I put my iPod chord in my backpack. When I take it out a few minutes later, it's an elaborate maze of knots, twists, overpasses, and loop-the-loops. I'm pretty sure God is fucking with me.
By which I mean, the speed and intricacy of this tangling seems a bit implausible. I bet if I installed a camera inside my backpack and kept an eye on things that chord would come out as lithe and unencumbered as a leopard's tail.
Related: You think you are on the eighth floor of a hotel and decide to take the stairs to the lobby. The floors are unmarked. Actually you're on a higher floor. How many flights do you descend before you suspect something is up?
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
How much should a teacher know?
As much as possible, right? I don't think so. I've noticed that the best chess players rarely make the best teachers.
Consider the bishop and knight. According to the point value system taught to beginners, the bishop and the knight are the only two pieces with the same value: three points each, with a pawn being worth one. This point system isn't written into the rules of chess, it's just a simple guideline to beginners to know if a trade is good or bad. The easiest thing, then, would be to tell the student that the bishop and knight are equally valuable.
Only, they're not. Certain kinds of positions favor bishops, other kinds favor knights. Most grandmasters would probably tell you that bishops are a little better than knights in general. In a database survey one of the programmers for Rybka, a chess computer program, found that the advantage of the bishop pair (having both bishops) is worth about half a pawn, but otherwise bishops and knights are roughly equal. Masters have known for a long time that having the bishop pair is good, but no one really knows why. It could be that the two bishops coordinate particularly well, or it could be that the bishop's move is inherently more powerful than the knight's, but it's counterbalanced by a single bishop only being able to go to half the squares on the board (a bishop that starts on a light square can never travel to a dark square). In any case, the bishop pair is one of the hardest concepts to explain (and use), and it's hard to know what to say when the student inevitably asks why it's an advantage.
And that's just the beginning. How much should you divulge in the first class? How quickly should you add new information? If you simplify too much, the information you give will be inaccurate and misleading. If you give away too much right away, all the information will blur together and the student won't come away with anything at all.
Beginners will often trade a bishop for a knight at random without any particular reason -- usually a mistake. Michigan's only homegrown grandmaster, Ben Finegold, used to tell his students, "Never trade." A ridiculous rule on the face of it, but surprisingly canny. Beginners in general are often too willing to trade. They trade because they can, because they don't know what else to do, or because they want to simplify the position, even if the simplification does not favor them objectively. The "never trade" rule is partly a corrective for this tendency. In practice, it plays out as, "Never trade unless you have a good reason to," but sounds stronger and more memorable.
It seems for many strong players their knowledge is a handicap when it comes to teaching. For everyone, concepts that they've long been familiar with seem obvious and hardly worth explaining. It's easy to forget that for beginners these concepts are the ones that require the most attention. Really strong players tend to introduce too much information too quickly, in too much detail.
The best teachers are masters of simplification -- either experts who have learned how to prune their knowledge on the fly, or not-so-experts who have embraced a simplified version of the facts that proves easy to grasp and helpful, at least as a stepping stone.
Consider the bishop and knight. According to the point value system taught to beginners, the bishop and the knight are the only two pieces with the same value: three points each, with a pawn being worth one. This point system isn't written into the rules of chess, it's just a simple guideline to beginners to know if a trade is good or bad. The easiest thing, then, would be to tell the student that the bishop and knight are equally valuable.
Only, they're not. Certain kinds of positions favor bishops, other kinds favor knights. Most grandmasters would probably tell you that bishops are a little better than knights in general. In a database survey one of the programmers for Rybka, a chess computer program, found that the advantage of the bishop pair (having both bishops) is worth about half a pawn, but otherwise bishops and knights are roughly equal. Masters have known for a long time that having the bishop pair is good, but no one really knows why. It could be that the two bishops coordinate particularly well, or it could be that the bishop's move is inherently more powerful than the knight's, but it's counterbalanced by a single bishop only being able to go to half the squares on the board (a bishop that starts on a light square can never travel to a dark square). In any case, the bishop pair is one of the hardest concepts to explain (and use), and it's hard to know what to say when the student inevitably asks why it's an advantage.
And that's just the beginning. How much should you divulge in the first class? How quickly should you add new information? If you simplify too much, the information you give will be inaccurate and misleading. If you give away too much right away, all the information will blur together and the student won't come away with anything at all.
Beginners will often trade a bishop for a knight at random without any particular reason -- usually a mistake. Michigan's only homegrown grandmaster, Ben Finegold, used to tell his students, "Never trade." A ridiculous rule on the face of it, but surprisingly canny. Beginners in general are often too willing to trade. They trade because they can, because they don't know what else to do, or because they want to simplify the position, even if the simplification does not favor them objectively. The "never trade" rule is partly a corrective for this tendency. In practice, it plays out as, "Never trade unless you have a good reason to," but sounds stronger and more memorable.
It seems for many strong players their knowledge is a handicap when it comes to teaching. For everyone, concepts that they've long been familiar with seem obvious and hardly worth explaining. It's easy to forget that for beginners these concepts are the ones that require the most attention. Really strong players tend to introduce too much information too quickly, in too much detail.
The best teachers are masters of simplification -- either experts who have learned how to prune their knowledge on the fly, or not-so-experts who have embraced a simplified version of the facts that proves easy to grasp and helpful, at least as a stepping stone.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Running Bad, Running Good
The government shut down my livelihood and now I don't have a job. That was the bad news. The good news was, I got all my money. Pokerstars (which, by the way, has the best customer service I've ever encountered, except for maybe my old employer Zingerman's) called me the day after the news broke to assure me my money was safe. A little over a week later, the money showed up in my bank account.
Players at Full Tilt, one of the other sites shut down, weren't so lucky. They still haven't gotten their money and about a week ago FT released a statement saying they're "raising capital to ensure that the US players are paid out in full as quickly as possible."
Yowza. Whatever else that might mean, it seems to mean they don't have the money. And Full Tilt players are still better off that people who trusted their money with Absolute Poker, the third site shut down. Although reports that they had declared bankruptcy, reproduced widely online, proved to be false, Absolute Poker has done little to reassure US players that they will get their money -- ever. At least Full Tilt says they're trying to pay the money back.
This is one thing I think about when considering whether or not to put money on some of the poker sites still operating in the US. Before the crackdown, in terms of size, credibility, and trust, Pokerstars was number one, Full Tilt a pretty close second, and Absolute a distant third. Those rankings turned out to be all too accurate when the shit hit the fan. So I have some reservations about committing money to other sites far more obscure than Absolute. Then again, sometimes it's worth it to take a risk, especially if it's the only way to get in business.
Players at Full Tilt, one of the other sites shut down, weren't so lucky. They still haven't gotten their money and about a week ago FT released a statement saying they're "raising capital to ensure that the US players are paid out in full as quickly as possible."
Yowza. Whatever else that might mean, it seems to mean they don't have the money. And Full Tilt players are still better off that people who trusted their money with Absolute Poker, the third site shut down. Although reports that they had declared bankruptcy, reproduced widely online, proved to be false, Absolute Poker has done little to reassure US players that they will get their money -- ever. At least Full Tilt says they're trying to pay the money back.
This is one thing I think about when considering whether or not to put money on some of the poker sites still operating in the US. Before the crackdown, in terms of size, credibility, and trust, Pokerstars was number one, Full Tilt a pretty close second, and Absolute a distant third. Those rankings turned out to be all too accurate when the shit hit the fan. So I have some reservations about committing money to other sites far more obscure than Absolute. Then again, sometimes it's worth it to take a risk, especially if it's the only way to get in business.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Chore -> Ritual
I used to make my coffee with a cheap coffee machine I got from the mall. I would buy pre-ground beans whenever I was shopping for food and happened to think of it. The result had a coffee-like appearance, but didn't taste like much.
Then I started upgrading. I got a one cup ceramic coffee filter and some filter papers, a coffee grinder, and a kettle with a narrow spout. I started buying my coffee beans whole from Comet in Ann Arbor, which has the best coffee I've tasted anywhere. In my new routine I boil some water, grind enough coffee for one cup, and pour the water over the coffee grounds by hand. I've been working on my pouring technique -- they say it's best to dampen the grounds with a light pour first, then pour in the rest of the hot water in a circular motion around the outside of the filter. I don't really know how much these finesses matter, but they give me something to think about and my coffee has certainly improved. I probably spend two or three minutes more making coffee than I used to, but for me it's definitely worth it.
I started to think I could do something similar with other parts of my life -- turn chores into rituals. The idea is that with enough care tasks that were once repetitive and boring become engaging and rewarding. I was going to do it with shaving (straight razor, badger brush, etc.), but then I just stopped shaving. Now I'm thinking about getting really good at ironing clothes.
Then I started upgrading. I got a one cup ceramic coffee filter and some filter papers, a coffee grinder, and a kettle with a narrow spout. I started buying my coffee beans whole from Comet in Ann Arbor, which has the best coffee I've tasted anywhere. In my new routine I boil some water, grind enough coffee for one cup, and pour the water over the coffee grounds by hand. I've been working on my pouring technique -- they say it's best to dampen the grounds with a light pour first, then pour in the rest of the hot water in a circular motion around the outside of the filter. I don't really know how much these finesses matter, but they give me something to think about and my coffee has certainly improved. I probably spend two or three minutes more making coffee than I used to, but for me it's definitely worth it.
I started to think I could do something similar with other parts of my life -- turn chores into rituals. The idea is that with enough care tasks that were once repetitive and boring become engaging and rewarding. I was going to do it with shaving (straight razor, badger brush, etc.), but then I just stopped shaving. Now I'm thinking about getting really good at ironing clothes.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Nit-rolled
With online poker out of the picture I've been trying my hand at live poker. I don't see myself pursuing it as a full-time job, but there are worse ways to make some money on the side. It is, of course, very different.
I was playing in a 1-2 game at the Heidelberg, a bar in Ann Arbor. I opened to $10 under the gun with queens and got two callers. Then one of the blinds 3bet to 25. The raiser was a kid in his early twenties, wearing a hat and listening to headphones, so he had probably watched some poker on TV and thought he knew what he was doing. The size of his raise, though, is ridiculous -- with 40 already in the pot raising only 15 more gives me the correct odds to call with pretty much any two cards. Since the whole idea of poker is to get your opponents to make mistakes -- fold when they should call, or call when they don't have the right odds -- giving someone a price like that rarely makes sense. I had about $150 on the table. Against a competent, aggressive opponent it would be the easiest all-in in the world. I have the third-best starting hand in hold'em. But live players are typically very passive and I had a suspicion he might be the kind of player who would 3bet only with exactly kings or aces. Nonetheless given the strength of my hand, my stack size, and the amount of money already in the pot I couldn't talk myself into any other than a shove. The two callers quickly folded and the raiser started to think. I mentally pumped the fist. Obviously if he had aces or kings he would instantly snap it off and those are the only two hands that beat me. So now either he folds and I get the money in the pot or he calls and I get my whole stack in ahead. After awhile he decides to call. The flop comes ace-high all clubs. Immediately he slumps in his chair and says, "I'm pretty sure I'm dead now." I figure he has something like tens with no club. I even have the queen of clubs, which would mean he's drawing to only one out in the deck. The turn is another ace and the river is a brick. I flip my queens and get ready to scoop the pot. He flips over two kings.
From the other side of the table, one of the good players at the table yells, "You got nit-rolled, bro!" This is a combination of two pieces of poker terminology. A nit is a derogatory term for a risk-averse player. Slow-rolling is when you delay calling or revealing your cards, typically to annoy or embarrass your opponent. For example, if your opponent went all-in and you had the nuts (the best possible hand) and you pretended to think for a long time before calling that would be a slow-roll. Hence nit-roll: the kid had a slam dunk call, but was such a nit that he thought for a long time, making me think I must have the best hand.
I was playing in a 1-2 game at the Heidelberg, a bar in Ann Arbor. I opened to $10 under the gun with queens and got two callers. Then one of the blinds 3bet to 25. The raiser was a kid in his early twenties, wearing a hat and listening to headphones, so he had probably watched some poker on TV and thought he knew what he was doing. The size of his raise, though, is ridiculous -- with 40 already in the pot raising only 15 more gives me the correct odds to call with pretty much any two cards. Since the whole idea of poker is to get your opponents to make mistakes -- fold when they should call, or call when they don't have the right odds -- giving someone a price like that rarely makes sense. I had about $150 on the table. Against a competent, aggressive opponent it would be the easiest all-in in the world. I have the third-best starting hand in hold'em. But live players are typically very passive and I had a suspicion he might be the kind of player who would 3bet only with exactly kings or aces. Nonetheless given the strength of my hand, my stack size, and the amount of money already in the pot I couldn't talk myself into any other than a shove. The two callers quickly folded and the raiser started to think. I mentally pumped the fist. Obviously if he had aces or kings he would instantly snap it off and those are the only two hands that beat me. So now either he folds and I get the money in the pot or he calls and I get my whole stack in ahead. After awhile he decides to call. The flop comes ace-high all clubs. Immediately he slumps in his chair and says, "I'm pretty sure I'm dead now." I figure he has something like tens with no club. I even have the queen of clubs, which would mean he's drawing to only one out in the deck. The turn is another ace and the river is a brick. I flip my queens and get ready to scoop the pot. He flips over two kings.
From the other side of the table, one of the good players at the table yells, "You got nit-rolled, bro!" This is a combination of two pieces of poker terminology. A nit is a derogatory term for a risk-averse player. Slow-rolling is when you delay calling or revealing your cards, typically to annoy or embarrass your opponent. For example, if your opponent went all-in and you had the nuts (the best possible hand) and you pretended to think for a long time before calling that would be a slow-roll. Hence nit-roll: the kid had a slam dunk call, but was such a nit that he thought for a long time, making me think I must have the best hand.
Friday, June 3, 2011
At Such a Price
In a picture of a barber shop from 1935, I saw a slogan for Fatima cigarettes: "There is no other cigarette of such quality at such a price."
The statement is long, measured, modest, and possibly even true. In other words, the opposite of modern advertising. That type of literalism is long gone, replaced by insinuations of grandeur. Not only would a modern advertisement never qualify its claims with a phrase like "at such a price," being the finest cigarette at any price would not be enough unless it also allowed you to leap over buildings and fuck whoever you want.
As BS Fest 2012 approaches, I was thinking that maybe the price we pay for unprecedented affluence and being able to say pretty much whatever we want without being shot or imprisoned is the creeping of advertising into every part of our lives, politics very much so. Capitalism is the best system, at such a price.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
A Polarizing Situation
There is nothing worse than a line for tip amount on your credit card receipt at the yogurt shop. No one would think any less of you for not tipping on yogurt, but a question once asked cannot be unasked. Now you have two choices: tip or don't tip. But the choice you don't have is to do nothing, to never think of it at all. They've taken that choice from you.
Why not just leave the tip line blank? Because diabolical yogurt agents could fill in that line with anything they damn well please.
There's no avoiding it. You have to choose. If you choose not to tip, you can either write in the zeros, or draw a slash through the line. The slash is particularly dismissive. I don't have the time to write a few zeros, which, by the way, is what you'll be getting from me: nothing. But the zeros are hardly better. Either way it's obvious you thought about it and chose to give nothing. You came. You saw. You stiffed.
If you tip, not only are you out the money, you look like a sap. Tipping for yogurt! You could split the difference and tip a smaller fraction, but that just raises more problems. They'll assume you're a cheapskate, that 7% is your standard tip. Or is it 7% What will you choose to give once unmoored from the convention of 15%-20%? That question alone could occupy your whole afternoon.
Tipping something is too generous, tipping nothing is nasty. I don't want to be an asshole, but I don't want to be that nice either.
Why not just leave the tip line blank? Because diabolical yogurt agents could fill in that line with anything they damn well please.
There's no avoiding it. You have to choose. If you choose not to tip, you can either write in the zeros, or draw a slash through the line. The slash is particularly dismissive. I don't have the time to write a few zeros, which, by the way, is what you'll be getting from me: nothing. But the zeros are hardly better. Either way it's obvious you thought about it and chose to give nothing. You came. You saw. You stiffed.
If you tip, not only are you out the money, you look like a sap. Tipping for yogurt! You could split the difference and tip a smaller fraction, but that just raises more problems. They'll assume you're a cheapskate, that 7% is your standard tip. Or is it 7% What will you choose to give once unmoored from the convention of 15%-20%? That question alone could occupy your whole afternoon.
Tipping something is too generous, tipping nothing is nasty. I don't want to be an asshole, but I don't want to be that nice either.
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