A National Review-Inspired Post

I just noticed an issue of National Review in which I had left several flags to re-review later. The issue is July of 24, and all of the flags landed between pages 14 and 15. I am not going to repeat their writing here, though it is surely better than mine. I just want to react to their words.

The AR-15. I am going to repeat what my son-in-law told me years ago. He drew a picture of a basic 22-caliber rifle, and then attached a long handle to it, and maybe a telescope. But the key to the matter of the weapon being dangerous or misused was this: It is not automatic. One press of the trigger releases one round of ammunition. Holding the trigger down will not fire more rounds. The impression that people have from the news is that the AR-15 is a machine gun, but machine guns are illegal.

NR reviewed a Washington Post compilation of its multi-stage investigation of the AR-15, citing a former colleague Kevin D. Williamson that the WaPo series is “scientifically illiterate, error-ridden, propagandistic, and willfully misleading.” NR notes that WaPo even confused bullet velocity with rate of fire. WaPo, of course, won a Pulitzer for the series, as the AR-15 is a popular target for the left.

Caitlin Clark of the University of Iowa scored more points in basketball than any other player, male of female, in NCAA history. She will be paid $76,535 as the number one pick of the Indiana Fever. The WNBA makes about $200 million in annual revenue, compared to $10 billion for the NBA. NR uses this opportunity to take a shot at unions in general, sports unions in particular. They conclude that Clark’s $28 million shoe deal with Nike along with many other endorsements only goes to show that unions reward mediocrity, while markets reward excellence. Actually, I side with NR on this matter.

MIT will no longer require diversity statements from potential faculty hires. I was not aware of the practice, of course, but find such statements, along with other virtue signals (like public apologies) to be degrading. I think it is perfectly all right for a human being to be prejudiced in some manner, as in believing that blacks are not as smart as whites. It’s such a general belief that cannot be disproven, but eventually as we age and if we pay attention to the world around us, we will find so many exceptions as to force the belief to be abandoned. It’s a complicated world. 

The Boy Scouts of America have changed its name to “Scouting America”, this to allow for new policies such as allowing gays to be troop leaders and to welcome girls who identify as boys to belong. I don’t care about any of that. I think that forcing children to wear uniforms is not cool, and robs them of individuality, or at least attempts to do so. But I did once belong to Boy Scouts, for a short while. Two things made me quit: One, a disapproving look from my older brother, whom I idolized, as I put on my BSA uniform one night prior to going to a meeting. The other was a meeting where the scoutmaster said we should conclude the evening by playing games. He asked for suggestions, and I ever the smart ass said “How about ring around the rosie?” Later one of the big shot older scouts took me aside and warned me that “We don’t talk like that around here.” I think I just faded away from scouting, with no encouragement to continue from any quarter, for which I am grateful. 

AI dating apps for women: I have never used an app to get a date, mostly because when I last dated before meeting my wife, 29 years ago, there were none. I simply found someone I liked and asked her out. Since almost all relationships eventually fizzle on their own, I would suggest that my success rate was about as high as anyone currently swiping left or right on Tinder. NR’s take is that it used to be common for parents to find a spouse for their children, which, oddly, is mostly not frowned upon and is still practiced in much of the world. I will close with NR’s poignant final words on the subject:

“[We’re now] in an era of online porn and loneliness. If AI can make sense of modern dating, we’ll have to admit it can do something humans can’t.” 

Epoch Times … and other matters

We subscribe to Epoch Times, the paper newspaper. Even so, I immediately delete almost all of their emails, as they stack up and are mostly about Trump, and are mostly unread by me. They contain a lot of tease headlines, as in “shocking” news and court rulings and such. I regard Trump as a false leader, put in place to prevent the rise of a real one, not that I see any on the horizon. I was shocked to find out the guy is 78 years old – Reagan’s age was an issue when he was elected – he was 70 at the time. Biden was 78, now 82. What are we, the geriatric republic? (Asked the 74-year-old.)

But then I realize that at that level they don’t count votes. It’s all a dog and pony show. Trump might go to jail, we are told, perhaps creating an insurrection, another January 6, if you will. If sentenced he might have to move to Santa Catarina.

I dropped my subscription to Epoch Times maybe a year ago, and then my wife said she enjoyed it. I called them to reinstate the subscription, and they said it had never been cancelled. I regard that as an excellent customer retention program.

Often enough ET will run a story that resonates with me, such as Climate Change being a hoax – this week they had no less than three stories that grabbed:

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WordPress woes

If you think that you as readers and commenters have trouble with WordPress, so do I. I had a couple of typos I wanted to fix in the piece below, and so called it up for edit, fixed them, and then WP offered me not “Update” but instead “Publish”, but I thought it was normal and pushed the button. The new piece now sat on top of the old, but all comments and likes had been stripped. I was able to recover the original from trash, make the fixes and then not “update” but rather “publish” one more time, but this time the comments and likes were intact.

Each time I did that a new email went out to the blog followers, who if they still follow the blog wonder what in the hell is going on, the same post being republished three times. Me too.

Now to publish a comment, since I have been involuntarily signed out of my own blog, I must reenter my login info, even as every time I do that I tell it to keep me signed in. I’d like to move this blog to a new venue, but fear 1) censorship (WordPress leaves us alone) 2) my own ineptitude that might destroy the thousands of posts, one or two of them pretty good, that reside here.

I am open to suggestions.

Ethically challenged “scientists” can say anything they want without repercussions

While on our recent trip back east, I had plenty of time (plane flights, evenings in motels) to do some very intense reading. I chose a book by A.W. Montford, a British writer and proprietor of the Bishop Hill blog. Prior to leaving on our trip, I deliberately avoided reading the book in question, The Hockey Stick Illusion, subtitled Climategate and the corruption of science. My objective in reading this book (which has so many post-it flags on it that it might fly away on me) was to come to grips with the science behind not just the Hockey Stick, but climate change as a whole. I have the distinct impression that climatologists are given carte blanche to say or publish anything that crosses their minds, without fear of fact-checking or follow-up.

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Oops! There goes travelogue guy again …

We’ve been traveling for over a week now, Wilmington, Delaware (as opposed to Wilmington, North Carolina), and Long Island.

In Wilmington I have a cousin and her spouse, two very gracious hosts who put up with us for four nights until we left via Uber for a flight out of Philadelphia. During our time there we saw much of the DuPont estate as enhanced by various stewards, the most remarkable that of Pierre, who in the 1930s opened his estate (Longwood) to the public. The whole area is beautifully managed, flowers and trees of every imaginable variety. We walked in the rain among the vegetation and fountains, barely aware of the precip.

Most impressively, left behind at Longwood is a pipe organ of massive size, surely among the largest in the world. There are more than 10,000 pipes varying in size from less than a pencil to six inches in girth. The instrument can reproduce sounds from a bass drum to a very high pitched piccolo. We were treated to a concert put on by the controlling computer. Once every year organ players of all levels of talent are given five minutes each on the beast. My cousin, an accomplished organ player, has not taken advantage, but she should. While at their home she treated us to Andrew Lloyd Weber’s Memories from the stage play Cats, and did not miss a note. Her husband gave us a polonaise, a complicated Chopin piano piece played with intensity and great skill. I watched as his eyes, half closed, guided his fingers racing up and down the keyboard, all without benefit of sheet music. (He is also an accomplished trumpet player.)

Last Saturday we attended a concert by the Philadelphia Orchestra, some unusual pieces by way of intro, and then the Fifth Symphony by Finland’s Jean Sibelius. I suggested we attend, hoping for a rendition of Finlandia, often proposed to be Finland’s national anthem, but no such piece was played. The Fifth we were treated to was gripping, with several interludes of great power from the entire orchestra at once. My cousin and her husband had more in-depth criticism than I can manage. I can only say I was moved.

Our Uber drive to Philadelphia Airport was early morning, and I sat in the front seat with the driver. The night before at a pizza joint I watched bits and pieces of the Phillies vs the Marlins, so I broached the subject, and for the entire trip we talked sports. He knew not only Phillies and Eagles, but Packers, Broncos, and even some Cincinnati Reds. Make note when in Philly, it is a rabid sports town, so that you’ll never be at a loss for words if you know even a bit of the Philadelphia teams. (We did not cover the Flyers.)

That morning we flew to LaGuardia, and the next four days were spent doing family business, which leads to my sitting here at Aloft, a hotel run by Marriott, waiting for a shuttle to LaGuardia. My impressions of Delaware, Pennsylvania and Long Island: Lush vegetation and birds. Northern Long Island is especially charming, narrow roads through beautiful well-kept-up homes with views of Long Island Sound. As we moved closer to LaGuardia, the buildings got more run down, and where we are staying, the streets are lined with litter. Many of the hotel staff know no English, not that they should, so it is a veritable Tower of Babble.

That’s New York, a mixed bag from lush wealth and beauty to run down areas where the native language is a mixed bag. Our first morning here was in Flushing, and the population is largely Chinese, strong and accomplished people who are a credit to our melting pot, a work in progress.

Back today to Colorado and our high-elevation life, Douglas Firs and aspen and very little in the way of bird variety save a few migrants passing through on their way to the Boreal Forrests of Canada. Each place has its unique charm. Ours only lacks the persistent precipitation seen here. We get our share, and what the ground does not absorb makes its way to Denver reservoirs. Without them, Denver would still be a small remnant of a gold rush town.

Political Correctness as an intimidation tool

“The global climate change debate has gone badly wrong. Many mainstream environmentalists are arguing for the wrong actions and for the wrong reasons, and so long as they continue to do so, they put all our futures in jeopardy. (Political philosopher Thomas Wells)

I ran across the above quotation at a talk given by Dr. Judith Curry at the Global Warming Policy Foundation. I had never heard of Thomas Wells, and so looked him up. I like the idea that he is a philosopher, as his mission in life is to think, possibly even to think better than the rest of us. (Alex Epstein, who is in the links on this blog, is also a philosopher. At the end of this piece I am posting a video exchange he had with former Senator Barbara Boxer, using just a few words to tear her a new one.

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Zounds! Cancelled by Facebook!

Let me say at the beginning here that I do not care that Facebook cancelled me. It is as if I was going with a girl and tired of her, but before I could dump her, she dumped me! I put myself in that position, however. Let me explain.

Prior to 2020, I was into Facebook, having reacquainted with many of my high school classmates. We had a class reunion in 2018, and I discovered, with only a maybe four exceptions, that I did not care for these people! I rather abruptly unfriended most of them, leaving me with only a handful of “friends,” including a former television journalist in Billings, Montana. I thought him very nice and patient with people, even if typical of journalists, quite shallow. I also had a few cousins online. That’s how I entered the year 2020.

Deep down, I did not like the approval-seeking I was doing on Facebook, putting up a post and then checking back to see if it got “likes”. I would occasionally put up something that would not garner approval:

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Impressions of Michael Mann

This has been bubbling inside me for quite some time now. Maybe it started some years back when Dr. Michael Mann, the hockey stick guy, was on a TV panel show and someone suggested that climate affairs were so bad that it made her/him want to cry. As if on cue, Mann generated crocodile tears, pretending to lament the situation of our climate. It made me want to puke.

But I have a lot of impressions of Mann … perhaps foremost, that while his so-called Hockey Stick is pseudoscience at best, it is very detailed work that requires a great deal of intelligence and effort, even if he was probably exaggerating his case, perhaps even engaging in creative accounting. Steve McIntyre, the Canadian mining engineer who took apart the stick piece by piece, had to devote tremendous effort to replicate Mann’s efforts, not easily dissembled and beyond the reach of us mere mortals. What we found was that tree rings are a complicated science, and without a strong working knowledge of statistics cannot be assembled in a way that sends a “temperature signal” from the past to the present.

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