Matching Tracksuits

fun in fours

Month: February 2007

Credentials

An interesting story from the NYT yesterday:

There is nothing much unusual about the 197-page dissertation Marcus R. Ross submitted in December to complete his doctoral degree in geosciences here at theUniversity of Rhode Island.

His subject was the abundance and spread of mosasaurs, marine reptiles that, as he wrote, vanished at the end of the Cretaceous era about 65 million years ago.

But Dr. Ross is hardly a conventional paleontologist. He is a “young earth creationist” -- he believes that the Bible is a literally true account of the creation of the universe, and that the earth is at most 10,000 years old.

There are lots of issues in the article, a couple of them worth touching on.

First, there’s the question of whether graduate schools should reject applicants who hold to creationism. “It’s not a matter of religion,” say the proponents, “But of science.”

In this case, Ross’ work is impeccable, from a scientific point of view. That he doesn’t actually believe what he discusses in his dissertation is a philosophical oddity, which Ross explains by saying he’s working in a different paradigm: Just as a Marxist could do the work in an economics department with a free-market bent, he explains, so he as a creationist could work in a department that teaches the scientifically standard position of evolution.

But the issue is larger than that, and feeds into the second concern I have:

While still a graduate student, [Ross] appeared on a DVD arguing that intelligent design, an ideological cousin of creationism, is a better explanation than evolution for the Cambrian explosion, a rapid diversification of animal life that occurred about 500 million years ago.

Online information about the DVD identifies Dr. Ross as “pursuing a Ph.D. in geosciences” at the University of Rhode Island. It is this use of a secular credential to support creationist views that worries many scientists.

Eugenie C. Scott, executive director of the National Center for Science Education, a private group on the front line of the battle for the teaching of evolution, said fundamentalists who capitalized on secular credentials “to miseducate the public” were doing a disservice. (Link)

This would put a university geology department in the odd position of asking applicants about the motivation and eventual use of their degree, and the morally questionable position of using that to make decisions about admission.

But the larger issue for me is the phrase “to miseducate the public.” Here, creationists have an advantage, because they generally get their worldview confirmed on a weekly basis, in church. Educating the public about evolution, however, is a bit tricker, for not only is it culturally competing with creationism, but the amount of time it’s presented is significantly less than creationism. Unless an individual majors in science, his exposure to systematic education about evolution is limited only to a few years in school. Creationism, however, puts forward its case on a weekly basis.

Party

There's nothing like a party to make you feel loved...

When we lived in Poland, K and I had parties fairly frequently. Nothing huge: a few friends, some drinks, a bit of food -- that's all it took. No huge planning. No date-setting far out into the future. "Why don't you all come over Saturday night?" is how if often started.

Here, with everyone's busy schedule, it takes a little more planning.

One thing that is certainly different: the amount of drinking. J brought with her a bottle of the loveliest plum vodka. In Polska, my father-in-law and I could polish off a bottle in an evening. Last night, even with twenty people, we didn't finish it off, despite my prodding. Perhaps it's safer that way.

82 minutes under the wire

DSC_4810

Does it count?

Dispatch from the South

A week into J's visit (J being K's mother) and she finally went out shopping. I took her on our weekly grocery rounds yesterday afternoon, wondering what she'd think of the wonders of American consumer choice, which plays itself out practically in a grocery store that has an entire row of paper towels.

This is not the first time J has been to America. She came for a visit almost ten years ago, but I think she stayed fairly exclusively in the safely Polish sections of Chicago.

When I returned to America after a couple of years in Poland, it was that choice over-kill that shocked me. I'd grown used to little corner stores where I stood on one side of the counter and the food and grocer were on the other, and I had to as for everything by name (which does wonders for language learning). She didn't comment on the paper towels though.

I kept an eye on J, hoping to see what might catch her eye. It was finally in Ingles that she showed some real excitement. We passed an isle display of a particularly southern snack and her eyes light up and she began, "Oh, these are those, those, those," searching for what in the heck you'd call fried pork rinds in Polish.

Thinking she couldn't possibly realize what these things were, I said "the skin of" and she found her word. The best word for something as untranslatable as "pork rinds."ïPork Rinds

"Pig chips!" she cried. "Oh, we loved these. We ate them all the time!"

She had me translate each flavor for her so she could pick the one she wanted: cheddar.

"Of all the things for her to get excited about," I thought, putting a bag of fried pork skin into my shopping cart for the first time in my life.

Odd

A post and two comments have suddenly disappeared. How is that possible? The only thing I can think of is that there was some kind of issue at my web host and they had to reload from an earlier tape backup that was made before I wrote the post in question.

The fact that an old version of the post exists in draft form seems to support this notion.

Curious…

Worst is, it broke my posting streak. Well, I shan’t be defeated. I’m simply going to repost it and backdate it.

Still, it gives me yet another reason to switch hosts…

Photoshopped

French photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson (Wikipedia) was a purist. He claimed that he didn't even crop any of his photos, let alone indulge in the darkroom magic of dodging and burning. Had airbrushing been available to HCB, I very much doubt he would have done much more than laugh at it.

In this digital age, it's difficult to be such a purist. Yet there must be some limits, some standard.

How much digital manipulation can you do before it's no longer a "true" image?

Wandering around Flickr, I've noticed a preponderance of heavily manipulated images -- Photoshopped to an inch of the digital existence. The results are striking, but somehow false. I get the feeling that I'm looking at an advertisement of some sort.

Examples include:

I'm not discounting the quality of the composition, nor the impact of image, but it just seems to be a little too much.

When I do digital manipulation (and I rarely use Photoshop for that anymore), my goal is simply to make the image look as it did when I took the picture.

Shipping Costs

We recently bought a notebook computer and that inspired me to do the logical: buy a router and set up a little handy-dandy home network. Because we bought an older, cheaper notebook (essentially for word processing and internet access), it didn't come with built-in wireless capacity, we also had to buy a USB wireless adapter.

First stop: Google's Froogle service. I found a nice deal: less than $60 for both the adapter and router. At that price, probably not the best quality in the world, but I wasn't trying to set up an industrial-strength wireless network here.
ShippingIt turns out, they applied BMG Music's business model: sell things (at least initially, in BMG's case) at less-than-market price, but make up for the losses by charging inflated shipping and handling costs.

In this case, ridiculously inflated costs. Shipping from California, the retailer's cheapest shipping option: FedEx, at $41. UPS Ground cost a mind-blowing $71! Overnight service was $278!!

Strong Son

According to the Washington Post:

Ryan O'Neal says his weekend arrest came after he fired a gun in self-defense to prevent his son from w him with a fireplace . [...]

O'Neal's son Griffin, 42, who has a history of alcohol and problems, was visiting. O'Neal said Griffin grabbed a fireplace , started swinging it and grazed him four or five times. (Source)

He ripped an entire fireplace out of the wall and swung it at his father? That's some strength.

In all seriousness, I've noticed quite a few such mistakes in the Post lately. In all fairness, this is an AP story, but still...

Stating the Obvious

"You've got kind of a big nose, huh?"

The words fell like grenades as the three of us bobbed about the shallow end of the pool. My best friend was talking to my new girlfriend my first girlfriend, truth be told who'd been the axis of my existence for the previous week of band camp.

The words hit her fairly hard, too, for her eyes teared up and she swam away.

I said something icy and hateful to my friend and swam off to comfort my lady.

Truth be told, she did have a nose that was a bit on the large size, though of course I was not foolish enough to admit it when my friend protested later, "But she does have kind of a big nose."

"You didn't have to say anything," I thought. I said, "No, she doesn't!"

She herself admitted it sometime later, with a laugh, even.

We were all twelve, and yet somehow my friend had not yet learned that you don't have to say everything you're thinking.

Many of the boys I work with daily, at age fifteen, even sixteen, still have not learned that either. If I go into work with a bit of razor burn, I get comments. Endlessly. If they think my clothes are somehow unfashionable, they let me know, then stand around in a circle and laugh about it as I stand there.

It's funny -- when I was their age, I did the same thing. But my friends and I talked about teachers' razor burn or mismatched wardrobe in hushed tones, and we would never be presumptuous enough to think that we could mock the teacher as if he were a peer. But that is exactly what many of the boys at the center do.

The worst was the first time I cycled to school. When they saw me in typical cycling clothes everything spandex, basically they howled with laughter. "Oh my God!" one literally screamed. "Look what a faggot Mr. S looks like!"

Part of what I try to do on a daily basis, then, is to encourage them to whisper among themselves instead of talking among themselves. And this is particularly frustrating, because it seems to them that I'm simply annoyed by their behavior and trying to punish them in some way or other. Quite frankly, it's easy to ignore such immaturity (and that's really all it is), but that's not my job -- and therein lies the frustration.

Wandering Downtown

We took K's mother, J, downtown for a bit of walking, a bit of window shopping, and a latte.

We took her to the Grove Arcade and showed her patchwork quilts, grandfather clocks, and over-priced souvenirs.

She liked the spiral staircases the most -- the staircases that are closed to the public and apparently for decoration only.

We took her to the gallery where we used to have photographs for sale. (In six months we sold about as many photos. We were hoping to earn enough money to help pay for a new DSLR. In the end, we just wasted enough money to buy the camera outright -- but we learned something from the experience: the majority of Americans, it seems, prefers kitsche.) She was impressed with the goats-milk soap and various crocheted items.

We took her to see the largest iron in the world.

Finally, we took her for a bit of cake and a cappuccino (or latte, in K's and my case). J is used to the "Celebrate the moments of your life" type of "cappuccino" that comes in little sachets. We got her to forget that syrupy mess and try a real one. "Okay," she said, "But none of that vanilla nonsense. No almond nonsense. No flavors."

I just smiled.

In the end, the cappuccino and latte got mixed up (K wanted decaf latte and the waiter brought decaf cappuccino), but I don't think she noticed...