Soft as Pudding...

From a film review by Kyle Smith of the New York Post:

Young adults born in the 1980s and early 1990s leaped out of nicotine- and alcohol-free wombs to be deemed geniuses every time they passed a test, awarded trophies every time they caught a ball and tucked into comfy car seats on the victory ride over to their favorite sushi palace.

They took groovy public-service internships at an age when their grandfathers were sweating on assembly lines or being shot at by Nazis, lived with their parents until they were 28, then proceeded directly to their shrinks for marathon weeping sessions every time they messed up a project at work. They're as soft as pudding, and they know it. The Greatest Generation didn't need triathlons or X-treme skateboarding; every Friday night was a thrill ride after manual labor and eight Schlitzes.

Matches my experience in the city, but not so much out in the country, or on the farms that remain. Just read recently that the Marines and Army have a far higher proportion of farmers than one finds in the general population, reinforcing this notion...

Mimicking Nature Win!

A 13 year old kid discovered something interesting about solar cells, by observing trees.  Both are ways to collect the sun's power.  He observed that the collectors on trees (the leaves) are distributed in many small pieces, and not all are pointed the same way.  Solar cell arrays, generally speaking, are single rectangular arrays pointed in one direction.  By splitting up the solar cells and aiming them in many different directions, he discovered that the average power output was higher than a single array pointed in one direction.  Cool!

He did leave out a few important details, though.  For starters, many conventional solar arrays are mounted on systems that keep them pointed toward the sun.  That technique produces more power than splitting the array up into pieces.  But I think the biggest piece he left out is that many trees (especially temperate and arctic trees) have mechanisms to aim their leaves toward the sun.  This mechanism isn't perfect, but it does greatly improve the efficiency of the collectors.

His idea is still cool, though...

I suspect the results would have been much different had they been seeking the support of those with low GPAs – which is, basically, what our politicians are doing with respect to taxes...

The Final Step...

A parable for our times, via reader Jim M.:

It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then - just to loosen up and be a part of the crowd.

Inevitably, though, one thought led to another and soon I was more than just a social thinker.

I began to think alone -- "to relax," I told myself -- but I knew it wasn't true. Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking all the time.

That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother's.

I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix, but I couldn't help myself.

I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau, Muir, Confucius, Camus and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly that we are doing here?"

One day the boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job."

This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I confessed, "I've been thinking..."

"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!" "But Honey, surely it's not that serious." "It is serious," she said, her lower lip aquiver.

"You think as much as college professors and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on thinking, we won't have any money!"

"That's a fallacious syllogism," I said impatiently.

She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to deal with the emotional drama.

"I'm going to the library," I snarled as I stomped out the door.

I headed for the library, in the mood for some John Locke. I roared into the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass doors.

They didn't open. The library was closed.

To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night.

Leaning on the unfeeling glass and whimpering for Emerson, a poster caught my eye, "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it asked.

You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinkers Anonymous poster.

This is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker.

I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting.

I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home. Life just seemed easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking. I think the road to recovery is nearly complete for me.

Today I took the final step... I joined the Democratic Party.