EXTRO Survival

Have you ever noticed that EXTROs are herd people?

That’s because it helps them survive. If they didn’t clump together the predators could pick them off one by one and soon stupidity would be wiped out.

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Half A Century Past

One Day. Back to Gym. And since the monitors were offering nothing worthwhile about the massacre in Las Vegas, I settled in to listen to my usual, an episode of the CBC’s “Best of Ideas” podcast. This episode was a mid-season special about their fiftieth anniversary.

This led me to reflect on where and what I was fifty years ago. I was a sophomore at the Campus of the Black Warrior. Still lived in the Nerd Dorm aka Hammer (Mallet) Hall. No cafeteria. Moldy and sagging with age. The only thing new was that telephones (wired, of course) had been installed in every room and the U sent you a bill every month for the callage. I seldom got a bill because I never called anyone.

The most noteworthy thing that semester was that I finally made Dean’s List. My first semester I almost flunked out and the second missed the Dean’s List by a fraction of a point. Summer didn’t count.

It was also the first semester I took a maximum course load. I had figured out that the fewer courses I took the lower my grades. Lots of ideas why but what counted was not being offered a scholarship to study in Vietnam. Survival, that is.

The big courses that semester were third semester calculus and first semester Sophomore Classical Mechanics. Both were characterized by interesting content and not very good teachers. The calculus teacher was a grad student. I had gotten spoilt the first two semesters with Barbara Chambers who was a great teacher. If It hadn’t been for her I wouldn’t have been able to learn third semester calculus on my own, proving Chicken Man’s (Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s) claim that ‘good student succeed in spite of bad teachers.’ 

The physics teacher was a perfesser but he seemed indignant that he had to teach sophomores. Happily, sophomore mechanics is a problem solving course and all I had to do to learn was work problems.

The long course was organic chemistry. Most courses were three or four semester hours credit; organic was five. Three hours of lecture and two two hour labs a week. We made lots of smells so my efforts to regain weight took a nose dive again. The perfesser was a recently mustered out Vietnam veteran who acted like he begrudged the time wasted in ‘Nam and was noted for having congress in his office with coeds who needed a grade upgrade. This course was a two semester series that was (supposedly) a make/break for PreMed students. Less than a “B: and no Med Schule. So some of the coeds did extra credit work. Supposedly.

The bad course was first semester English Literature. This was the third of four mandatory “English” courses for arts and science college students. The teacher was a grad student who fancied himself a thespian so he read a lot aloud in class. The problem was that the material was not only boring but unengaging. And this guy though science fiction was porn. 

The weird course was New World Archaeology. The professor was (the) David DeJarnette. Nice guy, made it all interesting, and kept trying to convince me to switch from Physics/Chemistry/Maths to Archaeology. He kept setting me special problems like how to date the fire enlarged caves in the Yucatan. 

This was also the last semester I took a maximum load until my last semester. Hereafter I always took an overload. Only way I could get a triple major before being sent to Vietnam. 

Gad I had a lot of phun in those days. Even with the football pornography feeding cancerous on the environment – fall term and all that.  And I learned a lot. Especially about molecular quantum mechanics. And I had to learn to read french and german and russian that term (and the next,) so I could read journal article for organic chemistry lab.

And the first 0.5mm mechanical pencil came out. 

Life was GOOD.

Stupidity in Action 2

This morning, while patrolling the FaceRoll (as in TP,) I ran across a posting contrasting the merits (?) of “Organic” versus “GMO” foods. 

I was struck by how abysmally stupid the Bogs can be.

First, “Organic”: Geeks and Nerds know that Organic Chemistry is a branch of Chemistry dealing with chemical compounds (molecules) incorporating covalent carbon atoms. By definition, all foodstuffs are “Organic” in these terms.

Bogs, on the other hand, think “Organic” foods have been frown under “Natural” conditions absent certain “toxic” chemicals such as antibiotics.

So this delusion perpetrates a redundancy, since all foodstuffs are Organic, a misconception, since anything that occurs is part of Nature and hence natural (which sadly, sometimes, includes Bogs,) and the inversion that antibiotics are toxic poisons. (And yes, I know the latter is redundant but Bogs tends to dampen rational thought by their mere mental presence.) 

This is the wisdom (perhaps wisdumb would be better?) of Bogs?

Second: GMO: Geeks and Nerds know that almost all foodstuffs are GMO. Bogs, on the other hand, think GMO is some evil conspiracy. (Yes, another redundancy; Bogs again.)

Take corn. Except in a few museum and laboratory vaults, all corn is GMO. All the corn you can buy in a grocery store (regular or “Organic”) or at a roadside stand is GMO. Go pick up a book on the history of Mesoamerica and look at the pictures of ancient corn. Looks like weeds. It was a weed. Until it was bred for a bigger yield of seeds. 

Third, what we should avoid is Bogs. They are deluded, dangerous, and deranged. Because they think (and act) this stercus. In fact, that may be what fills their skulls.

Empty Cave

It was called to my attention this morning at gym that the “Hef” is discorporate.

I suspect he passed because the American Dream has been destroyed.

Another reason I am glad to be ORF.

Fruit Death

I have commented several times previously how every advertisement contains at least one prevarication. Over the week out, I observed a television commercial whose prevarication was absurdly inaccurate.

Humorously so. My ribs still ache from rolling about on the floor.

This commercial was for a fruit cocktail – which obviously isn’t really a cocktail – canned by a national brand corporation. The canned fruit industry is famous for dangerous preservation techniques and dangerous canning economies.

This commercial took the usual contemporary form of “my fruit cocktail is better than your fruit cocktail,” which primarily indicates that the fruit cocktail marketplace is saturated and the only way one corporation can increase its business is by stealing customers from another corporation.

So we know these people are disreputable from the get go.

What makes this commercial so laughable is its attempt at analogy, which it gets absolutely WRONG!

There are two consumers: the smart one and the stupid one. The smart one, who has made a “wise: choice of cocktail, asks the stupid one, who has chosen poorly, if she were a fish, would she prefer to be in an aquarium with “100% water” or some water based liquid?

This is where it gets rolling around funny.

The given answer is “100% answer”. The problem with this is that if you put fish in an aquarium with 100% water, then you quickly have DEAD FISH. If the water is 100%, then there is no oxygen in the water and any fish in it will quickly asphyxiate. 

This answer may be accurate for fruit (so called) cocktail but it kills fish. Not clear what the lethality is for humans that eat the product, of course.

But this is a good illustration of how stupid corporations think Bogs are.

Broken Ratings

Ran across an article [Link] entitled “What are the best Sci-fi Movies?” The article lists twelve movies as the best.

Wrong.

None are better than mediocre and most are rubbish.

Odoriferous rubbish.

The real list of best SF movies is:

  1. Forbidden Planet;
  2. Them!; and
  3. Earth versus the Flying Saucers.

Star Wars and Star trek don’t make the list. The Black Hole makes a list for the funniest SF movie but nowhere near a best.

I won’t comment on what’s listed. It would horrify too many Bogs.

Who can’t tell SF from S.