While reading an MSNBC article about Britain's Fastest Supercomputer HECToR, I was shocked to see the inverse synergy that was portrayed in the article:
"With the power of 12,000 desktop PCs, the mammoth machine called HECToR is the country's fastest computer and one of the most powerful in Europe.
It can make 63 million calculations each second, allowing scientists to conduct research into everything from climate change to new medicines."
My old Mac G5 is 1000 times faster than Britain's fastest supercomputer? They really got ripped off! They could have just bought a Pentium II 300 and had two extra megaflops. I guess that having the power of 12,000 desktop simply refers to the fact that they have a redundant array of e-machines aftermarket power supplies which as we all know, are far better than the originals, and Britain wouldn't want their floppy drive to get corrupted during a reboot!
Now, I'm not the type of person to believe everything I read, but what type of technology writer could possibly make such a mistake? Interestingly, the person who posted this article on MSNBC had taken it from the Reuters feed, which at the time I'm writing this says the same thing.
http://uk.reuters.com/article/technologyNews/idUKL1154155020080114
Of course, we know that the worlds fastest computer is Japan's MDGRAPE-3 @ 1 petafllop, followed by the BlueGene at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in California @ 478.2 teraflops. Of course the BlueGene is considered the the world's fastest because it is not in Japan. This helps us to understand why a computer that is far slower than everything I use on a daily basis can be the fastest in Britain, it's that pesky high pound vs. dollar value which must reach a balance somewhere. This balance is struck in the amount of processing power allocated to other countries. That is why Japan's supercomputer doesn't exist even though it is so fast, and why Britain's is so fast even though it is so slow.
Now, I will clear up the mistakes made in the Reuters feed, which should have read as follows: With 12,000 redundant aftermarket e-machines power supplies, the mammoth machine called HECToR is the country's fastest computer and one of the most powerful in Europe due in part to the surprising stability of the Euro.
It can make 63 million calculations each second, allowing scientists to check e-mail, run DOS programs, and play tetris.
I guess what I'm trying to say here is, don't believe everything you read, because, not only is it poorly written, it's wrong.
Showing posts with label science. Show all posts
Showing posts with label science. Show all posts
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Legend of the Vomelette
Dale Perkins - retired hotel inspector - enjoyed nothing more than an extended stay at a bed and breakfast. He liked the casual atmosphere and the idea of waking up and having a meal with new friends almost every day. Indeed, it is the rare guest that is entirely standoffish at such an establishment. But Mr. Perkins had an odd and secret hobby, he was in search of the world's most obscenely disgusting naturally occurring omelette.
Being a hotel inspector, he had come close many times, but it always seemed forced. Hotel employees are often treated with little respect and will at times be tempted to add a little something special to a meal. He didn't want to find the worst omelette that could ever be made. A bad or even deadly omelette could be produced by anybody if they were upset enough. He simply wanted to observe in the wild, the worst omelette that could be found, free of malice or animus. Poetically, he wrote in his journal of "an omelette born of good but bent on evil".
There were times when the monotony of the search got to him, and while not directly saying, "make me a disgusting omelette", he would occasionally garnish his order with the words "add your own special touch" or "do something unexpected with it" or "do something crazy" or even "feel free to experiment wildly and insanely". Although he felt guilty about possibly tainting the integrity of his retirement project, there was really nothing to worry about. One inn keeper spit in the omelette, but the only disgusting thing about that was the slight taste of Listerine that made its way into the omelette. Other than that, there was an omelette that had grated shoe polish on it. That was it, from now on he was determined to let this omelette manifest itself naturally. He only hoped that he would live to see it.
Dale decided that a change of venue was in order. He simply wasn't getting the results he expected from these typical b&b's. His first foray into the underworld of the b&b's was an abysmal failure. He had chosen a b&b that actually advertised its proximity to the local brothel and blood bank. As he walked in, he chuckled when he saw the "check all firearms at door" sign. It was plain to see that this was no ordinary b&b. Yet, the place was clean and tidy, in fact it was by far the cleanest b&b he had ever been to. It was really an oasis in the concrete jungle.
The true test of this place was going to be the omelette. Dale came down stairs early to get a jump on the inn keepers. He thought that he could perhaps irritate them into making him a bad omelette, but when they came downstairs and saw him starting breakfast on his own, he didn't say the unspeakably rude things he wanted to say, he just said, "I'm sorry, I just got a bit crazy there for a second". They responded, "that's okay, we love it when the guests take the initiative". They added, "however, since we can't be sure that you perfectly followed our omelette hygiene chart..."
Yes indeed, this omelette was by far the best he had ever tried, even though he was eating it in the most sanitized setting imaginable. Finally, he had to ask the inn keepers why they advertised the fact that they were so close to the house of ill repute. They responded, "we did it because we didn't want to disappoint anyone, we believe in honesty in advertising".
Dale had eaten it all, omelettes that were too runny, too dry - even crispy, obnoxiously overflowing with salsa, omelettes with brown slices of avocado, omelettes with raw cucumber and pineapple, omelettes with way too much bacon (even though that is nearly impossible). There were no more towering omelette mountains to climb, and no omelette fords that needed to be waded across, nor were there any omelette volcanoes, oceans, rivers, or other metaphors that needed to be confronted in some illustrative way.
Mr. Perkins died before he ever found his elusive evil and/or deadly omelette. Or did he?
Yes, there are many who speculate that the final omelette eaten by Mr. Perkins was indeed the elusive Vomelette, and studies have been started to prove it. Using Mr Perkins copious notes they aim to re create every omelette experience he ever had and have a seven man and one woman control group eat this diet for the next 50 years until they come to the last omelette. At this point the three woman and two man variable group along with the 2 woman and 14 man secondary control group (which will have never eaten any eggs or egg products before) will all eat a lab created exact duplicate of his final omelette.
Of course, when conducting any type of controlled tests, it is important to take good notes and there has been considerable and heated debate as to whether that final omelette was made with imitation crab meat or imitation crap meat. It will only take 50 years to find out.
Being a hotel inspector, he had come close many times, but it always seemed forced. Hotel employees are often treated with little respect and will at times be tempted to add a little something special to a meal. He didn't want to find the worst omelette that could ever be made. A bad or even deadly omelette could be produced by anybody if they were upset enough. He simply wanted to observe in the wild, the worst omelette that could be found, free of malice or animus. Poetically, he wrote in his journal of "an omelette born of good but bent on evil".
There were times when the monotony of the search got to him, and while not directly saying, "make me a disgusting omelette", he would occasionally garnish his order with the words "add your own special touch" or "do something unexpected with it" or "do something crazy" or even "feel free to experiment wildly and insanely". Although he felt guilty about possibly tainting the integrity of his retirement project, there was really nothing to worry about. One inn keeper spit in the omelette, but the only disgusting thing about that was the slight taste of Listerine that made its way into the omelette. Other than that, there was an omelette that had grated shoe polish on it. That was it, from now on he was determined to let this omelette manifest itself naturally. He only hoped that he would live to see it.
Dale decided that a change of venue was in order. He simply wasn't getting the results he expected from these typical b&b's. His first foray into the underworld of the b&b's was an abysmal failure. He had chosen a b&b that actually advertised its proximity to the local brothel and blood bank. As he walked in, he chuckled when he saw the "check all firearms at door" sign. It was plain to see that this was no ordinary b&b. Yet, the place was clean and tidy, in fact it was by far the cleanest b&b he had ever been to. It was really an oasis in the concrete jungle.
The true test of this place was going to be the omelette. Dale came down stairs early to get a jump on the inn keepers. He thought that he could perhaps irritate them into making him a bad omelette, but when they came downstairs and saw him starting breakfast on his own, he didn't say the unspeakably rude things he wanted to say, he just said, "I'm sorry, I just got a bit crazy there for a second". They responded, "that's okay, we love it when the guests take the initiative". They added, "however, since we can't be sure that you perfectly followed our omelette hygiene chart..."
Yes indeed, this omelette was by far the best he had ever tried, even though he was eating it in the most sanitized setting imaginable. Finally, he had to ask the inn keepers why they advertised the fact that they were so close to the house of ill repute. They responded, "we did it because we didn't want to disappoint anyone, we believe in honesty in advertising".
Dale had eaten it all, omelettes that were too runny, too dry - even crispy, obnoxiously overflowing with salsa, omelettes with brown slices of avocado, omelettes with raw cucumber and pineapple, omelettes with way too much bacon (even though that is nearly impossible). There were no more towering omelette mountains to climb, and no omelette fords that needed to be waded across, nor were there any omelette volcanoes, oceans, rivers, or other metaphors that needed to be confronted in some illustrative way.
Mr. Perkins died before he ever found his elusive evil and/or deadly omelette. Or did he?
Yes, there are many who speculate that the final omelette eaten by Mr. Perkins was indeed the elusive Vomelette, and studies have been started to prove it. Using Mr Perkins copious notes they aim to re create every omelette experience he ever had and have a seven man and one woman control group eat this diet for the next 50 years until they come to the last omelette. At this point the three woman and two man variable group along with the 2 woman and 14 man secondary control group (which will have never eaten any eggs or egg products before) will all eat a lab created exact duplicate of his final omelette.
Of course, when conducting any type of controlled tests, it is important to take good notes and there has been considerable and heated debate as to whether that final omelette was made with imitation crab meat or imitation crap meat. It will only take 50 years to find out.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Scilence!
I've been catching up on my scientific reading lately and have been astounded by the abundance of published research that is unfinished. I understand that you guys want grants and other sources of funding to keep going, and you need to make a name for yourself in order to continue your research. But similar projects will be funded with or without your help, and I think it would be in the best interest of science if you just back off, stay in the background or just quit! Did you ever think that maybe you're taking money away from real scientists who may have some actual research to do?
All you "scientists" who subscribe to the idea that science is unprovable should really tone it down. If you feel the need to be near lab equipment, why don't you get a little cart with wheels? You can use this cart to fetch flasks, beakers, books, coffee, doughnuts, and other science related equipment. Yes, you can have a doughnut, but don't shove it into a flask and write a paper about it, that's not your job anymore.
Imagine a world where everyone waited to speak until they produced a genuine thought. Imagine a world where no one published articles unless they said anything new. Imagine yourself actually helping to facilitate the realization of such a world.
The beggar on the street makes up crap too when he thinks he can get some money from someone, but at least he doesn't publish his findings in science journals. The nightly news is filled with error, misinformation and hack, but at least they throw in a generous dusting of "allegedly".
I know the blame doesn't rest *entirely* in the hands of you "pseudo scientists", you only start the wheels of misinformation rolling, the "editors" have to take a healthy portion of blame pie as well. After all, they are the ones who checked for spelling, grammar and clarity of thought, yet they never bothered to check and see if anything was actually accomplished by your writing. A good question for an editor to ask would be, "Was any new, interesting or even documented data presented?"
I know, I shouldn't expect that being a scientist should be any different than any other job, where politics, recognition and power get in the way of a job well done. But I like to think of science as beyond all that. I know it isn't, and I know that most of what is called science is marketing fluff and office (lab) politics. But wouldn't it be great if the content was as powerful as the headline?
For you non scientific people who actually read this far... Generally, what is written in the science tabloids is based on some factual data or on an observation that cannot be reproduced. I have to admit to having perpetrated a science hoax myself.
Once upon a time when I was a young lad, I was looking up at the stars through an opening in the clouds and a small spark came down, hit my brother's truck and disintegrated into many tinier sparks. I ran in to the house to tell everyone what I saw. NOBODY believed me. I was so upset that I was disbelieved that I formulated a hoax. I dug a small hole in the driveway, placed a rock that would look like a meteorite into the hole and super heated the rock with my dads oxy-acetelene torch. Then I ran into the house *acting* excited about the meteor that I had seen land in front of the garage. Everyone believed me, it didn't matter that I was a bad actor and the rock was clearly a fake, the rock was hot and in a hole so it must have dropped from the sky.
The rock was so hot in fact that you could ignite matches on it by touch for a few minutes afterward. It was so hot that it shattered the glass bottle we tried to pick it up in. Any doubt that was generated by the fact that the rock was sitting in a hole dug with a tablespoon instantly abated when the match test (which I recommended) was administered. In fact I remember comments about how it wouldn't be possible to heat the rock up that hot.
Well, there was one small hiccup to my family hoax. My mom wanted to call the local "authorities", the college, the planetarium, that kind of thing. Realizing that this hoax would have been seen through by even the least competent scientist, I conveniently lost the rock. If you looked at it closely, you could see that it was full of seashells and was basically sandstone. Not the stuff meteors are made of. I imagined a scientist coming to the house to test it and laughing when he couldn't even get a magnet to stick to it, then turning to me and saying, "thanks for wasting my time and by extension the time of the entire world of science."
Now that I'm older, I realize that the odds of that scenario playing out were slim to none. I had a true story with a false outcome that would have created a cloud of buzz that you couldn't cut with an electric buzz knife. The "scientist" would have taken it to the lab and written page after page of observations. The sheer bulk of words would lead others to believe that I really found something. And everybody else that wanted a little taste of my fame pie would hop on board no matter how skeptical, in fact they would have reasoned that after they get fame and funding they could separate themselves from the issue and wriggle out of the pit of scientific whoredom they had now bedded down in for the short haul.
You can understand it when put in this context, because the rock I saw fall COULD have been sandstone, and it COULD have been full of little sea shells. It can never be proven so it can never be disproved. When you lie about something you believe, all you need to do is create enough reason to suspend disbelief long enough to present the evidence that proves your lie. I guess that's science.
All you "scientists" who subscribe to the idea that science is unprovable should really tone it down. If you feel the need to be near lab equipment, why don't you get a little cart with wheels? You can use this cart to fetch flasks, beakers, books, coffee, doughnuts, and other science related equipment. Yes, you can have a doughnut, but don't shove it into a flask and write a paper about it, that's not your job anymore.
Imagine a world where everyone waited to speak until they produced a genuine thought. Imagine a world where no one published articles unless they said anything new. Imagine yourself actually helping to facilitate the realization of such a world.
The beggar on the street makes up crap too when he thinks he can get some money from someone, but at least he doesn't publish his findings in science journals. The nightly news is filled with error, misinformation and hack, but at least they throw in a generous dusting of "allegedly".
I know the blame doesn't rest *entirely* in the hands of you "pseudo scientists", you only start the wheels of misinformation rolling, the "editors" have to take a healthy portion of blame pie as well. After all, they are the ones who checked for spelling, grammar and clarity of thought, yet they never bothered to check and see if anything was actually accomplished by your writing. A good question for an editor to ask would be, "Was any new, interesting or even documented data presented?"
I know, I shouldn't expect that being a scientist should be any different than any other job, where politics, recognition and power get in the way of a job well done. But I like to think of science as beyond all that. I know it isn't, and I know that most of what is called science is marketing fluff and office (lab) politics. But wouldn't it be great if the content was as powerful as the headline?
For you non scientific people who actually read this far... Generally, what is written in the science tabloids is based on some factual data or on an observation that cannot be reproduced. I have to admit to having perpetrated a science hoax myself.
Once upon a time when I was a young lad, I was looking up at the stars through an opening in the clouds and a small spark came down, hit my brother's truck and disintegrated into many tinier sparks. I ran in to the house to tell everyone what I saw. NOBODY believed me. I was so upset that I was disbelieved that I formulated a hoax. I dug a small hole in the driveway, placed a rock that would look like a meteorite into the hole and super heated the rock with my dads oxy-acetelene torch. Then I ran into the house *acting* excited about the meteor that I had seen land in front of the garage. Everyone believed me, it didn't matter that I was a bad actor and the rock was clearly a fake, the rock was hot and in a hole so it must have dropped from the sky.
The rock was so hot in fact that you could ignite matches on it by touch for a few minutes afterward. It was so hot that it shattered the glass bottle we tried to pick it up in. Any doubt that was generated by the fact that the rock was sitting in a hole dug with a tablespoon instantly abated when the match test (which I recommended) was administered. In fact I remember comments about how it wouldn't be possible to heat the rock up that hot.
Well, there was one small hiccup to my family hoax. My mom wanted to call the local "authorities", the college, the planetarium, that kind of thing. Realizing that this hoax would have been seen through by even the least competent scientist, I conveniently lost the rock. If you looked at it closely, you could see that it was full of seashells and was basically sandstone. Not the stuff meteors are made of. I imagined a scientist coming to the house to test it and laughing when he couldn't even get a magnet to stick to it, then turning to me and saying, "thanks for wasting my time and by extension the time of the entire world of science."
Now that I'm older, I realize that the odds of that scenario playing out were slim to none. I had a true story with a false outcome that would have created a cloud of buzz that you couldn't cut with an electric buzz knife. The "scientist" would have taken it to the lab and written page after page of observations. The sheer bulk of words would lead others to believe that I really found something. And everybody else that wanted a little taste of my fame pie would hop on board no matter how skeptical, in fact they would have reasoned that after they get fame and funding they could separate themselves from the issue and wriggle out of the pit of scientific whoredom they had now bedded down in for the short haul.
You can understand it when put in this context, because the rock I saw fall COULD have been sandstone, and it COULD have been full of little sea shells. It can never be proven so it can never be disproved. When you lie about something you believe, all you need to do is create enough reason to suspend disbelief long enough to present the evidence that proves your lie. I guess that's science.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
individuality overdose
Stan was like every other boy his age in that he wanted to be just like everybody else but still retain a vague sense of individuality. In all other ways he was totally different from other boys his age. And if you say that the other boys are also boys, then I'll remind you 1) you are talking to a story that has already been written, you won't convince the story to change now 2) you are not allowing the story to unfold naturally like the petals of a flower, a soggy accordion, or the pages of a book.
So back to the story...
Stan was keen to be influenced by peer pressure but was hard pressed to find a peer that was forceful enough to influence him. He was the equivalent of an autistic savant who only understood his own need for social acceptance. His comprehension of his own isolation was so profound that people would come from miles around to see just how lonely he could be. One and all, they were impressed by Stan's stark portrayal of loneliness. Comments ranged from, "looking at Stan is like you're drowning in his own sorrow", to "staring at Stan was like being microwaved to death in a sensory deprivation iron maiden".
As the years wore on, many other attractions were added near and around the Stan exhibit. A slacker exhibit which blurred the lines of slack by its use of coma patients rather than actual slackers was a particular hit. Examples of displays that never quite caught on were such flops as, Dudes with Suds, Jocks with Zubaz, and Turd Flingers. The Turd Flingers debacle was a shock to the parents who arranged the showing. They assumed that since monkeys were so popular, humans with the same antics would be a boon. The reality was that most families weren't willing to pay great fees to see the same things that happen on a daily basis in their own homes.
A stark comprehension of a singular petrifying reality was still worth coughing up some serious bread. Anyone who knew anyone knew that they could never be as alone as Stan. Seeing him suffer in his chronic involuntary detachment remained a great comfort to many. The thousands of onlookers somehow intensified and focused his already obscene estrangement.
One day a particularly depressive dental school dropout decided to walk through the displays because he had a few minutes to spare before killing himself. When he got to the Stan exhibit he was shocked by what he saw. A single hand movement. Was that a wave? Again, there was another almost undetectable movement of a hand. ExPreDent waved back and saw what appeared to be a smile. Although ExPreDent had never visited the Stan exhibit before, he had heard about it and seen Stan on all the magazine covers. He knew this was Stan, but he was acting so different, and even though the communication was minimal, Stan was expressing himself more than ever before.
Having been there to see all of this, made ExPreDent change his mind. He climbed down the steep concrete wall using a piece of a sturdy vine to lower himself to Stan's level. He said to Stan, "Why of all people did you pick me to communicate with?" Stan replied, "Because I knew no one would believe you."
Stan and ExPre sat up all night talking and laughing about uninteresting thoughts they had throughout their lives but never felt like sharing with anyone else. At least that's what appears to have happened. Both Stan and ExPre were found dead the next morning lying in a pool of their own sarcasm. Shards of crystalized thoughts were found as far as 30 meters from the corpses, and the fragments seemed to make up complex hyperbolic allegoric palindromes written in some hybridized variant of pig latin, esperanto and calculus.
Without Stan the exhibits seemed pointless, because there was no longer a clear benchmark for isolation and sadness. The loneliest person in the world could be just about anybody.
So back to the story...
Stan was keen to be influenced by peer pressure but was hard pressed to find a peer that was forceful enough to influence him. He was the equivalent of an autistic savant who only understood his own need for social acceptance. His comprehension of his own isolation was so profound that people would come from miles around to see just how lonely he could be. One and all, they were impressed by Stan's stark portrayal of loneliness. Comments ranged from, "looking at Stan is like you're drowning in his own sorrow", to "staring at Stan was like being microwaved to death in a sensory deprivation iron maiden".
As the years wore on, many other attractions were added near and around the Stan exhibit. A slacker exhibit which blurred the lines of slack by its use of coma patients rather than actual slackers was a particular hit. Examples of displays that never quite caught on were such flops as, Dudes with Suds, Jocks with Zubaz, and Turd Flingers. The Turd Flingers debacle was a shock to the parents who arranged the showing. They assumed that since monkeys were so popular, humans with the same antics would be a boon. The reality was that most families weren't willing to pay great fees to see the same things that happen on a daily basis in their own homes.
A stark comprehension of a singular petrifying reality was still worth coughing up some serious bread. Anyone who knew anyone knew that they could never be as alone as Stan. Seeing him suffer in his chronic involuntary detachment remained a great comfort to many. The thousands of onlookers somehow intensified and focused his already obscene estrangement.
One day a particularly depressive dental school dropout decided to walk through the displays because he had a few minutes to spare before killing himself. When he got to the Stan exhibit he was shocked by what he saw. A single hand movement. Was that a wave? Again, there was another almost undetectable movement of a hand. ExPreDent waved back and saw what appeared to be a smile. Although ExPreDent had never visited the Stan exhibit before, he had heard about it and seen Stan on all the magazine covers. He knew this was Stan, but he was acting so different, and even though the communication was minimal, Stan was expressing himself more than ever before.
Having been there to see all of this, made ExPreDent change his mind. He climbed down the steep concrete wall using a piece of a sturdy vine to lower himself to Stan's level. He said to Stan, "Why of all people did you pick me to communicate with?" Stan replied, "Because I knew no one would believe you."
Stan and ExPre sat up all night talking and laughing about uninteresting thoughts they had throughout their lives but never felt like sharing with anyone else. At least that's what appears to have happened. Both Stan and ExPre were found dead the next morning lying in a pool of their own sarcasm. Shards of crystalized thoughts were found as far as 30 meters from the corpses, and the fragments seemed to make up complex hyperbolic allegoric palindromes written in some hybridized variant of pig latin, esperanto and calculus.
Without Stan the exhibits seemed pointless, because there was no longer a clear benchmark for isolation and sadness. The loneliest person in the world could be just about anybody.
Friday, May 11, 2007
On the subject of everyone’s awesome beliefs...
People believe stupid things. Generally this is due to a lack of education, stubbornness, or actually being raised in an environment that insulates them sufficiently from reality that they create a foundation for a system of beliefs based on these bogus “realities”. Once such a foundation is created, the accepted “truths” reside on that platform and the conflicting viewpoints (true or untrue) have no place to stand and so are easily discarded or even vilified due to the the obvious lack of harmony with already ingrained “truths”.
People argue about stupid things. People feel the need to argue their points to make others believe. Most arguments are a construct of the denial a person with unimpressive views must rely on to keep from eroding the foundation of their unreasonable beliefs. Each argument creates a new platform very close to a trunk or branch of the person’s system of beliefs. These platforms -based on either winning an argument or based on how mean (and thus wrong) the other person was- serve as a much needed structural reinforcement to the precarious system of improperly developed beliefs. Personally, I love arguing. But I think arguing should be about comparing logical processes as a fun mental exercise. Whether you have the correct or incorrect view should be properly established beforehand so that you’re not wasting everyones valuable time. Sadly, most people get into arguments totally unprepared and not really knowing whether they know anything or not.
People pretend to believe what they believe. There are many times that people must make a concession on a certain level yet wish to retain the system of beliefs they have grown to cherish so. Thus they develop another type of platform. These new ad hoc platforms serve to stabilize the precarious structure while bridging gaps between other beliefs that must be at least partially assimilated due to scientific, sociological or psychological necessity. This works well as a coping mechanism because one can retain the unstable system of “reality” that has been nurtured while allowing other philosophies to support the structure, yet never needing to examine the core or foundation of these other logical structures.
People go with the flow. The well known phenomenon known as the “mob mentality” is a great example of people going with the flow. But let’s look at it from another angle known as the “bandwagon”. When mob mentality is treated in this way it is most often considered a standby marketing tool. “Everybody else is doing it, so will I.” But this way of thinking has been nurtured so much throughout the world that there is little chance that more than a handful of people out of any group would balk at committing any atrocity endorsed by the next guy over. Everyday people who wouldn’t steal a pen from work, will torture, burn, rape and kill as long as everybody else seems to be doing it. Most likely, you are one of those people.
So people kill for their beliefs. On a certain level you can understand it. They are merely protecting the core foundation of their system of beliefs. Murder is an extension of the argument. And let’s face it, if you’re dead, you can’t possibly be right. But it is odd how they never seem to think, “murder is wrong, so some core belief of mine must be wrong”. Rather, the reasoning generally takes the form of pretending that the opposing side is more of a jerk than your side. A war could just as easily be fought with a debate and whoever has a better argument wins, but wars are always based on totally stupid ideas that have no comprehensible basis. Since both sides know deep-down that they couldn’t possibly win an argument, they decide to argue with body count. Whoever kills the most usually wins the argument.
Now I don’t want anyone to tell me that murder is okay. If that is your firmly held belief, then that’s awesome in my book. Everyones beliefs have their own special kind of merit.
Why not just use the honor system? I propose a system where everyone just looks at their own system of beliefs and honestly analyzes it. We can’t all be right about everything so it isn’t that big of a deal when you have to back down from your outmoded framework of existence and build a new one. If you learned something that negates past understanding that’s a good thing. Why feel like you have been hurt by learning? Tear down the logical structure that has become your prison. Sure, some people would prefer not to think about life in a calm rational way. But once everyone else is doing it...
People argue about stupid things. People feel the need to argue their points to make others believe. Most arguments are a construct of the denial a person with unimpressive views must rely on to keep from eroding the foundation of their unreasonable beliefs. Each argument creates a new platform very close to a trunk or branch of the person’s system of beliefs. These platforms -based on either winning an argument or based on how mean (and thus wrong) the other person was- serve as a much needed structural reinforcement to the precarious system of improperly developed beliefs. Personally, I love arguing. But I think arguing should be about comparing logical processes as a fun mental exercise. Whether you have the correct or incorrect view should be properly established beforehand so that you’re not wasting everyones valuable time. Sadly, most people get into arguments totally unprepared and not really knowing whether they know anything or not.
People pretend to believe what they believe. There are many times that people must make a concession on a certain level yet wish to retain the system of beliefs they have grown to cherish so. Thus they develop another type of platform. These new ad hoc platforms serve to stabilize the precarious structure while bridging gaps between other beliefs that must be at least partially assimilated due to scientific, sociological or psychological necessity. This works well as a coping mechanism because one can retain the unstable system of “reality” that has been nurtured while allowing other philosophies to support the structure, yet never needing to examine the core or foundation of these other logical structures.
People go with the flow. The well known phenomenon known as the “mob mentality” is a great example of people going with the flow. But let’s look at it from another angle known as the “bandwagon”. When mob mentality is treated in this way it is most often considered a standby marketing tool. “Everybody else is doing it, so will I.” But this way of thinking has been nurtured so much throughout the world that there is little chance that more than a handful of people out of any group would balk at committing any atrocity endorsed by the next guy over. Everyday people who wouldn’t steal a pen from work, will torture, burn, rape and kill as long as everybody else seems to be doing it. Most likely, you are one of those people.
So people kill for their beliefs. On a certain level you can understand it. They are merely protecting the core foundation of their system of beliefs. Murder is an extension of the argument. And let’s face it, if you’re dead, you can’t possibly be right. But it is odd how they never seem to think, “murder is wrong, so some core belief of mine must be wrong”. Rather, the reasoning generally takes the form of pretending that the opposing side is more of a jerk than your side. A war could just as easily be fought with a debate and whoever has a better argument wins, but wars are always based on totally stupid ideas that have no comprehensible basis. Since both sides know deep-down that they couldn’t possibly win an argument, they decide to argue with body count. Whoever kills the most usually wins the argument.
Now I don’t want anyone to tell me that murder is okay. If that is your firmly held belief, then that’s awesome in my book. Everyones beliefs have their own special kind of merit.
Why not just use the honor system? I propose a system where everyone just looks at their own system of beliefs and honestly analyzes it. We can’t all be right about everything so it isn’t that big of a deal when you have to back down from your outmoded framework of existence and build a new one. If you learned something that negates past understanding that’s a good thing. Why feel like you have been hurt by learning? Tear down the logical structure that has become your prison. Sure, some people would prefer not to think about life in a calm rational way. But once everyone else is doing it...
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