When I get home, I clean out the larder.
Up a hill in a car, it's an easier bet:
I just mash on the gas pedal harder.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
"Smarter than the average..."
It is said (and I'm not sure where this started) that eighty (or seventy) percent of drivers rate themselves as "above average". This phenomenon is often ascribed to "cognitive bias"—that is, that people think they are better than they are. Psychologists explain that cognitive bias allows us to survive in the world which constantly tears down our self-esteem.
But what if that's not the case? Can 80% of drivers rate themselves above average... and be right?
A rival group of drivers believes that good driving gets you places as quickly as possible. Other drivers (especially slow ones) are obstacles to be dodged in pursuit of the quickest travel times possible. A good driver is an expert of handling and can fit in the tightest spots in freeway traffic to get there sooner. After a good drive, the driver is there quicker and is proud of his abilities.
Both groups agree that good driving results in fewer accidents. Nevertheless, they approach this goal differently. If you ask either group whether they are above average, they will compare themselves favorably to members of the other group and answer "yes". And are they wrong?
Take the mean (average) national income, for instance. In 2004, it was around $60K/yr. However, the median national income was only $44K/yr. That is, 50% of the country made less than $44K, meaning far more than 50% of the country had "below-average" incomes. This makes sense; each year, some people in the United States are making millions of dollars. Since it is impossible to have a negative-million-dollar income to counter those outliers (zero is about as low as an income can go), the distribution is asymmetric, and the average is skewed.
Similarly, if we use a common driving metric of "number of accidents caused per year", some drivers are causing accidents, and may cause several. Those really bad drivers are outliers. But no matter how good a driver you are, you can't get any better than "zero accidents". With so many drivers who are at the premiere level of driving, and with such an asymmetric distribution, I don't think it's unreasonable at all for seventy or even eighty percent of drivers to be "above average".
But what if that's not the case? Can 80% of drivers rate themselves above average... and be right?
Option 1: Different metrics
My interaction with other drivers shows that different drivers have different ideas of what "good driving" entails. I put myself with a group that equates good driving with courteous driving; that is, good driving doesn't frustrate (or even surprise) any fellow drivers and allows the driving system to function as efficiently as possible. After a really good drive, the driver is relaxed and confident.A rival group of drivers believes that good driving gets you places as quickly as possible. Other drivers (especially slow ones) are obstacles to be dodged in pursuit of the quickest travel times possible. A good driver is an expert of handling and can fit in the tightest spots in freeway traffic to get there sooner. After a good drive, the driver is there quicker and is proud of his abilities.
Both groups agree that good driving results in fewer accidents. Nevertheless, they approach this goal differently. If you ask either group whether they are above average, they will compare themselves favorably to members of the other group and answer "yes". And are they wrong?
Option 2: Asymmetric distribution
Going back to the original statistic, it is claimed that 80% of drivers claim to be "above average" drivers. But this isn't necessarily even a problem. If 80% claimed to be above median drivers, we would have a problem, but this isn't the case.Take the mean (average) national income, for instance. In 2004, it was around $60K/yr. However, the median national income was only $44K/yr. That is, 50% of the country made less than $44K, meaning far more than 50% of the country had "below-average" incomes. This makes sense; each year, some people in the United States are making millions of dollars. Since it is impossible to have a negative-million-dollar income to counter those outliers (zero is about as low as an income can go), the distribution is asymmetric, and the average is skewed.
Similarly, if we use a common driving metric of "number of accidents caused per year", some drivers are causing accidents, and may cause several. Those really bad drivers are outliers. But no matter how good a driver you are, you can't get any better than "zero accidents". With so many drivers who are at the premiere level of driving, and with such an asymmetric distribution, I don't think it's unreasonable at all for seventy or even eighty percent of drivers to be "above average".
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Book Review: David Harriman's The Logical Leap
David Harriman makes some bold statements with this one. Yes, the book may seem to be about the history of science ("History and science? Yawn..."), but it's not. It's about the future of science.
The epistemological backdrop of the book unfortunately necessitates the frequent use of such soporifics as "epistemological".
Say what you will about the density of the content, though, Harriman doesn't hide behind it. On the contrary, he makes explicit his beef with the golden calves of contemporary theoretical physics, including quantum mechanics, the big bang, and string theory. And that takes cojones.
Harriman's argument against these theoretical darlings consists of two main thrusts: First, how do we know? Second, what does the knowledge get us?
The first question is one of evidence. Harriman insists that the validity of a theory rests upon the observational evidence used to construct it. Kinetics? Gravity? All based on the observed motion of planets. String theory? Well...
The second question references utility, or effects in the real world. A theory of science should allow us to make predictions about the world we live in; a useful theory allows us to predict things we couldn't predict before.
Elegance and symmetry are all very nice, but who's to say that the world works according to your elegant ideas? Harriman lambasts famous thinkers like Descartes over this issue. While Newton was using prisms and carefully devising experiments to determine the nature of white and colored light, Descartes published his own ideas on color: that the light particles had "spin" that determined their colors. An interesting idea, yes. A useful idea? Not so much.
If you're interested in science and where it's headed, give this a read and weigh the evidence on your own.
The epistemological backdrop of the book unfortunately necessitates the frequent use of such soporifics as "epistemological".
Say what you will about the density of the content, though, Harriman doesn't hide behind it. On the contrary, he makes explicit his beef with the golden calves of contemporary theoretical physics, including quantum mechanics, the big bang, and string theory. And that takes cojones.
Harriman's argument against these theoretical darlings consists of two main thrusts: First, how do we know? Second, what does the knowledge get us?
The first question is one of evidence. Harriman insists that the validity of a theory rests upon the observational evidence used to construct it. Kinetics? Gravity? All based on the observed motion of planets. String theory? Well...
The second question references utility, or effects in the real world. A theory of science should allow us to make predictions about the world we live in; a useful theory allows us to predict things we couldn't predict before.
Elegance and symmetry are all very nice, but who's to say that the world works according to your elegant ideas? Harriman lambasts famous thinkers like Descartes over this issue. While Newton was using prisms and carefully devising experiments to determine the nature of white and colored light, Descartes published his own ideas on color: that the light particles had "spin" that determined their colors. An interesting idea, yes. A useful idea? Not so much.
If you're interested in science and where it's headed, give this a read and weigh the evidence on your own.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Pennies from... heaven?
All right, I finally wrote a decent-sized story. Despite the fact that I'm posting it on the family blog (since it's in need of some non-baby material), I wanted the credit for writing something substantial, so I'll link to it here. Enjoy!
Monday, August 30, 2010
More thoughts on being "time-poor"
Continuing on the theme of having too little time, being "time-poor" is actually a pretty vicious trap. People who don't have enough time start, understandably, by trying to free up time. A common method for this is for people to outsource things they don't like to do anyway: housework (to maid services), yardwork (to lawncare services), even food preparation (to restaurants or takeout).
Unfortunately, one thing they often don't consider trimming back could be the biggest gain: their job.
Think about it—eight hours a day away from home. Every day. Honestly, if you need some more time to yourself—major time—switching from a full-time to a part-time work schedule would save you way more time (twenty hours a week!) than avoiding most any amount of housework. Many modern workplaces offer programs affording this kind of an hour cut. Of course, this will also severely impact the amount of money coming into your household. This requires having money from somewhere else—or maybe a lot less need for money.
And this is where the first instinct can be harmful: spending money to outsource work to others means you need more money. This means that trimming back your working hours—and making big gains for time—becomes less and less of an option.
So if you're short on time, instead of outsourcing unpleasant tasks, you might try reacting in a different way: hone some skills to become more self-sufficient, with an eye toward cutting back working hours and gaining more time that way.
p.s. Alternatively, you could remove the reason you have unpleasant tasks in the first place: get a smaller house (less cleaning), move to a condo (no yardwork), or... stop eating? Maybe not so much.
Unfortunately, one thing they often don't consider trimming back could be the biggest gain: their job.
Think about it—eight hours a day away from home. Every day. Honestly, if you need some more time to yourself—major time—switching from a full-time to a part-time work schedule would save you way more time (twenty hours a week!) than avoiding most any amount of housework. Many modern workplaces offer programs affording this kind of an hour cut. Of course, this will also severely impact the amount of money coming into your household. This requires having money from somewhere else—or maybe a lot less need for money.
And this is where the first instinct can be harmful: spending money to outsource work to others means you need more money. This means that trimming back your working hours—and making big gains for time—becomes less and less of an option.
So if you're short on time, instead of outsourcing unpleasant tasks, you might try reacting in a different way: hone some skills to become more self-sufficient, with an eye toward cutting back working hours and gaining more time that way.
p.s. Alternatively, you could remove the reason you have unpleasant tasks in the first place: get a smaller house (less cleaning), move to a condo (no yardwork), or... stop eating? Maybe not so much.
Monday, August 23, 2010
On buying your way out of being "time-poor"
Living in a neighborhood that could be described as "old professional", with plenty of aging white-collar wage-earners in the peak of their earning years, we get an interesting bunch of targeted advertising around our house. One that particularly stuck out to me was a recent maid service's flyer, pitching the slogan, "Life's too short to clean your own house."
Life is short; I'll grant that. Is it too short to clean your own house?
The assumption underlying this kind of slogan (popular in pitching to affluent professionals) is that trading money for time is a good way to get more time. After all, professionals often lament having so little time, and they've got plenty of money; wouldn't it be nice if they could just exchange one for the other?
Looking at the problem superficially, it certainly seems like a real possibility. A high-powered wage earner might earn well in excess of $50/hour, and paying the maid service $75/week may save our professional four whole hours of cleaning. And trading $50 for four hours is paying out under $15/hour, which is a net of $35/hour!
Unfortunately, things aren't that simple.
As a professional starts to look deeper into the issue, a question surfaces: "What am I saving time for?" (Or, for a more prepositionally strict professional, "For what am I saving time?")
Perhaps at the office! However, note that a professional's income is pretty well fixed. He puts in his time at work and gets a certain amount per month in return—spending a couple extra hours at the office yields no additional income (in the short term, at least). So choosing to go to the office with his new found time will actually pan out to something like a $15/hr loss (again, in the short term).
Most professionals, though, are not too keen on spending additional time in the office. Instead, they're looking for extra time to spend with their family. And what better way to find time to spend with the family than by not having to clean the house? Except that the extra time "bought" that way tends to fizzle away just as quickly as the old time did, especially when it's squandered vegging out in front of the television (a pastime that grows to fit the space available). Who wants to pay $15/hr for that?
Bearing in mind my current circumstance as a member of a childless couple, I still think cleaning your house yourself is always the way to go. My reason? Cleaning your own house, or doing other things for yourself, often conjoins nicely with spending "quality time" with your family. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of working together as a family, though at the time I was less than enthusiastic about it. (Sorry, Mom.) Combining your family time with work to be done is a great way to get extra mileage out of your time, and save some money to boot.
Life's too short to pay someone else to clean your house.
Life is short; I'll grant that. Is it too short to clean your own house?
The assumption underlying this kind of slogan (popular in pitching to affluent professionals) is that trading money for time is a good way to get more time. After all, professionals often lament having so little time, and they've got plenty of money; wouldn't it be nice if they could just exchange one for the other?
Looking at the problem superficially, it certainly seems like a real possibility. A high-powered wage earner might earn well in excess of $50/hour, and paying the maid service $75/week may save our professional four whole hours of cleaning. And trading $50 for four hours is paying out under $15/hour, which is a net of $35/hour!
Unfortunately, things aren't that simple.
As a professional starts to look deeper into the issue, a question surfaces: "What am I saving time for?" (Or, for a more prepositionally strict professional, "For what am I saving time?")
Perhaps at the office! However, note that a professional's income is pretty well fixed. He puts in his time at work and gets a certain amount per month in return—spending a couple extra hours at the office yields no additional income (in the short term, at least). So choosing to go to the office with his new found time will actually pan out to something like a $15/hr loss (again, in the short term).
Most professionals, though, are not too keen on spending additional time in the office. Instead, they're looking for extra time to spend with their family. And what better way to find time to spend with the family than by not having to clean the house? Except that the extra time "bought" that way tends to fizzle away just as quickly as the old time did, especially when it's squandered vegging out in front of the television (a pastime that grows to fit the space available). Who wants to pay $15/hr for that?
Bearing in mind my current circumstance as a member of a childless couple, I still think cleaning your house yourself is always the way to go. My reason? Cleaning your own house, or doing other things for yourself, often conjoins nicely with spending "quality time" with your family. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of working together as a family, though at the time I was less than enthusiastic about it. (Sorry, Mom.) Combining your family time with work to be done is a great way to get extra mileage out of your time, and save some money to boot.
Life's too short to pay someone else to clean your house.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Hyperlinks Before the Digital Age
One of the ways I find new books to take on is to look for references in other books I enjoy. This gives me good leads, especially in the "related books" vein. However, this does contain some inherant biases.
An example: I recently tackled Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book, which is a fun, episodic romp following a young boy's journey through the land of the undead. Most notably, it's modeled somewhat on Rudyard Kiplings The Jungle Book, a debt which the author freely acknowledges in the back.
Anyway, the point is that although Gaiman recommends Kipling, Kipling couldn't very well recommend the not-born-at-the-time Gaiman. In fact, all references (or hyperlinks, in 'net lingo) go backwards in time, for the simple reason that one cannot reference something that hasn't yet been written. (Of course, someone adding a preface to a future publication of Kipling's book could add a Gaiman reference, but that's neither here nor there.)
Following hyperlinks is a great way to find material, but it always points a reader back in time. This does preclude finding the "latest and greatest" books, but it also provides a great way to delve into older books. After all, recent bestsellers are always easy to find—it seems everyone is talking about them. But finding the gems of the past is more difficult, especially if they don't make the latest "100 best books of all time" lists.
References can be a great weapon in your arsenal of book-recommending strategies, especially on the older side.
An example: I recently tackled Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book, which is a fun, episodic romp following a young boy's journey through the land of the undead. Most notably, it's modeled somewhat on Rudyard Kiplings The Jungle Book, a debt which the author freely acknowledges in the back.
Anyway, the point is that although Gaiman recommends Kipling, Kipling couldn't very well recommend the not-born-at-the-time Gaiman. In fact, all references (or hyperlinks, in 'net lingo) go backwards in time, for the simple reason that one cannot reference something that hasn't yet been written. (Of course, someone adding a preface to a future publication of Kipling's book could add a Gaiman reference, but that's neither here nor there.)
Following hyperlinks is a great way to find material, but it always points a reader back in time. This does preclude finding the "latest and greatest" books, but it also provides a great way to delve into older books. After all, recent bestsellers are always easy to find—it seems everyone is talking about them. But finding the gems of the past is more difficult, especially if they don't make the latest "100 best books of all time" lists.
References can be a great weapon in your arsenal of book-recommending strategies, especially on the older side.
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