“I am not a scientist…”

Saint Science
Made with Krita 4.1.1

               

It’s noble to admit when you don’t know. But, phrases like ‘I am not scientist’ can be nothing more than a cop out. It’s sister ‘You are not a scientist’ is often nothing more than an ad hominem.

Both phrases have their underpinnings in sloth and magical thinking.

Deferring to experts is generally healthy but the cases in which this is a necessity are rarer than not. Say what you will about public education but those availed of the capacity to read and write are not incapable of evaluating complex arguments.

The admission of ignorance seems a poor foundation from which to evaluate the statements of experts. If you are not an expert – how do you know which experts to trust?

As such statements like ‘I am not a scientist’ shouldn’t be viewed as humility and a good sense of one’s limits. At least not by default. One should consider that this maybe nothing more than laziness and virtue signaling. Yes, often it may be mere humble bragging.

‘Yes, I know that I don’t know! Ergo I am better than you – you great pretender!’ Cries the gloriously primitive subroutine.

Well, that’s all well and good except generally one isn’t simply admitting agnosticism but is in fact deferring to the priests that tickle his fancy.

This is why ‘I am not a scientist’ is magical thinking. It treats academics like oracles. It is the authority fallacy. Yes, but authority fallacy is when you say ‘cause daddy says’ we’re merely saying that these people may be more likely to be correct because this is their discipline. Sure but ‘more likely’ in a nebulous area is such shaky ground that you may as well be ‘cause daddy saysing.’

Shaky scientific ground is very shaky indeed since –

The history of science bears out that no crop of scientists has survived their season. That is – they sprout up, offer their fruits, and become the fertilizer for the next generation. I.E. a lot of very well established ideas are often just manure.

So when you hear ‘I am not a scientist – You are not a scientist – That is not science!’ etc. You may well be dealing with someone deifying their gut feelings. Yes, it is pure to admit the sin of ignorance and preposterously flock to the ever shifting church of science. To do otherwise would simply be denial! You great heretic.

The ‘I am not a scientist – You are not a scientist – That is not science!’ line of argument is often trotted out in all the little mysteries where establishing that X is indeed X proves difficult. Such times do indeed call for that formalized guesswork called heuristics – but in this process – ‘cause these guys seem correct to me’ should be the very last option.

We should all remain vigilant for this common pitfall of mistaking what seems correct to us for a humble acceptance of the best possible answer.


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Stairs

Stairs
Made with Krita 4.1.1

Stairs, yes stairs, it’s as simple as that. Do you ever sit at some stairs and think? Why is that? What is it about stairs that makes you so sentimental?

Is it because they are a place of passage? Something that uniquely demarcates comings and goings, ups and downs.

There is inevitably some brick corner dappled in dust tinged by twilight. It beckons and you place yourself midway the stoop. In that peculiar decided fashion that seems to say – I’m gonna pause. I’m not going to tolerate any more ups and downs, any more mundane scurryings.

So you hang there in chronologic suspension. A grand balancing act with giddy implications. Implications that burst kaleidoscopic rays of subtle perceptions – that blast the febrile wall twixt meta and physic.

Stairs, yes stairs, it’s as simple as that.


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Wage Snobs (Vlog)


Demand more because reasons?

IMPORTANT – I super paraphrased what Tim said so please watch his video for full context.

Tim’s Video – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFjhlqEs6mo&t=4s

Aaron Clarey on Management – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubn5vimrw3Y&t=395s


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Post Tea Clarity

Russian Brass Samovar at 1stdibs

 

Had a bit of a nap followed by some tea and realized that March is upon us. So, I was mulling my stories, the ones that are just sort of hanging there, swaying in the breeze like heralds of some half finished country.

And some thoughts arose….

Thought One

Don’t burden your stories with duties (read neurosis).  Yes, it is good to have the goal of realism in mind but if you’re putting off the completion of some bit of wild fiction to add that dash of historical accuracy – that’s story abuse. It is a very wicked thing.

You the author have responsibilities. Your stories do not. Your stories are wild living things that will breathe in their own way. Sure you can train them up a bit but don’t force them to do windsprints just because you were almost a track star.

Thought Two

Thought two has nothing to do with stories. I enjoy camping, the outdoors, and I drive quite a bit due to the sprawling nature of the Carolinas. This fact coupled with a somewhat overzealous favor for vigilance leads me to ponder – how does one avoid becoming a casualty?

Which in turn leads me down a trail to – in the wake of realizing what sort of a miracle it is that your ancestors didn’t die from eating the wrong mushroom…thus eventually leading to you…in a long uncanny tangle of holy shit that was close..

How does one bear the responsibility of having fun?


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Frontier Fiction ETC

 


Frontiers seem to be dwindling. Which may be one of the reasons for some of the ennui that we see. I present some thoughts on the remaining frontiers and how they’re more accessible than we might imagine.


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Fractal Briefs | Environmental Constitution?


I meander a bit round the issue of effective environmentalism. Should we have something like an environmental constitution?


The music is free domain as far as I know. It came from The Internet Archive and is mostly if not entirely by a guy named McLeod. AFAIK etc…


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Save the Whale Children from Deforestation!


This is why we can’t have nice things.

And yes Boomers us men are perfectly capable of taking care of our own damned dishes. My hipster exes however could not. And I blame you!

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Vulgar

The big question that Starbucks raises, ft. Mr Potato Head ...
Socially Savvy

What is it to be vulgar?

As with most things the dictionary definition is not what comes to mind. Rather it is associations. When we think of people being vulgar we imagine swearing, or sexy talk, or sacrilege.

Yet, when I look around. When I look around to see everybody and their grandmother dressing like they just raided the GAP then got their hair styled by a Bauhaus band; I feel that it’s something deeper.

Well, you shouldn’t judge people by their appearance. Short men, tall women, folks with big ol kazoo noses, and the Irish, these people get a pass. That is until adults unironically dress like a 90’s latchkey kid who stole his father’s whiskey. It’s even worse when they do it ironically.

Yes, when I look around and see this I begin to think that the problem is far deeper than the words and giggles that make WASPS and Yentas join hands in one great verklempt kvetch of a kaffeklatsch about the youth.

Image result for verklempt

They will of course always miss the point. Yes, they’ll meander round the target. The destruction of the nuclear family, the lack of Jesus, Torah, or Allah, EDUCATION, gay frogs, etc. These are all certainly valid indicators and contributors but I think the problem is even deeper than the dictionary or vernacular expectation.

To be vulgar is to lack fine feelings.

Ah! I can already hear the vast Mongol hordes of eLibertarians, muttering darkly about feels and reals, as they sharpen their double-edged snark swords to teach me a thing or two about fortitude. Growing up in the burbs reading Ayn Rand is the epitome of boot strapped, barrel chested, Marlboro manhood I’d better tread carefully. Lest I be called a snowflake.

Image result for rucka rucka ali
A Real Man working a Real Job

To be honest I am a snowflake. Or rather quite a lot of snowflakes. I am in fact an avalanche of acerbic, unabashedly elitist, classically authenticated disdain.

It’s the bloody boomers you see! And the millennials, and Gen X, THEY DID IT! Well, no that’s not it at all Doctor YouTubus Polemicus.

No, the problem lies in the fact that one can’t sit down to a listen to a bit of Bach without feeling pretentious. Where’s my Rush mixtape god damn it…I need to feel Earthy…no wait that’s classic rock….fuck ahh ok…thank god it’s Limp Bizkit…now I am one with the Volk.

I am honestly very eclectic in my own manners and styles. I do not begrudge appearance itself. If you want to be a corporate lumberjack, who plays ukulele, while day trading be my guest. But for Christs sake follow the patron saints of Yup and ‘Let it Be.’

The problem is enforcement. Don’t believe me? If you are male and over the age of 21 and dare. Dare! To put on some slacks and a button up for no other purpose than to go to a stroll or some casual (church included) function…well by god won’t you be the wanky oddball?

Put on a tie and by Jove what are you some sort of man!

Well..where’s your billions! Huh. You can’t possibly like dressing like an adult. You are lying to women… trying to intimidate manlets! You great bully. You great lie. You poser! Put on some plaid for the sake of all that is holy! We are at the mall getting lattes! Surely you didn’t forget to bring your wool cap?

Try to say any word containing more than three syllables and you’d better be ready to get psychoanalyzed by an impromptu Oprah panel. You’re so gauche!

https://thefractaljournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/97b74-evopsych.jpg
– Monkey Suit – Uniform of the Incurably Toxic

No one would have an involved discussion without some darwinian ulterior motive. There is no such thing as passion, or understanding the words you read, and using them in conversation. No, you are being gauche and they would know – they after all went to college. These are the times when English majors in American universities are unfamiliar with Emerson you see. So wax that beard don’t wax poetic.

No, the current situation is something far worse than mob rule, far worse than the bovine bleating of the sheeple, it is the tyranny of malaise.

Malaise leads to atrophy. And you can’t write the next great American novel, be John Williams, or Louis C.K. if everyone’s eyes, ears, and wits have rotted clean off.

This article is an opinion piece of the sort I write as a kind of literary yoga where I stretch wordy ligaments so as to remain limber for more serious work. This is not an apologia for anything written above. Merely a reminder that the journal isn’t a one trick pony. Thanks so much for reading. Feel free to comment. I don’t bite unless you’re into it.

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