀巨尺工立巨刀 与亡尺工尸十， 与工以口-尺口爪凡以 以巨立巨尺十廿巨乙巨与与 工爪尸尺口立巨与 凹尸口以 十廿巨 尸尺巨与巨以十， 仍尺工以也工以也 巨以也乙工与廿 工以十口 十廿巨 工以十巨尺以凡十工口以凡乙工之巨刀 斤凹十凹尺巨 十廿凡十 凡乙乙 乙凡以也凹凡也巨与 口以巨 刀凡丫 山工乙乙 与廿凡尺巨。
与工以口-尺口爪凡以 凹与巨与 口以乙丫 爪口刀巨尺以 与十凡以刀凡尺刀 亡廿工以巨与巨 亡廿凡尺凡亡十巨尺与， 巨凡亡廿 口斤 山廿工亡廿 尺巨与巨爪仍乙巨与 凡 十尺凡刀工十工口以凡乙 乙凡十工以 乙巨十十巨尺。
丫口凹 亡凡以 亡口爪尸凡尺巨 十廿巨 巨以十工尺巨 与巨十 工以 十廿工与 与凡爪尸乙巨 与巨以十巨以亡巨：
十廿巨 电凹工亡片 仍尺口山以 斤口乂 丁凹爪尸与 口立巨尺 十廿巨 乙凡之丫 刀口也。
巨乙巨也凡以十， 尺巨斤工以巨刀， 凡以刀 仍巨凡凹十工斤凹乙！
丁口工以 十廿巨 爪口立巨爪巨以十 十口刀凡丫。
凹与巨 与工以口-尺口爪凡以。
[daily log: walking]
This is a fascinating article: a German historian has demonstrated incontrovertibly that Hitler was a serious drug addict. I actually had never heard about this before, but it looks like it has been one of those "open secrets" among historians.
I find it very compelling. The idea that Hitler was a coke-head junkie in his last years has a lot of explanatory power. And not just Hitler – the whole damn Nazi military apparatus was apparently high on meth and coke, with the pushers being the government. A bad trip, indeed.
What other 20th century insanities might be better understood as drug-related issues?
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Kids these days are always messing up English with inventive new slang and borrowings from other languages. Here, the author Bokenham wisely laments the condition of contemporary English and explains how the new styles of talking and new vocabulary represent the decay and corruption of culture and language.
And þis corrupcioun of Englysshe men yn þer modre-tounge, begunne as I seyde with famylyar commixtion of Danys firste and of Normannys aftir, toke grete augmentacioun and encrees aftir þe commying of William conquerour by two thyngis. The firste was: by decre and ordynaunce of þe seide William conqueror children in gramer-scolis ageyns þe consuetude and þe custom of all oþer nacyons, here owne modre-tonge lafte and forsakyn, lernyd here Donet on Frenssh and to construyn yn Frenssh and to maken here Latyns on þe same wyse. The secounde cause was þat by the same decre lordis sonys and all nobyll and worthy mennys children were fyrste set to lyrnyn and speken Frensshe, or þan þey cowde spekyn Ynglyssh and þat all wrytyngis and endentyngis and all maner plees and contravercyes in courtis of þe lawe, and all maner reknygnis and countis yn howsoolde schulle be doon yn the same. And þis seeyinge, þe rurales, þat þey myghte semyn þe more worschipfull and honorable and þe redliere comyn to þe famyliarite of þe worthy and þe grete, leftyn hure modre tounge and labouryd to kunne spekyn Frenssh: and thus by processe of tyme barbariʒid thei in bothyn and spokyn neythyr good Frenssh nor good Englyssh. — Bokenham, 1440 CE.
So sad!
Credit is due to the All Things Linguistic blog for this.
Have a nice Friday.
[daily log: walking, 2km]
Based on how annoying this song is, I'm pretty sure it will be perfect for teaching to my younger students. Children typically like the most annoying song in a given set of choices, so that is how I judge whether it is a song they might like. I will report back if my instinct turns out to be incorrect.
What I'm listening to right now.
Parry Gripp, "Pancake Robot."
PANCAKE ROBOT
Pancake Robot Come And Get ‘Em While They’re Hot
The pancake robot is coming to town
He’s mixing up the batter and he’s laying it down
Buttermilk, blueberry, chocolate chip
50 million pancakes he’s gonna flip
All you can eat, (yum yum)
All you can eat, (yum yum)
The pancake robot is coming to town
All you can eat, (yum yum)
All you can eat, (yum yum)
It’s a pancake explosion, come and party down
Pancake Robot Come And Get ‘Em While They’re Hot
The pancake robot is here at last
His flapjacks are flying supersonically fast
With his maple syrup cannon, and his butter pat blaster
He’s gonna feed the world, cause he’s the pancake master!
Stackity, stackity way up high
Stacking those cakes into the sky
Flippity, floppity down they go
Grab yourself a fork ‘cause it’s time to mow
Flat and round, flat and round
Griddle cake griddles hot and brown!
Everybody everybody chow down!
‘Cause the pancake robot’s in town!
All you can eat,
All you can eat,
The pancake robot is coming to town
All you can eat,
All you can eat,
It’s a pancake explosion, come and party down
All you can eat, (yum yum)
All you can eat, (yum yum)
The pancake robot is coming to town
All you can eat, (yum yum)
All you can eat, (yum yum)
It’s a pancake explosion, come and party down
Pancake Robot Come And Get ‘Em While They’re Hot
[daily log: walking, 7km]
Here's a very different angle on several old topics, including immigration to Poland and death camps in Poland (but not what you're thinking, at all).
There are ants living in a kind dystopian ant-colony in an old Soviet nuclear bunker in Poland. The population is supplemented by ants falling down a broken ventilation shaft (immigration), and the mortality rate is quite high (death camps). Scientists speculate the ants may be cannibalistic, too.
I think this needs to be turned into a novel, with lots of layers of allegory.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Some years ago, I guess, the children's TV show Sesame Street presciently deconstructed the Trump phenomenon.
Interesting!
[daily log: walking, 7km]
Did you hear about the guy that got the left side of his body cut off? He’s all right now.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
I found these two videos rather fascinating – essentially, in both cases the presenters step through discussing various dialects of the British Isles while at the same time reproducing those accents quite well.
I have a difficult relationship with various English language dialects: on the one hand, I find them fascinating and I work hard to be able to tell them apart; on the other hand, I am utterly incapable of consistently reproducing them in a sustained manner, which is weird to me, because I'm actually somewhat able to do something similar with various Spanish dialects. Is it perhaps that my own mother-tongue – Northern California English – is too deeply embedded and thus I can't seem to override it, while with Spanish, since no single dialect is deeply embedded, I'm more able to shift around the dialect space? Or, more likely, perhaps I'm really not that good at doing it in Spanish either, but I'm sufficiently incompetent that I don't realize what I'm doing wrong.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
UPSIDE DOWN can be spelled upside down using right way up letters of the alphabet:
umop apisdn.
Note that this only works if you use a font with a "double-storey" "a" - which is to say, if you use a "single-storey" font like the notorious Comic Sans, or anything in italics, it doesn't quite work:
*umop apisdn.
*umop apisdn.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
There is a twitter account that is a "bot" (an automated account that posts content according to a preset program rather than under human direction), called @unchartedatlas. It posts algorithmically-generated fantasy maps. All the objects (features, names, etc.) on the little maps it posts are randomly generated. Some of the maps are quite interesting.
Mountains of Lower Zhokzonzad
— Uncharted Atlas (@unchartedatlas)
[daily log: walking, 7km]
I'm happy to see that other adults are even more adept at wasting time in creative ways than I am.
These guys crashed a legoplane into a legotown and filmed it in slow motion, because it looks cool.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
I got nothing. So, here is a sonnet from the SpeculativeGrammarian:
To turn a linguist to a sonneteer
Takes patience, kindness, and a shot of hope.
For faced with rhyming can a scholar cope
When bare phonetics starts to sound like fear?
But soft, a light through yonder syntax here
Breaks like a lovelorn couple to elope!
Amidst semantic drift, a narrowed scope,
New data comes to a long-jaded ear.
Analysis awakened agèd trees
With uncrossed lines and verb-embedded clause.
Parole was turned to langue and there it rang.
A language sure to make all linguists pleased.
No strong verbs and declinations caused
By logic. Pity it's just a conlang!
—Col. O. Nihilist (a pseudonym)
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
I experienced another difficult staff meeting last night. Why is my patience so thin about the issues that come up, lately? I feel as if there has been a substantial uptick in parental complaints about my "too loose" classroom style, and these are hard for me to have to confront. Philosophically I believe in a "loose" classroom (by which I mean playful but also forgiving from the standpoint of both academic and behavioral shortcomings), and my personality inclines me toward it too, but Korean parents are almost all hardcore disciplinarians, and they don't even get why a "loose" classroom might have benefits from a pedagogical or child-developmental standpoint.
I can't win those arguments, and in fact I'm rarely presented with an opportunity to even try to present my case. I think Curt has tolerated my style for as long as he has because he, personally, does see the benefit of it – he's remarkably progressive in his methodological inclinations – but he's not much of a salesman for it, and as with many business owners, he will let the winds of customer preference push him around. More crucially to my own issues, all of the other staff at Karma rigidly lean in the "anti-loose" direction – including the other non-Korean teachers. I stand alone without support, amid proliferating demands that I adopt a more rigid classroom management style. I can do this, but doing so tends to lessen my enjoyment of teaching – and as I've said many times before, I ain't in this for the money.
My mood is dark.
Meanwhile – tangentially – some stoic comedy.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
There are two goldfish in a tank. One says to the other, "Do you know how to drive this thing?"
This is what is called "garden path humor" – related to how we can mis-parse ambiguous syntax and semantics.
Courtesy SpeculativeGrammarian.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Here is a truly useless but intriguing gadget someone made, to disprove the idea that three gears arranged in a triangle cannot turn.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
This web page is utterly useless, and to most it will seem unimpressive, but it is intriguing from a programmer's point of view, since it is simply a web page and not, strictly speaking, an animation. It is a kind of Rube-Goldberg web form.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Sometimes people ask me why I quit being an active user on the facebook. Sometimes I even think to myself about returning, because there definitely are benefits to the platform, and I know I miss some important interactions with friends, family and former students.
Then I run across an article such as this one.
And I renew my commitment to be a "passive-only" user of the facebook.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
In case you didn't know, Cthulu is running for president. This is great news. This is the candidacy that will trump the others.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
Today is a holiday that, for whatever reason, I didn't realize was coming. Korean Memorial Day.
Sometimes those are the best kind of holiday, since there is no anticipation to get messed up – not that I ever anticipate much about holidays, anymore. But I am having a very relaxing day. I drew something, and read some things.
There is a blog called SpeculativeGrammarian, which is all about linguistic satire. I found this strange, short poem there. It made me laugh. I doubt it will make you laugh.
The poem's authorship is attributed to Bill Spruiell, who, like all the SpecGram writers, is fictional.
I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree
That doesn’t represent a parse
Of this sentence.
[daily log: walking, around]
I guess someone golfing in Florida encountered a different type of water hazard.
Mainly, this is interesting to me because of my "alligator" brand with my students. I showed some of them this video.
My students often ask me, "why do you like alligators?" to which I typically, and cryptically, respond: "because you like alligators." In fact, I don't really care about alligators. They're just a kind schtick I use, with my students.
What I'm listening to right now.
The National, "The Daughters of the SoHo Riots." From their Alligator album, of course.
Lyrics.
I have your good clothes in the car
So cut your hair so no one knows
I have your dreams and your teethmarks
And all my fingernails are painted
I'm here to take you now
You were right about the end
It didn't make a difference
Everything I can remember
I remember wrong
How can anybody know
How they got to be this way?
You must have known
I'd do this someday
Break my arms around the one I love and be forgiven by the time my lover comes
Break my arms around my love
Break my arms around the one I love and be forgiven by the time my lover comes
Break my arms around my love
I don't have any questions
I don't think it's gonna rain
You were right about the end
It didn't make a difference
I'm here to take you now
Out among the missing sons and daughters of the Soho riots
Out among the missing sons and daughters of the Soho riots
I'm here to take you now
How can anybody know
How they got to be this way?
You must have known
I'd do this someday
Break my arms around the one I love and be forgiven by the time my lover comes
Break my arms around my love
Break my arms around the one I love and be forgiven by the time my lover comes
Break my arms around my love
Break my arms around the one I love
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
I am tired from work last week, so I will simply offer the answer to the question, "what is the purpose of life?"
"The purpose of life is to hydrogenate carbon dioxide." – Mike Russell, Scientist at JPL.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
I don't have anything to say today. So I will present this, found somewhere online:
"Don't be sad, because sad spelled backwards is das, und das ist nicht gut."
[daily log: walking, 7.5km]
Q: What sport do you play with a wombat?
A: Wom.
What I’m listening to right now.
San Cisco, “Bitter Winter.”
Lyrics.
I don’t wanna be, with anybody else
If I wanted someone like me
I’d hang out with myself
I’m stuck here, in the middle of winter
I feel a bit bitter about what you said to me
Well you never talk about it
Instead you scream and shout it
Never let nobody into let them know what you been through
You love drama I believe in karma
I’m struggling and might see a shrink
I never thought that I would think that
I, no I don’t wanna be
With anybody else but you
Can you come with me [x2]
We’re so different you and I
I think that’s what first caught your eye
I’m your mistake, you’re my escape
You suggest the theatre
I go just to be with you
It’s not something I like to do
I hate musicals, I know
I’ve been to a few
I, no I don’t wanna be
With anybody else but you
Can you come with me [x2]
I don’t wanna be, with anybody else
If I wanted someone like me
I’d just hang out with myself
I, no I don’t wanna be
With anybody else but you
Can you come with me [x2]
[daily log: talking, 1km]
There is a website dedicated to "satirical linguistics," called SpeculativeGrammarian. There is an article called "Nursery Rhymes from Linguistics Land," which is a collection of humorous, linguistics-themed re-writes of traditional nursery rhymes. Given my fondness for tongue twisters, combined with my interest in parsers (that was the subject matter, broadly speaking, of my undergraduate honor's thesis) and my fascination with palindromes, this particular rhyme was particularly impressive:
Peter’s Parser
Peter’s parser parsed a paragraph
Of paraphrastic palindromes;
A paragraph of paraphrastic palindromes
Peter’s parser parsed.
If Peter’s parser parsed a paragraph
Of paraphrastic palindromes,
Where’s the paragraph of paraphrastic palindromes
Peter’s parser parsed?
There are many others I liked, too.
[daily log, walking, 6.5km]
Every now and then I run across something where I think that – if I didn't already have a good name for my blog - it would make a good name for a blog.
There is an ancient Greek expression, γνῶθι σεαυτόν ("know thyself"). Recently I ran across something I think I'd seen before, which is an interesting, skeleton-themed mosaic from an ancient Roman villa (see at right, but note the Greek in that mosaic is missing the "ε").
This was in the context of news about a different, recently-discovered, skeleton-themed mosaic near Antioch in Turkey, below, whose inscription apparently could be translated as "Be cheerful and live your life" – although there are more pessimistic readings, too. I was unable to find a clear transcription of the original Greek, a language which I have occasionally pursued as a kind of low-key hobby – I won't even attempt to transcribe it here.
[daily log: walking, 7km]
I saw this video on youtube. Aside from guessing it would be very entertaining to a certain species of elementary school student (for which reason I bookmarked it and have shared it with a few classes, to universal acclaim), I was interested in it because I’m pretty sure this street is just a few blocks from my dad’s old house in L.A., although I can’t quite place it exactly.
The guy is “skating” on a slippery, steep hill of a street, during a rainy day. He’s doing so simply on the soles of his shoes, but he has some evident skateboarding skills, so he makes a great show of it.
[daily log: walking, 6km]
There is a series of animations called "Bendito Machine" that I recently discovered. These are quite interesting. I'll embed the first in the series, below.
Bendito Machine I – Everything you need from Zumbakamera on Vimeo.
I highly recommend them.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
In the deepest depths of the world of conlang geekery, someone (or several someones) has invented a language for fictional zombies called Zamgrh. It has an actual grammar and is not just a cypher for English, as some naive conlangs tend to be. A linguistics website called EvoLang mentioned it, which is how I found out about it. What I found most entertaining was that some fans of this invented language have been translating texts into the zombie language. For example, you can read the first chapter of Beowulf in the Zamgrh.
It begins:
Rh!zzan :
Gaa haz arr rh!zzan ah zah Znag raz harmanz Raz harmanz
ahn zah arr rahnah an haah
zam arr arh bagbagh bang bang manz.
Zh!rgman, zah zan ah Zhahman,
grab mannah an bar harmanz azzbag,
zzzzargh mannah hra bang bang man,
ahgr h b hng an rzg babah,
H barg nabah na ann zah zg!
ng!r harmanz abarannah
rh!zzanb hhan h gab,
H b hra nabah raz harman !
The original Old English:
HWÆT, WE GAR-DEna in geardagum,
þeodcyninga þrym gefrunon,
hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon!
oft Scyld Scefing sceaþena þreatum,
monegum mægþum meodosetla ofteah,
egsode eorlas, syððanærest wearð
feasceaft funden; he þæs frofre gebad,
weox under wolcnum weorðmyndum þah,
oð þæt him æghwylc ymbsittendra
ofer hronrade hyran scolde,
gomban gyldan; þæt wæs god cyning!
This can only be surpassed by that guy supposedly translating the Bible into Klingon.
[daily log: walking, 6km]
