Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandchildren (who exist), and my great-grandchildren (who don't) — the Stickies — to haunt them after they become grups or I'm deleted.

                  

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, and/or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering
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                                                  Glossary  

                                                    About

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlerreader

(Image by Mediamodifier from Pixabay)

"Statistics show that of those who contract the habit of eating, very few survive." -George Bernard Shaw


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

The title of this missive comes from a quote, "There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics," one of the many quotes attributed to Mark Twain that shouldn't be. This makes perfect sense given that it's both clever and commonsensically true. Mr. Twain...

[Is commonsensically an actual word? I know that commonsensical is but...]

The results of my in-depth research suggest, Dana, that it's not. However, I like it, it's my column, and my poetic license is valid. This is one of the many reasons I'm running for King, someone who thinks commonsensically should have the final word in these matters.

As I was saying, Mr. Twain is well known, as he should be, for being both clever and his commonsensicality, and those of us, that is to say, all of us, drowning in the Information Ocean could do worse than using his words like a life preserver.

Speaking of life preservers and the Information Ocean, when I was a callowyute a life preserver was a — life preserver  — although I had only seen one in the movies or on TV.

Nowadays we have life preservers, life rings, lifebuoys, lifebuoy rings, boat safety throw rings, etceterings.

However, lifeguards, as far as I can tell, are still just lifeguards. I thought by now they would be called something like aquatic recreation rescue technicians (ARRTs).


This brings us to Cuba's official infant mortality rate, a subject that serves as a perfect illustration of lies, damned lies, and statistics. 

[Huh?]

Bear with me for just a sec'. One of my many mild obsessions is sensemaking. Full disclosure, sensemaking is not the word I came up with for this particular obsession but I've appropriated it.

Sensemaking, according to a Wikipedia entry, "is the process by which people give meaning to their collective experiences." The reason...

[Well duh! Why...]

The reason it has a Wikipedia entry is that there are people that study the process of sensemaking from both psychological and computer science perspectives.

From my perspective, it's the perfect word for the struggle of Joe and Joan Bagadonuts, and all the little Bagadonuts, to derive truth from a daily tsunami of often contradictory information.


In one of my many recent past lives, I found myself cleaning the cafeteria — excuse me, dining hall — late at night, of a small liberal arts college in N.E. Ohio that shall remain nameless on a daily basis.

Once upon a time, this school was known for its high standards and the fact the overwhelming majority of the professors could legitimately add the post-nominal letters Ph.D. to their name.

The profs were still there but due to declining enrollment, standards had been gradually lowered and the institution was now locally well known as a party school.

Although this was several years ago, shortly after the arrival of the new millennium, the woke had begun to wake.

One night when I arrived the entire cafeteria — excuse me, dining hall — had been... decorated (there's no other word for it) with pictures, posters, and propaganda celebrating the Republic of Cuba.

It was as amateurish is it was extensive. It looked like some Heather's sweet sixteen birthday party with a Cuba after the reevoluseeon theme. Apparently, the lower standards had even affected the Future Communists of America club.

Over the course of the next week, all of this bric-a-brac slowly but steadily vanished (must have been mischievous students) but before it did, I had read most of the propaganda sheets. The only one I remember was about how great the free healthcare system was in Castro's paradise.

I've heard this repeated, often, since then. I never looked into it but color me dubious.


A relevant article recently caught my eye. "Why Cuba's Infant Mortality Rate Is so Low" published by the Foundation for Economic Education ("To make the ideas of liberty, familiar, credible, and compelling to a rising generation.")

Since FEE focuses on high school and college students, clearly this was a sign from God.

[OMG! This verbal meandering is actually going somewhere! There may be a point! Perhaps there is a God!]

Patience is a virtue, Dana. It always does and there always is... eventually. Don't scare the gentlereaders, it's just my charmingly eccentric writing style. 

Bottom line? 

Early neonatal deaths: "...defined as the number of children dying during the first week after birth." Makes sense, yes?

Late fetal deaths: "...the number of fetal deaths between the 22nd week of gestation and birth." Makes sense, yes?

Watch carefully to see how the trick is done.

Cuba reports many early neonatal deaths as late fetal deaths. This dramatically and artificially lowers their infant mortality rate (IMR), which is actually much higher than the rates of developed countries. 



Lies, damned lies, and Statistics. If they're lying about these important stats don't you suspect that stories about their wonderful healthcare system might be bullshit?

If you go-a-googlin' you will discover no shortage of articles debunking their reported IMR, and other fictions, from reputable sources — interspaced with articles that unashamedly report their propaganda as fact.

Interesting related side note: Cuba is capitalist when there's good money to be made. Cuba rents enslaved doctors out to anyone willing to pay with the help of an arm of the United Nations that gets a generous cut. 

Running a large island sized prison ain't cheap.  

Rust, weeds, lies, damned lies, statistics — and bullshit — never sleep.      
  
Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

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Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. 

Cranky don't tweet
To make the ideas of liberty familiar, credible, and compelling to the rising 








     

An Interview With the Man Who Would Be King

-Photo by Bret Kavanaugh on Unsplash-

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandchildren (who exist), and my great-grandchildren (who don't) — the Stickies — to haunt them after they become grups or I'm deleted.

                  
Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, and/or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering

                                                  Glossary  

                                                    About

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlerreader

"I'm not a Republican any more. Not so voraciously anyway - I'm not in favour of the concept of monarchy, but I do see the good in it if there's a good person in the role." -Helen Mirren


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

Dana here. This is an interview with the man who would be king.

I've been after His Royal Crankiness for quite some time to let me write a letter/column.  He's fiercely resisted claiming that what little credibility he has as a yet to go viral columnist, or even pick up a steady gig, might be destroyed.

Some nonsense about inviting an erratically appearing hallucinatory guest star to be a guest columnist might not, in his opinion, be a good business move. 

I helpfully pointed out that, "When you ain't got nothin', you got nothin' to lose." In other words, he has nowhere to go but up, right?

Strangely enough, this failed to persuade him.

We were arguing about this particular subject when I happened to notice a certain gleam or spark in his eyes every time I used one of his many self-awarded titles, the ones he claims are just jokes.

The one above, His Royal Crankiness, for example.

Your Royal Crankesty, the Crankmeister, Your Garrulousness, etceteraness — even the patently absurd Crankelicious — all produced the same reaction.

Inspiration struck.


I pointed out that he's made clear that he's running for the non-existent office of King of the United States of America but he's provided only a few vague details and no practical steps have been taken.

There's not even a political action committee or super PAC supposedly launched by his grassroots supporters. Everyone knows that when it comes to politics it really is all about the Benjamins.

So anyways, I slyly suggested, while slipping as many of his titles into the conversation as possible, that he let me interview him so that America would know what this was all about and he lit up like a Christmas tree.

My people negotiated with his people and it was agreed that as long as my questions were limited to the campaign and that I provided fresh, warm soft pretzels and ice-cold diet Mountain Dew we would, as they say, do this thing.

I managed to insert in the fine print that we would reverse the usual format ant that my words would be unitalicized and free and that his would be italicized and bracketed for a change.   


So, Mr. Mehlmauer...

[Please, call me Marcus.]

So, Marcus, let's get right to it. You claim to be running for a national office that doesn't actually exist, isn't that right?

[Look at you going all Mike Wallace on me right out of the gate!]

Could you please answer the question, sir

[Well, technically speaking, I suppose you're right.]

Technically speaking?

[The hope is that my base, and enough other Citizens of the Republic, will write my name in when voting for president. I'm betting that once the primaries are over and the choice is the Orange One and what's his name vs. Bloomberg/Hilliam I'll be the rational choice.]

What makes you think that the Hilliam will be the running mate of Mr. Bloomberg? What makes you so sure he'll be the nominee for the top spot? How do you know he'll choose the Hilliam?

[That's three questions, maybe you're not Mike Wallace, perhaps your channeling Phil Donahue, master of the often unanswerable multipart question. I remember this one time...]

Phil who?

[Follow the link. First, the only thing that will end the bottomless political ambitions of the female half of the Hilliam is a stake through the heart. Mighty Mike is pushing 80 and if he doesn't go quickly and quietly they'll just... Well, you figure it out.

Second, who's a better choice for the (D)epublicans that Mighty Mike who switches to whatever party is necessary when there's an election that needs purchasing?

Answer to your third question: Matt Drudge, the ultimate click baiter and master of deniable subtle shadings said so recently on the Drudge Report... Sort of.]

What if one of the other (D)ebpublicans manages to...

[I'll still be the rational choice. I'm the one person in the race that truly doesn't want to win. The only one that truly doesn't want to the Monarch of America.]

We'll be right back.


In the good/bad? ole days CBS would run a commercial at this point. When we returned to the interview, Mike Wallace would take a big drag on his cigarette, elaborately exhale, spread his arms wide and say:

"But Sir, you say you're running to be the King of the United States of America!?!"

[Correct, and you've cleverly and helpfully pointed out there is no such position. Now, ask the obvious question.]

I would put to you, sir, that this is just an elaborate publicity stunt! That you are cynically exploiting the Citizens of the Republic!

[I would put to you, sir, that that ain't a question. That you have learned to practice purple journalism at the knees of Phil Donahue, Mike Wallace, and Matt Drudge.

Since we're running low on allocated words, permit me to explain myself.

If elected king/president I will appoint three administrators. One each for the East Coast, Flyoverland, and the Left Coast to deal with day to day administration and who answer directly to me. 

With the help of the members of my carefully chosen privy council, I will issue only absolutely necessary executive orders. 

We will offer suggestions and advice to Congress, the branch of government that, according to the Constitution, being all the people's representatives, is where the power is supposed to lie -- not in the White House. 

Most importantly, I'll make it my mission in life to pass a constitutional amendment that sets term limits for the people's representatives 

and, 

to get a series of simple, straight forward laws passed that limit the power of the unelected members of the hooge and powerful administrative state.]

Wait, you can't...

[Thanks for coming out. Feel free to take some pretzels home with you.]

Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

Please scroll down to react, comment, or share. If my work pleases you I wouldn't be offended if you offered to buy me some cheap coffee.  

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Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. 

Cranky don't tweet. 








      

Calling Out Google Privilege

-Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay-

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandchildren (who exist), and my great-grandchildren (who don't) — the Stickies — to haunt them after they become grups or I'm deleted.

                  
Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, and/or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering

                                                  Glossary  

                                                    About

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlerreader

"We want Google to be the third half of your brain." -Sergey Brin


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

Recently, I wrote about white privilege. In the course of researching that letter, I learned a lot and now it's time to call out Google privilege. I'm a current events junkie and if what I've been able to surmise is correct...

WARNING! - Your semi-humble correspondent is wrong with disturbing regularity!

Googlers are, for the most part, proudly and overwhelmingly members of the Blue tribe.

Which is fine, it's still a relatively free country. Now...

You know... At this point, a more garrulous and less woke and loving man than myself might digress and point out that in spite of the fact some of our friends on the left predicted that the Orange One was going to dissolve the Republic and declare himself King Donald the first it never happened.

His political opponents haven't been incarcerated in secret FEMA camps and...

No, wait, secret FEMA camps is a conspiracy meme embraced by some of our friends on the right, right? Wait a sec', I...

[Cough, cough. Google privilege?] 

Thanks, Dana.


Google privilege is double privilege. First of all, it's white male privilege.

Despite literally years of wailing and gnashing of teeth by the Blue tribe, and even though the Googlers excommunicated James Damore for the sin of speculating that perhaps many women are too smart and too civilized to want to join Eric Schmidt and the boys on the creepy line...

“The Google policy on a lot of things is to get right up to the creepy line and not cross it.” -Eric Schmidt, former Google CEO

"Google crosses the creepy line every day." -Dr. Robert Epstein

Google is plagued by white (and to a lesser extent, yellow) male privilege.  

Your semi-humble correspondent dug up and read not one, but two Wired magazine articles chock full of charts and statistics so that my gentlereaders wouldn't have to. 

Both report that Google (and the other techmosters) are overwhelmingly staffed by white and Asian men in spite of literally billions of bucks and billions of words spent on the quest for diversity. 

It makes me wonder if most of the members of the 1,001 officially recognized gender/racial/ethnic/sexual/etceteral identity groups are actually more concerned with the selfish pursuit of happiness than they are with diversity. 

However, given all the folks who make a living, directly or indirectly, from the diversity business:

Writers of magazine articles, the Infotainment industry, HR departments, college administrators, politicians, bureaucrats employed by the gummits and The Fedrl Gummit, consultants, etceterants...

Too much diversity too fast might bring on a recession.        


The Goog also benefits from disruption privilege. The Silicon Valley techies worship at the altar of disruption. Why? because as famous bank robber Willie didn't actually say, "That's where the money is."

For the record, Mr. Sutton, in his autobiography, modestly admits that he never actually said it, that some reporter or other made it up to spice up an article and it caught on.

I dunno though... Hard to imagine that a member of the fourth estate would put their integrity, dignity, and credibility on the line for profit and job security. 

The sort of billionaires that apparently will never have enough money (serial accumulators?) and the wannabe billionaires who are living in the Goog's parking lot dream of "disrupting" (destroying) an established industry via software and/or cutting edge hardware to make a name and a pile.

Another for the record: All I want is six million (with an m, not a b) and you'll never hear from me again (I've got it all planned out). 

If any one of my tens of readers happens to be an absurdly rich tech lord (I'm talkin' to you Ev Williams) and would like me to shut up and/or suspend my campaign to be the first king of the United States, please email me at: 
theflyoverlandcrank@gmail.com.


Anyways, for a group of people, the majority of whom I'll wager consider themselves to be members of the Social Justice Warrior National Guard or Reserve, they don't seem overly concerned with the fate of the disruptees.

They don't discriminate though. This applies equally to their fellow Democrats as well as the Deplorables and Bitter Clingers of the Red tribe.

[What about that Universal Basic Income thingy? A lot of 'em support that.]

Yeah — paid for with additional taxes on everybody. As you're well aware, Dana I'd prefer that the Pete's Pals and Bernie-bros that make a living from slicing, dicing, and selling our data cut us in before The Fedrl Gummit steps in and makes everything worse.

Speaking of which, Bernie? Seriously dude? The professional socialist of little accomplishment, net worth $2,500,000, owner of three homes, even older than me who recently had a heart attack? 

And while I'm at it... Pete? Is a 38-year old whose political claim to fame is running a small city with mixed results what we're looking for? I think...

[You're ranting and digressing again and you're nearly out of words... And regardless, Sleepy Joe and Fauxcahauntos are hangin' in. And don't forget Bloomberg, he's got a ton of executive experience and he's so dedicated to public service that he bought a third term as mayor, despite term limits, knowing NYC still needed him.]

The Donald vs. One of the above. Hoo-boy.

Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

Please scroll down to react, comment, or share. If my work pleases you I wouldn't be offended if you offered to buy me some cheap coffee.  

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Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. 

Cranky don't tweet.