What I’ll never forget

It’s the day after the anniversary, and my Facebook timeline is still filled with calls to #NeverForget.

I’ll never forget that I slept through the 9/11 attacks; my friend texted me shortly after and woke me up, and I looked at my phone to see his name but not the text, long enough to think, “What is he thinking texting me this early?”, before going back to sleep. I woke up two hours later to the sound of NPR telling us that we didn’t know much and we shouldn’t panic, and realized immediately that this was a terrifying thing to hear.

I’ll never forget the sense of disbelief when I read on the Internet that the towers had collapsed. I pictured a facade dropping off with the superstructure remaining intact. It wasn’t until I saw the video that I believed it.

I’ll never forget the sound of fighter jets flying what sounded like inches above the roof of my apartment building.

I’ll never forget the epiphany I had that evening, desperately clinging to normal routines on an abnormal day, having a cigarette in front of a Washington DC Starbucks: that they had hit us as hard as they could, as hard as we had ever been hit, and that it didn’t even register on the scale of existential threats. We were too big, too spread out, too powerful; the sun would rise on America as it had the day before. My greatest risk was still getting hit by a car on the walk home.

I’ll never forget finally reaching my parents when cell service started working again, telling them I was fine, only a few miles away from what would have been the worst terrorist attack in the United States the day before. And it was true. We were fine.

I’ll never forget how my country seemed to lose its collective mind, demanding any action whatsoever that seemed to increase its safety, regardless of whether that action had anything to do with 9/11. As if we didn’t accept gross infringements on our safety daily as part of living in the 21st century. As if our individual safety was our highest value.

I’ll never forget the time I did feel personally terrorized, when two men converted their car into a sniper’s perch, and for a few weeks randomly murdered people in the DC area. For those weeks, I walked home with a staggered step, in zigzag, wondering if a sniper bullet left you alive long enough to realize what had happened. These men weren’t al-Qaeda or ISIS, they were just crazed criminals with a rifle.

I’ll never forget being taken off my plane at Newark, when a random guy decided to say goodbye to his girlfriend at the gate, and they shut down the airport. Thousands of us were herded into crowded conditions in the baggage area, with all of our luggage. We were told nothing by the airport or the airlines. I’ll never forget realizing that if any of these people intended to blow up a plane, they now had a better, easier target; hundreds would die in an explosion, hundreds more would die in the crush for the doors. I went outside and smoked a pack of cigarettes, got interviewed on local news, and managed to be on the first plane out eight hours later.

I’ll never forget the number of people who have looked at me like I was crazy when I have said any of this in the past fifteen years. I don’t expect that to change in my lifetime.

I’ll never forget how I’ve felt proud, patriotic, sad, moved, communitarian, ashamed, and guilty, about what happened to us and what we did after. But I’ve never felt terrorized by terrorists. I’ve reported unattended bags on trains, but never someone who “looked wrong”. I’ve never demonized the enemies of this country, or exalted them to the rank of supervillains, or forgotten who in this world is powerful, and who is weak. I’ve never felt like the victim.

These are things I hope to never forget.

What comes after Trump? There is no “after Trump.”

It’s time to start discussing what we’ll need to do when Trump loses.

Vox published an Andrew Prokup story this morning saying that whomever leads the polls at this point in the election, wins the popular vote. 538 has her at an 86% favorite. That number is going to fluctuate and the final tally may be closer—although I have my doubts—but Hillary is going to win. At this point, any sane Republican has to count on a black swan event—a terrorist attack; an assassination attempt on Clinton—to change the race in Trump’s favor. Some people are counting on Julian Assange to be their unlikely savior, but I doubt this; aside from the issue of allowing an Australian hiding from the Swedes in an Ecuadorian embassy in London to affect us, I just don’t see what email they could have that would shift the election that much.

Meanwhile, Trump supporters are living happily in their bubble, aided and abetted by right-wing websites, slanted news organizations, and Trump himself. The polls are phony, the election is rigged. You don’t need to imagine the delegitimization effort; it’s already in progress.

The problem is that there are three considerations that need to be taken into account.

1) This is happening after an unprecedented era of Republican obstruction already. Trump supported but by no means started or is personally responsible for the birther movement that claims that Obama was never really president. The Senate has set a new record for blocking a Supreme Court nominee. We’ve already seen how GOP Congresspeople were forced to respond when a small percentage of the party became Tea Party activists; how will they respond when the majority of their base are Trump voters?

2) It’s been said many times, and I’ve said it myself: we need a blowout Hillary victory to repudiate Trump’s vision of America. As I write this, Clinton is winning in Arizona and Georgia, and competitive in South Carolina. Her campaign is making overtures in Utah. The blowout is certainly in the making.

But this won’t cause Trump supporters to dry up and blow away. His true believers are being fed a steady diet of messages how he’s a winner and Hillary’s a loser. If all they watch is Fox News and all they read is Breitbart, they can be forgiven for believing this. November 9th will come as a horrible and sudden shock.

3) Finally, we have to consider Trump himself. Because we’re all assuming that he, like every failed presidential candidate, is going to go away if he loses.

Of course he won’t.

Trump is a narcissist; I can think of several disparaging adjectives I could add to that descriptor, but I’ll leave it at that to gain agreement with a wide audience. For the past 14 months, he’s been dosing on the purest form of heroin imaginable for such a condition; a medieval absolute ruler did not get the level of global adulation and attention that the media and Internet can provide to someone in its spotlight today.

On November 9th, that spotlight shuts off, for both the winner and the loser. Only the actual president gets anywhere near the sort of attention a presidential candidate gets, and even then, the spotlight is dimmer and more easily distracted. For normal, emotionally healthy, losing candidates, the transition is utterly crushing.

For Trump? God can only begin to imagine. Some people theorize that he constantly ramps up his attacks and crazy statements in public because he thinks that it will help him win. Some people think he does this because he can’t stand a moment of being out of the center of attention. I think both are true.

So what he’s going to do and say starting on November 9th beggars the imagination, because I literally don’t have the capacity to imagine it. I didn’t imagine he would say half of what he’s already said. And we’re still three months away, while he’s still enjoying the spotlight.

At a minimum, what I think we need to expect is a massive delegitimization of the election and the presidency, with substantial shade thrown at Congress as well if the Democrats retake part or all of it. (In that sense, a complete win could be disastrous; imagine believing that your presidential candidate was going to win, only to wake up to find that the opposing party, led by a murdering crook, has taken all three branches of government?) But the minimum is not what we should expect.

Every indicator of Trump’s motivation, incentives, and personality indicates that he’s going to do whatever he can to keep the same spotlight on him, with the same intensity. A shadow government, run from the environs of Trump TV? Sure. Endless lawsuits in every state? Why not? Actual calls for civil disobedience and insurrection, as opposed to the veiled “I was joking” attempts to date? Absolutely, right up to the line of what’s legal, and possibly beyond them. Who would prosecute?

If you believe, as I do, that he got into this as a money-making enterprise, and that fame is what generates his money, he has zero reason not to do any of these things. If you believe, as I do, that he is utterly convinced of the truth of his obvious leadership qualities and the slanting of the election against him, this isn’t a prediction, it’s par for the course.

The question is what we can do as a nation to prevent the worst of what will come after.

I’m with her. 100%.

Which American politician invented the Internet? If you answered that with “Al Gore”, you’ve just demonstrated the power of political memes. Even if you supported him, even if you voted for him, even if you know the story well enough to know he never said it, you remember the meme.

There’s a new one circulating which hasn’t yet been widely noted, one that’s common in political reporting and endemic on social media: Hillary as squishy alternative to a best choice. As a Bernie voter who wasn’t repelled by Berners until the DNC, I’ve done this myself, numerous times. You’ll see this in numerous articles about whether Bernie supporters will vote for her, a non-story if there ever was one: both polling and recent history tells us they will, in massive numbers.

I’ve been especially struck by how much coverage the political left is getting in the mainstream media; Jill Stein pops up on my radar regularly, more often than Gary Johnson (who has double the third-party support), and Bernie dead-enders are still considered quotable. Compare that with the antiwar protests of the early 2000s, when millions of people could coalesce and get barely a mention in the news. The American left (that is, the part of it to the left of mainstream Democrats) has been politically invisible since the Reagan administration, and it’s odd to see it covered now, at precisely the moment when it can help tank a candidate.

This doesn’t make a great deal of sense. One of the true things about Hillary is that she does have a large, core group of avid supporters. There were 17.8 million who voted for her in 2008; 16.8 million in 2016. She inspired the PUMA movement in 2008 when people claimed they would never vote for Obama. (They did.) She’s been on the national political scene for over 25 years. There should be a strong counterweight of full-throated, unequivocal Hillary support to the squish-Hillary meme. There isn’t.

Compare this to Trump’s support, and his 14 million votes. Pick a Republican constituency—establishment, evangelical, neoconservative, or Tea Party—and Trump has repudiated it. He’s the most pro-Russian popular candidate since actual Socialists ran well in the 1920s. His biggest rival attended the RNC to tell his voters not to turn out for him.

If there were going to be a meme about squishy support for a candidate, it should be Trump. Trump’s support is held together by party unity and his excessive angry spittle, and if it looks in October like he’s going to lose, expect to see his support crater.

But that won’t happen if his support stays even, and here’s where the meme matters: both candidates’ support is reported by the meme and constructed by the meme. If a wavering Trump voter thinks all of his peers are 100% in favor, he’s going to be more supportive. If a leaning-Hillary voter thinks that her most vocal support has reservations, he’s more likely to reconsider.

So if you’re a Hillary supporter, support Hillary. Sure, criticize her if you want to, but don’t feel required to. For myself, I intend to save the potshots and the pushing-leftward until after November. I voted for Bernie. I’m glad his coalition gained concessions in the platform. I intend to be a thorn in her side during her presidency to make sure she follows through.

But until then, I’m with her. And I don’t feel the need to apologize for it. Why do you?

Hacked

Apparently someone got in through a WordPress backdoor here and the place has been rifled. There are sporadic reports that a page here, left open for a while, redirects to an adult site. If this happens to you, please let me know. I think I’ve closed all of the barn doors, but for all I know, the place now has windows.

When you pry the hot cup from my cold, dead fingers

I can usually pigeonhole my opinions well with the shorthand, “liberals = smart, libertarians = nutjobs”, but if this Diane Rehm show on the “dangers” of caffeine were 10 minutes longer, I’d be running screaming to the Cato Institute.

The essential premise of the show is that caffeine is bad for kids, and lots of things have caffeine, therefore something should be done. But with the exception of the scientist hired by Monster Beverage to research (and presumably defend) their products, the other guests and Rehm herself just took it for granted that N milligrams, where N is a randomly selected three-digit number, is bad.

That takes a special kind of sloppy thinking. The average cup of coffee has 80-100 milligrams, so hey, let’s call that a “normal” dose. My venti coffee has upwards of 330 milligrams, because it comes in a big cup (and because the average cup of coffee, in my opinion, is a goddamn shotglass). That’s too much. Likewise the 240 milligrams in a Monster Energy drink, because… well, no one really says. It’s just bad.

Personally, if I hear “think of the children” one more damn time in the discussion of any policy, I’m going to start deliberately knocking over toddlers on the sidewalk. But yes, there probably is an upper limit on what children’s intake of caffeine should be — and IMO, most children, after they’ve experienced one bad case of the caffeine jitters, learn what it is. Likewise with alcohol, sugar, and tobacco — most of these drugs, you’ve got a built-in limiting factor where the body says, “slow down, schmuck” after a rather overdone experiment.

What really amused me was hearing Michael Jacobson, of the Center for Science in the Interest of Outlawing Your Vices, say that no one sits down and has 24 ounces of coffee at a sitting. At the moment I heard that, I was somewhere around ounce 28.

The last time I had to be anywhere regularly at 7 AM, I was in high school. Most kids are legally mandated to show up around that time. I’m not a morning person and never was, and if someone had tried to take away my caffeine, one of two things would have happened: I’d have had my first “cold, dead fingers” political moment, or my grades would have plummeted. So, yes, I will think of the children — and I’ll tell them to stop using stimulants when we stop requiring them to live up to the same 24/7 rat race to which we subject our adults.

Thank you, Neal Conan

So today was Neal Conan’s last show on Talk of the Nation. I’ve been a listener for years, and I suspect I won’t know how much I’ll miss it until after it’s gone (and after I’ve worn through a bunch of podcast archives I still have lying around). TOTN is rarely destination radio, but it’s consistently good, which is damned impressive when you consider it’s on for eight hours a week.

That said, I’ll be forever grateful to Conan for one broadcast: he was on several very long NPR shows immediately following 9/11, when I was compulsively burning midnight oil sucking down all of the news I could, and reading the entire goddamned Internet. I specifically remember Conan shutting down several people he interviewed when they extrapolated from what-was-known to pure speculation, and making damned sure that his show wasn’t contributing to any rumormongering.

But beyond that, his voice and demeanor were what I think of as the best BBC tradition during a crisis: authoritative, soothing, and concerned. He helped me get through it.

So thanks, Neal. I’m sorry to see you leave my daily diet of news. You’re welcome back anytime.

In case you’re feeling stuck today…

I keep on looking up these numbers. I’m going to blog them so I never have to find them again. All figures are highly approximate, so no one give me any shit unless I’ve made major calculation errors. (Paul Guinnessey, I’m looking at you.)

Your approximate speed because you’re standing on Earth’s surface: 1,000 miles per hour

Your approximate speed because you’re orbiting the sun: 67,000 miles per hour

Your approximate speed because you’re also orbiting the Milky Way: 535,000 miles per hour

But then it wouldn’t be crunchy

One of my earliest memories is roadtripping with my parents to Miami Beach when I was three or four, and watching an episode of Monty Python with them late one night in a motel outside Fayetteville. Considering their last business in Atlantic City, I’d like to think it was this one.

PA: “The mentally ill? Fuck ’em.”

Apparently, if I go without tweeting for a few months and my last Foursquare check-in was in Philadelphia, I’d appreciate if someone could pick up the phone and ring Pennsylvania:

An investigation by the Department of Justice found that a Pennsylvania state prison had been unconstitutionally holding inmates with serious mental illness in solitary confinement for months or years at a time. The practice, which has been deemed torture, cruel and unusual, and worse than being held hostage in Iran, involves holding prisoners in isolation for 23 hours a day in a small, often windowless cell with a steel door.

I’d be curious to know what the criteria are for tossing somebody into a locked room and throwing away the room. Somehow, it’s interesting if you actually need to have a transient psychotic break before you’re put in isolation for decades, or if a simple history of mental illness is enough for them to pro-actively put you in isolation for decades.

Probably doesn’t make a whole lot of difference: I’ve personally never had a transient psychotic break, but if I were going to guess my most likely place to have my first, it’s after I’ve been cut off from meds and treatment and thrown into a prison.

One thing does stand out: the DOJ is criticized for “warehousing” prisoners. That’s not a fair accusation. A warehouse is a place where you spend a lot of money because you want a high chance of keeping your stuff in good shape.

Suggested edit: “landfilling” prisoners.

Under the PATRIOT Act, “no comment” and denials don’t mean shit

There’s an open question going around concerning the companies involved in PRISM data monitoring: that is, did they willingly go along with it, or did the government somehow get their data without their knowledge?

Here’s an example of how it’s running today:

Hours after the news broke, and every company bar PalTalk and AOL denied any knowledge of the program and allegations of their involvement, the Post has changed its stance. The phrase ”participate knowingly” has been removed from the article, a new passage suggests the firms were unaware of PRISM.

Attention, every journalist and analyst trying to read the tea leaves: the PATRIOT Act enables gag orders for cooperating public and private entities, and enforces them with criminal penalties. Which means that all of the above companies may have been asked or forced to provide information, and then required by criminal law to neither reveal it, nor to say one word about it in public today.

If you’ve got sources on deep background, that’s what you should be asking them.

Why science reporting is screwy

The BBC headline:

Invisibility ‘time cloak’ developed

The lede:

An “invisibility” time cloak which is able to hide events in a continuous stream of light has been developed by scientists. The cloak works by manipulating the speed of light in optical fibres and means any interaction which takes place during this “hole in time” is not detected.

The buried:

Though called a time cloak, it’s actually “not a manipulation of time, it’s a manipulation of light” explained Greg Gbur, who specialises in optical physics at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. The researcher, who was not involved in the study, said it showed a huge advance in the work on the time cloak.

Pardon me, then WHY THE FUCK IS IT CALLED A TIME CLOAK?

This is the problem with science reporting: yes, Virginia, it’s a very big deal if we’re able to “manipulate” the speed of light. I assume this has something to do with relativity or quantum behavior or dilithium crystals; in any case, it’s a crucial part of the story, and I’m pretty much left to infer it.

Likewise, I can also infer that monkeying with the speed of light might be synonymous with altering the flow of time (and a bunch of other things), since c shows up in some many equations and is generally constant.

That’s all pretty interesting. An explanation of the above might help get people fired up about science and cutting-edge research. Or we could just call this fucker a Time Cloak, hint at nifty technology in 20 years, and call it a day.

Update: Nature to the rescue with a much better description of what’s going on.

23 weeks, 6 days

Fascinating and moving story by Radiolab about the choices presented to a couple whose baby was born premature.

Juniper was born one day short of the rather arbitrary 24-week line at which fetuses are considered viable outside the womb. I was born six days short of the 28-week line, which is where it was drawn a few years after when Roe v. Wade made it a matter of law. Some Googling informs me that the doctor to whom my parents always attributed the saving of my life, Dr. Mary Louise Soentgen, died in 1999.

So I’ll send out a posthumous thank you to Dr. Soentgen, and anyone else working at Jefferson in 1969 and 1970. I’m still here, too.

Twentysomething Jeff on JATO rockets

Watching the 10th anniversary episode of Mythbusters, and in honor of that landmark I’m reposting what I had to say about the JATO rocket urban myth in The Twentysomething Guide to Creative Self-Employment, eight years pre-Mythbusters:

A story was going around the Internet a while ago about some total schmuck in Arizona who had no idea what he was getting himself into. Apparently, this Einstein decided that he wanted to drive really fast. So he somehow laid his hands on a solid-fuel Jet-Assist Takeoff (JATO) booster rocket, which he then soldered onto the underside of his Chevy. Then he found himself a really long, straight road, and set the rocket off.

Now, this guy was smart enough to smuggle military hardware. He was smart enough to attach the rocket to his car so that it didn’t blow apart the car when it went off. And he knew to do this out in Arizona, which is basically just long expanses of sand broken up by the occasional retirement community—the inhabitants of which must have been very amused to see a Chevy blow by at three hundred miles per hour.

This guy was clueless, however, on two key factors. One, the JATO rocket has no off switch. Two, Chevys aren’t supposed to go much over sixty, and their brakes and steering wheels tend to fail at ICBM cruising velocities. Which is why the guy was scraped off the side of a small hill with a putty knife.
The moral of the story? Hell, it doesn’t really need one. But if I had to say, it’s a case of classic half-assed burnout.”

I’m realizing that after a few modifications to this site, I haven’t checked to see if any of the PDF links to The Twentysomething Guide still work. So if you want to read the whole book, here it is again (8.5 megabyte PDF).

The Internet is a surveillance state

Bruce Schneier declares that the privacy war is over, and the panopticon won.

Increasingly, what we do on the Internet is being combined with other data about us. Unmasking Broadwell’s identity involved correlating her Internet activity with her hotel stays. Everything we do now involves computers, and computers produce data as a natural by-product.

This isn’t something the free market can fix. We consumers have no choice in the matter. All the major companies that provide us with Internet services are interested in tracking us.

Personally, I think that there are two ways we need to address this. The first is to understand the massive distinctions between the panopticons created by government, for-profit businesses, and individuals. These have different effects and different benefits, but we tend to sweep them all under the same rug.

Second, it seems utterly bizarre to me that I own the copyright of this post for 70 years after my death (although that’s completely unenforceable, as I’m not a millionaire), but I have no ownership over data about me. We need to formalize the unspoken right to data that is implicit in signing a TOS with Google and Facebook, because so many entities simply take this information and provide nothing in return.

So about that kid who killed his sister…

Somehow I had gotten it into my head that the rifle a five-year-old used to accidentally shoot his two-year-old sister must’ve been a BB gun or something. I mean, not that you should leave a kid alone with a BB gun, but it had to be a gun out of a 1950s comic book, right?

This Mother Jones article made me realize that I had made that assumption. So I continued onward to the Crickett rifle website. If you haven’t checked it out yourself, you really must. This goes double for any of my international readers, because it’s probably been hours since you had another proof that the United States is clinically insane.

Now, I’m the first to say that I don’t know shit about firearms. (When I say “comic book BB gun”, it’s with a vague understanding that BB guns are generally only suitable for killing squirrels and the family pet, and that it takes really bad luck to kill a human with one.) But it seems that a .22 rifle is actually a real gun. It’s the one the Boy Scouts use because it hurts less to use (lower recoil), but here’s the Wikipedia picture of suitable ammo for My First Rifle:

Mother Jones also informs me that there’s a booming business in bulletproof clothing and backpacks for children. Because, you know, gun rights.

A NL hand post-mortem

Wherein Our Hero attempts to add a no-limit game to his cash game poker repertoire

Sat down at a 1-1 NL table at Bally’s ($50-$150 buy-in, $2 to call the $1 blind preflop) with $100 I won at Jacks or Better, and was felted on the first hand I played, around two orbits in. Here’s how it went down.

A loose-aggressive player opened for $10 in middle position. $10 is his standard open, which is mathematically insane at a 1-1 table, but as he typically got a few calls this isn’t a bad plan in this case. A loose caller to my right calls. I’m in the cutoff seat and peek to see AKo in the hole.

I’ve got just under $100; the raiser has $330 and has me stacked. He’s also talked loudly about locking in the $300 and playing with the rest.

My decision process: can I fold? Hell no.

Should I raise? Hell yes. I raise to $30. He calls, everyone else folds.

Flop comes AQT two-suited and he checks to me. I’ve got him on anything from a middle pair to a crappy Ace, and the main thing I’m worried about is that he’s hit his kicker for two pair.

I go to bet, and I’m reminded why I hate no limit. There’s $70 in the pot. My normal bet of $35 leaves me pot-committed; I can’t fold to a check-raise because a) he’s aggressive; b) it’s a heavy drawing board, and c) he might think his A-x is good. So I bet the pot and go all-in.

He flips over K-J and takes it with the straight.

Post-mortem:

Should I have raised to something other than $30? My mistake here is that I didn’t think about it—I forgot my observation about his calling cap. Raise to $40 and there’s a chance that he folds preflop, especially with KJo. On the other hand, as it went down I got my money in good, and he called as a 3-1 dog.

Should I have called preflop? The mistake here is that I didn’t consider it. In retrospect, this was my last chance to control the size of the pot; after my raise, I’m going all-in on a favorable flop, and that hadn’t quite occurred to me.

Again on the other hand, calling here would given me top-pair, top-kicker on a draw-heavy board against two undefined opponents. As it stands, I’m kicking myself for giving myself no chance to get away from a cooler; with a call, I’d be kicking myself for not defining the flop better.

So I’m thinking I played this right, except for one real problem: I’m forced to go all-in on the flop, but I’m only getting called if I’m beat. I don’t see a way around this with a short stack, but instinctively I feel like this isn’t the way to play a cash game.