blogging off
why science fails, again & again
"Many explanations have been offered to make sense of the here-today-gone-tomorrow nature of medical wisdom — what we are advised with confidence one year is reversed the next — but the simplest one is that it is the natural rhythm of science. An observation leads to a hypothesis. The hypothesis (last year’s advice) is tested, and it fails this year’s test, which is always the most likely outcome in any scientific endeavor. There are, after all, an infinite number of wrong hypotheses for every right one, and so the odds are always against any particular hypothesis being true, no matter how obvious or vitally important it might seem."from: Do We Really Know What Makes Us Healthy? By GARY TAUBES Published: September 16, 2007 NYTimes
November 11, 1995: A poem for our car-mad country.
On November 11, 1995
Ken Saro-Wiwa died
also 3 whales, some dolphins,
15 turtles, a shark,
tens of terns & marmosets,
the odd dozens of ducks & geese,
many salmon & flounder & perch,
& god only knows how much krill & plankton.
Our hand was in it.
We had responsibility.
Not knowing didn’t stop it.
Hands extending today, yesterday, tomorrow,
putting money in the hand
of a polite gas station attendant.
She is working her way through college,
supporting a family,
grateful to have a job.
BP, or Shell, or Exxon, or Royal Dutch
should be thankful
that so many work for so little.
Somewhere out at sea a ship’s captain reports in,
the single-hull tanker is leaking.
He speaks clearly, not caring if he’s heard,
chance is it won’t make the paper;
people are tired of feeling guilty,
we don’t want to read about that depressing stuff.
Our hand is in it.
We have responsibility.
Ignoring it isn’t making it go away.
Hands extending everyday,
key in ignition, foot to accelerator,
shift into gear, seat belt or not.
Insurance & monthly payments,
tune-ups & oil changes,
all prove we’ve made it, are making it,
have somewhere to go.
So important, needs so preeminent,
tons of machine & hundreds of horsepower
must be at our beck & call.
The lure of speed, the seduction of power,
the ease of driving, the love affair with cars,
it’s all-american, it’s our right.
Think of the jobs, all those people working
we’d not want out on the street,
all those drillers & pipefitters,
riggers & drivers & refinery workers,
the car sellers & repairers,
& the gas pump jockeys.
How would we live our lives without our cars?
It would be so inconvenient
we can’t even imagine,
the very dream so farfetched as to profane.
We have shaped our country in this shape,
every city & road, every building & park,
around these two ton,
three-hundred horsepower,
mass weapons.
It’s our right to drive them as badly as we will.
day job dependency
everyone who has one
thinks everyone else
should have one
as punishment
or revenge
or obligatory indenture
fuck day jobs
that suck the joy
from the day
fuck day jobs
that waste time & energy
more than detroit ever did
fuck day jobs
that demean & debilitate
& cost a million species
work is
the highest expression
of our best selves
anything less is suicide
annihilation of our souls
for material survival
homelessness
apt reward
to indolence
how dare you know how
to be productive
without a boss
how dare you
organize
your own time
you need a day job
you have to pay
to play
following your instincts
is dangerous
who knows where you’ll go
a little knowledge
is dangerous
freedom is lethal
you need a keeper
someone should
tell you what to do
for just enough pay
to get barely by
to spend too much
to own too many things
to want too much space
to hog up the whole world
you need a job
to justify your existence
otherwise, you’re worthless
get a job
get a haircut
you’re a bum
why do we give in
to this crap
why put it on replay in our heads
everyone who has one
thinks everyone else
should have one
should shoulder the pain
stiff upper lip
leave your emotions at the door
tactics of the workaholics
our heroes in this land
of the do-too-much
(cuz we consume too much
take too much, hurt too much
trash too much, complain too much)
but never mind that
look to the gods of industry
& the goddesses of media
note the rewards of frenzied activity
the satisfactions of owning it all
being the biggest money-grubber
of course
a day job
won’t get you there
i love
i love me the way i love trees& vines & weeds & wildflowers
i know i love you cuz i hate you so much
& we treat the world & each other with such hate
i love everything that way
the way i love
hills & mountains
buttes & canyons
& miles long views, smoggy or clear
i love everyone that way
deserts & forests & open lands
stretching to the horizons
lizards & deer & little
rodenty critters of a 1,000 types
i love everyone that way
big bue endless sky
with a fierce sun burning
or clouds in all their forms draped
sheets of rain visible alongside rainbows
yes, everyone, that way
i love the world
the way i love the universe
the little nooks & crannies we can imagine
stars & nebula & black holes & big bangs
so far beyond our grasp, beyond us
i love us, our joined selves
our cooperation, our fascination
the way we love together
make the future forever
i love you, i love me, we are god
i love me the way i love you
& i love you the way i love me
& i love the globe beyond teevee
& i love a planet of fussin’ & feudin’
& lovin’ & breedin’ & needin’ all the way