statistics - bizarre indeed

Blogspot has a new tab/function on my page (well, I assume everyone else's too): Stats. I don't know if you can see it, or if it's only available to me. Being inveterately curious, I - of course - looked. It has a graph of page views vs. time. I can't tell if that includes me or not. (update:yes, it does) One tab in Stats provides a list of post titles and number of views for that particular page. The maximum by a looooong way was Scary Hairdos in the Reichstag on Election Day.

It also has a "traffic source", which makes no sense to me. It also leaves me wondering which country/corporation uses .tr This tab lists "Referring URL" and "Referring Sites". Neither one makes sense to me. Given this ... what's the point? I've been interested recently in how statistics is used to further misguide the ignorant/uneducated (which ever you think is less offensive a term, though I really do mean both). If so, these statistics are simply incomprehensible and therefore harmless. I think.

That said, the other function, Audience, is actually interesting, since it's graphic: a world map with countries (and US states) in different colors based upon viewing traffic, a text list of those countries, and pie charts indicating which browser program is used for looking at the page. I realize a large number of the US views might be myself, if the system doesn't consider whether or not I'm the viewer. But the rest of the world? Germany: a couple of friends & in-laws there. France: one in-law there. UK - French resident moved there. But ... Canada, Russia, Netherlands, India, Luxembourg, and Malaysia??

Inveterate curiosity sated: Went to list of how many views per post from today. My viewing is included in the numbers. Therefore the number of views from the US is not really *that* impressive, since a significant - if small - % is mine. I'm not in Turkey or Malaysia, though...

Congressional Intrigue, 19th Cent. Style

Have we sent persons here to intrigue with members ...?

No, sir, we have had no one here.

Have we stirred up the people into town meetings to aid us by memorials?

No such thing, sir.

Have we called meetings and induced honest mechanics to come here to influence Congress by idle fears, impressed upon them by those who are interested, to tell a tale that shall answer our purposes?

No, sir, we have pursued no such course.

Respectable merchants, I observe, form a part of the bank deputies--for what?

To represent the late fall of the price of flour as a consequence of the danger of the bank charter not being renewed, and thereby to alarm the minds of members.

I am sorry that men of such respectable character did permit themselves to come here on such an errand.

February 11, 1811
Abridgment of the Debates of Congress, from 1789 to 1856
Benton, Thomas Hart
arguing about eliminating the U.S. Bank



Of course, the next week's letter from Pres. Monroe explaining why the United States was justified in the use of military force to occupy the territory of a foreign power in order to protect our "interests" provoked a sense of de ja vu. The land in question is currently the State of Florida.
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Laugh? Cry?

Today at the University of Minnesota Industrial Hygiene lab
we return to the on-going saga of our grad student's valiant efforts to get data.
We open on the scene of her meeting with her research adviser,
Dr.Pete:

meet with Pete - ok
missing peak in last experiment - just what we wanted
annoying peak at 0.7 still there - hmmm
check out experimental set up - looks ok
find wiggly thing that's not supposed to be wiggly - hmmm
find leak - good
correct leak
annoying peak at 0.7 gone - great
set up power source - good
turn power source on
power source "on" light lights up - yea!
power source makes the right ticking noises - good
fiddle with voltage regulator - looks right
loud pop - huh?
flash of white light at ammeter scale - wow, pretty lights
no more voltage
no more joy

Pete & I looked at each other and sighed ...


I'm now experiencing the joys of trying to get someone at the U's electronics shop to come fix my power source.

Maybe I'll go mattress shopping today. If it was an hour earlier, I might have called Mr.Gopher and suggested doing lunch.

I have nothing else to do in the lab until the power source gets fixed ...

I might as well laugh - it doesn't make my nose run afterwards.
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You can go home

[written a week ago ...]

"you can never go home" is a rather overly-sentimental statement. You can. Just don't expect it to still be there.

I'm in Lansing for the weekend to try to get some house-related stuff taken care of. Want to do property management for me? Taking bids until 10 p.m. Sunday night.

The house is not exactly left in idea condition. Ignoring the fact the yard crew didn't remove the clipping from 2 months' growth, there's stuff that I'm annoyed the last tenants didn't ask me to fix. Or rather, that they didn't fix themselves. Like some serious pruning on the shrubs. I stood looking at the back of the side yard and wondering where the forest came from. That is the result of four years of unfettered growth? Mankind's traces will disappear from the Earth pretty damn quick, apparently.

Most of my closest friends aren't here any more. The Speths moved to MO, Diane is in MA, the Denommes are somewhere else in MI, the Bradys are just out of town. And, apparently no one bothered to return my email that I was coming into town. I'll probably stop by St. Johns and find the choir on vacation.

I've never tried to hire a professional firm for a long-term contracted relationship before. Other than the yard service fellow who conveniently lived down the street. Mowing my lawn just doesn't seem quite as important as handing someone the keys to my house and telling her to find tennants and rent it for me. Apparently these firms either
a) refuse to modify their standard contract because they are lazy
b) refuse to modify their standard contract because they're really out to screw you
c) have never had anyone suggest modifying their standard contract
or
d) have no idea that you could do it and don't want to anyway


There's even more sprawl on the north side of Lake Lansing Road. What in the world for? Even four years ago, it wasn't like Lansing's economy was rosy. Firms were already threatening to pack up. The state bent over to keep GM from moving some of its operations elsewhere.

The GM plant at the intersection of MLK and 496 is a total wasteland. I practically expected to see dust dervishes and tumbleweeds coming across the empty acres of parking lots. And, yes, I really do mean acres, probably 2.

Construction hasn't changed - it's just moved.

It was 10 hr 6 min of driving time (not total, just behind-the-wheel) to get to Lansing. Apparently everyone in Indiana saw the sign I-80 and thought it was the speed limit. It made the trip much shorter to be able to set the cruise control at 80 and not be the fastest car on the highway. And, afterall, doing 80 in a 70 zone in Michigan is not a remarkable event.

People here [in Michigan] really don't use their turn signals. Maybe American models don't have them? I've only ever owned one American car, and it was a '53 model. In the first 50 miles into Michigan, only one car used its signals ... and it had Indiana plates.

Don't even vaguely get me going about the Right-Wing Retards in Indiana, whose response to the Loony Leftists objecting to public display on public property of the 10 Commandments-We-Selectively-Obey: putting In God We Trust on their friggin' license plates.

Mountain Lion v. DNR

Puma treed. DNR in pursuit.

For 4 hunters who found the cat, it was a no-brainer: They liked the big cat more than the DNR.

DNR arrives. Trys to tranquilize cat. Puma leaves. Puma gets treed again.

That's when a tranquilizer-gun-toting DNR employee climbed up the oak tree to get a closer shot.

DNR arrives. Trys to tranquilize cat. Puma leaves. Puma gets treed again.

We've called our friends with dogs and told them if the DNR calls for help tracking the cat, tell them to go to hell.'

Puma last seen somewhere in northern Wisconsin. DNR hasn't been seen at all.

Octopus Etiquette

Well, paying a bit more attention to the technicalities of ice hockey (like trying to figure out what in the world is the difference between icing and off-sides), I discovered what one is supposed to do with the octopi thrown in the Joe Louis Arena, a fact which no one had ever been able to answer. But, of course, these days there is the omnipotent god Wikipedia:

The 1952 playoffs featured the start of the tradition—the octopus throw. The owner of a local fish market ... threw one from the stands onto the ice. The eight legs were purportedly symbolic of the eight wins it took to win the Stanley Cup at the time. The Red Wings went on to sweep both of their opponents that year en route to a Stanley Cup championship. The NHL has, at various times, tried to eliminate this tradition but it continues to this day. ... since [arena] does not condone the throwing of any foreign objects onto the ice, fans often sneak the sea creatures in wrapped around their bellies in trash bags. The boiling process also lessens the odor and allows the fans to get past security.

There is a certain etiquette that must be followed for fans that wish to throw octopuses onto the ice.

Beforehand, an octopus should be boiled for at least 20 minutes on high heat with a little lemon juice and white wine. This will mask the creature's odor as well as reducing the amount of slime. A raw dead thrown octopus would result in a smelly ball that would stick to the ice upon impact and possibly leave an inky stain, while a well-boiled octopus will bounce and roll across the surface of the ice.

After the octopus has been properly prepared it must be smuggled into the ice arena, as it is against the law in Detroit (and other NHL cities) for a fan to throw anything onto the ice during a game. A preferred method is to wrap the octopus in plastic (a trash bag or a large Ziploc bag will do) and then wrap the package around one's middle section to give the appearance of a beer belly.

The most appropriate time to throw an octopus onto the ice is after the national anthem is sung or after the Red Wings have scored a goal. The octopus must be thrown onto the ice surface in an area that is clear of all players. It is never acceptable to aim for opposing players. Tactics are also used to protect the identity of octopus-throwers from arena security. It is common practice for the hurler to ask the surrounding people to stand up with him to shroud the task in anonymity.

Experienced throwers grasp the octopus around the middle of its arms with the octopus's head (or more correctly, its mantle) hanging down near the thrower's knee and then swings the octopus with an overarm motion. Holding the octopus by the ends of its arms prior to the throw may result in the mantle of the octopus breaking off during the wind-up.

After successfully participating in this peculiar tradition, the octopus thrower is left with a tell-tale indicator: stinky hands. It is advisable to bring along a wet wipe and a slice of lemon to assist in removing the odor.

... the Joe Louis Arena head ice manager and one of the two Zamboni drivers, is the person who retrieves the thrown octopi from the ice. After he retrieves an octopus, he has been known to twirl it above his head as he walks across the ice rink to the Zamboni entrance.

... sent a memo to the Detroit Red Wings organization that forbids Zamboni drivers from cleaning up any octopuses thrown onto the ice and imposes a $10,000 fine for violating the mandate. The linesmen will instead perform any clean-up duties. ... justified the ban because "matter flies off the octopus and gets on the ice" when ... it [is swung] above his head ... Detroit Free Press dubbed the prohibition as "Octopus-gate". By the beginning of the third round of the 2008 playoffs the NHL loosened the ban to allow for the octopus twirling to take place at the Zamboni entrance.

Phallus Fights & Other Strange Traditions

Title of a new series of articles from Der Spiegel. It's in English.

[running of the bulls in Pamplona] ... one of those festivals that make the saner among us scratch our heads in confusion and wonder, "How was that ever a good idea?" But just because it is Europe's most famous oddity certainly doesn't make it an isolated case.

Marxist Smurfs

Exerpt of Essay:

The Smurf Village itself is a perfect model of a [Marxist] socialist commune or collective. It is self-reliant, and the land is not owned by individuals, but by the entire collective of all the Smurfs, if the word 'owned' is even appropriate.
....
....
In conclusion: I believe that at the very least, Peyo was attempting to present certain Marxist theories in the form of an allegorical fairy tale. The Smurfs, then, succeeds in the way the best kind of fantasy literature does - by shining a light on the real world we all live in. There is much evidence to suggest that The Smurfs, as a narrative, is a utopian socialist fable. And ultimately, I think a large part of the appeal of the show comes from this utopian ideal, because even if it is unlikely to ever occur in the real world, with all its complexities, we can still imagine.