Early Early Voting

 As teachers we learn a valuable fact about the attention of our students - if we want to be sure they heard something, we have to repeat it at least four times, because they only tend to hear about 25% of what we have to say. (Honestly, for some it doesn't matter how often you repeat yourself, but that's an issue for a different day).

I mention this little gem about teaching so that when you gripe at me about repeating myself I can refer you back to this. Here's the repeat: If you are willing and able to register as an independent, and thereby vote in the Republican primary - as we in NC are allowed to do - please, please, do so, and vote for Ron DeSantis. 

Here's the logic: If Trump wins the Republican primary, which seems to be fully possible, along with invasions of locusts and ice in Hell, he will have a clear shot at the presidency. BUT, if anyone else wins the Republican primary, they'll be screwed. Because Trump is going to run again, hell or locusts, and he will split the ticket with the presumptive nominee, paving the way for a likely Biden win. Simple, no? Vote in the Republican primary, vote for DeSantis. A single bullet in the campaign heart of two fascists. It's a primary vote well spent.

Today's Weather

 

I have travelled to Russia and much of it is just this bleak, vast stretches of uninspired apartment blocks. The sign, for your amusement, is a typical piece of anti-Ukrainian propaganda: "Russia's border ends nowhere."

The oligarchs and wanna-bes in this country support Putin and would have this be the View From Your Window. I'm referring to Trump and Carlson, Murdock, McCarthy and Green, and a bunch of others. MTG is now openly calling for red-state succession (in, as Liz Cheney notes, clear violation of her pledge to uphold the Constitution).

As for me, it's a nice warm day, I figure I'll go outside and clean the dust out of the barrel of the 9 mm auto my old man took from a Nazi POW at the end of WWII.

When Motives Don't Matter

    There's quite a bit of talk lately about truth and accuracy in speech and print, and what we are to make of the various ways in which we are being misled. It has been recently reported that the AI wonder, ChatGPT, is capable of being wildly wrong, pretty much at the top of its artificial voice. It lies, it argues with people when called on its lies, and it cites to sources that do not exist. That's a lot like Tucker Carlson, whom (among others at Fox) has been just outed in a lawsuit as being well-aware of the deliberate nature of his duplicitous double-dealing -- for example, praising Trump on-air while calling him a "demonic force" behind his back, capable of "easily destroying (Fox News)." If only. Then of course there's the Liar-In-Chief himself and all his lying MAGA minions, of which little more needs to be said. 

    One of the more interesting questions about all this is the extent to which these walking, talking misinformation generators are dissembling because they

A. Believe their bullshit is true, or

B. Don't believe what they're spreading, but do it just to agitate the snowflakes, or

C. Are playing some kind of "Overton Window" game, or

D. Are self-dealing Fascists who will do and say whatever it takes.

    I recognize that those are not exclusive categories, and that human psychology is such that a person could hold all of those perspectives virtually simultaneously. (See "Tucker Carlson" and "Trump," above.)  That being the case, I therefore propose the following rule: If someone is lying, and they reject valid evidence of their mistake -- much like ChatGTP -- just pull the plug. Save your breath. Move on and don't look back. You may be the sort of person who suffers fools (gladly or otherwise), but liars are a whole next level.

Sez You, Spense

(Full Story)

Utah Governor nixes immigration

Wants no “refugees” from California nation

Speaking for myself, I have to say

Wouldn’t move there for love or pay

From the Great Salt Basin to polygamy

That’s too much sand and sex for me

Book of Mormon taught in schools

Women demure, patriarchy rules 

Harriet Potter?

 

I've been grappling with the idea of states and traits. As you probably know, a trait is a a permanent, immutable characteristic or quality, not susceptible to change. Alternatively, a state is a characteristic that is subject to revision and modification. Here's where it gets a little tricky: A genotype - the DNA containing genes that are the building-blocks of development - is a trait, in the sense that a particular genotype restricts development to a single species. (I.e., "The hereditary information of the organism is in the form of genes in the DNA and remains the same throughout the life," according to the Interwebs.) All living humans are the product of homo sapiens sapiens DNA. However, the genes in the DNA, in interaction with the environment, produces a unique phenotype - the physical person that is you. Ergo, things that may be viewed as a trait from one perspective translates into states as the process of development occurs. So, who cares? Well, speaking as a Developmental Psychologist, I do. The simple minds of this world believe that there are two sex-traits, one male, one female, period. Anyone with a Freshman-level acquaintance with human biology knows that this is a convenient fiction - at the genetic level, things are a lot more complicated, and more complicated still when the phenotype interacts with their environment. Upshot? J.K. Rowling, for all her talent, knows shit-all about genetics and development. You cannot tell the human book by looking at the cover, Joanne. Please butt out. Thanks. Happy Valentine's Day, Regards, Tom.

Curmudgeon Cat

 Our cat sits at the front door and watches the squirrels scampering on the lawn.

She has never voluntarily gone outside and runs away when the door is opened.

She has never chased a squirrel or even sauntered up to say "hello."

They fascinate her in the abstract, but she has no desire to deal with their reality.

I get that. Squirrels are the hucksters and hustlers in life beyond the front door.

Your Periodic Reminder

 

The high temperature for Durham, NC today is 73 degrees, two degrees short of the all-time high. Chances are that if you're alive today, you will never experience a year that is cooler than this one. If you're not alive today, this likely is not a problem. 

Warning Signs

 

Daffodils: the harbinger of Spring -

Tall green shoots

(lawns that need to be fed, watered, mowed)

Bright yellow flowers

(trees and bushes that need to be pruned)

Busy, buzzing bees

(wasps, yellowjackets, horseflies, mosquitos)

Fading, falling petals

(sweeping and raking and mulching)

Wasting, withered stems

(weeds to be pulled, invasives to be poisoned) -

Daffodils: the curse of summer chores.

 

Shoot The Messenger

I'm always tempted, when I start one of these screeds, to dot it with references and other sorts of supporting evidence. Then I remember that this is a blog post, and references are not required, plus, nobody cares anyway. NO ONE, EVER, has disagreed with one of my blog posts. I presume that's because I have zero readers, Occam's razor and all.

With that in mind, let's get to today's topic: Why we should outlaw polling, or at the very least, label "poll results" as "fake news." I'm not sure there ever was a time when public polling was reliable, but I can assure you than in recent years, it has gone to hell. Two reasons -

1. It is no longer possible to have a reliable cross-section of respondents, and;

2. People lie.

As to the first point, the highly-regarded Quinnipiac University Poll claims that their "rigorous" methodology includes "large sample sizes, random digit dialing (RDD), (and) timely questions" - they "stay on top of the news." Swell. But let's go back to that random digit dialing. Mentioned in their discussion of how they telephone their respondents is the fact that about one-half of their potential subjects do not even own a landline, and so, of course, they include cell phone numbers in their RDD.

You see the problem, don't you? On one hand, almost everybody - landline or no - has some form of call screening. Virtually nobody, anymore - except maybe baby boomers and lonely Incels from North Dakota - picks up calls from unknown numbers. While Quinnipiac does make several call-backs, it appears that they do not leave voicemails, because the selection has to be random, right? Only it's not. 

On the other hand, virtually everyone under the age of 30 has some form of smartphone, and if it's anything like mine, it has the option to screen unknown numbers directly to voicemail. I never even hear it ring. The only people answering unknown callers these days are people who can't wait to answer polls, i.e., second-level self-selection.

As to the second reason, people lie. People lie all the time, about matters great and small. I might be lying right now. So am I lying about lying? Maybe. Do people lie all the time? You bet. The New York Times says people don't lie to pollsters, but the NYT is lying. In today's fascist vs. socialist political climate, lying is de rigueur - you can't even claim your political chops unless you know what lies the other side (and yours) are telling these days. What do you figure makes people willing to answer political polls? The chance to advance their agenda, duh. These days, when you see a poll that does not seem to square with what you know is actually going on in the public square, it's easy to see why. I give you the Midterm Red Wave as a case in point.

Why does all this matter? Because people are sheep. (Lying sheep. I'm almost ashamed to be one.) When they read a poll that contradicts their own beliefs, it takes the edge off of their enthusiasm. It depresses them. It keeps them home on election day. Hillary Clinton is the poster woman for this effect. In case SOMEONE out there disagrees, let me once again point out that she won the popular vote for President by seven million or so - a squeaker for her opponent, driven largely by negative polling in the final days of her campaign. It was the "undecideds" that killed her, and undecided voters make up their mind late in the game.

First thing we do, let's kill all the pollsters. We can get to the lawyers later on.

But Is It Art?

 

 The Tate Modern in the Blavatnik Building (opened in 2016, shown here) has a viewing terrace up there near the top. Apparently it's a very popular place for selfies and the like. Unfortunately, it also happens to be located just slightly more than 100 feet from the Neo Bankside apartment building, which ". . . sleek architectural design — floor-to-ceiling glass windows and breezy open-plan living areas — maximize natural light while minimizing privacy." 

 Not surprisingly, the residents of the apartment building (filthy capitalists all), many of whom have lived there since  the building opened in 2012, object to the hoi polloi peering into their "open plan" bedrooms and spying on the gentrified set as the bougies go about their daily business of ripping off poor people. So, naturally, apartment dwellers sued, and now they've won. Apparently the Tate could not successfully convince the high-rise folk to simply put up curtains. You can read all about it here. 

 If I had a little pied-à-terre in the sleek architectural extravaganza that is the Neo Bankside, I would have solved the problem shortly and without any resort to lawyers. A few minutes of my nude sunbathing and those folks at the Tate would have closed that terrace pretty damn quick. 

Impartial Justice(s)

 

This photograph implies that I am going to write about crooked judges. According to some statistics I didn't fact-check, there are many crooked judges (in the sense of, "on the take"). Sooo many crooked judges. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't care about crooked judges, much, because, well, who knows - maybe you can pay them to do the right thing. I'm concerned about a whole different kind of judge, and one that is far worse - the judge who won't do the right thing regardless of any moral or intellectual obligation to do so. Partisan Judges are not for sale - they're on a crusade, and you're either a Believer or you're screwed. Constitutions and laws are no longer their guiding principle. The law is what they say it is, and what many of them say is most likely to benefit a small group of people from largely empty rural states who have nothing to do at night but sit around the campfire and dream up whacky conspiracy theories. People frightened by balloons.

I digress. Political partisanship has become rampant in the American Judiciary for reasons that - once again - I don't have room or inclination to discuss here. Neither am I going to recount the dozens of instances when Supreme Court rulings, of late, have been "along party lines." You all know what I'm talking about. Closer to home, the Democratic-leaning (4-3) North Carolina Supreme Court (SCONC, which is how locals pronounce "skunk") recently - a couple of months ago - decreed that the electoral maps for the state senate created by our MAGA-lite legislature were an illegal partisan gerrymander. Two months later and with a Republican majority now in charge at SCONC (5-2), you can guess what's going to happen.

Some of you wits now will point out that the decision two months ago was also a partisan decision, and since that tends to support my point, I am happy to concede. (Note, however, that those Justices didn't take issue with the House districts.) The thing is, all these people take the same judicial oath - from SCOTUS to the lowliest magistrate - promising some stuff about the rich and poor that no one ever really believed, and to be "impartial," which heretofore was THE thing judges were supposed to be. "Sure," you say. "That never happened either." Except it has - a lot. Best example?  Earl Warren, a Republican, was appointed by Dwight Eisenhower in full expectation that Warren would get the liberal justices on the court to toe the line. Instead, and with surprising skill, Warren led what was probably the most liberal court in US history, on everything from segregation to voting rights to right to privacy to criminal law. It is the history of the Warren Court, and a little-understood principle of stare decisis that the current court is trying (quite successfully) to bulldoze into rubble.

I don't know where this leaves me, as a lawyer. We become lawyers because - all evidence to the contrary - we believe in the rule of law. Maybe in your corner of the world (or the legal profession) this shit doesn't effect you. Eventually it will. The whole practice is or will be defined by judge-shopping, looking for the court that most suits the political needs of your client: a liberal judge for your criminal, a conservative judge for your corporation. We're not supposed to judge-shop, but we are supposed to "zealously defend" the interests of our clients. And that's a quandary, when you toss judicial impartiality out the door.

The Bright Lights

 

As promised, I am obliged to mention the shows we saw during our recent NYC visit. The two stand-outs were "Kimberly Akimbo" and "Pictures From Home."

The musical Kimberly Akimbo is the story of a teenager (63-year-old Victoria Clark) suffering from a disease similar to progeria, causing her to age 4.5 times faster than normal. Her adolescent concerns are fairly typical, except for getting pregnant - she has already been through menopause. (In many ways, the jokes write themselves.) Kimberly struggles with her relationships with peers - naturally - and her dysfunctional family, including alcoholic Buddy, her dad, and sociopath Aunt Debbie (played by Bonnie Milligan, who nearly steals the show).

The play Pictures From Home is based on a book, a "photo memoir" of the same name by photographer and author Larry Sultan (Danny Burstein, in performance), who spent ten years photographing, interviewing and writing about  his parents: father Larry (played by Nathan Lane) and mother Jean (Zoe Wanamaker). A major player in this production is the set, and the manner in which the photos are introduced as the  centerpiece around which the action revolves. To know more about that you'll have to see it for yourself. You could also read the book.

This back-to-back description of these shows - both comedies of a sort - brings me to their common theme: how we deal with aging and mortality. This is a favourite topic of mine, with which I will not bore you further. These two shows are each excellent in their way, and you'll hear about them again, I have no doubt.

If, on the other hand, you have no desire to have any thought - deep or otherwise - and wish to be entertained in the manner of Fawlty Towers meets Monty Python meets the Marx Brothers playing Agatha Christie, go see "The Play that Goes Wrong," presently at New World Theaters, a nifty five-theatre Off-Broadway complex in Hell's Kitchen. It's quite fun. 

School Days

 

In my schooldays I read many books

Like Catcher in the Rye

And A Room With A View

And For Whom the Bell Tolls

 

I read many plays

Like Waiting for Godot

And Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Wolfe?

And The Dumb Waiter

 

I read many poems

Like Howl

And A Shropshire Lad

And The Waste Land

 

Now I read the news

That many of these lovely words 

Are secret, banned and hidden

And I’m so glad I’m old