The Anti-Scientific Curriculum at Nogglestead

Here at the old Nogglestead, we have two children that we’d like to educate so that they grow up to be good conservatives like us. Ha! some would say, but probably not those who read this blog, You mean you want to teach them all sorts of unscientific things so that they cannot see the logical, reasonable, scientific Progress of Man and his evolution into the highest form of life, the faceless vassal of the all-powerful State!

Well, part of the charge is true. Here at Nogglestead, we use texts that teach scientific untruths to our children.

Example 1:

The alchemy of Dinosaur Time
Dinosaur Time, written by the author of pseudo-rational Clues in the Woods and related series Peggy Parrish and illustrated by the author of the rational-for-having-an- anthropomorphic-mouse-antagonist Mouse Soup Arnold Lobel.

As a side note, this book is the source of one of my first remembered nightmares when I was in elementary school. True story: I dreamed that I and Chris something, who lived on the corner of 39th and Florist in an actual house and not a housing project apartment, were on some sort of raised dais with Greek columns all around and an altar or lectern or table. On it rested this book. Chris goes up the steps to it and looks at it and expresses impressedness and asks if I want to look at it, too. I lie on the ground with my hands behind my head and decline. At this point, a Tyrannosaurus head appears in the clouds above and says, “Don’t you want to learn about us?” and I scream and awaken. 30+ years later, I remember it vividly.

But look at the backward notions this book teaches:

The false teachings of Dinosaur Time Behold the backward thinking. As anyone who is up on paleontology discovered since Generation X came up through the minor leagues knows, the Brontosaurus does not exist. It is the Apatosaurus now.

Example 2:

The alchemy of the Dinosaur Book
The Dinosaur Book. A Golden Shape book, this verily is also a backward text even if I don’t have any particular nightmares to report about it.
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 

This book falsely educates us that:

The false teachings of the Dinosaur Book This book depicts a triceratops as though the three-horned lizard existed as its own independent kind of dinosaur.

Not so fast. Recently, paleontologists have determined that the triceratops is just a juvenile torosaurus. That is, it is not a separate species, and scientists will henceforth stop talking about the triceratops, and those of us who did not read Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology are just troglodytes who oppose the government meting out of radiology.

Example 1:

The alchemy of the Atlas of Stars and Planets
Facts on File Atlas of Stars and Planets by Ian Ridpath. You would think that the Noggles would teach modern truths about the cosmos, such as the Earth revolves around the sun.

After all, Noggle himself reads science fiction. Surely he would not teach falsity to his children here.

You would be wrong.

The false teachings of the the Atlas of Science and Planets Pluto.

As you know, semantically speaking, the astronomers’ consortium determined the definition of planet no longer fits Pluto. So, after a hundred years, it’s off the list. And Mercury is on notice.

Conclusion.

The Noggles are therefore anti-science Republicans. Granted, these particulars of science represent a portion of the angels-on-the-head-of-a-pin branches of science and semantics. Pluto is there, the bones were there, but every other part of the controversy and the changes represents a change in an inference or a definition on the part of scientists.

And although they would prefer you simply bow to their new definitions, the scientists really aren’t changing facts at all.

So pardon me if I’m just as skeptical of scientists as I am of everyone else. Reality is as reality is, but reality as revealed by the scientists is still reality filtered through chosen acolytes.

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Time for a Christmas Rerun

Actually, it’s a Christmas redirect.  Here’s a link to a short story entitled “Die Hard MDCXCII: Die Really, Really, REALLY Hard” that I originally posted 6 years ago, which is approximately 49 in Internet years.

The story is from 1990 and represents some obvious wish fulfillment. But the guys at the grocery store where I worked and that is depicted therein thought it was a hoot. Hopefully, you’ll be slightly amused in places, too.

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Hearkening Back To The Days Before Choices Existed

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch hearkens back to the glorious days of one of their preferred future boondoggle’s past in this glowing look back to the days of commuter rail:

During World War II, its steam locomotives pulled seven coaches and 1,000 daily passengers. One-way fare cost a dime. Ridership fell to 600 by 1952, when cleaner diesel-electric locomotives took over. (They also made the train quieter. Old timers along the route used to set clocks to the rythmic racket of the local’s coal-burning steamers.)

The 34-mile, 85-minute morning run left Pacific at 6:05 a.m. and stopped 19 times at places like Jedburg and Barretts Station, in downtown Kirkwood, at the Webster Park and Tuxedo Park stations in Webster Groves and Tower Grove station on Vandeventer Avenue. Outbound trains did the same in reverse.

Dedicated commuters enjoyed the ride with endless card games. The Rattlers threw parties with the slightest provocation. Drinks all around, of course.

By 1961, with plans under way for Interstate 44, the one-way fares topping at $1.10 paid less than half of the $68,000 annual operating cost.

And then that blasted highway came along and gave people the freedom to travel to their homes when they wanted to, and without losing money! On rail lines built by private companies and in trains run by private companies.

You know what would return us to those swinging days? Government spending! Except then they would run empty trains until such time as the government runs up the cost of gasoline. Except that when the cost of energy goes up that high, there won’t be many commuters.

Gah, being an economic central planner is hard. Fortunately for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, being a cheerleader for central planning is still easy.

UPDATE: Thanks for the link, Ms. K.. Hey, if you’re in IT, check out my blog QA Hates You. If you’re a Missourian or a Tea Party kinda person, you might enjoy 24th State, a Missouri political blog to which I contribute.

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This Year Was The Most Recent Year

AP ain’t rooting for the home team in this article: 2010 a record year for deadly disasters:

This was the year the Earth struck back.

Earthquakes, heat waves, floods, volcanoes, super typhoons, blizzards, landslides and droughts killed at least a quarter million people in 2010 — the deadliest year in more than a generation. More people were killed worldwide by natural disasters this year than have been killed in terrorism attacks in the past 40 years combined.

First, the Earth does not have intention, no matter how fervently its worshipers want to anthropomorphize it. Seriously, what the hell kind of “journalist” writes like that, where the planet is at odds with humans? Sorry, I lost my head there. This is an AP wire story. No news was intended nor implied.

Secondly, the deadliest year in a generation? A generation of what, exactly, that has been born in the six years since the Indonesian tsunami killed almost a quarter million people on one day alone. Given the inclinations of these writers, perhaps they’re thinking of more than a generation of Toyota Priuses.

How uncritical do you have to be to fall for this kind of “reporting”? What kind of gull do you have to be to write it?

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The Reason for the Season

I just got this e-mail from my alma mater:


Happy Holidays, signed, the Catholic Church
Click for full size

You’ll notice first, as I did, that Marquette University, a Catholic institution, sends out greetings for the holidays, not for Christmas. I guess fundraising from nonbelievers trumps celebrating the birth of Christ, the ultimate basis for the existence of Marquette University (but no longer the ongoing reason for its existence).

Secondly, you might note that Marquette has sold the naming rights to its college of arts and sciences. I have to say I’m glad that doesn’t appear on my diploma.

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Book Report: Growing Up in the Ozarks by John E. Hult (2001)

I loved this book. It’s a collection of stories about growing up just southeast of Springfield, Missouri, in the 1930s. The author moves with his family to a small homestead called Bethany Homestead with his family of 7. His father’s a Lutheran minister and a frequent missionary to Africa who really wants to return, but he serves as pastor to a number of churches in the United States. This leaves the wife and her children (10 by the time the book ends) on the little farm, which has some crops and a large orchard not to mention some cattle to tend to. The second oldest boy, John takes an active role in the household.

It’s a strange other country, the past. While some of the landmarks are familiar, the culture is different. For example, the author took a year off between finishing school and deciding whether to pursue further education. Not between high school and college, not between his undergrad years and going onto medical school. Between 8th grade and high school. During this year, his father is preaching in Nebraska and his brother is in high school already, so the 13 year old boy is effectively the man of the house, working outside the home for some extra income and taking care of chores and helping his mother tend the 8 siblings at home. 13! He also recounts travelling to the upper peninsula of Michigan to visit his father (who’s preaching afar again) and, instead of riding in a single Packard laden with his 9 siblings and mother, stays over an extra couple of days in Michigan and hitchhikes home.

I wondered if this sort of collection of stories would fly were I or a peer try to write it about our youths in the 1970s and 1980s, whether they would be interesting enough to draw any attention from seekers of esoterica 50 years from now. You know what? They just might. Some of my stories sound outlandish among my cohort now, only 30 years beyond their occurence. Perhaps in another 30 years they will be exotic enjoyments for readers. If anyone reads in 2040.

At any rate, I liked the book so much I’ll keep my eyes out for the others written by Hult and his immediate family. Also, last night, I returned to the used book store where I bought this book and bought six other memoirs in the same vein from different authors from the Ozarks.

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Too Gauche To Mention

Instapundit and others link to a story on Huffington Post about a case where a stem cell transplant seems to have cured a man of HIV:

On the heels of World AIDS Day comes a stunning medical breakthrough: Doctors believe an HIV-positive man who underwent a stem cell transplant has been cured as a result of the procedure.

Timothy Ray Brown, also known as the “Berlin Patient,” received the transplant in 2007 as part of a lengthy treatment course for leukemia. His doctors recently published a report in the journal Blood affirming that the results of extensive testing “strongly suggest that cure of HIV infection has been achieved.”

This is hardly news; here’s a Wall Street Journal article about it from 2008:

The breakthrough appears to be that Dr. Hütter, a soft-spoken hematologist who isn’t an AIDS specialist, deliberately replaced the patient’s bone marrow cells with those from a donor who has a naturally occurring genetic mutation that renders his cells immune to almost all strains of HIV, the virus that causes AIDS.

Strangely, none of the coverage I’ve seen today (which points back to the Huffington Post article that links to a recent medical journal article on the treatment) highlights this salient fact:

deliberately replaced the patient’s bone marrow cells with those from a donor

Those stem cells were adult stem cells, not embryonic stem cells.

Take a look at the comment sections where people are celebrating the publication of this old finding and are also doing their best to bash George W. Bush and other people who oppose funding for or who oppose actual embryonic stem cell research. We need to amplify and clarify the source of these stem cells and this treatment to educate the public about this efficacy of adult stem cell therapies.

Otherwise, parts of the public will remain ignorant and might be encouraged to pursue policies that their countrymen find morally abhorrent to fund research of unproven avenues of medicine.

UPDATE: Welcome, Instapundit readers! If you’re in IT, you might want to check out my tech blog QA Hates You. If you’re from Missouri, you might want to check out 24th State, a blog about Missouri politics to which I contribute.

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Brian J. Noggle Will Never Be Rich

I admit it, I have had my dreams of being fantastically wealthy. Hey, I subscribe to the The Wall Street Journal and Forbes and their money-glamour lifestyle journals Forbes Life and WSJ. I even get the regional glitterati slicks St. Louis Magazine and 417. You know how you can tell a money-glamour lifestyle journal? Does it have any ads for watches or ads with strangely lit, underfed women in spotlit jewelry? Does it contain advertisements in the cheap ads in the back where an attractive blonde CEO of an executive matchmaking company wants to introduce you to quality underfed women who want spotlit jewelry? You know, I once even worked for a technology startup that gave me stock options, so I had a route to wealth. If only the startup had a route to selling software, I’d have been set.

That’s not worked out. I’m not complaining, mind you. Compared to the life I lived when I was growing up and the things my parents had at my age, I am wealthy. I’ve got a house (two, actually, but I’d be willing to part with one for the right price which is more and more becoming any price), I’ve got a technology company that’s keeping us cash flow neutralish (the house for sale has four bedrooms and a spare room in the basement that could almost be a fifth, and it’s within walking distance of shopping, dining, and arts—write for details!) But I’m not going to have my own private jet nor will I need to get a passport for sure to accommodate my world capital travel.

In the back of a recent Forbes, I saw an advertisement for an advisory service that asked the rich people if they really, really wanted to get really, really rich instead of just being rich. A handy table showed the differences between the megawealthy and the merely wealthy. For example, while the wealthy might have a pretty extensive network of the associates, the megawealthy had only a small network of very important people (no doubt including a paid advisor from the firm advertising). While the wealthy had a lot of stuff and did some things, the megawealthy only did things with the specific intent of increasing their wealth (no doubt including paying an advisor from the firm advertising). The table threw into stark relief why I, Brian J. Noggle, will never be super wealthy and why I might touch upon ultramoney for some time (after Saturday’s lottery numbers are drawn), but I will never challenge Larry Ellison for America’s Cup.

Here are the main reasons I will never be wealthy, and if I do happen into a lottery prize, why I won’t remain wealthy for long.

  • I give a lot away. Every time I hit the Sam’s Club or Wal-mart, I pick thirty bucks’ worth of food or clothing for Crosslines. Whenever the YMCA has a barrel for children’s clothing or a tree for adopted families in it, I participate. I am Friends with 3 separate library systems, including one where I haven’t actually lived, and a number of other foundations and historical societies and whatnot. If I could, I would end up on the super membership levels of each. I think I’m Brewster or something, or maybe I just realize I have enough wealth to redistribute voluntarily.
  • I would buy lots of land and buildings. The pasture and barn beside us went through foreclosure, and I talked to the man at the bank about picking it up. He asked me what I was going to do with it, and frankly, I just wanted it to have it. Maybe I would end up with some horses or cattle in it, maybe I would ask my nineteen-year-old equine-minded cousin with whom I’ve probably not shared a dozen words in my life to live in it and run a boarding stable, maybe I would just have twice-annual hay cuttings. The thing precedes the dream in some cases. I always look at buildings for sale in various regions the same way. What, a two story building in downtown Nixa for sale for $90,000? I’ll take it! Then I can worry about what to put into it. That’s the sort of thinking that has me carrying two houses in a freefalling real estate market. Maybe it’s the way an existentialist dreams, where existence of an asset precedes the essence of an asset. Or maybe I’m just better at dreaming than the actual planning that one needs to be a good steward of wealth.
  • I am a miser until I’m suddenly profligate. I buy off brands at the grocery store, I wear my shoes out, and I wear inherited clothing for a decade (and counting). But when I suddenly find out that I can’t just pump a novel into Kindle without a cover, suddenly I hire a professional graphic designer, buy 10 ISBNs, and go the print-on-demand route even though I know I’ll end up buying at least $250 worth of my own name in print just to spread around amongst my friends. I put off purchasing some repairs and repair items, furniture purchases when we can make do with hand-me-down bureaus with scaring from a puppy chewing in 1985, but when the plant center opens in the spring, I spend $200 on plants, soil, and equipment per trip into town. When I was a youth, it was the same way; I’d put my paychecks in the bank for a couple weeks, and then one night at the mall with an ATM card, I’d blow the whole wad except for bus fare on videos, video games, books, and music (and then I’d fan my purchases out when I got home with the delicious anticipation of what I’d do first).

With all of these foibles working against me and with the other limitations hard-coded into me, I’ll never be superwealthy. Even if I won the lottery or somehow else came upon a pile of money, no doubt I’d burn through it in the aforementioned manners pretty quickly.

Ah, but how much fun I would have in those few years, fanning my purchases out with the delicious anticipation of what I’d do first. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a little time to go through the real estate ads like they were the Sears Wishbook and I am five years old.

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Interviewer Underestimates American Can-Do Spirit

In the December 2010 St. Louis Magazine, Robert Meyerowitz talks to author Eric Jay Dolin about his latest book Fur, Fortune, and Empire: The Epic History of the Fur Trade in America.

Meyerowitz underestimates what the American people can put their mind to when they want to do something when he “asks” (it’s not a question, it’s a viewpoint the journalist wants the author to agree with):

And somehow the beaver survives this slaughter, albeit in lesser numbers—by some conservative estimates, from a high of more than 60 million when Europeans came to North America to around 10 million today. Despite our best efforts, we didn’t eradicate it, or the buffalo or the sea otter.

Despite our best efforts? Well, here are the two common flaws with the question:

  • Talking about historical residents of the continent as “we.” The better to charge contemporary residents of the United States with the alleged sins committed by the forefathers of some small portion of the population.
  • Confusing the result with the intent. Mankind, and Americans, have hunted species into extinction and into near extinction, but in most cases that was not the intent. Trappers wanted beaver skins for hats so the Europeans would look cool. They could make money from the skins. They had nothing against the beavers themselves. When Americans want something eradicated, it gets eradicated. See smallpox. Well, Americans used to, before less intelligent Americans formed People for the Preservation of Pathogens that Kill People and whatnot.

The author of the book responds with:

We came pretty darn close. When you only have 1,091 buffalo left and you had 30 million, that’s a close shave. With beaver we did virtually exterminate them as we swept east to west. Now they’re making a comeback. The beavers, of all the animals, are the ones that are actually doing the best as far reestablishing themselves.

Sure, and now governments kill them as a nuisance when they block up creeks and streams. You know, when they act human and alter the environment to suit their needs. Naughty little beavers.

You know what saved the beavers and let them come back? It wasn’t enlightened consciousness. It was a change in fashion.

The beaver saver

What was my point?

Oh, yes, the interviewer in this case really took the opportunity to pose a flawed, leading statement to a publicity-hungry author. That question was designed to put Man, especially Americans, in a bad light and to elevate the poor beaver and bison.

If we, and by we, I mean people who died centuries before I was born and fewer centuries before most of my ancestors arrived had wanted to spend their best efforts to kill all the beavers, they would all be dead a long time.

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Book Report: Color Treasury of Firearms introduction by Frederick Wilson (1973)

Well, I threatened to read coffeetable books to make my 100 this year, didn’t I? Of course, I’ve been interspersing them all year so I could have something to flip through during football games, but as we get down to the end of the year, I really expose my dependence on these sorts of books to count. Of course, I also do things like count multiple novel volumes (like this) as one book, so I’d like to confuse you into believing it all works out.

At any rate, this book is a collection of photographs of antique arms from matchlocks to wheellocks to flint locks (and with some percussion guns thrown in at the end). It describes in some text the difference between them and shows examples of them, but it really doesn’t seem to have good diagramming to really make it clear the difference. Either that, or I skipped that particular corner of the page to watch a replay. It’s an interesting glance book to the relatively uninitiated (like me), and it might have some more meaning to someone who is an educated aficionado and know what you’re looking at, you might enjoy a little retrospective trip through the history of firearms that this book offers.

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I’ve Read My Share and A Bostonian’s Share

While I’m starting to wonder what I’ll have to do since I’m sitting on 97 books this year and am 450 pages into an 800 page compendium of Heinlein, Massachusetts librarians are issuing a challenge for 2011:

Could you read 50 books in a single year?

The New Bedford Public Library is challenging adults to do just that in its 50 Book Challenge, which runs through Dec. 10, 2011.

Pikers.

Off course, I’m not the standard citizen here. I’m the literary equivalent of the crazy cat lady. Come to think of it, according to those who market pet products, I’m the crazy cat lady equivalent of a crazy cat lady, too.

I think I’ll finish this one local memoir and maybe this collection of sonnets, which will put me at 99, and if I don’t get good push on the Heinlein book, I might have to pick up a coffeetable book or short paperback to make quota.

(Link seen here.)

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The Meaning of Education

My 24th State colleague Van has a long post up at his personal blog on the meaning of Education and why modern approaches don’t Educate and are not designed to do so.

He refers to this Cato chart that shows that costs of education have gone up drastically, but the results have not improved:


Does this remind you of the Price is Right Mountain Climber game?
Click for full size

I’ve discussed this very chart with a former classmate at the University, now a doctor of rhetoric and professor at a snowy university himself, and he thinks the expense justifies the outcome as long as the new, expensive education elevates minority students. Think of it as spreading the education around.

Were that true, it would be spending a bunch of money to elevate favored students at the expense of nonfavored students since it would statistically require an offset of lower scores for nonminority students to keep that line flat. But to a raging liberal statist, that’s okay. Education, apparently, is a zero-sum game like wealth.

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Film’s Alumni Compare and Contrast

Actors from the film Predator (Jesse Ventura, Arnold Schwarzeneggar) go onto become governors; Actors from the film Predator 2 (Gary Busey, Danny Glover) go on to make Turkish anti-American films (Valley of the Wolves: Iraq, Five Minarets in New York).

Actually, since Predator 2 also starred Robert Davi and Adam Baldwin, it cannot have been something on the catering truck.

I shudder because Busey and Glover also starred in the holiday classic Lethal Weapon. I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy it unequivocally again.

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A New Municipal Money Stream

Step 1: Illegally collect a fee from “customers” who by law must use your service.
Step 2: Get caught and get told to stop.
Step 3: Keep the $90,000,000 you’ve already collected.

A judge says the Metropolitan St. Louis Sewer District does not have to refund $90.9 million it collected from a storm-water service charge that he ruled was improper.

…

Dildine recently decided a refund is not needed because the district used money from the charge to provide storm-water service and comply with federal and state environmental laws. He also said customers did not follow proper procedures to seek refunds. Through the district’s taxes, customers would end paying the refunds to themselves, he said.

In other news, municipal water companies, power companies, and pre-selected, compulsory waste haulers are thinking up the names for the new “fees” they’re about to tack onto your bill, legal or not. After all, as long as they use the money to provide their service, they get to keep it if and when they get caught and called out.

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Bad Daddy (Part x of a continuing series)

So my oldest child goes to preschool, and one of the tasks we were warned about in the parental orientation was that at some unspecified future time, he would bring home a Letter Bag and would need to return to school with a number of things that start with that letter to discuss. Wait, let me dramatically re-create the scene for you.

Teacher: And the list of things we don’t want the child to bring to school include toys, gifts or cards for individuals if not for everyone, candy, firearms, books by Al Franken or Barbara Ehrenreich, or anything whose radiation level exceeds 4 microrems.

Parents: Okay.

Teacher: We have the Letter Bag, where the child will bring back things that have the letter of the day in them and will discuss them. For example, if the letter is J, the child can bring in a jelly bean.

Child: A jelly bean? That’s candy. You said I wasn’t supposed to bring candy to school.

At any rate, you get the gist.

So the child today announced that the Awesome Letter Bag was coming home, and with this great power he had great responsibility. Well, he didn’t say that; although he loves Spider-Man at age 4, he’s not versed enough in the mythos to recognize that trope (and he doesn’t use SPIDER-MAN! as a power word or expletive like he uses STAR WARS!). But the letter of the week is C, so his task was to gather things with the letter C in them.

I am a bad daddy because my mind immediately went to inappropriate things that begin with C for a preschooler to bring to school and the accompanying explanations. Things like:

  • Chianti, which Daddy makes us drink on nights where he cooks liver and beans for dinner.
  • Castor beans. Daddy sometimes cooks these after I go to bed and wears gloves and a mask.
  • Cat o’Nine Tails. Daddy has explained the rules as to when junior mariners can be flogged.
  • Chihuahua. Of course, we’d have to get one of those handbag-adapted models. Which leads me to wonder, are those dogs specifically bag-trained?

In the end, of course, I did the right thing and he schlepped off with a number of toys depicting things beginning with C. Because I know that he’s got a permanent record at school, but I wonder if they’re also keeping a permanent record on me, the parent, and they probably don’t share my sense of humor.

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