Wednesday, April 16, 2014
I don't understand the moon. I don't understand anything about the moon. I mean the phases, the route it takes, the direction, nothing. Today I read that the moon crosses the Earth's equator every two weeks! Does that mean it stays north of the equator for two weeks and then south for two weeks, then north again? How does that work? Sometimes the moon is very high in the sky. How can that happen without the moon crossing the equator, unless during parts of that time it isn't visible in the opposite hemisphere at all? Are there periods that the Arctic or Antarctic have no moon until it crosses the equator again? I assumed it crossed the equator on every circuit or something.
I vaguely understand that the phases (full, new, quarters, etc.) have to do with the alignment of the moon and the sun, but "vaguely" is literal. Like, when we see a full moon here, is it full everywhere on Earth? How does that happen? Are there nights when we don't see any moon at all, no matter what the phase, because it appeared in our sky during the day (like it did last week)?
Over the years a few people have tried to explain it to me, but then when I start asking questions it becomes clear even to that person that they don't really understand it. They just thought they did until they really thought about it.
You know what? I've decided I don't care any more. I've given up trying to understand the moon.
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Showing posts with label stupid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stupid. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Thursday, May 01, 2008
1793 Stupid Poll
Thursday, May 1, 2008
I forget where I read this, so I can't link to it, and the details aren't important anyway. It's been kicking around in my head for a few days.
Some group did an exit poll wherein they asked people if race made a difference in whom they'd be willing to vote for. An overwhelming number of people, something like 85% or 90%, said "No."
Then they asked the same people if they knew someone to whom race would make a difference, and a very large percentage said "Yes."
The part that bugs me is that the conclusion of the pollsters was that the numbers didn't jive, somebody must be lying, and therefore a lot more people were racist than were willing to admit it to the pollsters.
Huh? Therefore?
Let's take 10 people most of whom know each other. 1 is racist and the other 9 are not. If we ask them the first question, we get 90% No, which is true.
If we ask them the second question, and 7 of the 9 know the racist guy, then we get 70% or 80% Yes, which is true.
How could they conclude that most people were lying?
Sheesh. Buncha idiots.
.
I forget where I read this, so I can't link to it, and the details aren't important anyway. It's been kicking around in my head for a few days.
Some group did an exit poll wherein they asked people if race made a difference in whom they'd be willing to vote for. An overwhelming number of people, something like 85% or 90%, said "No."
Then they asked the same people if they knew someone to whom race would make a difference, and a very large percentage said "Yes."
The part that bugs me is that the conclusion of the pollsters was that the numbers didn't jive, somebody must be lying, and therefore a lot more people were racist than were willing to admit it to the pollsters.
Huh? Therefore?
Let's take 10 people most of whom know each other. 1 is racist and the other 9 are not. If we ask them the first question, we get 90% No, which is true.
If we ask them the second question, and 7 of the 9 know the racist guy, then we get 70% or 80% Yes, which is true.
How could they conclude that most people were lying?
Sheesh. Buncha idiots.
.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
1244 Just Like? Not Quite.
Somewhere in the middle of the night...Saturday into Sunday, May 13, 2007
In the previous entry, speaking of Jay's elder sister, I said, "She's very like her father - figures that once she's thought something out, she's obviously right and any additional information is superfluous. She'll ride right over objections. "
Perhaps that was an overstatement. The father was often very difficult to take. He would very often listen impatiently to what one had to say, and then respond "Well, that's the stupidest thing I ever heard."
"Stupid" was his favorite word. He used it often.
Anything popular was stupid. All television was stupid. Purchasing any car other than a Volvo was stupid. Anything outside his habit was stupid. He showed up unexpectedly on our doorstep at lunchtime one day (we understood he'd be arriving the next day), and the only thing I had to offer him for lunch was leftover chicken vegetable stirfry from the night before. His response? "That's not a proper lunch." Duh? I had to make a deli run to get him a turkey sandwich. And it couldn't be ready-made. I had to have the deli package the ingredients all separately and then assemble it at home. Deli-made sandwiches were "stupid".
When we went to France, he had every minute, and that's not an exaggeration, mapped out.
7:00 am - wake up
7:30 am - breakfast
8:12 am - check out of hotel
8:22 am - start drive to Arles
11:40 am - purchase bread and cheese in xxx village
11:55 am - eat lunch in park in yyy village
12:25 pm - resume drive
2:30 pm - arrive Arles, check into hotel
2:50 pm - go see ruins
... and so on. I have an actual itinerary from one of our trips, and it really does look like that, for three weeks worth!
I had never seen the Mediterranean, and I have this thing about wanting to touch water - I have touched the Atlantic, and the Pacific, and the Caribbean, and the Mississippi, and the Missouri, and the Red River, and so on, and when we were passing very close to the Mediterranean Sea, I could catch glimpses through the buildings, I wanted to stop for just a moment so I could run down to the water and touch it, and he said no, because it would put us off schedule.
He was very difficult to deal with. It's no wonder YSH disliked him.
We butted heads a lot at first, but I persevered and actually won a few disagreements with him, and he gradually grew to respect my opinion. It eventually got to where he'd say "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard", and I'd lash back "No it's not!", and he'd laugh, and then he'd listen.
He's what Jay grew up with. Every once in a while, Jay would get frustrated with something he was trying to do, and he would suddenly flip out and beat himself really hard on his temples with his fists, shouting "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" He wasn't himself then. I'd have to grab his head in my arms and calm him. I used to wonder how much "Stupid!" he got in his childhood. I suspect that precious little of what he ever did was good enough.
Well, now the father is old. A succession of caregivers rules his every moment. They've taken control away from him. I feel sorry for him. I seem to be the only person he can express his frustration to. When he tries to tell his daughters he wants to be able to set his own schedules or whatever, they respond, "Oh, Dad. That's stupid. They're just doing what's best for you...."
He's just a bewildered old man now.
And suddenly YSH can stand him?
Yeah, sure. Ok.
.
In the previous entry, speaking of Jay's elder sister, I said, "She's very like her father - figures that once she's thought something out, she's obviously right and any additional information is superfluous. She'll ride right over objections. "
Perhaps that was an overstatement. The father was often very difficult to take. He would very often listen impatiently to what one had to say, and then respond "Well, that's the stupidest thing I ever heard."
"Stupid" was his favorite word. He used it often.
Anything popular was stupid. All television was stupid. Purchasing any car other than a Volvo was stupid. Anything outside his habit was stupid. He showed up unexpectedly on our doorstep at lunchtime one day (we understood he'd be arriving the next day), and the only thing I had to offer him for lunch was leftover chicken vegetable stirfry from the night before. His response? "That's not a proper lunch." Duh? I had to make a deli run to get him a turkey sandwich. And it couldn't be ready-made. I had to have the deli package the ingredients all separately and then assemble it at home. Deli-made sandwiches were "stupid".
When we went to France, he had every minute, and that's not an exaggeration, mapped out.
7:00 am - wake up
7:30 am - breakfast
8:12 am - check out of hotel
8:22 am - start drive to Arles
11:40 am - purchase bread and cheese in xxx village
11:55 am - eat lunch in park in yyy village
12:25 pm - resume drive
2:30 pm - arrive Arles, check into hotel
2:50 pm - go see ruins
... and so on. I have an actual itinerary from one of our trips, and it really does look like that, for three weeks worth!
I had never seen the Mediterranean, and I have this thing about wanting to touch water - I have touched the Atlantic, and the Pacific, and the Caribbean, and the Mississippi, and the Missouri, and the Red River, and so on, and when we were passing very close to the Mediterranean Sea, I could catch glimpses through the buildings, I wanted to stop for just a moment so I could run down to the water and touch it, and he said no, because it would put us off schedule.
He was very difficult to deal with. It's no wonder YSH disliked him.
We butted heads a lot at first, but I persevered and actually won a few disagreements with him, and he gradually grew to respect my opinion. It eventually got to where he'd say "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard", and I'd lash back "No it's not!", and he'd laugh, and then he'd listen.
He's what Jay grew up with. Every once in a while, Jay would get frustrated with something he was trying to do, and he would suddenly flip out and beat himself really hard on his temples with his fists, shouting "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" He wasn't himself then. I'd have to grab his head in my arms and calm him. I used to wonder how much "Stupid!" he got in his childhood. I suspect that precious little of what he ever did was good enough.
Well, now the father is old. A succession of caregivers rules his every moment. They've taken control away from him. I feel sorry for him. I seem to be the only person he can express his frustration to. When he tries to tell his daughters he wants to be able to set his own schedules or whatever, they respond, "Oh, Dad. That's stupid. They're just doing what's best for you...."
He's just a bewildered old man now.
And suddenly YSH can stand him?
Yeah, sure. Ok.
.
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