A committee is a group of people who individually can do nothing, but who, as a group, can meet and decide that nothing can be done.
– Fred Allen
A committee is a group of people who individually can do nothing, but who, as a group, can meet and decide that nothing can be done.
– Fred Allen
Two days off, but otherwise mostly correct:
The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.
– John Adams, 3 July 1776
One year in college I signed up to take a photography class. It satisfied my arts requirement, and I had absolutely no proclivity towards drawing, sculpture, or music. Photography was the obvious out. The camera would do everything for me, I would just have to press a button. The class was mostly full of students like me. There were a few who were serious about photography as art, but most just wanted to make do with a B or C doing the least amount of work necessary. We had many group projects and because it was hard to get models we’d usually just take photos of each other. We would make a game of it, sneaking around campus with our cameras and trying to catch another student in an embarrassing or amusing situation. Our professor would show some of the photos turned in each week to the class. When one of our “special” photos was chosen we’d score points based on the amount of laughter we could get. Only once was I a victim of our pranks. I had been riding my bike right after it rained, and went too fast around a turn. My bike slid out from under me and I flew to the ground. I wasn’t seriously hurt, but when I got up and turned around there was my classmate Ray waving his camera at me. I got to see the result the next Monday. He had somehow managed to take the photo as I was in midair. My arms were raised in front of my face and my eyes were agape in horror. But few in the class laughed; most winced instead. So he didn’t get to score any points for that masterpiece. At the end of the semester we added up the scores and I had won over Ray by a single point. It was the first time in my life I’d tried so hard at something and succeeded. I don’t remember what grade I got in the class.
It was hard to think of anything else as I fell to Earth. I would have though that I would be more depressed about my impending doom. Instead I felt giddy. I was smiling. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. For me it was just one event that I kept thinking about. It was the last time I had the same sort of smile. It was ninth grade and Linda’s hazelnut eyes gazed at me from beneath her glasses. We were about to have our first kiss. For me it was the first real kiss I’d ever had. The buildup to that moment was the most intense feeling I’d ever had. I wasn’t sure when it would finally happen, or what I should do to hasten the moment along. Linda seemed content just to look at me, our faces inches apart. I thought I might move in closer but I didn’t do anything. I just sat still. I was too scared. We hadn’t said anything to each other for what must have been hours. Finally, I was about to speak, when Linda beat me to it. “It’s hard to kiss while wearing glasses,” she said. She smiled slightly and reached to take her glasses off. It must be that smile that keeps only this memory in my mind. It made me realize that girls aren’t so mysterious. We’re all just people. I hoped that Linda remembered that moment too. Otherwise the memory would end its existence in seconds. I didn’t know what to say to her but my grin must have sufficed. She leaned in towards me. It’s finally happening, I thought. Our lips touched and–!
Last year I read 153 books (totaling some 50,090 pages). So it was not completely trivial to come up with my favorite 121 of them. These are in no particular order.
Wednesday, 12:23 PM
Beth was having a very mediocre day. It was yet again one of those researchers. They just never seemed to follow the rules. While Beth was at the reference desk, he had been looking at the Chiang Kai-shek diaries and had tried to take a photo of one of the pages. This was something they explicitly didn’t allow. When she confronted him, he claimed not to have known, though Beth thought that rather unlikely. They allowed taking notes, so there wasn’t much advantage to making a copy. Unless you were lazy.
Beth put down the grilled cheese sandwich she was eating for lunch. It would be so much easier if everyone could just follow the rules. She certainly did not enjoy policing behavior; she’d much prefer to just answer questions and be helpful. I just need to get a ‘bad cop’ to partner with, she thought.
After lunch it was back to processing the Edward Teller papers, all six hundred boxes. Teller had been a fellow at the Hoover Institution for over thirty years, and though he was most famous for his work on the Manhattan Project and the hydrogen bomb, the bulk of the papers were from his later career working on energy and defense policy. Boring political stuff. Beth had been working on it for over a month now, and she was more than ready for something new. At least she didn’t have to deal with unruly researchers. There was something to be said for working by yourself.
In the introduction to his short story collection Bagombo Snuff Box Kurt Vonnegut talks about some of his early career, before he became successful and critically acclaimed (only after the publication of Slaughterhouse-Five). This included teaching creative writing at City College in New York (along with Joseph Heller). But for those that missed the chance, he gives us the essence of it in eight easy rules:
Of course he then says that great writers break all but the first.
A recent article describes an experiment from the 1970s that found that low-performing students score higher on IQ tests when they are given chocolate for each correct answer:
A few years later, two researchers from the University of South Florida elaborated on Edlund’s experiment. This time, after the first, candy-less IQ test, they divided the children into three groups according to their scores on the first test. The high-IQ group had an average IQ score on the first test of about 119. The medium-IQ group averaged about 101, and the low-IQ group averaged about 79. On the second test, the researchers offered half the children in each IQ category an M&M for each right answer, just as Edlund had; the others in each group received no reward. The medium-IQ and high-IQ kids who got candy didn’t improve their scores at all on the second test. But the low-IQ children who were given M&M’s for each correct answer raised their IQ scores to about 97, almost erasing the gap with the medium-IQ group.
The M&M studies were a major blow to the conventional wisdom about intelligence, which held that IQ tests measured something real and permanent—something that couldn’t be changed drastically with a few candy-covered chocolates. They also raised an important and puzzling question about the supposedly low-IQ children: Did they actually have low IQs or not? Which number was the true measure of their intelligence: 79 or 97?
It’s not surprising that motivation (and chocolate) plays a large part in success. But it is interesting that the difference between the bottom group and the average group is entirely a motivational one. Unfortunately for them, many things in life do not come with extrinsic rewards, so we have to somehow develop their intrinsic motivation. There is some evidence that this is possible–some charter schools have found tremendous success with traditionally low-performing students primarily by increasing motivation.
Note: This is a short story I wrote back in 2007. I still think it’s kind of cute.
Joseph Sylvestre woke up one morning to the satisfying sound of a car slowly driving away outside his third-floor apartment window. It was 11:30 AM. He cleverly chose a robe from the eight or so forming his bedroom floor, threw it on, and immediately checked his e-mail. Lo! He quickly found what he sought, and as a mysterious force began to play upon his heartstrings he read.
Dear Joe,
Thanks for suggesting the film “The Parlor”. I enjoyed watching it very much, and the ending in particular was a surprising twist. It reminded me of an O. Henry short story. I know you don’t like to read very much, but perhaps you could try “The Plutonian Fire”–one of my favorites. I’ve found that our communications–these e-mails in particular–have become an increasingly important part of my life. I am still uncomfortable meeting you in person–many of my other friends are unaware of my situation–but perhaps we can arrange something for next Saturday?
Your friend,
Leonard
The last sentence was the instantiation of Joseph’s most heartfelt desires. He immediately sent a reply to Leonard, noticed that he was characteristically tired, and decided to go back to sleep.
Calorie restriction is the idea that eating about 30% fewer calories than normal prolongs life. Since the 1930s, various studies have tested calorie restriction on yeast, insects, fish, mice, and dogs. All have found that calorie restriction increases average lifespan, by around 30-40%. Although there has never been a study of calorie restriction on humans1, some people still believe that this offers them a good chance of living much longer than average.
Recently a 1987 study on calorie restriction in primates released their results. They found that “the skinny monkeys did not live any longer than those kept at more normal weights”, casting serious doubt on whether it works for humans. Of course this is just one study, but we would expect strong real effects to persist. Indeed the researchers were “surprised” by the result, for they had expected calorie restriction to work. We can return to eating Twinkies en masse with no regrets.
I find more interested my reaction to the news. I was happy to learn that calorie restriction doesn’t work. But why? After all, wouldn’t it be good news to learn that there is a way to live 30% longer? I can only suppose it is cognitive dissonance. Since I had already decided that I will never eat a calorie-restricted diet, I was happy to learn that I can do so with no regrets.