Mr. Fantastic (aka Reed Richards), in addition to his somewhat-lame ability to stretch his body like rubber (he had to feel a little bummed when they found out Human Torch could burst into flames and fly), is probably more importantly recognized as being the most intelligent man in the entire Marvel universe. Mind you, this is a universe that contains Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, and Charles Xavier, among others.
His intelligence is, by far, Richards' most useful talent. Over the years, he has pioneered advances in nearly every science imaginable, and he has invented, among other things, a helmet which turns his thoughts into reality (okay, only in a side-story, but it counts). He can essentially use science to do the impossible, and furthermore does it so fast he can go from raw theory to working prototypes within a single comic book. So what's his weakness?
Cancer. For all his brilliance, Reed Richards is incapable of curing cancer.
Or, for that matter, of causing any significant change for the majority of the planet. Of course, this makes perfect sense. If his inventions had an actual effect on the world as a whole, it would look a whole lot different than the one we know and love, which would distance readers from the comic and push it into the realm of science fiction.
More importantly, though, having Mr. Fantastic cure cancer would essentially trivialize the problem. Sure it might not seem like a big deal, but a guy dying of cancer is still going to be dying after he finishes reading the comic, and implying that his only hope is a man who can stretch his body into a trampoline to deflect bullets is a little heartless.
It becomes a problem, though, when he's faced with a single bald-headed, teary-eyed little girl clutching a teddy bear who just wants him to make her all better. Curing just one kid isn't going to change the world that much, but if he can save one, why not all of them?
A recent study (and you should raise your eyebrows whenever that phrase is used, but in this case its true: CBS News Segment) shows that a great disparity exists between funding for different types of cancer when calculated in dollars-per-death. Specifically, the most-funded cancers (Breast, Cervical, and Hodgkin Lymphoma) receive around 15 times as much Federal funding as the least-funded (Stomach, Lung, and Esophagus).
I suppose it would be tasteless to point out that two of the heavily-funded cancers are primarily killers of women (yes, men can get breast cancer, but are at a much lower risk for it). However, I just did, so let me be clear in saying that I in no way consider the high rate of funding these diseases receive to be a bad thing.
It is, however, a telling indicator of the importance of awareness-raising campaigns, and even more of the importance of a strong sympathetic support base. For breast cancer, its obvious: every woman is at some risk of breast cancer, so every woman should, rationally, support breast cancer research (and as for the guys, well, we've all got mothers).
But what's the support base for lung cancer? Smokers? Its essentially a competition of images: Wife & Mother of Two vs. Wrinkled Man Smoking Through a Hole in his Throat. To whom would you donate?
It all comes down to the same reason Reed Richards practically has to save that little girl: at a gut level, we automatically make judgments about which people are worth saving. But all people are people, regardless of the choices they made or their role in society, and no one deserves to die, especially not of cancer. It is the duty of the medical community to ensure an increased quality of life to sufferers of all ailments.
Sorry to get preachy and end on a serious note like that, but its bugged me for a while now. Something light, perhaps, tomorrow.
Next Time: Pythagoras vs. Neo!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Aesop Changes a Flat (or two)
I have a confession to make: I lied yesterday. Not intentionally, of course, but I did. Rather than spending yesterday night playing Silent Hill 2 (which is, by the way, probably the scariest game ever made, unless you preferred Siren), I ended up sleeping over at a friend's house. As a result, I'm entirely incapable of fulfilling my promise to tie Watson's experiments on conditioned fear responses to why outdated survival-horror games are still some of my favorites.
I did, however, get sucked into a Really Obvious Life Lesson during what should have been merely a minor adventure, and so if you'll forgive me for tackling the psychology of fear another time, I'll stall by telling you about my day.
A friend of mine happens to be a collector of outdated video game consoles. How he got started in this, I have no idea, but it probably began with the phrase "Dude, remember Sinistar? That game was the shit." (To clarify, being 'the shit' is a good thing, despite all denotation to the contrary). In any event, he chanced upon the opportunity (via Craigslist, of course) to purchase a hard-modded Xbox & nine controllers for a mere $60. The only stipulation was that he had to be in White Marsh (north-west of Baltimore) to pick it up by 8:30 AM, lest the seller depart on his vacation for a month.
Needless to say, we woke up at 7, hoped in his car, and drove up toward Baltimore. As we were leaving, I noticed that one of his tires was a spare (colloquially, a 'donut'). Ensuing dialogue:
Him: "Oh, yeah, I got a flat like, three weeks ago, so I've been rollin' with the donut."
Me: "Three weeks? Those things aren't meant to last that long. You sure its not gonna wear through?"
Him: "Relax, dude. I drove up to Baltimore just last week, and it was fine."
The good news, at least, is that we made it up to White Marsh without incident, retrieving the Xbox with time to spare. But every silver lining has a cloud, and this one occured at mile marker 73 on I-70.
Him: "Hey, does the tire sound funny to you?"
Me: "The squeking changed pitch a little, maybe..."
Sudden *POP*, followed by *whumpwhumpwhumpwhump...*
Me: "Yeah okay, pull over."
The donut, sadly, was no more. It had worn clear through, rupturing in several places. Now, the interesting thing about blowing your spare tire is that you can't replace it (unless you're the sort to carry two spare tires, I suppose, but that's just begging for trouble). All we could do is wait on the side of the road until his mom went out, bought a new tire, and drove it up to us.
After changing the tire (see below!), we got back on the highway and continued home. About ten minutes from his house,
Him: "Okay, now what's that sound?"
Me: "Kinda sounds like we're dragging something. Pull over real quick."
Him: "If its another flat I'm gonna...."
Naturally, it was, and he did. An examination of the flat tire showed a large amount of wear on the inside portion. What had happened was that, because the spare tire is smaller than the normal one, the tire opposite to it was somewhat canted as we drove. Thus, rather than wearing evenly across the bottom, all the wear was on the very inside edge of the wheel. This caused it to accrue damage more quickly, and after three weeks of uneven wear, it too gave out on us.
We again called his mom, she brought us yet another tire (wonderful woman, she is), and we finally made it home, after dealing with two flat tires in under two hours. The obvious moral, by the way, is that if he'd just taken care of the original flat when it first happened instead of riding around on a spare for three weeks, we'd have saved the hassle and probably the second tire as well. A stitch in time... (Of course, the same applies to holes in jeans, not that I listen.)
Next Time: Medical Research & Reed Richards!
____________________________________
Appended! - How to Change a Tire
Because hey, you might not know, and then you'd be screwed.
Things you'll Need:
-A jack & a lug-wrench (probably in your trunk, with all your junk; the jack is the one that doesn't look like any sort of wrench)
-A spare tire (also in your trunk, most likely)
-A flat tire (attached to your car where a non-flat tire ought to be)
Steps:
1) Pry off the plastic thingy (often improperly called a 'hubcap')
2) Loosen the four nuts holding the wheel on (important you do this before lifting the car, or the entire wheel will turn instead of just the nuts).
3) Jack the car up, placing the jack under a solid piece of the frame, often indicated in a diagram on the jack itself.
4) Remove the nuts completely (don't loss them!) and lift the flat tire off.
5) Put the spare tire on where the flat tire was. It might be a bit unwieldy; focus on getting at least the bottom hole on properly, which should make getting the others easier.
6) Put the nuts back on. Lower the car back down with the jack and (important!) re-tighten the nuts.
By being able to change your own flat, you will successfully avoid fully 30% of chances you have to wind up in a horror movie.
I did, however, get sucked into a Really Obvious Life Lesson during what should have been merely a minor adventure, and so if you'll forgive me for tackling the psychology of fear another time, I'll stall by telling you about my day.
A friend of mine happens to be a collector of outdated video game consoles. How he got started in this, I have no idea, but it probably began with the phrase "Dude, remember Sinistar? That game was the shit." (To clarify, being 'the shit' is a good thing, despite all denotation to the contrary). In any event, he chanced upon the opportunity (via Craigslist, of course) to purchase a hard-modded Xbox & nine controllers for a mere $60. The only stipulation was that he had to be in White Marsh (north-west of Baltimore) to pick it up by 8:30 AM, lest the seller depart on his vacation for a month.
Needless to say, we woke up at 7, hoped in his car, and drove up toward Baltimore. As we were leaving, I noticed that one of his tires was a spare (colloquially, a 'donut'). Ensuing dialogue:
Him: "Oh, yeah, I got a flat like, three weeks ago, so I've been rollin' with the donut."
Me: "Three weeks? Those things aren't meant to last that long. You sure its not gonna wear through?"
Him: "Relax, dude. I drove up to Baltimore just last week, and it was fine."
The good news, at least, is that we made it up to White Marsh without incident, retrieving the Xbox with time to spare. But every silver lining has a cloud, and this one occured at mile marker 73 on I-70.
Him: "Hey, does the tire sound funny to you?"
Me: "The squeking changed pitch a little, maybe..."
Sudden *POP*, followed by *whumpwhumpwhumpwhump...*
Me: "Yeah okay, pull over."
The donut, sadly, was no more. It had worn clear through, rupturing in several places. Now, the interesting thing about blowing your spare tire is that you can't replace it (unless you're the sort to carry two spare tires, I suppose, but that's just begging for trouble). All we could do is wait on the side of the road until his mom went out, bought a new tire, and drove it up to us.
After changing the tire (see below!), we got back on the highway and continued home. About ten minutes from his house,
Him: "Okay, now what's that sound?"
Me: "Kinda sounds like we're dragging something. Pull over real quick."
Him: "If its another flat I'm gonna...."
Naturally, it was, and he did. An examination of the flat tire showed a large amount of wear on the inside portion. What had happened was that, because the spare tire is smaller than the normal one, the tire opposite to it was somewhat canted as we drove. Thus, rather than wearing evenly across the bottom, all the wear was on the very inside edge of the wheel. This caused it to accrue damage more quickly, and after three weeks of uneven wear, it too gave out on us.
We again called his mom, she brought us yet another tire (wonderful woman, she is), and we finally made it home, after dealing with two flat tires in under two hours. The obvious moral, by the way, is that if he'd just taken care of the original flat when it first happened instead of riding around on a spare for three weeks, we'd have saved the hassle and probably the second tire as well. A stitch in time... (Of course, the same applies to holes in jeans, not that I listen.)
Next Time: Medical Research & Reed Richards!
____________________________________
Appended! - How to Change a Tire
Because hey, you might not know, and then you'd be screwed.
Things you'll Need:
-A jack & a lug-wrench (probably in your trunk, with all your junk; the jack is the one that doesn't look like any sort of wrench)
-A spare tire (also in your trunk, most likely)
-A flat tire (attached to your car where a non-flat tire ought to be)
Steps:
1) Pry off the plastic thingy (often improperly called a 'hubcap')
2) Loosen the four nuts holding the wheel on (important you do this before lifting the car, or the entire wheel will turn instead of just the nuts).
3) Jack the car up, placing the jack under a solid piece of the frame, often indicated in a diagram on the jack itself.
4) Remove the nuts completely (don't loss them!) and lift the flat tire off.
5) Put the spare tire on where the flat tire was. It might be a bit unwieldy; focus on getting at least the bottom hole on properly, which should make getting the others easier.
6) Put the nuts back on. Lower the car back down with the jack and (important!) re-tighten the nuts.
By being able to change your own flat, you will successfully avoid fully 30% of chances you have to wind up in a horror movie.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Assistant Uncivil Servant
Today marks the end of the first week at my internship. "Oh, an internship? Working at NIST again this summer?" No, not NIST. I enjoyed my summer conducting optics research, and I'm sure I benefited greatly from the experience, if only in that I learned how little patience I actually have for research.
No, this summer, I'm a bounty hunter.
Okay, not really. But kinda. I'm not driving cross-country trying to track down Mexican drug lords or shooting bail-jumpers with XXL cans of pepper spray. What I am doing is working in the Montgomery County Police Department's Fugitive Recovery Unit.
The majority of what I've done so far is take warrants (issued by a judge or commissioner requesting the apprehension of an individual) and check various databases to verify information on them and help locate that person. If I find a good lead on the location, I hand it over to the Sergeant or Corporal in charge, and they decide how they want to pick the person up. This could be anything from calling them up and politely asking they turn themselves in to driving to their house en masse, kicking their door down, and dragging them back to the undercover car.
My other main task is sending in MVA Suspension Notices. Basically, whenever we get a bench warrant (that is, one from a judge issued because the defendant failed to appear in court), we send a letter to the person notifying them of the warrant and advising them to take care of it ASAP. (The letter, by the way, is quite polite, but between the lines reads something like this: "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.") If after 30 days the warrant is still active, I send a notification to the Motor Vehicle Association telling them to suspend that driver's license.
(As a side note, my first conversation with one of the detectives assigned to Fugitive Unit went something like this:
Me: "Um, detective? What should I put down in the MVA Notice if they don't have a driver's license number listed?"
Him: "Well, if its not listed, you can't suspend it. They probably don't have one."
Me: "Ah... that would explain why this warrant is for 'Driving without a license'...."
Yeah, I felt a bit silly. Stupid first impressions...)
In any event, these are all fairly nasty things to do to a person. John Stuart Mill, who describes the ethical principle of utilitarianism (in a book titled Utilitarianism, no less), bases his system of ethics on what effect it has on the total happiness of the population. Thus the ethical action is whatever brings the most happiness to the most people (Mindy's famous Joy Units are an excellent way of explaining this idea).
What's always bothered me about utilitarianism is this nagging sense of doubt that what makes people happy is always the right thing to do. In this case, I'm pretty certain nobody enjoys getting their license suspended (or their door kicked in by armed men). I've been working about a week, and I've suspended around a hundred licenses, which probably makes me responsible for a lot more unhappiness than most of the defendants I'm doing it to.
The utilitarian might say that, while my actions cause one person a fair bit of unhappiness, every other person reaps the (happiness-increasing) benefits of social order and public peace. It seems like a bit of a stretch, though, that the difference between one shoplifter's ability to drive is worth the headache he'll suffer when he gets pulled over and his license comes back as suspended.
[Play Along At Home!: A side-argument, often used in support of anarcho-capitalism, is the How Many Men Question. Phrased simply, it goes something like this: "How many men does it take to morally steal a car?" Think it over for yourself, and when you've decided, follow this link.]
Furthermore, it raises a bigger issue: How do you tell? Sure, in some cases its cut-and-dry, but other times a proper accounting of the gains and loses of happiness in a given case would require quantifying the resultant happiness of every person on the planet for every possible contingency. You could spend years calculating the morallity of a single decision and still not get beyond a given level of certainty.
Mill's answer to this, which essentially reads "well, do the best you can on short notice," is a little underwhelming, and kind of a cop-out besides. This is already a pretty decent post, so I'll save the discussion of alternatives to utilitarianism for another time. In the meantime, I'll keep doing my job: Helping bad things happen to bad people.
Next Time: John B. Watson & Silent Hill 2
No, this summer, I'm a bounty hunter.
Okay, not really. But kinda. I'm not driving cross-country trying to track down Mexican drug lords or shooting bail-jumpers with XXL cans of pepper spray. What I am doing is working in the Montgomery County Police Department's Fugitive Recovery Unit.
The majority of what I've done so far is take warrants (issued by a judge or commissioner requesting the apprehension of an individual) and check various databases to verify information on them and help locate that person. If I find a good lead on the location, I hand it over to the Sergeant or Corporal in charge, and they decide how they want to pick the person up. This could be anything from calling them up and politely asking they turn themselves in to driving to their house en masse, kicking their door down, and dragging them back to the undercover car.
My other main task is sending in MVA Suspension Notices. Basically, whenever we get a bench warrant (that is, one from a judge issued because the defendant failed to appear in court), we send a letter to the person notifying them of the warrant and advising them to take care of it ASAP. (The letter, by the way, is quite polite, but between the lines reads something like this: "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.") If after 30 days the warrant is still active, I send a notification to the Motor Vehicle Association telling them to suspend that driver's license.
(As a side note, my first conversation with one of the detectives assigned to Fugitive Unit went something like this:
Me: "Um, detective? What should I put down in the MVA Notice if they don't have a driver's license number listed?"
Him: "Well, if its not listed, you can't suspend it. They probably don't have one."
Me: "Ah... that would explain why this warrant is for 'Driving without a license'...."
Yeah, I felt a bit silly. Stupid first impressions...)
In any event, these are all fairly nasty things to do to a person. John Stuart Mill, who describes the ethical principle of utilitarianism (in a book titled Utilitarianism, no less), bases his system of ethics on what effect it has on the total happiness of the population. Thus the ethical action is whatever brings the most happiness to the most people (Mindy's famous Joy Units are an excellent way of explaining this idea).
What's always bothered me about utilitarianism is this nagging sense of doubt that what makes people happy is always the right thing to do. In this case, I'm pretty certain nobody enjoys getting their license suspended (or their door kicked in by armed men). I've been working about a week, and I've suspended around a hundred licenses, which probably makes me responsible for a lot more unhappiness than most of the defendants I'm doing it to.
The utilitarian might say that, while my actions cause one person a fair bit of unhappiness, every other person reaps the (happiness-increasing) benefits of social order and public peace. It seems like a bit of a stretch, though, that the difference between one shoplifter's ability to drive is worth the headache he'll suffer when he gets pulled over and his license comes back as suspended.
[Play Along At Home!: A side-argument, often used in support of anarcho-capitalism, is the How Many Men Question. Phrased simply, it goes something like this: "How many men does it take to morally steal a car?" Think it over for yourself, and when you've decided, follow this link.]
Furthermore, it raises a bigger issue: How do you tell? Sure, in some cases its cut-and-dry, but other times a proper accounting of the gains and loses of happiness in a given case would require quantifying the resultant happiness of every person on the planet for every possible contingency. You could spend years calculating the morallity of a single decision and still not get beyond a given level of certainty.
Mill's answer to this, which essentially reads "well, do the best you can on short notice," is a little underwhelming, and kind of a cop-out besides. This is already a pretty decent post, so I'll save the discussion of alternatives to utilitarianism for another time. In the meantime, I'll keep doing my job: Helping bad things happen to bad people.
Next Time: John B. Watson & Silent Hill 2
Thursday, May 28, 2009
A Nasty, Brutish, and Short Guide to the 41st Millenium
Political philosopher Thomas Hobbes, who sadly had almost no interaction with theologian John Calvin, is probably most famous for his terse, and rather grim, description of life: "Nasty, brutish, and short." The actual quote, from Leviathan (which already sounds more like one of Superman's foes than it does a work of social philosophy), adds in the terms 'solitary' and 'poor' for good measure.
What is important to remember, however, is that Hobbes is referring specifically to life outside the bounds of organized government. In this 'state of nature', every person is inherently free to pursue their own desires. As such, we each compete, individually, for resources, which results in a violent free-for-all that Hobbes calls bellum omnium contra omnes - the war of all against all.
In order to escape this constant struggle, men (by which I mean 'men and women' - it's commonly accepted usage, and much quicker to type) must willingly relinquish their freedoms and establish a social contract; say, for instance, "don't kill people and take their stuff." In this way, the population can establish a civil society.
The flip side of this, though, is the person to whom you're relinquishing your rights (because apparently you can't just give them away; you can only transfer them). That person is the sovereign authority, and, at least according to Hobbes, if he's a jerk you'd better suck it up and deal, because its a lot better than getting disemboweled for the clothes on your back.
An odd counter-example to this is the fictional universe of Warhammer 40,000 (link to tvtropes.com description). For those of you not cursed with immense nerdiness, Warhammer 40,000 (or simply 40k) is tabletop miniatures wargame of the 'science fantasy' bent. It consists mainly of you and your opponent setting up little plastic men, rolling dice, and imagining your plastic men shooting, exploding, or chainsawing your opponents little plastic men to death.
So yeah, its essentially Army Men with rules.
In any event, in this (again, fictional) setting, its the year 40,000, and everything sucks. Billions of soldiers armed with little more than flashlights face off against bug-like alien monstrosities, hordes of demons pour out of rifts in the space-time continuum, and dark elder gods secretly plot to extinguish all life in the galaxy.
And those are just the external threats. For the general population, the odds aren't any better: you're either drafted into the Imperial Guard (where you'll almost assuredly die horribly) or sent to work in a city-sized sweatshop, and if you complain about either, you'll probably be tortured to death by the Inquisition (yes, that Inquisition). Millions routinely perish due to book-keeping errors. That is, life is essentially as Hobbes describes it: Nasty, brutish, and short.
The thing is, the entire human race is run by possibly the most powerful sovereign of all: The God-Emperor of Mankind. Depending on how you read the backstory, his endless wars might fall under the category of "doing what has to be done," but if his goal was to ensure a civil society, he's doing a pretty poor job of it.
Hobbes' theories fail, for the most part, to address the dangers of an oppressive, all-powerful sovereign. This might be a reflection of his times: writing during the middle of the English Civil War (yes, that's right, the Brits did it first), oppression probably seemed a lot better than anarchy. Still, his flat rejection of the separation of powers is not only archaic in hindsight, but, given its application in ancient Greek and Rome, these safeguards should have been an obvious necessity even at the time of his writing.
There's a lot more that could be said criticizing Hobbes (mechanistic view of humanity, poor geometry skills...), but instead I'll leave it here for tonight.
Next Time: The Ethics of Civil Service & Bounty Hunting
________________________________________
Appended - I did promise tips on how to build a good 40k Army List, but since I ran long today it'll wait until another time. For those that were prtic, here's my own tentative list, which I'll tweak later. If you have no idea what's going on here, suffice to say that these are the little plastic men I intend to use the next time I have a little-plastic-men-battle. Don't worry; its more here for my records than anything else.
It's essentially a Mech Tau configuration, 1000 points, TAC.
HQ - Shas'el XV8 [100 pts total]
-Plasma Rifle
-Cyclic Ion Blaster
-Targeting Array
-Multitracker (hardwired)
Troops - 2*Firewarrior Teams [2*205]
-11 Shas'la
-Devilfish Transport
-Disruption Pod
-Flechette Dischargers
Heavy Support - 2*Hammerhead [2*175]
-Railgun
-Burst Cannon
-Disruption Pods, Flechette Dischargers, Multitrackers
-Hammerhead [140]
-Ion Cannon
-Burst Cannon
-Disruption Pods, Flechette Dischargers, Multitrackers
What is important to remember, however, is that Hobbes is referring specifically to life outside the bounds of organized government. In this 'state of nature', every person is inherently free to pursue their own desires. As such, we each compete, individually, for resources, which results in a violent free-for-all that Hobbes calls bellum omnium contra omnes - the war of all against all.
In order to escape this constant struggle, men (by which I mean 'men and women' - it's commonly accepted usage, and much quicker to type) must willingly relinquish their freedoms and establish a social contract; say, for instance, "don't kill people and take their stuff." In this way, the population can establish a civil society.
The flip side of this, though, is the person to whom you're relinquishing your rights (because apparently you can't just give them away; you can only transfer them). That person is the sovereign authority, and, at least according to Hobbes, if he's a jerk you'd better suck it up and deal, because its a lot better than getting disemboweled for the clothes on your back.
An odd counter-example to this is the fictional universe of Warhammer 40,000 (link to tvtropes.com description). For those of you not cursed with immense nerdiness, Warhammer 40,000 (or simply 40k) is tabletop miniatures wargame of the 'science fantasy' bent. It consists mainly of you and your opponent setting up little plastic men, rolling dice, and imagining your plastic men shooting, exploding, or chainsawing your opponents little plastic men to death.
So yeah, its essentially Army Men with rules.
In any event, in this (again, fictional) setting, its the year 40,000, and everything sucks. Billions of soldiers armed with little more than flashlights face off against bug-like alien monstrosities, hordes of demons pour out of rifts in the space-time continuum, and dark elder gods secretly plot to extinguish all life in the galaxy.
And those are just the external threats. For the general population, the odds aren't any better: you're either drafted into the Imperial Guard (where you'll almost assuredly die horribly) or sent to work in a city-sized sweatshop, and if you complain about either, you'll probably be tortured to death by the Inquisition (yes, that Inquisition). Millions routinely perish due to book-keeping errors. That is, life is essentially as Hobbes describes it: Nasty, brutish, and short.
The thing is, the entire human race is run by possibly the most powerful sovereign of all: The God-Emperor of Mankind. Depending on how you read the backstory, his endless wars might fall under the category of "doing what has to be done," but if his goal was to ensure a civil society, he's doing a pretty poor job of it.
Hobbes' theories fail, for the most part, to address the dangers of an oppressive, all-powerful sovereign. This might be a reflection of his times: writing during the middle of the English Civil War (yes, that's right, the Brits did it first), oppression probably seemed a lot better than anarchy. Still, his flat rejection of the separation of powers is not only archaic in hindsight, but, given its application in ancient Greek and Rome, these safeguards should have been an obvious necessity even at the time of his writing.
There's a lot more that could be said criticizing Hobbes (mechanistic view of humanity, poor geometry skills...), but instead I'll leave it here for tonight.
Next Time: The Ethics of Civil Service & Bounty Hunting
________________________________________
Appended - I did promise tips on how to build a good 40k Army List, but since I ran long today it'll wait until another time. For those that were prtic, here's my own tentative list, which I'll tweak later. If you have no idea what's going on here, suffice to say that these are the little plastic men I intend to use the next time I have a little-plastic-men-battle. Don't worry; its more here for my records than anything else.
It's essentially a Mech Tau configuration, 1000 points, TAC.
HQ - Shas'el XV8 [100 pts total]
-Plasma Rifle
-Cyclic Ion Blaster
-Targeting Array
-Multitracker (hardwired)
Troops - 2*Firewarrior Teams [2*205]
-11 Shas'la
-Devilfish Transport
-Disruption Pod
-Flechette Dischargers
Heavy Support - 2*Hammerhead [2*175]
-Railgun
-Burst Cannon
-Disruption Pods, Flechette Dischargers, Multitrackers
-Hammerhead [140]
-Ion Cannon
-Burst Cannon
-Disruption Pods, Flechette Dischargers, Multitrackers
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
First Entry! Act Excited!
So Mindy more or less coerced me into making a blog.
More specifically, she started telling me how 'hardcore' it would be if I wrote a blog about philosophy. And of course, I was flattered, and had to immediately drop everything and start typing my every passing thought.
Well, not exactly. But close enough.
In any event, this should be a good chance to keep a record of what I'm doing this summer. I'll try to write something each day, and vary topics throughout the week, but we all know what happens to plans like that. In any event, you can expect a mix of both abstract academia (physics, philosophy, ethics) and real-world applications (how-to, bounty hunting, etc.), with a fair bit of general-purpose nerdiness thrown in for good measure. At the very least, I hope to keep myself mildly diverted, and if I can keep a few other people similarly diverted I'll be rather pleased.
That's all for now (no, you don't get a real entry on the first day), but stay tuned!
Next Time: Thomas Hobbes & Building a Warhammer 40k Army
More specifically, she started telling me how 'hardcore' it would be if I wrote a blog about philosophy. And of course, I was flattered, and had to immediately drop everything and start typing my every passing thought.
Well, not exactly. But close enough.
In any event, this should be a good chance to keep a record of what I'm doing this summer. I'll try to write something each day, and vary topics throughout the week, but we all know what happens to plans like that. In any event, you can expect a mix of both abstract academia (physics, philosophy, ethics) and real-world applications (how-to, bounty hunting, etc.), with a fair bit of general-purpose nerdiness thrown in for good measure. At the very least, I hope to keep myself mildly diverted, and if I can keep a few other people similarly diverted I'll be rather pleased.
That's all for now (no, you don't get a real entry on the first day), but stay tuned!
Next Time: Thomas Hobbes & Building a Warhammer 40k Army
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