Human Stupidity

The Basic Laws of Human Stupidity, by Carlo M. Cipolla:

  1. Always and inevitably everyone underestimates the number of stupid individuals in circulation.
  2. The probability that a certain person will be stupid is independent of any other characteristic of that person.
  3. A stupid person is a person who causes losses to another person or to a group of persons while himself deriving no gain and even possibly incurring losses.
  4. Non-stupid people always underestimate the damaging power of stupid individuals. In particular non-stupid people constantly forget that at all times and places and under any circumstances to deal and/or associate with stupid people always turns out to be a costly mistake.
  5. A stupid person is the most dangerous type of person.
    • Corrolary: A stupid person is more dangerous than a bandit.

(via Jerry Kindall)

Back from the Meetup

Just got back a bit ago from this month’s Seattle weblogger Meetup. Saw and chatted with quite a few people there (most of whom I have to admit I can’t remember names/sites of), including Anita, Scoble, and dayment, who was kind enough to give me a couple CDs (Tones on Tail’s “Night Music” and The Faint’s “Danse Macabre”)! All in all, a quite pleasant evening.

November Weblog Meetup

For the first (and quite likely only) time, I’m going to be able to attend one of the local Weblogger’s Meetup events, as my training schedule for this Wednesday has me off work at 6pm. Once I start my 1pm-9:30pm schedule I’ll be missing them again, but at least I can make this month’s.

So, for any local Seattle bloggers, looks like I’ll be seeing some of you at Uptown Espresso, Wednesday evening at 7pm!

(via Anita)

Because I suck at remembering names

Vogue regulars I met tonight that I should remember the names of:

Ron: spoke with him up in the DJ booth for a while, on everything from the Vogue to Seattle weather.

Rhonda: friends with and works with Trish.

Sylvie: had the cute purple knit hat with fur trim to match her coat (because they both had fur trim, not because the colors matched). Has a boyfriend whose name I didn’t catch.

Christina: great 40’s (?) style hat. I complimented her on her hat, then Sylvie introduced us. Sylvie then proceeded to embarrass Christina by remarking that she had “great tits” (I certainly wasn’t about to argue, but rather than agree and make an ass out of myself, I merely kept my mouth shut), encouraging me to talk to Christina, and then declaring that I should be taken home by Christina and Josh, who was also talking to Christina.

Josh: the aforementioned person also talking to Christina, who wearing a top hat. Apparently this was a good night for good hats.

None of this will mean anything to anyone else. It’s mostly here for my own reference, in a (probably futile) effort to drill the names into my head for more than a few hours.

Random encounters

I’ve had my first week of training at a branch of the business on Broadway, the main thoroughfare of Capitol Hill. That’s not where I’ll be once training is over with, but it’s been an entertaining week, and in some ways, I’m going to miss being able to wander up and down Broadway on my breaks. Some of the random encounters that go on can be fun.

Walking along the street during lunch, I’m approached by one of the many street denizens. He opens his spiel for money with, “Hey there, sir — you look like a fellow American.” “Yes, I am,” I reply, and walk past him and across the intersection.

A ten minute conversation with another person about my leather trenchcoat. His was cooler, of course, up until it got stolen out of his closet at a party. But mine was still pretty cool.

Passing one guy as I walked along, he asked if I could spare some change. “Sorry, man.” The next guy along, just a few feet over, heard the exchange. As I passed him — “Spare an apology?”

Watching a woman walk up to a pay phone and make call. “Hey, Jen? Yeah, it’s Kerry. I just got out of jail!”

Theodicy survey

Dad sent me a link to an interesting survey asking how Christians deal with the question of theodicy.

In its simplest form Theodicy asks the question, “If there is a being, God, who is all powerful, everywhere present, all knowing, all good and loving, why is there so much evil, suffering and pain in the world.” The answers range from, “the existence of evil is proof that such a being does not exist,” to “there is no such thing as real evil.” The discussion fills the halls of academia, the corridors of seminaries and is occasionally addressed from the pulpit, particularly in response to tragedy.

Long-time readers of this site (yeah — all ten of you) will know that while I’m not very active in the church, and certainly have my own fair share of doubts and questions, my core beliefs stem from being brought up in the Episcopal church. While I’d not heard the term theodicy before this (or at least didn’t remember hearing it), the question has come up on occasion over the years, often during conversations when people have expressed surprise that a black-wearing, industrial-music-listening, goth-culture-loving, (ex-)drug-using, GLBT-supporting, open-minded person such as myself would still count their base beliefs as Christian.

Admittedly, the question of theodicy is one of the most difficult out there, and often one of the most difficult to counter when someone tosses it out as one reason that they can’t/don’t/won’t believe in God. As for myself, I’m a firm believer in free will (and, thus, no big fan of predestination theories), and have never believed that God (or the Devil, for that matter) intentionally causes tragedies to happen to people as any form of test. There’s a level of sadism to that belief that has never jibed with my notions of what God — should s/he exist (which as I mentioned above, I do sometimes struggle with) — would be like.

Rather, I believe that there’s a lot of things that happen in this world, both good and bad, natural and man-made, and how we deal with them is what’s important. From natural disasters to people doing horrid things, they don’t happen because “God willed it”, but (as trite as it sounds) simply because these things happen at times. And, in a certain sense, the bad things need to happen for us to appreciate the good, just as much as the good needs to happen for us to cope with and get through the bad. No light without dark, yadda yadda…I’m not explaining it well, and I’m afraid I’m veering frighteningly close to new-age mystic claptrap, but I think you get my overall point.

I’m often reminded of three stories I’ve come across over the years.

The first is one my dad tells about a priest and family friend in Alaska, Fr. Mark Boesser, who would be drawn into conversations with someone either expressing doubts in their faith, or lambasting him about his. At some point he would ask them what sort of God they didn’t believe in, and they would go off, describing a God that constantly wreaks havoc on the world, causes earthquakes that kill off thousands of people, kills babies in their cribs, tears families apart in accidents, gives people debilitating illnesses, and so on. After they wound down, Fr. Boesser would almost always in complete honesty be able to look at them and say, “I don’t blame you — I couldn’t believe in that sort of God either.”

The second is from a book I read a long time ago — unfortunately, I can’t remember which. Someone who has just lost someone close to them (a child, I believe) goes to a priest and demands to know why God would allow such a thing to happen. The priest says something along the lines of, “It is my belief that when your child died, the first tears to fall were God’s.”

The third — well, for the third, you’ll just have to bear with my sense of humor. In James Morrow’s book Only Begotten Daughter, Julie Katz (the daughter of God) is being taken on a tour of hell by Satan. They start debating the question of theodicy, and eventually Satan turns to Julie and says, “Well, just think about it this way. All power corrupts. And absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Traditional Christian marriage

The consecration of Gene Robison as bishop of the New Hampshire Diocese of the Episcopal Church is an affront to Christians everywhere. I am just thankful that the church’s founder, Henry VIII, and his wife Catherine of Aragon, and his wife Anne Boleyn, and his wife Jane Seymour, and his wife Anne of Cleves, and his wife Katherine Howard, and his wife Catherine Parr are no longer here to suffer through this assault on traditional Christian marriage.

— Paul Emmons, West Chester University

(via Dori Smith)

Employment is a good thing

Oh, by the way…starting Tuesday, I’m working again.

Actually, I’ll be working tomorrow, too, on a one-day assignment from my temp agency. But Tuesday I start training for my new position.

It’s nothing overly glamourous — no dream job, no mind-bogglingly cool opportunities were dropped into my lap during my week of notoriety — but it’s a good steady job, which I’m quite satisfied with. I don’t want to get into too many details (for hopefully obvious reasons), but it’s another quick-print shop, running copiers, dealing with customers, etc. It will do quite nicely for the foreseeable future as I continue to work on getting enough bills paid to be able to investigate loans and grants to get me back into school, which I hope to accomplish in the coming year or so.

In any case, the main thing is that I only had to deal with two weeks of stressing about unemployment. I’m making a bit less than I was before, but not so much so that I have to worry overly much. I just won’t be able to splurge on another new computer anytime soon. ;)

Thanks again to everyone who provided support, through comments, e-mails, messages, phone calls, and everything else.

The Purity of the English Language

The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a cribhouse whore. We don’t just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.

James D. Nicoll

What the hell's on my doorknob?

Doorknob goo

I’d just finished getting dressed to head out to the club, when I walked out the door and reached behind me to swing the door shut. When I grabbed the handle, though, something seemed wrong — it felt slick. Odd. I turned to see if there was actually something there or if I was just fooling myself, and found…well, I don’t know what.

The entire doorplate on my door has been covered in some sort of slick goo that I can’t identify, enough so that the goo has dripped down the front of my door. There’s a slightly sweet smell that I can’t identify to the goo, and it appears to be eating through the paint on the door.

Needless to say, the first thing I did was get back into my apartment and wash my hands. I didn’t want whatever it was to be on my skin any longer than absolutely necessary. After that, I went back out and checked the rest of the doors on my floor to see if any of them had this same thing happening.

Nope. Just my door.

It eats away at the paint

Needless to say, this has got me somewhat freaked out. And, of course, there’s nobody I can call or ask about it, as it’s 11pm on a Friday night. Hardly office hours.

Is it just a prank of some sort? Or something more serious? Am I being targeted directly for some reason? It’s possible — with my resumé online, my address is now public knowledge, and I’ve discussed my DVD collection, my computers, my CDs, and who knows what all else online in the past. It’s at least theoretically possible that someone could have tried — or be planning to try — to get into my apartment while I’m away.

I have no idea what to do now. I’ve taken these photos, but I’m not sure if this is enough to make a call to the police. I don’t really want to leave, just in case it is someone planning on entering my apartment while I’m gone.

This sucks. And I’m freaked.

Grrrr.