Hedgehogs “know one big thing” and have a theory about the world: they account for particular events within a coherent framework, bristle with impatience toward those who don’t see things their way, and are confident in their forecasts. They are also especially reluctant to admit error. For hedgehogs, a failed prediction is almost always “off only on timing” or “very nearly right.” They are opinionated and clear, which is exactly what television producers love to see on programs. Two hedgehogs on different sides of an issue, each attacking the idiotic ideas of the adversary, make for a good show. Foxes, by contrast, are complex thinkers. They don’t believe that one big thing drives the march of history . . . Instead the foxes recognize that reality emerges from the interactions of many different agents and forces, including blind luck, often producing large and unpredictable outcomes. . . . They are… Read more →
December 2014
Good News for the Second Fattest Person Alive
A British man whom media had identified as the fattest person alive has died of pneumonia after a devastating battle with an eating disorder that brought him to 980 pounds. — msn.com Who was the second fattest person alive? Nobody cares, right? The good news is that whoever that person is is now the fattest person alive, with all of the attendant attention and notoriety. There’s a positive angle to every story if you make the effort to find it . . . Read more →
We Save Things Around Here
What do I mean by “save things”? My wife was tidying up the garage and found this checkbook. The date (Dec. 19, 1991, the month after we got married) and the check number (101) tells me that it’s the first check we ever wrote on the first joint checking account we ever had. Read more →
The One Thing I Can’t Tolerate is Intolerance
It’s a funny thing but the most intolerant people that I personally know are the people who see themselves as champions of tolerance and inclusiveness. They’re the most determined that everyone be labelled and judged based on genetic characteristics. Once you’ve been assigned your label, you can be treated — well or poorly — as being exactly the same as everyone else with the same label. Why is that? Read more →
Attention Deficit
Focus for us was a thing hard to come by. We would have to make due with whatever we had: these were pills and a pencil, blue earplugs to block out the voices inside of our heads, which would tell us time passed and these thoughts that would shine like soft lights on our brains would one day fade into invisible relief. We would write in our binders, pass classes, allow for a moment of grief. We were deeply aware we would have to make up for lost time, but when we took our pills, the world would seem fine, seem as if it had always been fine. Once we had adequate supplies we’d sell, but until then we decid- ed to re- fill. We had determined that we would not brood. Instead we charted out our moods and light- ened up our loads. Before the rest of time unfolds,… Read more →
A Short One-Act Play About Time
MY KID HOME FROM COLLEGE: That clock says 8:42, that clock says 8:45, your phone says 8:47 and my phone says 8:48. So what time is it? ME (singing): Does anybody really know what time it is? Can anybody really care? (About time) If so I can’t imagine why (Oh no-oo) We’ve all got time enough to cry Did that answer your question? KID: Not really. Read more →
Closed
The crimson dawn breaks through the clouded east, And waking breezes round the casement pipe; They blow the globes of dew from opening buds, And steal the odors of the sleeping flowers. The swallow calls its young ones from the eaves, To dart above their shadows on the lake, Till its long rollers redden in the sun, And bend the lances of the mirrored pines. Who knows the miracle that brings the morn? Still in my house I linger, though the night— The night that hides me from myself is gone. Light robes the world, but strips me bare again. I will not follow on the paths of day. I know the dregs within its crystal hours; The bearers of my cups have served me well; I drained them, and the bearers come no more. Rise, morning, rise, for those believing souls Who seek completion in day’s garish light. My… Read more →
All the Talk About Tolerance
All the talk about tolerance, in anything or anywhere, is plainly a gentle lie. It does not exist. It is in no man’s heart; but it unconsciously, and by moss-grown inherited habit, drivels and slobbers from all men’s lips. — Mark Twain’s Autobiography Read more →