Riker Omega Three

A week ago I spilled coffee all over my desk (and my lap), therby destroying the little authenticator card that generates numerical keys which in turn allow me to access the Air Force computers I use for my research.  So for the last week I've been unable to log into these machines and check up on my simulations.  And let me tell you, it's doing weird things to my head.

PS.  If you understand what the subject line of this post has to do with its subject matter, then you are a geekaholic and should seek help.

So As To Establish That I Take My Own Advice Seriously

Here's a couple of things that I think are much more important and/or interesting than politics today:

1.  I can walk again!  I went back to see my ortopedist on Tuesday afternoon, and he is heartily impressed with my progress.  (Background: a ligament that's supposed to connect the end of my leg to the top of my foot had torn clean off of my foot.  There was also damage to another couple of ligaments, but it wasn't as severe.)  Three weeks ago this doctor told me that these injuries almost never heal properly, and that I could expect the ankle to be weak and unstable until I eventually required a surgical repair.  This week, he tells me that I fall into the "almost never" category, and that it now looks like I will not need surgery to correct this injury.  So I'm cleared to walk as much as I can stand to, until in a few weeks' time I can be totally free of the boot and crutches.  It's a little weird so far, because my ankle is very stiff and my leg is kind of weak and confused.  But it's feeling good and I'm very pleased.

2.  My dog is a crabby old lady.   My parents are visiting, and they brought with them their new pup, a Scottish Terrrier named Smokey.  (Smokey is entirely black, and indeed from more than a few feet away looks a lot like the shadow of a dog.)  Smokey is energetic and playful; Daisy is lazy and antisocial.  All week long she's been warning him off whenever he gets close to her.  This morning he was a little too insistent about it, and caught a beating for his troubles.  She growled; he barked; she bit; he ran; she chased; he hid.  And with that I hope that the canine social order in my house has been firmly established, and that we can pass the remainder of the week with no further doggie violence.

That's all for now; back to work.

"Yes, They Can!" Creep Me The Hell Out

Here's something we were talking about at lunch yesterday: there's something deeply un-American about many Obama supporters, and it makes my skin crawl.  Now, I don't mean their policy preferences. I do think Senator Obama and his voters are wrong about more or less everything, but there's nothing creepy or un-American about being wrong.  There is, I think, an extent to which being as far Left, as snobbish, and as deeply in the grip of identity politics as Senator Obama can be reasonably called un-American, but none of those things are what I'm getting at, either. 

My problem is with the depth of Obama voters' apparently sincere faith in Obama himself.  To my mind, an American's attitude toward any living political figure should lie somewhere between near-total indifference and cheerful exasperation.  The genius of the American system of governance is that it minimizes the role that politics play in its citizens' lives.  In a system where politics just aren't that important, politicians shouldn't be that important, either.   Thus, the correct American attitude toward one's preferred presidential candidate is something like "feh, I suppose I'll vote for Hillary," and emphatically not "OMG! Let me tell you how I came to Obama!  He's going to fix our souls!  YES WE CAN!!!!"   That sh*t is creepy, and it's no overstatement to say that it turns the entire American attitude toward the proper role of government and politics on its head.

PS. This entire post could be applied to passionate Bush- or Clinton-haters.  The correct attitude toward a disfavored politician is something like "I will not vote for Bush again," not "OMG! I hate Bush so much! It makes me sick to see him!!!!".  If you're staying up nights obsessing over how Bush or Clinton is ruining everyone's lives and eating all of our steak, you're committing the same sins as the starry-eyed acolytes of Obama.  And you need to cut that sh*t out.

Cubicle Etiquette

1. Don't talk so loudly that the whole room can hear you. 
2. Especially don't talk so loudly that the whole room can hear you for hours on end.
3. Really especially don't talk so loudly that the whole room can hear you for hours on end when everything you have to say is painfully stupid.
4. Extra really especially don't talk so loudly that the whole room can hear you for hours on end when everything you have to say is painfully stupid and you have an extremely irritating Canadian accent.

Yes, I'm thinking of throwing someone "oot" the window.

Prediction

Monster game for Lebron tonight. Please note timestamp.

UPDATE: Feh. Solid, but not huge. Stronger than the box would indicate, though; the crucial, run-killing timing of some big plays isn't reflected in the stats. Still, expect big things in game four.

Speaking of Race

Articles like this really piss me off. (For non-clickers: the thesis of the linked article is that Hillary Clinton's supporters are voting for her because they're a bunch of racist crackers.) Let's look at that polling data again. Some quick facts:

1.  Obama won black Democrats by margins of 91-7 and 89-11 in North Carolina and Indiana, respectively.
2.  Clinton won white Democrats by margins of 61-37 and 60-40 in North Carolina and Indiana, respectively.
3.  John McCain, running unopposed, won Republicans with 74% and 77% in North Carolina and Indiana, respectively.
4.  Mitt Romney won Mormon Republicans by a margin of 94-6 in Utah in February.

So.  Obama's support among black Democrats exceeds by a wide margin both Hillary Clinton's support among white Democrats and John McCain's support as the only candidate of his party, and is comparable to Mitt Romney's support among Utah's LDS faithful.

The only reasonable interpretation is that Obama, like Romney, benefits from the reflexive support of the community from which he issues.  In other words, black Democrats are voting for Barack Obama because he is black.  And if I were you, I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for the rush of articles about how terribly racist they are for doing so.

This Just In: People Are Liars

There's some fun stuff in CNN's exit polling data for Indiana and North Carolina. There's a lot of data there, most of it seemingly meaningless. But click over to page 4 of each poll and scroll down to the breakdown by "Was Race of Candidate Important to You". Here's what you'll see for Indiana:



and for North Carolina:



Which is to say: in both Indiana and North Carolina, 87% of white Democrats say "the race of the candidate isn't important" and break about 60-40 for the white candidate. Meanwhile, more than 60% of black Democrats (61% in IN; 72% in NC) make the same statement and break 90-10 for the black candidate.

But wait, there's more! In North Carolina, Democrats who claim race isn't important break for the same-race candidate by exactly the same margins as voters who say race is important. Ain't that somethin'?

The way I see it, one of two conditions must hold:

1. Quelle coincidence!
2. Some significant fraction of Indiana and North Carolina Democrats are big fat liars.

You make the call.

(Sorta) Utah Stuff

On the weather: It sucks. See Lindsay for pictures from consecutive days last week.  Beautiful one day, snow the next.  In mid-April!  I'm starting to feel like God is tapping me on the shoulder. Uh, Brian?  You know you hate it here. Why don't you just move on?

On polygamy: Lowry has it exactly right.  Polygamy is anathema to American culture.  Why can't we just say that?  Why dance around with trumped-up BS about child abuse? 

On the Jazz: Awesome.  It's a long road through the playoffs with no home court advantage in any series.  But here's the rub: if you play them, you're under tremendous pressure to win all four games at home.  Because it's virtually impossible to win here in Salt Lake.  The Rockets are already cooked.

And Boy, Are My Arms Tired

So I'm in the office today, for the first time in a week and a half.  It's not a big deal to move around, so I maybe could've been here sooner.  The trick is parking.  There's a lot adjacent to the building, but it's only got a dozen or so spaces in it that aren't reserved.  I have to get here early in the morning to get one; they're generally full by a few minutes before seven.  Otherwise, I park across the street and around the corner, about a ten minute walk away.  It's kind of a nice walk, when the weather's good and you've got two functioning feet.  On the crutches this morning, it was exhausting.  Good news on that front, though; our secretary, who has a reserved space downstairs, has offerred to trade parking passes with me until I'm more able to walk.  So I should be spared the intense

On a (slightly) broader note, I went back to the doctor on Saturday.  They still don't see a break in the ankle, and so remain mystified by the severity of the damage and the slowness of the healing.  Latest thinking is a "Grade 3 sprain", as in, the double popping I heard was the sound of two major tendons in my ankle failing. My brother in law (who is the real doctor in the family) seems to concur, though of course he's only seen photographs. In any event, the staff at the little clinic I've been going to has decided that they're out of their depth, and referred me to an orthopedist. I'm supposed to go see him on Tuesday. (That would be next Tuesday, not today.)  So we'll see how that goes.

This Is What I Have Done to Myself

OK, so this is kind of gross. But I can't resist. Sarah took some pictures tonight (Thursday, five days after the infamous tennis "game") and I've just got to put them up. First, to get some sense of the scale of the thing, here's the injured ankle next to the good one.



Now this is the inside of my foot, which as you'll see in a moment is the less damaged part.



The brunt of it is in the outside; this is where the doctor thought the ankle might be broken. Latest word is it's probably not, but it mysteriously didn't stop hurting when I got the word.



So that's that. We're going back to the doctor on Saturday to have it re-examined; depending on how it looks the, the doc might order more X-rays to look for "occult" fractures that didn't show up the first time.