Right Wing Nation

As you may or may not know, I ordered a copy of the book we used in high school Algebra I class many years ago (see here and here). Now indulge me, please. Imagine for a moment that you have been out of high school over three decades, that you have been teaching a substantial amount of time since, and you got a copy of the textbook you used in your favorite class. What would you do? What would you say?

There are many things I could say about this textbook, or by extension, New Math (New Math proper, space race math, not the current fuzzy math, which is sometimes confusingly called New Math). I could zoom in on exercises (I’ve done that), or the organization of the textbook. And do I take a student’s perspective or an educator’s perspective?

This article has gone through about fifteen false starts because I kept changing my mind about what I wanted it to be. At one point, I was going to use the textbook to critique New Math using the intent of the architects as my perspective, but decided against it–so there are no critiques of New Math linked in this article, and I purged them from my memory as best I could. I decided instead to take a unique perspective: Not what was New Math designed to do and how, but as both a student of New Math (with a textbook to refresh my memory) and an educator, what did I learn from New Math, what were its greatest strengths, and what were its greatest weaknesses?

The textbook is Pearson and Allen’s Modern Algebra: A Logical Approach, and I’d like to begin by giving the basic organization of the textbook, which I will use later.

1. Sets
2. The Number Line
3. Expressions and Sentences
4. Logic
5. Operations with the Numbers of Arithmetic
6. The Real Numbers
7. Division of Real Numbers
8. Factors and Exponents
9. Polynomials and Rational Expressions
10. The Real Number Plane
11. Radicals
12. Functions and Other Relations

Those who are unfamiliar with New Math will most likely be surprised by the appearance of sets, much less its place as the first chapter. But set theory was a fundamental component of New Math, and we started learning about sets in elementary school, then by the time we were in high school, Boolean algebra. New Math grounded nearly everything in set theory. For example, we never talked about the solution to a problem, but the solution set.

The second and third chapters are definitional, and along with the first chapter on sets, lead up to the fourth chapter: Logic. These four chapters form the foundation upon which the rest of the textbook (and course) rests.

This textbook rests on the premise that all mathematics is grounded in logic. This first section of the textbook ends with a chapter on logic, but logic problems continue in every chapter that follows. We did not just do proofs in geometry (though we certainly did many); we did proofs in all four years of high school math, using algebraic expressions, Boolean algebra, and set theory. Proofs–logic problems–were presented as an integral part of mathematics.

Here is an example proof from the functions chapter of the texbook (and I’m not doing this again, because this was an incredible pain in the ass):

If you’re not a math geek, you’re shuddering in horror, I know. But logic problems were presented in many forms, not just formal proofs. Here is one from the beginning of the logic chapter:

What conclusion can be drawn from the following pair of statements?

John is a freshman
All freshmen study mathematics

It’s important to understand that mathematics didn’t take a back seat to logic. Only in the logic chapter do logic problems predominate. But logic is presented througout the book, both in examples and problems. Logic is the basis upon which mathematics rests, and logic is also used to lend further depth to explanations and definitions, as well as test learning (see the functions chapter logic problem above). New Math was "proofy" because of the fundmental importance of logic in mathematics.

New Math was also rigorous. It was, if you will, the antithesis of fuzzy math. We lived, breathed, ate, drank, slept, and dreamed expressions, inequalities, and equations. This isn’t to say that most of our problems, or math work, was of the "solve the equation" variety. At least half of the problems were so-called "story problems." But they rapidly became more complex as we advanced through the course. (I should probably also say that back then, we didn’t have AP or honors courses, but two course tracks, college and vocational, and though you could take courses from the other track–my parents forced me to take typing, and it’s one of the most valuable courses I’ve ever taken–most did not. So you were placed in one track or the other by the school advisor based on ability, and the students who would have struggled the most with this material were taking accounting instead of algebra–and that’s not meant as a sneer, by the way, just an explanation. Nobody then expected every student or most students to go to college; only a little over 14% of my graduating class went to college. College track courses were all rigorous, even English, though math was probably the most rigorous of all.)

If you glance through the text, you see that every example is presented using the same series of formalistic steps. We began learning this series–methodology, if you will–in elementary school. This formalistic approach to problem solving was highly detailed, often to the point of seeming silly to the math-inclined, but it had a purpose: We learned a coldly logical, step-by-step method for dissembling and solving a problem, and the same general methodology could be applied to any problem, not just 4th grade math or algebra or trigonometry. We were learning logic without realizing we were learning logic.

There was also a strong focus on process and understanding that went hand-in-hand with this formalism. In elementary school, for example, we learned long division by dividing into hundreds, then tens, then ones, instead of the traditional method our parents learned. It was the same long division and the same ultimate process–but the idea was to make sure we understood what we were doing.

As a student and an educator, I would say that the integration of mathematics and logic was highly successsful. It almost had to be, as consistently as the two were presented together. This was one of the strongest attributes of New Math. The other was the methodology, or rather the way it could be applied to any problem. I took this with me when I graduated, and it has served me very well since.

New Math had its flaws. Our parents hated it, because they didn’t understand the focus on process (because they were never asked to understand or even see the process). This was probably the one thing that contributed more to the death of New Math than anything else (I suspect our parents finally went over the edge when the government tried to get us to adopt the metric system–this and New Math was just too much).

New Math took excellent ideas and, I think, pushed them too far, almost as if those who designed the curriculum were writing it for future mathematicians (which they were, but that was unrealistic, and ultimately, destructive). I don’t object to rigor and feel there is far too little in math as it is currently taught, but as someone who has a great deal of curriculum design experience, I can only say that there was too much information that had to presented in too little time. When I look over the textbook as an educator, I wonder how anyone could get through all that material. We did, of course, but if you fell behind, you stayed behind. Math was a sink or swim course–like the two-semester ten-credit calculus and analytic geometry for math majors when I was an undergraduate. In English class, at least, from time to time you could tread water for a couple of minutes, but in math class, you barely had time to breathe. Too much. Way too much.

Although I understand the importance of set theory in mathematics, even I, major math geek that I was, did not understand the heavy emphasis of set theory in the math curriculum. Set theory was poorly incorporated, and at times, seemed tangential, if not sometimes irrelevant. And it goes almost without saying that this was yet another thing our parents hated about New Math, given that they had never heard of a set or an operation or a union or an intersection or a member.

New Math could be retooled to fix the problems, certainly. But the most striking about perusing the text has also been the most depressing. You won’t see math textbooks this rigorous used for undergraduates, save for math major courses. There is no way this material with this level of rigor and logic could be taught in today’s schools without a revolution in the educational system–and I say revolution because everything would have to change. The purpose of education. Expectations of students (and teachers). Attitudes toward student work, in and out of class. Assessment and teaching methods. Everything. And the revolution would have to change the whole system, from the first grade up. Even with such a revolution, the only way we could go back to this level of material and rigor would be to begin in elementary school, like New Math did. Throwing something like this textbook at high school students today would be a disaster. They would sink like stones.

And that’s a sad thing, when you think about it.

California is stifling the creativity of drivers! (Darren, you really ought to turn that into an online petition.)

I downloaded the NRA Ratings for 2006, and graphed the data to see how Congress rates. Let’s start with Congress. First, let’s look at the NRA ratings (A+, A, A-, etc.) by party to see how they compare, starting with the raw numbers:

I then conflated the ratings (A+, A, and A- all became A) to make the data easier to interpret. Here are the same data by party for each conflated rating as percentages:

And here is Congress as a whole:

So is the stereotype of Republicans being more supportive of the Second Amendment true? Here are the NRA Ratings for Republicans in Congress:

And here are the Democrats:

The data speak for themselves. And finally, more to satisfy my own curiosity as anything else, here are Indiana and Pennsylvania:

And for jimmyb, here are Ohio’s:

Could be better–but a lot worse, too.

One of Hollywood’s biggest, and most culturally important, movies came out thirty years ago this coming Friday. Do you know what it is?

This movie when it came out cured Hollywood of its “morally conflicted” disease, and then eventually contracted and died of the same disease. Do you know what it is?

Star Wars. Lileks says:

Let’s step back and remind ourselves how the movie changed everything. Sure, it got producers addicted to big summer blockbusters, but “Jaws” had already started that trend. Granted, it helped sweep away all the off-kilter independent visions that populated ’70s cinema, but hey, no one ever stopped Robert Altman from shooting a funky, multiplot film about 27 quirky people on a giant orbital death-star. Most important, it became cool to be a sci-fi dork.

What did dorks have before? Sci-fi movies either included Charlton Heston or the threat of Charlton Heston, and they were all depressing. “Planet of the Apes”: The world had been nuked. “Beneath the Planet of the Apes”: The world was nuked again, for good measure. “Soylent Green”: eco-collapse, overpopulation, institutional cannibalism and men wearing scarves knotted at the throat. “Omega Man”: everyone wiped out by a virus, except for pasty zombie army led by a former TV anchorman. The hero always died at the end. Roll credits. Commence bumming.

“Star Trek” was dead; “Space: 1999,” a ridiculous show about riding around the universe on the moon, was deeply cool and satisfying — if you were 8. No, it was a bleak, grim era for people who want to see doors slide open with a little “woosh” sound. Into this morass of gloom came “Star Wars,” and yea, it was everything the culture had denied us — er, had denied geeks. It had good guys and bad guys, no competing shades of moral doubt, plus lasers. Lots of lasers. It had the best special effects ever seen on the screen, from the complex and kinetic spacecraft battles to Princess Leia’s motionless earmuff hairstyle. Villains? From the moment Darth Vader walked into the hallway and spoke in James Earl Jones’ commanding baritone-of-death, we had the villain for the ages.

Little did we know that the entire stupid thing would end up to be about Darth Vader and his problems. Granted, it was nice that he found his Good Side at the end, but that doesn’t exactly make up for killing untold billions of people. Prequels included, the series still ends with Darth Vader smiling from the afterlife while Ewoks dance, which is like ending “Band of Brothers” in a disco roller-rink with Hitler doing the Hustle with Gene Kelly. But that was still a long time away when the first movie ended.

And what an ending, eh? Han Solo — Harrison Ford in his first great relaxed performance, and his last — conquers his selfishness and redeems himself. Luke uses the Force — which is sort of like magnetism, plus ethics — and blows up Peter Cushing and his Death Star, along with untold engineers, support staff, kitchen workers, etc. The movie could have ended there, but no: It concluded with an awards ceremony. At the shank end of the post-Vietnam, post-Watergate, Carter-era malaise and ennui, Lucas filmed a movie that ended with a princess giving medals to heroes.

After a generation of movies with tortured antiheroes who couldn’t order a sandwich without making A Statement, it seemed remarkably fresh.

Thirty years ago, folks. I’d better order a hearing aid to go with that wheelchair.

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Not only does the screen tell you what engine you’re utilizing, it also displays your rectal temperature–in both Fahrenheit and Celsius!

Penn Jilette on the Toyota Prius.

I loved grilled cheese sandwiches as a kid. Then as I got older, I fell out of love with them–or so I thought for a while, until I realized what had happened was that as I got older, my palate changed, and so did my taste in cheese. Everybody likes cheese, but my grandfather and I were the cheese nuts. When I was a kid, he and I used to argue about cheese. I was a kid, so I liked mild, and he was an adult, so he liked sharp.

He was right, of course. Cheese can’t be too sharp. I rediscovered grilled cheese sandwiches when I first made one with a good, aged, sharp cheddar.

That’s what I had for lunch. I have a big hunk of aged, sharp, buttery, raw milk Vermont cheddar. I cut a few slices, put it between two slices of bread, and grilled it in butter. It was amazingly good.

Grilled cheese for adults.

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You won’t see too many fat-free recipes from me, and even fewer fat-free desserts. But I have one that I promise you’ll make over and over again. You’ll need an ice cream freezer, ice, and rock salt.

Raspberry (or Blackberry) Ice

This is not a sherbet or a sorbet. This is a fruit ice. This makes a purple product that is intense, concentrated, pure berry flavor. This is always a hit, and makes a good dessert after a heavy meal. This contains no dairy, only water, so it both freezes and melts rapidly. As soon as it’s done, package it and put it in the freezer.

1 quart raspberries or blackberries (or boysenberries, you get the idea)
1 c. sugar
1 c. water
lemon juice to taste

Add the sugar to the berries and smoosh up some. Add the water, stir, and let sit a good thirty minutes or an hour, until really juicy. Run through a food mill (easier in batches of two or three). Taste. If the berries are tart, you may need to add more sugar (and remember, you want the mix sweeter than the product, so oversweeten it just a bit). Add a few squirts of lemon juice, to taste.

Pour into the freezer container and freeze just like you would ice cream. The minute it’s done, wipe the canister thoroughly with a towel (unless you like salty fruit ice) and put into a container with a tight-fitting lid. Freeze immediately, for at least two hours before you take it out.

American Justice just started. The description for the episode is: “A confession can harm a defendant’s case in the justice system.”

Really?

But of course, Bill starts right off, wringing his hands and talking about how lonely the poor murderer is.

I’m changing the channel before I throw something at the TV.

Should you be traveling or moving between Pennsylvania and Indiana, you might find this useful. Firearms regulations in Indiana and Pennsylvania are very similiar, but there are a few differences.

De facto gun registration

Indiana has none. Period. Pennsylvania does (the state supremes ruled that it wasn’t gun registration because it wasn’t called gun registration). If you buy a gun in Pennsylvania, it goes into a database. That’s why I haven’t bought a gun here (it’s not like I didn’t already have quite a few).

License requirements

Pennsylvania can require references, which Indiana does not. If you have a gun-friendly sheriff in Pennsylvania, it shouldn’t take more than 15 or 20 minutes to get your license. Less gun-friendly sheriffs are likely to require references and make you wait, but Pennsylvania is a shall-issue state, so if you pass the check, you get your LCTF. You must be 21 in Pennsylvania to get an LCTF. (You can get your photo put on it for an additional fee.)

Indiana is a bit more complicated, because the local sheriff fingerprints you and does an initial check, then the State Police do the check and issue the CHL (if you live in an incorporated community, you’ll probably go to the police station, not the sheriff’s office). In Indiana, you can either get a four-year CHL or a lifetime CHL (only the fees are different). Here is the procedure for either:

1. Go to the sheriff’s office or local police station with your Indiana DL, and tell them you want to apply for a CHL. They’ll give you a half-page application to fill out; there are two boxes, Target/Hunting and Personal Protection. If they didn’t check Personal Protection, do it when you fill it out.
2. They will take your application and fingerprint you, then tell you to come back, usually in a week. They may ask you for the ten-dollar fee then, or when you return (fifty dollars if you are applying for a lifetime CHL). Cash or money order only.
3. When you go back, they will give you your application with a large envelope addressed to the State Police firearms division. Drop it in the mail, along with a thirty-dollar money order (seventy-five dollars for a lifetime CHL).
4. In 4-12 weeks, you will receive a letter from the Indiana State Police, printed on pink paper. Cut out the CHL, and take it to Kinko’s to be laminated.

You must be 18 (not 21) in Indiana to have a CHL.

Recognition of other states’ licenses

Indiana recognizes all states’ gun licenses, which leads to some problems for Hoosiers. The Indiana AG does not actively pursue legal reciprocity agreements with other states (and why would you, if you recongized all fifty), so relatively few states recognize an Indiana license. Pennsylvania recognizes licenses from fourteen other states (New Hampshire, Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Michigan, Kentucky, Tennessee, Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas, Wyoming, South Dakota, and Alaska).

Warning: If you are traveling to the area known as the Region, just across the state line from Chicago (Gary, East Chicago, etc.), know that the law enforcement in the area is not at all gun friendly, no matter what state law may say. Be low key.

Vehicle carry

Indiana prohibits carrying firearms in a vehicle without a license (this has no exceptions, not even from the gun store back to your home, although you do not need a license to keep firearms on your own property–if you buy a gun in Indiana and do not have a CHL, follow federal transportation regulations). However, Indiana has no restrictions on whether the gun is loaded, whether it is in the open or concealed, or where it may be kept. Pennsylvania also does not restrict how you may carry in a vehicle, and requires a license to carry in the vehicle, but unlike Indiana, has a whole list of exceptions (see the state info page on packing.org).

Neither Indiana nor Pennsylvania requires you to tell a law enforcement officer that you are armed.

Open carry

Indiana issues a LCH/CHL (license to carry a handgun), not a concealed-carry license. Concealed, open, you have to have a license, but open carry is legal in Indiana (just not necessarily advisable). Pennsylvania issues a LTCF (license to carry firearms), but it’s reallly a concealed-carry license, since you require no license to open carry in Pennsylvania (except for Philadelphia). You must, however, have a license to carry in your vehicle.

Private sales

Indiana requires no check for private sales. Pennsylvania does.

Cultural climate

In Indiana, the Region is a gun-hostile area in an otherwise extremely gun-friendly state; I have never heard reports of Indianapolis being gun-hostile, and have never had any trouble there. Pennsylvania is also a very gun-friendly state, other than Philadelphia, and I understand Pittsburgh (the interim Sheriff there, from what I’ve read on the packing.org forums, is not gun-friendly, though Allegheny County is historically one of the most gun-friendly areas in the state). Despite the interim Sheriff’s attitude toward the Second Amendment, Pittsburgh is not nearly as gun-hostile as Philadelphia. From what I’ve been told, if you carry in Philly, be very low key. The biggest issue in Allegheny County (Pittsburgh) seems to be that the interim Sheriff makes applicants wait 45 days instead of issuing LTCFs on the day of application.

I have never seen a NO FIREARMS sign anywhere in the state of Indiana. Note that you do see them at every rest area in Ohio (though not Pennsylvania). I have seen NO FIREARMS signs on a couple of businesses here.

Indiana is a Castle Doctrine state (you are not required by law to retreat before using deadly force). Pennsylvania is not. If your firearm is stolen, then used in a crime, you cannot be sued or charged in the state of Indiana. You can be in Pennsylvania. Not even in the Region do Indiana prosecutors try to charge you in clear cases of self-defense. The only such stories I’ve seen here in Pennsylvania are in Philadelphia (and only a couple since we’ve moved here); other than those, Pennsylvania prosecutors do not try to bring charges in clear cases of self-defense. In Indiana, an employer is prohibited from banning guns in the parking lot. In Pennsylvania, this is not the case.

Red areas on the maps below indicate not-so-gun-friendly counties in both states.

Finally, Ohio recognizes neither Indiana nor Pennsylvania licenses, so follow federal transportation regulations when driving between Indiana and Pennsylvania. And note that on I-70 all the way across Ohio, there are often speed traps, and the State Police will stop you for going even five mph over the speed limit. I’ve made the trip several times now, and half the time, they are everywhere–I was also stopped once, for going only five mph over (he just verbally warned me). Beware. I would probably not volunteer that I had firearms in the car to an Ohio police officer, unless for whatever reason, he would find out on his own. Follow federal regulations.

I couldn’t be there, but pics are posted from the local outing to the range–it looks like this could become a regular event. It’s a public range, and it’s a real mess–not that I’m implying a relationship (cough, cough).

In our recent, off-year, primary election with a 55.71% turnout, 59.86% of the total ballots cast were Republican and 40.14% Democrat.

We must “celebrate our differences,” yet never acknowledge that any differences exist. See the Larry Summers fiasco.

Obesity is a national emergency, yet so is mass starvation–and the solution to both, of course, is more nanny-statism.

Bush (or Rove, or Cheney, or the RNC) is too stupid to tie his shoes, yet masterminded 9/11, Katrina, etc.

Bush (or Rove, or Cheney, or the RNC) masterminded 9/11, Katrina, etc., yet couldn’t manage to plant WMDs in Iraq.

And the list goes on and on . . .

Crossposted on Kitchen Table Math.

Science Goddess is discussing the idea of giving Incompletes in secondary school (thanks to Joanne Jacobs for pointing it out–I’m not sure how I missed it on my first read through the Carnival this week). In the comments, I said that I’d have to think about it, but that my first reaction was that this was a remarkably bad idea.

The more I thought about it, the worse it seemed. It would have been bad enough if it were assigning an Incomplete for the whole class, but it’s even more disastrous because it’s assigning Incompletes for assignments. So if little Jimmy doesn’t do his homework, instead of getting a zero for it, he gets an Incomplete (and we’ll ignore the fact that Jimmy has earned an F, or perhaps leave it for another day).

We university types know something about Incompletes. Students ask for Incompletes all the time, and nearly always, the answer is “No,” and for very good reasons. I’ve had this conversation with so many faculty members and grad students that I know it’s not just my, or even a minority opinion. Incompletes are bad all the way around, for lots of different reasons. And the best example that the university–not just me or a handful of us–knows that Incompletes are bad is your nearest university policy on giving Incompletes. The typical university states that they should be given only in extraordinary circumstances beyond the control of the student. As another example, many universities also have policies that convert Incompletes into Fs after a specified time limit, usually a year.

Certainly, there are a handful of faculty who hand Incompletes out like candy, but they are a very small minority (or newly-minted PhDs who have next to no teaching experience). Incompletes are trouble all the way around, for the faculty member, for the university administration, and most of all, for the student.

Several commented that giving Incompletes sends the message that deadlines aren’t important, and that’s a valid objection, though by no means the only one, or even the major one. More importantly, it sends the message that deadlines–and assignments–aren’t to be taken seriously, that work isn’t important, and that managing time isn’t important. Worst of all, it is grossly unfair to those students responsible enough to have done their work and turned it in on time–unforgivably unfair. Any teacher who would have handed out Incompletes in any class where I was a student to others who couldn’t be bothered to do their work would have earned my undying, intense, cold hatred, the type of hatred that makes fantasizing about that teacher’s gruesome, painful, tortuous death and screams of pain an erotic experience. And if I had children in a class and found out that the teacher was giving lazy little Jimmy an Incomplete instead of an F, you had better believe I would be in that teacher’s office raising hell until he changed the policy.

But all that aside, there are other excellent reasons not to give Incompletes under these circumstances. A student gets an Incomplete because he is behind. If you could wave a magic wand and stop the passage of time so Jimmy could get caught up, it wouldn’t be a problem–but you can’t. What invariably happens is that as the class moves on, Jimmy either forgets about the Incomplete and stays behind, or doesn’t, and gets further behind the rest of the class.

Most of the time, Jimmy forgets about the Incomplete, and never finishes it. This is why universities have implemented time limits on Incompletes, turning them into Fs if they aren’t completed within a specified time. Or if Jimmy doesn’t forget the Incomplete, he invariably turns in the paper or report or project at the very end of the semester, when the instructor is snowed with many hours of grading, recording grades, and turning in grades.

Jimmy assumes that his Incomplete will be given highest priority, but reality is the opposite (for obvious reasons). His report is put on the bottom of the already huge stack, or in a drawer so it won’t get lost, and all too often, the instructor is so snowed with grading and end of the semester duties that, well, Jimmy’s report falls through the cracks and turns into an F.

Jimmy’s Incomplete then becomes an administrative nightmare. Rarely is the problem going to be noticed by the instructor; after all, had the instructor remembered, he would have graded the report. No, Jimmy or his parents will discover the problem when the grades come, and then (pardon the French) seventeen different kinds of hell will explode. The administration will call the department chair onto the carpet, and the department chair will then chew out the instructor. The instructor will then have to find Jimmy’s report (where did I put that?), grade it, calculate a final course grade, file a change of grade form, and then explain to Jimmy that it can take the university up to a year before the grade change will be reflected on his transcript (ain’t bureaucracy wonderful?)

And those are university Incompletes, given as a course grade. The proposal under discussion is giving Incompletes as assignment grades. Say the teacher gives twenty assignments. Multiply the problems mentioned above by twenty.

The best thing I can say about this idea is that any teacher who implements it will drop it after he recovers from his nervous breakdown.

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Via Born Again Redneck, Boortz skewers the gasoline whiners:

My goodness, people! Don’t you realize that there are things in your life that you really need to be worrying about? What’s all this weeping and moaning over gas prices?

With every single paycheck the Imperial Federal Government seizes about 14% of the money you have earned. This money is put into an income redistribution fund from which you may or may not draw a check when and if you reach a certain age. Die too soon and that money goes to someone else .. not to your heirs. Live long enough and you may .. just may … get most of your money back, though there is no legal guarantee that you’ll get a cent.

Yet here you sit pissing and moaning about gas prices.

We did the math here last week, but let’s pull out the calculator again for those of you who don’t come here every day.

First, the figures:

According to the AAA, one year ago the price of regular was $2.929. Today that price is $3.114. That’s an 18.5 cents per gallon increase over the past year.

Now we go for the average gas mileage for cars in the U.S. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration says that as of 2004 the average mpg for new cars sold in the U.S. was 24.7. In 1980 it was 23.1. So, to make a point here, we’re going to go even below the average price for 1980. We’re going to use 20 mpg.

Now … for those of you who went to government schools, I’ll do the math for you. You’re driving your family of four 1400 miles to get to Disney World and back. That means you’ll be burning 70 gallons of gas at 20 mpg. The gas is now 18.5 cents more expensive than it was last year. Let’s go ahead and round that UP to 20 cents. So, we burn 70 gallons and each gallon costs 20 cents more than it cost last year. That’s going to cost you an amazing $14.00.

Oh My God! What an incredible tragedy! What a devastating blow to your finances! You’re going to have to spend $14.00 more to drive your family to Florida this year than you did last year! That’s $3.50 for each family member! How in the hell are you ever going to be able to afford this? Alert your local radio station news department! Call the newspaper! Sound the alarm! Americans are being crippled by these rising gas prices! Call your politician. Something has to be done about the evil oil companies! Get the government involved! We need more regulation!

Oh .. and you people driving to and from work need to be outraged too! Are you doing your share of the whining?

The average commute to and from work in this country is 16 miles. Now of course we know that cars don’t get the mileage on a stop-and-go commute as they do on the road, so we’re going to lower the gas mileage figure from 20 to 15. So, you’re driving 32 miles (on the average) to get to work and back every day. That is gobbling up about 2.13 gallons of gas. Go back to that 18.5 cents per gallon increase over last year and you’ll see that you’re spending about 40 cents more for gas for your commute this year than you were last year. That would be about $2.00 a week. Less than the price of a decaf skinny latte at Starbucks. A lot less.

Oh, the humanity! You’re spending less than the cost of three text messages on your cell phone every day to cover the increasing cost of gas! Tell your boss you’re going to have to quit! You just can handle this any more! Get fired! Go on unemployment! Forty cents a day! That’s it! Your back is broken!

Come on people, wake up! Your governments — local, state and federal — are stealing money from you every single day to fund vote-buying programs. Your local elected officials are ripping you off to support welfare artists and to study the mating habits of Polish zlotnika pigs. How do you think they feel when they see you griping about gas prices? They LOVE it! They steal you blind and there you sit complaining because you’re going to have to spend $14.00 more to drive your family to Disney World and back. They take 14% of the money you earn every day — money you may or may get back with virtually no interest — and you’re spinning around on your eyebrows because you’re spending 40 cents a day more to get to that job and back home again!

I’m not sure how I got out of the habit of reading Boortz every day.

I was hungry and had to run to the store anyway, so I decided to lunch at the Wegman’s internet café. I was thinking a piece of pizza when I walked in, but the pizza did not look appetizing, so I headed for the Chinese buffet. The Chinese at Wegman’s is sad, but then, so is all the other Chinese we’ve had here, and I was hungry.

I have (along with several others) certain principles when it comes to Chinese food:

• Avoid anything red or orange
• Avoid anything with a thick, sticky-looking glaze
• Absolutely avoid anything red or orange with a thick, sticky-looking glaze

However, from time to time, I got into temporary brain death, as I did today. There was something called “Peking Pork” that was both red and coated in lots of thick, sticky glaze. As if I were being controlled by some alien entity, I took a little. Not a lot. But a little.

There was also something called “Mongolian Pork,” which didn’t look awful–and it was neither red, nor coated with a sticky cornstarch glaze. So I loaded up with Mongolian Pork.

I tasted it, and found it sweeter than I would have liked. I was rather disappointed, so I tried the red, sticky stuff. Fudge isn’t as sweet as this stuff. This “Peking Pork” gave “cloying” a whole new depth of meaning. Shuddering, I went back to the Mongolian Pork.

Guess what? It no longer tasted even vaguely sweet! So I stumbled upon The Secret, and I’ll share it with you:

1. Find the reddest, stickiest looking item on the buffet (good bets are General Tso’s or Sesame Chicken, or Orange Anything). Take just enough for two or three bites.
2. Get whatever else you want that doesn’t look sweet.
3. Go back to table.
4. Taste non-sweet-looking items. If they aren’t sweet, consider the red, sticky stuff an offering to the Chop Suey gods and continue eating. If they are sweet,
5. Take a bite of the red, sticky item. Chew until you feel like you’re about to go into a sugar coma.
6. Return to other items, and behold! they no longer taste sweet.
7. If sweetness begins to creep back, repeat last two steps.

Here’s the archive of his articles.

I got my ELS data from NCES. I put the DVD in my drive and ran the installation program, and it set up a little query application. Fine so far. You run the application and get a list of data columns that mostly make sense (level of parental education). You go through the list, select the ones you want, then export the data.

The query application is fine. It’s when you open the exported file that everything gets bizarre.

In the query application, the column names make sense. But in the exported data, well, SCHID is okay for “School ID,” but EX3_4XN_6R just does not, in any way, map onto “math score.” Nor would any reasonable human being look at M4C_9X_3-2 and think, “reading score.” Sure, you can change them in Access or Excel or SPSS or SAS, but if you’re exporting, say, 15 columns of data, you’re in a world of hurt if you forget to write them down from the query application window before you export the data.

Where do they find these idiots who decide to represent “math score” with EX3_4XN_6R? My guess is that lousy database managers who got fired for incompetence in the private sector go to work for the Department of Education.

Is that cynical?

There are lots more problems, but if I get started, I’ll never stop . . .

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CNSNews:

A teenager in Ohio has sued Planned Parenthood affiliates in Cincinnati, alleging that when she sought an abortion, its employees failed to report that she was a victim of incest.

The lawsuit comes at a time Planned Parenthood in Los Angeles is fighting back against a pro-life activist who posed as a pregnant 15-year-old and recorded a clinic employee suggesting that she lie about her age to avoid filing a statutory rape report.

The suit in Ohio alleges that when the girl sought an abortion in November 2004 — she was 16 years old at the time — she told Planned Parenthood staff that her father was the baby’s father and that he had been raping her since 2000.

It alleges that the employees did not comply with Ohio law, which requires them to report suspicion of rape and incest to authorities. The suit charges that failure to report the rape led to another year and a half of abuse.

That’s what I call a big oops. I think Planned Parenthood had better drop that ludicrous lawsuit.

I had a colleague, a young’un who grew up during the 80s, who tried to tell me once that music in the 70s was “all white.” ‘Scuse me? How did he get that? The 70s was when Stevie Wonder broke out of the Motown mold and came into his own. And forget Christina Aguilerra or even Gloria Estefan. We had Santana–the original Latin rock band, and still by far the best.

Here they are in 1986, jamming Black Magic Woman/Gypsy Queen (Abraxas, 1970). Listen to Carlos Santana’s intro solo–the man is a guitar god:

Oye Como Va–amazing:

From 1998 (there’s a video from 73, but the quality is so bad that it’s distracting), Samba Pa Ti–Carlos at his best. Does anybody even record instrumentals anymore?

When we saw Santana, we were awestruck all night. It’s amazing what beautiful sounds he can create with that guitar.

Best rockers on stage, even compared to Zeppelin (though Zeppelin comes in at a close second). From their first album, Aerosmith, released in 1973, their signature rock ballad, Dream On. It’s obviously not from the 70s. They’re older, and Tyler isn’t as energetic, but it’s still damned good stuff:

Rockin Walk This Way (from Toys in the Attic, 1975):

And Sweet Emotion (also from Toys in the Attic):

Now they’re doing theme songs for movies. Who’d'a thunk? Aerosmith was about as far from respectable back then as it got–then, who expected Steve Tyler to become a Republican? Who expected me to become a Republican?

Hands down the gods of progressive rock, Yes was the only progrock band that wasn’t a studio band (well, except for ELP), and jammed on stage. Yes was a guaranteed hot show. Laser and light show, and who needs psychedelics when you’re seeing Yes in concert? Yes was a psychotropic experience. Progressive rock died when it got too progressive, and too far away from rock, but Yes carried the torch even when the others faded away. ELP was great, but on keyboards, Keith Emerson couldn’t hold a candle to Rick Wakeman–nobody could. Pink Floyd was great too, but they were a studio band. Back then, bands didn’t lug symponies along with them (speaking of, remember the godawful Moody Blues?)

Understand, nobody did songs in concert the same way they were recorded. Bands jammed in concert. A third of what you heard was improvisation. Concerts were spontaneous. Bands went on tour to promote a new album before it came out. Bands went on tour to promote it after it came out. Bands went on tour between albums. That’s what bands did back then (no MTV, remember).

I only got to see Yes once, one of the first concerts I saw. I was in a daze for weeks afterward (and not drug-induced). Everybody always bitched about Roundabout not being one of Yes’s best songs (too commercial, they said), but they jammed the hell out of Roundabout and had everybody going nuts when I saw them. Here’s Yes doing Roundabout in concert (same era, though I don’t know where):

And Rick Wakeman, the keyboard god, solo (love the bars of Jingle Bells):

Close to the Edge is pretty long, and divided into two parts (the intro is over three minutes), so here are the links:

Part 1

and part 2.

Gather round, kids, let me tell you what life was like when I was a kid (well, high school, undergrad, that age). There were no CDs or optical technology. We had turntables and albums. There was no MTV. In fact, nobody had heard of a music video. You had two options: You could listen to the album, or go to a concert.

It was the arena rock era. There were studio bands–bands that produced most of their sound artificially in the studio–but they didn’t tour as much as the other bands (for obvious reasons). Most bands toured a lot, and if you were willing to travel, often not too far, you could see a lot of concerts.

Concerts weren’t the comparatively sedate events they are now, all sterilized and PC, with big projectors, there was no choreography (Paula Abdul would never have found a job), and singers didn’t wear headphone mikes. If Madonna had toured, people would have said, “What’s this crap?” and walked out. Smoking? Oh yeah, and much of it wasn’t tobacco. Concerts were by default festival seating, meaning there were no assigned seats, and the floor was open. You didn’t sit; you stood. Concerts then were like raves today (unless you were at a Grateful Dead concert, where everybody was so looped out on acid they kind of plopped down and said “Groovy, dude!” endlessly). And concerts were a lot cheaper. I remember being offended that Led Zeppelin was charging $8.50 a ticket (but I went).

Here, as far as I can recall (and for reasons we won’t go into here, my memory from that era is rather fuzzy), are all the bands I saw in concert.

• Beach Boys
• Jethro Tull (twice)
• Aerosmith (I remember four times and once several people insisted I attended but didn’t remember, hardly surprising, given the “state of my consciousness” at the time)
• Rolling Stones
• Santana
• Rod Stewart
• Jeff Beck
• Eric Clapton
• Led Zeppelin (twice)
• Hawkwind
• Genesis
• Yes (with Wakeman)
• J. Geils Band
• Joe Walsh
• Crosby, Stills, and Nash
• Jefferson Starship
• Black Oak Arkansas (don’t ask)
• Deep Purple
• Uriah Heep

The Beach Boys, believe it or not, put on a fun concert. It was very uncool at the time, but we had a lot of fun there. I was never much of a Tull fan, but they did put on one hell of a show–though of all the bands I’ve seen, Aerosmith put on by far the best concerts–Steve Tyler gives “rocked the house” a whole new meaning. The Stones concert was unlike those of the era and more like those today: in a huge stadium without festival seating (that is, we all had assigned seats) and we were FAR away from the stage, so it’s hard to say what the show was like. Yes, Santana, Zeppelin, and Jeff Beck tie for second-place. All three really cooked, and as far as guitarists go, it’s hard to say which was the more jaw-droppingly amazing in person: Beck, Santana, or Page (Clapton was in his lame “I shot the sheriff” period). Joe Walsh was so fried when I saw him he could barely find the guitar. Unless you’re my age, you’ve probably never heard of Hawkwind. They were a short-lived progrock band, sort of a cross between Ziggy Stardust-era Bowie and Genesis. And Genesis was only okay in concert. They weren’t particularly into it, and they were more of a studio band, like Pink Floyd.

Crosby, Stills, and Nash were pretty soporific. But there was no way I was going to pass up the chance.

J. Geils and the Starship both sucked out loud. They were way too bombed. I didn’t expect much from Starship. They had just released that really sucky album, Dragonfly, and if that weren’t bad enough, they were all so burned out from so many years of dropping acid I doubt they knew they were on stage half the time. J. Geils had to stop four times during the concert, and didn’t do much when they were on. Black Oak Arkansas, we’ll just zoom right past that one and pretend it’s not on the list. I’m not sure how I got talked into going to see either Deep Purple (they weren’t that bad, actually, considering how bad their material was) or Uriah Heep, but that damned organ drove me as nuts in concert as it did on the recordings. I hated Uriah Heep. It’s a mystery how I got talked into seeing them live.

I had tickets to see the Who, but we didn’t get there and missed it (it’s a long story). I had several chances to see the Grateful Dead, but I never got it. That’s heresy to others of my generation, but what was the big deal? I always felt the Dead were a great way to cure insomnia, and not good for much else. Jerry Garcia? Yawn.

I wanted to see a number of bands I never did. Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. George Harrison (my favorite Beatle–you can keep McCartney and Lennon both). Heart (their first album, Dreamboat Annie, came out in 76, the same year as my last concert). I would have seen Zeppelin and Yes more often, had I had the opportunities. Zeppelin brings the house down (or did back then), and Yes was not a studio band. Close to the Edge in the concert hall, wow, that was a seriously spiritual experience. And Santana, you have to see them for yourself.

Then there were the bands I hated and gladly never saw, like the frakking Bee Gees (though they were a studio band and didn’t tour much), any of those banal, insipid, mawkish “folk” groups like Peter, Paul, and Mary (only a nine year-old could come up with lyrics as stupid, or think them profound), Fleetwood frakking Mac (the only band other than the “folk” groups I despise more than the frakking Bee Gees), Grand Funk Railroad (and how many times can you listen to “We’re an American band!” before throwing something across the room?), Kansas (twice people tried to drag me to see them), Kiss, and Peter “I love your way” frakking Frampton, with that stupid voice-pipe thing in his guitar.

I was a rock and roll man. I hated metal. Metal isn’t rock and roll. It’s crap. I hated metal as much as I hated “folk” or disco. Still do, in fact.

Interesting aside: I found this on wikipedia.

[Rick Wakeman] is a strong supporter of the UK’s Conservative Party, and performed a concert in September 2004 for the benefit of the party. The Arthur section of his King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table suite is used as the theme tune to the BBC’s Election Night Coverage since 1979 (with the exception of 2001). Wakeman’s album Fields of Green ‘97 featured the track Election ‘97/Arthur, which was used by the BBC for their coverage of the 1997 General Election. The music was further revamped for the BBC’s 2005 Election Night Coverage.

Blink! Who knew?

Nay, not so, says Andrew Ferguson, and he makes a good argument. Thanks to Betsy Newmark for the link.

Rather than comment on the debate itself (Sister Toldjah has a good rundown), because it wasn’t really a debate (you can’t have a debate with that many candidates), I’ll contrast the first and second debates. The first was brought to us by MSNBC and hosted by Chris Matthews, and the second was brought to us by Fox News and hosted by Brit Hume. Let’s contrast the questions asked:

Quiz time: One of the stations corresponds to the children, and the other corresponds to the adults. Which is which? And looking at the adult questions, is there any question why Democrats are afraid to debate on the Fox News Channel?

It’s official: Ron Paul a Space Alien

Thanks to Glenn Reynolds, I saw this :

Run-in changes lawmaker’s stance
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Phillip Morris
Plain Dealer Columnist

It’s funny how a gun can in stantly change your perspec tive on things, make you wish you could rewrite history.

State Rep. Michael DeBose, a southside Cleveland Democrat, discovered this lesson the night of May 1, when he thought he was going to die. That’s the night he wished he had that gun vote back.

DeBose, who had just returned from Columbus, where he had spent the day in committee hearings, decided to take a short walk up Holly Hill, the street where he has lived with his wife for the past 27 years.

It was late, but DeBose, 51, was restless. The ordained Baptist minister knew his Lee-Harvard neighborhood was changing, but he wasn’t scared. The idle, young men who sometimes hang out on his and adjacent streets didn’t threaten him.

He is a big man and, besides, he had run the same streets before he found Jesus - and a wife. That night, he just needed a walk.

The loud muffler on a car that slowly passed as he was finishing the walk caught his attention, though. When the car stopped directly in front of his house - three houses from where he stood - he knew there was going to be a problem.

“There was a tall one and a short one,” DeBose said, sipping on a McDonald’s milkshake and recounting the experience Friday.

“The tall one reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver gun. And they both started running towards me.”

“At first I just backed up, but then I turned around and started running and screaming.”

“When I started running, the short boy stopped chasing and went back to the car. But the tall boy with the gun kept following me. I ran to the corner house and started banging on Mrs. Jones’ door.”

It was at that point that the would-be robbers realized that their prey wasn’t worth the trouble. Besides, Cheryl, DeBose’s wife, and a daughter had heard his screams and had raced out to investigate. Other porch lights began to flicker on.

The loud muffler sped off, and DeBose started rethinking his gun vote.

DeBose twice voted against a measure to allow Ohioans to carry concealed weapons. It became law in 2004.

DeBose voted his conscience. He feared that CCW permits would lead to a massive influx of new guns in the streets and a jump in gun violence. He feared that Cleveland would become the O.K. Corral, patrolled by legions of freshly minted permit holders.

“I was wrong,” he said Friday.

“I’m going to get a permit and so is my wife.

“I’ve changed my mind. You need a way to protect yourself and your family.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I never again want to be in the position where I’m approached by someone with a gun and I don’t have one.”

DeBose said he knows that a gun doesn’t solve Cleveland’s violence problem; it’s merely a street equalizer.

“There are too many people who are just evil and mean-spirited. They will hurt you for no reason. If more people were packing guns, it might serve as a deterrent.

“But there obviously are far deeper problems that we need to address,” he added, as he suddenly seemed to realize he sounded like a gun enthusiast.

They say the definition of a conservative is a liberal who has been mugged. DeBose’s CCW application will bear some witness to that notion.

Of course, the real question is why it takes being attacked to re-activate the common sense gene.

You gotta see this.

The current school board found out that it’s not a good idea to just decide to waste 115 million dollars on an unneeded new school, do everything they can to silence the opposition, and ram it through. In perhaps the biggest upset in the county, all the incumbents lost the primary:

All the state party endorsed candidates won (too bad), and Kalmbach, the only challenger running for County Sheriff who bothered to put up a website so we could see his platform, won the GOP primary (I wrote in Denny Nau).

If you are so unfortunate as to have been reading the local rag since the last election, you’d be under the impression that the county has gone Democrat. I’ve seen at least six stories, all nothing but anecdotes, about how many people are supposedly changing their party registration from Republican to Democrat. Well, if that really did happen, all those people who changed their registration didn’t vote in the primary yesterday:

From the local rag:

ALLENTOWN, Pa. — Hazleton Mayor Lou Barletta, who gained national prominence by targeting illegal immigrants living in his small northeastern Pennsylvania city, cruised to the Republican nomination for a third term on Tuesday - and unexpectedly won the Democratic nomination, too.

Barletta trounced GOP challenger Dee Deakos with nearly 94 percent of the vote. And he beat former Mayor Michael Marsicano for the Democratic nomination by staging a last-minute write-in campaign, all but guaranteeing himself another term, unofficial returns showed.

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I was going to do more of these, then forgot about it. So to start it off, here’s a birkenstock and dreadlock wearing, slobbering at the mouth, “Bush is HITLER!” chili recipe, dedicated to those Seattle moonbats who make Dagoba free-range organic chocolate — indeed, in honor of crunchy limousine liberals everywhere, but particularly Seattle.

Chili Con Carne, Seattle Style

I had the beef from Sam’s Club (if you prefer it ground, may I suggest that you grind it with a coarse blade, or chili grind, as it’s known in the southwest). I normally use beef stock, but I’d used it up in that vegetable soup, so that was out. However, one of the stock items we buy at Sam’s are 14-ounce cans of diced tomatoes. I initially put in three, then decided I needed one more. I keep a large stock of dried chiles, so I had the guajillos. I like beans in my chili (yeah, yeah, yeah, sue me) and I had two 14-ounce cans of kidney beans (I prefer pintos, but you use what you have). Oh. And at Sam’s Club, I picked up this “Southwest Chipotle Seasoning,” and used it. Don’t bother. I guess to get any of the smoky chipotle flavor you have to use a lot.

First, make the guajillo paste, which will be the base for your chili (since it’s chili, I used more cumin than I normally would):

4 oz. (about 16) guajillos (Allergy warning: contains chiles!)
1 T. cumin seeds
1/2 T. oregano
8 black peppercorns
3 allspice berries (not enough to taste, just to bring out the brightness of the guajillos)
free-range lard or lard alternative

Toast guajillos on a hot griddle (be careful — it only takes a couple of seconds on each side), then cover with boiling water and soak for 30 minutes. Drain, reserving a scant cup of the soaking liquid. Stem and seed the chiles, and puree them in a food processor with the reserved soaking liquid. Grind the herbs and spices together.

In a large heavy pan, heat the lard (or lard alternative) over high heat, and add the puree and seasonings. Stir eleven times counter-clockwise, then eleven times clockwise, until the paste has darkened and thickened.

Now, finish the chili:

2 lbs. fair-trade, rainforest-friendly organic beef (cubed or ground), or fair-trade, rainforest-friendly organic beef alternative
4 14-oz. cans diced tomatoes (Allergy warning: contains tomatoes!)
2 14-oz. cans organic, free-range, environmentally-harmonious beans (Made in a facility that also uses tree nuts, milk protein, and soy!)
Fair-trade, rainforest-friendly sea salt to taste

5 eagle feathers, removed humanely and nurturingly from the eagle

2 human thigh bones or human thigh bone alternatives, removed non-humanely from white, Western, Christian, gang-raping, patriarchal males (Duke lacrosse team players, for example)

1 human skull, or human skull alternative, removed non-humanely from white, Western, Christian, gang-raping, patriarchal males (Duke lacrosse team players, for example), on a fair-trade silver chain

Holistic red, blue, and yellow sand, collected humanely from Mother Earth’s beaches (blue states only!)

Add the beef or beef alternative to the guajillo paste and mix well with eleven counter-clockwise, then eleven clockwise stirs. Add tomatoes, again mixing with eleven counter-clockwise, then eleven clockwise stirs.

Place eagle feathers in your hair, four in each of the four directions, and one sticking straight up (this represents the five directions of the Aztecs). Place pot in the middle of the kitchen floor (or kitchen floor alternative). Meditate on the nurturing aspects of the Holy Mother Goddess Coatlicue (She of the Serpent Skirt) as you trace concentric circles around the pot, first with the red sand, then the blue sand, then the yellow sand. Place the skull (or skull alternative) around your neck, then take a thigh bone (or thigh bone alternative) in each hand. Do an interpretive dance eleven times counter-clockwise, then eleven times clockwise about the pot as you chant to Holy Mother Goddess Coatlicue (She of the Serpent Skirt):

Oh Holy Mother Goddess! Oh Thou of the Serpent Skirt! Oh Thou who wearest human hearts and hands about thy neck! Hear me!

Oh, most feminist, most nurturing Mother Goddess, bless thou this chili!

Without disturbing the concentric circles of sand (they must remain until the chili is done), lift the pot off the floor, place back on the stove, and simmer the chili for at least two hours (five or six is even better). Thirty minutes before serving, add the beans. Season to taste with fair-trade, rainforest-friendly sea salt. As each person comes to eat the chili, let them (yes, I know it’s ungrammatical, but it’s not gender-specific!) bow three times to the concentric circles of sand on the kitchen floor (or kitchen floor alternative). When all have been served, sweep the sand up in eleven revolutions, first counter-clockwise, then clockwise.

If you’re taking this to a moonbat function, you really need to read this first!

Click here to see what I’m inhaling eating. And speaking of eating, I get a craving for fish about once every two years–that’s fish as in decent, God-fearing fresh-water fish, ideally trout or catfish, prepared and eaten as God intended, dipped in egg, rolled in cornmeal and flour, deep-fried, on a bun with tartar sauce. So I picked up a couple of catfish fillets at the store (no point in buying tartar–I can mix up my own).

Polar bears are drowning on Neptune–and it’s George Bush’s fault!

I’m a little late. The plum is still blooming, but the leaves are coming out, and the petals are falling off (click the pic to get a larger one):

And the dogs are practically living on the back porch–Dolly has to sniff, even when she’s thinking about taking a nap:

Unless of course Minnie comes around, and then Dolly starts thinking about playing:

In the front yard, the peony went from tiny to huge in a matter of days. Soon, we’ll have ants everywhere:

Sorry. Like I said I was late. I missed all the pear trees when they were in bloom (no leaves, nothing but white flowers). That’s St. Josef Stalin behind the trees, where I voted this morning:

The maple is going strong, though the oak needs to catch up:

Off to vote . . .