Octopodial Chrome

Forthwith, a rogues’ gallery of unjust beer laws. Florida bans bottles larger than 32 ounces; Iowa beers stronger than 5% ABV; Utah beer over 4%; New York bans beer an liquor in the same business.

When will the madness end?

Here’s an interesting theory from Roger Unger, M.D.: obesity is not the cause of metabolic syndrome but rather a defense against it. Metabolic syndrome is a fancy new name for belly fat and increased risk for heart disease, strokes and diabetes—it’s afflicting more and more Americans these days.

Dr. Unger’s theory is is intriguing, and he may be on to something. I’m not certain, though, what the prognosis is: okay, so fat doesn’t cause the problem but what does? Is it simple lack of exercise? In that case, the answer is simple: raise the gasoline tax to $4/gallon, all proceeds to go toward bicycles for the poor and new bike-only roads. Is it the wrong sort of food? Then start subsidising the right stuff and stop subsidising the wrong stuff (although—what if certain key political states like Iowa can’t meet the nation’s needs for healthy food as they can for maize?). More research is clearly needed.

Little-known fact: during Prohibition the US government poisoned alcohol. Roughly 10,000 people died as a result.

Chris Dixon has a great post examining the perverse incentives which reward executives for mismanagement. Well worth the read.

Cracked.com states that babies lie, racially discriminate, defy authority, get high off of masochism, steal and even murder in the womb. I think we should require registration of all babies and institute a mandatory one-week waiting period before procreation…

Roger Clegg offers up an illuminating parable. It starts:

Suppose you are a lifeguard, and you are presented with studies showing that boys are more likely to drown than girls, probably because they engage in riskier behavior. Now, how does this affect the job you do as a lifeguard?

Well, I hope that one thing you do not do is shrug if you see a girl drowning. You also should not try to rescue boys who are not drowning.

In fact, if this datum doesn’t help you spot drowning people, and it probably doesn’t, then it won’t affect the way you do your job as lifeguard at all. You look for people flailing and screaming, and knowing that most of them will be boys is really irrelevant to you.

Would it prompt you to support “Safety First” swim programs for boys only? Well, so long as there is some percentage of girls who would benefit from such programs, it’s not clear why you would want to exclude girls from them. Maybe the “Safety First” videos you show in the programs would be more likely to depict boys doing typically boy-things, but that’s about it.

And, of course, if further studies showed that it’s not so much sex that matters, but some other factor, then you would care even less about gender, and would be even less supportive of a program for boys and boys alone. For example, if there were some way instead to target risk-seekers for the program—thereby excluding cautious boys (and girls), and including risk-seeking girls (and boys)—then you would be all for it.

Read the whole thing—it’s good.

Chris Illuminati shares some notes his wife has left in his lunch. Very cool, and very sweet too.

Colonel James Moschgat, USAF, relates the story of a janitor and the lessons he learnt from his example. There’s some good stuff here.

Gunnar Ritter, maintainer of the commonly-used mailx program, explains why it’s not available on Windows. It’s an interesting tale of how the kluges deep within that semi-operating psuedo-system mean that even in 2010 design decisions made in the Seventies afflict Windows.

They afflict Unix too, of course, but generally our design mistakes were smarter than Windows’s design mistakes. Even in error we’re better.

Now here’s an excellent idea for young men wanting to serve their communities: start a pallbearer society. The idea is to carry the caskets of those without friends or relatives to do the task. I should talk to my old Scoutmaster—this would be a good thing for my old troop to do.

H/t to John Derbyshire

The Wall Street Journal notes that wool is coming back: it insulates better, it is more attractive and it’s renewable. Frankly, I think it’s a lot more comfortable than synthetics too. A lot of folks disagree, but I think they’ve not taken the time to get used to wool; also, I wonder if they’ve encountered the new non-synthetic blends and varieties which are super-soft.

As for the notion that kids raised on synthetic pseudo-fleece won’t go near wool, I’m sure that kids raised on McDonald’s have trouble with French cuisine. That doesn’t mean I’m burning my Le Central gift card (thanks Dad!).

John Derbyshire wrote a nice little article on Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s Die Beiden, a pretty little poem which I’m glad now to know. Here it is in the original and in a translation:

Die Beiden

Sie trug den Becher in der Hand
—Ihr Kinn und Mund glich seinem Rand—,
So leicht und sicher war ihr Gang,
Kein Tropfen aus dem Becher sprang.

So leicht und fest war seine Hand:
Er ritt auf einem jungen Pferde,
Und mit nachlässiger Gebärde
Erzwang er, daß es zitternd stand.

Jedoch, wenn er aus ihrer Hand
Den leichten Becher nehmen sollte,
So war es beiden allzuschwer;
Denn beide bebten sie so sehr,
Daß keine Hand die andre fand
Und dunkler Wein am Boden rollte.

The Two

She carried the cup in her hand
—her chin and mouth were like its rim—
her gait was so light and assured,
not a drop spilled out of the cup.

His hand was equally light and firm;
he rode on a young horse,
and with a careless movement
he made it stand still, quivering.

But when he was to take
the light cup from her hand,
it was too heavy for both of them:
for both trembled so much
that no hand found the other hand,
and dark wine flowed on the ground.

Translation by Leonard Forster

I think it’s kind of sweet.

I saw this at National Review Online:

To All My Liberal Friends

Please accept with no obligation, implied or explicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2010, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere. Also, this wish is made without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.

To All My Conservative Friends

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I like:-)

Last month the New York Times ran a surprisingly good set of features on hunting, composed of an article on the first turkey season on Long Island, a a video on urbanites going hunting and finally an accompanying article the third day. They’re worth a read.

I think a lot of people don’t really understand hunting. I don’t do it for the kill—if anything, actually killing the birds is the least fun part of a hunt—but for the camaraderie, the time spent with friends in the outdoors, the reality of tromping in a farmer’s field looking for birds to eat. There’s something honest and straightforward about it that I enjoy. I can look across a section and know that I walked across every one of those furrows; I can see the bootprints of the men who hunted them yesterday, or earlier this morning; I can see the tracks and sign of birds and rabbits and dogs and cattle; I can see a particular piece of territory and know that there’s a good change there’ll be a bird in there; other times, I’ll be surprised by one where I didn’t expect him. And at the end of the day, I know that for once in my life I’ve earned my food in a way I never used to.

It’s pretty neat to read that even in our coastal elites might be relearning the joys of hunting for themselves.

I wouldn’t ever wear this shirt, but it sure does have a point:

Of course, Che Guevara was a minor, petty thug—he doesn’t really rank with such monsters as Hitler, Stalin, Mao or Pol Pot. Still, it never ceases to amaze me that leftists wear the image of a man who gleefully executed scores of gay men with his own hand and stated for the record the he’d have fired the Cuban missiles at the US if he’d been allowed.

I’ve added a pastry recipe to my bachelor recipes. It’s pretty good—I use it whenever I’m cooking for folks who don’t like lard.

I had a complete blast today snowshoeing up around Brainard Lake with the guys (and one gal) from work. It was well-worth the trek up to Boulder, and even not sleeping in until noon, as is my wont on Saturdays. We all had a great time.

Incidentally, wool rocks: I was wearing wool long-johns, wool socks, a wool sweater, wool wristers, wool mittens and a wool balaclava. I spent the trip–in freezing temperatures, with high-speed winds and blowing snow–hotter than was strictly necessary. And yes, I made all but the long-johns.

I’m pretty sure that this means in some cultures I rock.

The New York Times discovers aging beer like fine wine (or maybe we should say that wine is aged like fine beer? I m deeply envious of the Coloradan gold mine filled with beer—that’s several different kinds of cool.

The Pedant-General over at Devil’s Kitchen has a great explanation of why the CRU revelations can’t be ignored. Elsewhere, Charles Murray points out that it’s the disappearing data which is damning.

Given reasonably trustworthy premises, one can argue to a reasonably trustworthy conclusion. It appears from the evidence that the CRU’s premises aren’t reasonably trustworthy, and their conclusions aren’t to be trusted.

USS Consitution has been designated the Ship of State, which means a stepped-up ceremonial role for the 212-year old ship. She’s the oldest commissioned warship afloat in the world, and one of the first six frigates in the US Navy.

When I was in Newport for DCO School we spent liberty on Saturday touring her. It was a great experience!

It has been twenty years since the fall of the Berlin Wall, twenty years since Eastern Europe broke its shackles, twenty years since our victory over socialist tyranny.

I grew up at the very tail end of the Cold War. As a small boy I remember leaving home before dawn to greet and say goodbye to my father as he sailed with the Navy. I grew up on movies like Top Gun. I was raised just outside of Norfolk, the headquarters of the Atlantic Fleet. Once I asked Dad what would happen to our family if there were a nuclear war; he replied that we’d be radioactive grit. It sounds harsh & heartless now, but it was true.

And then in the summer & fall of 1989 things started to change. The various states which formed the Soviet Empire started to lose their grip on their citizenry. The Hungarians opened their borders. The Poles rose up. Change was in the air.

But change was in the air in 1948, 1953 and in 1968—and nothing changed, except for the blood that was spilt & the lives which were lost, anyway. The Communists had crushed dissent then, and could have tried to do so again. But this time they didn’t. This time the people rose up, and they were allowed to stand. This time the people headed for freedom, and the border guards didn’t stop them. This time, the walls came tumbling down.

I was only eleven at the time, not much more than a boy, and I didn’t fully understand what was going one, but I knew enough to know that it wasn’t just historic—it defined historic. The radio the following year had Scorpions’ Wind of Change and Jesus Jones’ Right Here, Right Now on constant rotation. Event followed event: first the Wall, then Ceauşescu, then the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics herself fell.

We. Had. Won.

After a world war, after a cold war, after numerous hot wars, after untold expenditures of blood and money, we had won. After the stalemate of Korea, after the losses of East Germany, Cuba & Vietnam, we had won. After the lies of the twenties and thirties, the necessity of the forties, the treasons of the fifties and sixties, the blindness of the seventies and the final struggle of the eighties, Truth and Freedom won the day. The appeasers, the dupes, the fellow-travellers, the traitors: they were shown for what they were; they lost.

But we—we had won!

The years since have been anything but simple or easy—or peaceful. Far from the end of history, what we have seen instead has been the resumption of history. The black-and-white of the Free World versus the Second World has been replaced with the grey of each nation’s self-interest. History continues, as it ever has.

But no matter what the future brings, one thing remains: we were right, and we won.

Slowly but surely the forces of freedom are pushing back the liberty-hating brigades of anti-smoking fascists. This is a Good Thing, not because cigarettes are particularly pleasant (they’re not) or because Big Tobacco is particularly decent or honest (it’s not), but because it’s a fundamental principles of property rights that a property owner has the right to allow what he wants within extremely broad limits, and the public has the right not to attend if they don’t want to.

David Rohde, a reporter for the New York Times, was held captive by the Taliban; he has now told his story. It’s an amazing read, detailing how he returned to religion, coöperated with & opposed his captors and dealt with captivity.

Of course, it’s his story in his words; no doubt there are inaccuracies of memory as well as of fact. But it is an excellent tale nonetheless, and a good example of what happens when a Westerner meets Islamic extremism face-to-face.

The Daily Mail suggests that oral contraceptives have changed women’s taste in men. It seems plausible enough to me: long-term use of hormones–particularly sex- and pregnancy-related hormones—might reasonably have interesting mental side effects.

But the current fad for baby-faced pseudo-men might also just be another one of those swings of fashion. The French ancien regime was about as poncy as it’s possible to be, without the involvement of a single hormone supplement.