Thursday, July 24, 2014

EWOC Press Release



EWOC Press Release

Wednesday, it was reported that the Equal Weather Opportunity Commission has confirmed receipt of a complaint from a resident of Western Michigan.  The complaint alleges weather discrimination.  A spokesperson was quoted as saying, “All American citizens are, under the law, entitled to equal weather, free from discrimination.  Obviously, this means that rain, snow, sleet or freezing rain must fall equally upon all citizens, regardless of street, neighborhood or geographical location.”   The complaint alleges excessive amounts of rain have fallen there (the name of the actual location, Saugatuck, is being withheld, pending notification of relatives). 

The National Weather Service will be investigating.  The respondents, TV Chief Meteorologists LLF, have pointed out that equal proportions of rain and sunshine probabilities were forecast, and that they cannot be held responsible for the disparate impact of the actual weather.  In fact, they intend to provide evidence that their forecasts have a 0.0001 correlation with the actual climatic events, including rain, wind, hail, snow or freezing rain. 


The defendants are quoted as saying, when notified of the complaint, “Days may be cloudy or sunny, we’re in or we’re out of the money, we're all innocent, come rain or come shine.”

Friday, July 18, 2014

Now Who Needs A Weatherman To Tell Which Way The Wind Blows?

Now Who Needs A Weatherman To Tell Which Way The Wind Blows?


It was Bpb Dylan who penned the lyric about the wind's direction. It's from his Subterranean Homesick Blues, a hit in 1965.  It became an iconic work.  In rock journalist Andy Gill's words, "a verbal whirlwind...recognized by an entire generation."  It was densely packed with allusions to all sorts of emerging themes in the 1960's youth culture, everything from the civil rights movement, to the protest movement, and the widespread use of illicit drugs.  It wasn't a narrative, but a collection of emergent ideas.  It's a fact that the radical splinter from the Students for a Democratic Society, the Weathermen, took its name from the line quoted in this piece's title.

The title of the song probably came from Jack Kerouac's work on the Beat Generation entitled The Subterraneans.  In 1959, while at the University of Minnesota, Dylan came under the influence of the Beat Generation's icons, Ginsberg, Corso and Kerouac.  Some 14 years later, I discovered Kerouac and enjoyed reading that and other works by Kerouac.  I never became a big fan of Ginsberg or Corso, but I am sure I read three or four books by Kerouac.  All of which has nothing to do with the real topic of this little note.  Previously, I have soaked about the total lack of accountability that surrounds weather prognostication.  These people mostly read and summarize the works of others, but what they read off the teleprompter is rarely, it ever, reviewed for accuracy.  I am sure the average weatherperson never includes any accuracy statistics in his or her resume.

Now Who Needs A Weatherman To Tell Which Way The Wind Blows?


We bring this on ourselves, you know.  I have no doubt that people in general pay no more attention than to note "the weatherman was way off today, wasn't he?" and that is about all.  No one goes around saying "Wow, that's three times in a row the weatherman hit the nail on the head with that temperature forecast.  "  Or, says this is the second time this week the weatherman was right about the rain."  No one needs a weatherman to tell them which way the wind blew yesterday for just one reason--NO ONE CARES WHAT THE WEATHER WAS YESTERDAY!  They want to know what the likelihood of rain is this evening or tomorrow morning, but not yesterday.  The fact that the fireworks display was rained out, or the picnic was shortened unexpectedly by a downpour soon fades from memory.

Today was a remarkable day, weather-wise.  Even in July in South Carolina, the temperature did not reach 88 degrees.  The humidity was noticeably absent, there was a cool breeze and the evening was just the same--delightful.   Since we had two sets of friends vacationing here this week, we were glad to see it happen for their last day at the beach (or the pool, or wherever).  It made me think about what the week had been like overall, AND I COULD NOT REMEMBER!  We had showers in the early part of the day a couple of times, I think, and showers late in an otherwise perfect day once, I think, and yesterday we had rain in the middle of the day that promptly disappeared, leaving a nice afternoon and evening.  Or, wasn't that Thursday?  And which days had no rain at all?  Is this just my age?  I dunno, but, as I noted above, we are conditioned not to care or keep track.  So, I am going to start summarizing the weather we have each day in my handy little calendar, as soon as I find it, I think it's downstairs.  I need to write down what a gorgeous day today has been, before I forget which day it was (is).  Hope your day was spellbinding, too.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

You Dreamed That You Were Important Again

You Dreamed That You Were Important Again


Ah, I know that look, I've seen it before.
You woke up from a dream a single spirit had dreamed
to this age-old cosmic one we all share but ignore.
In this dream things were different, so they had seemed
we had big things to talk about, much more like before

Perhaps you imagined even more than you had--
before this twilight was tendered to live out your life,
'enjoying' things, just taking it easy, not sad.
Talk of peaceful things and memories, avoid all that strife

Did they know what so sorely you'd miss--
that life without strife is not always bliss
They can't know what it's like, how sorely you'd miss
those days you were needed, something always amiss.

To be heard, to have what you say regarded
to be offering more than just a complaint.
To think boldly, to synthesize what most others haven't
To talk, discuss, perhaps and even debate

Things that mattered,
Moves whose outcomes you'd see,
Not just knowing that you've joined a few others,
Flailing away at some faraway
Cause offered by all-knowing others,
those who feigned to sincerely seek out your voices,
but only for background noise, not for help making choices.

But from this cosmic dream, some day you'll awaken
Not feeling separate, isolatd, somehow mistaken
There's something beneath this or perhaps it surrounds us,
I know it, I feel it, I just haven't quite found it.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Getting Unstuck



Getting Unstuck


I've been stuck on Project 12, so I stopped writing daily as the challenge had been laid out.  Writing every day has not ever been a habit with me, usually one day out of three, sometimes twice or three times in a row.  It's supposed to be fun, after all, not a chore or a duty.  But this morning is beautiful out my window once more.  The hurricane blew past us, dumping on the Outer Banks, I'd imagine, unless it turned out to sea.  Once they sweep by, the hurricanes leave us with a couple of clear and bright days like this one.  We've come to expect it, but it is still fine as can be.  I'm waiting for my better half to join me in a beach walk--forget the shopping and other chores we must do and just walk.

No dice.  She's got "too much to do."  Oh well, I'll take some sort of walk just the same, while she shops.  I'll report on it later.


Thursday, July 3, 2014

One More Clerihew, for my friend, Tom Durkin

One More Clerihew, for my friend, Tom Durkin


As I mentioned once before, as I was wandering through A Poet's Glossary by Edward Hirsch, I ran across a special term, a clerihew.  Anyway, it is right there on page 112, between "classic" and "cliche."  Quoting Mr. Hirsch, "It consists of a skewed quatrain--two rhyming couplets of unequal length that whimsically encapsulate a person's biography..."  (How can you not just love a book full of definitions like this one?)  Usually, the name of the person being sent up appears in the first couplet.  He offers this example--Today

Geoffrey Chaucer
Could hardly have been coarser
But this never harmed the sales
Of his Canterbury Tales 

Today, I pay tribute to an old friend of mine, the well-known racetrack announcer who called the Breeder's Cup races for many years and was the race caller for NBC Sports from 1984 thru 2010.  He capped his career by calling the Triple Crown races for ten years (thirty races, in all), until he gave it up in 2011.  Next month, he retires, calling his last race at New York's Saratoga Springs on August 31st.  Here is his clerihew--


Tom Durkin, he was a grand racetrack announcer,
All the races he’s called, I sure could nay count, sir.
He coined many a phrase, and polished his words,
Methinks wasting such work on those old railbirds. 

Congratulations, Tom.  The A and W's salute you.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

It Could Happen....

I recently ran across a collection of survey results--some from fashion magazines, some from advertising firms and one made for peanut growers.  As you probably know, surveys are a lot like statistics, as in Mark Twain's wry observation that "there are liars, damned liars and statisticians."  A well-designed survey can tell you exactly what you want to hear.  If you want a "true" response in a series of true-false questions, make the alternative appear foolish, exaggerated, or somehow undesirable in some subtle way (or obviously so--but only if you have to).  Or insert it in a series of questions to which the answer is obviously true, and make it confusing, counting on the respondent to just mark this one true as a guess.  You might also try making the desired response sound a bit more clever, etc.  Anyway, once you've designed and conducted this well-designed survey, who do you turn it over to for analysis and interpretation?  Why, to statisticians, of course.  

One More Clerihew, for my friend, Tom Durkin


As I mentioned once before, as I was wandering through A Poet's Glossary by Edward Hirsch, I ran across a special term, a clerihew.  Anyway, it is right there on page 112, between "classic" and "cliche."  Quoting Mr. Hirsch, "It consists of a skewed quatrain--two rhyming couplets of unequal length that whimsically encapsulate a person's biography..."  (How can you not just love a book full of definitions like this one?)  Usually, the name of the person being sent up appears in the first couplet.  He offers this example--Today

Geoffrey Chaucer
Could hardly have been coarser
But this never harmed the sales
Of his Canterbury Tales 

Today, I pay tribute to an old friend of mine, the well-known racetrack announcer who called the Breeder's Cup races for many years and was the race caller for NBC Sports from 1984 thru 2010.  He capped his career by calling the Triple Crown races for ten years (thirty races, in all), until he gave it up in 2011.  Next month, he retires, calling his last race at New York's Saratoga Springs on August 31st.  Here is his clerihew--


Tom Durkin, he was a grand racetrack announcer,
All the races he’s called, I sure could nay count, sir.
He coined many a phrase, and polished his words,
Methinks wasting such work on those old railbirds. 

Congratulations, Tom.  The A and W's salute you.
But back to the surveys, among the surveys, I found three to be of particular interest.  The first was a survey among a group of potential  female customers at a furniture mart.  Respondents were asked to choose from among a series of fabric colors for leather desk chairs,  The respondents were asked to choose from cherry red, ivory and brown.  In the chair illustrating the question, the color of the leather seats and backs were brown).  The survey results, women preferred brown arms.  Next the women were shown three small jewelry chests, one made of plain-looking wood, another of hammered metal, and a third made of ivory, with very intricate carved designs.  Women loved the ivory chests.  I got bored with the obvious manipulation that the "helpful" illustrations were creating and moved on.

The next one was a "blind" taste test.  No, participants were not blindfolded, the products were set in three identical bowls and the respondents, a majority of whom were women (the surveyors chose a tea room for a surveying location).  The products were an assortment of peanuts, each from a different area of the country, including one packaged and shipped from a little township in Georgia called Red Neck (I am not making this up, I have seen the sign on the road between Atlanta and Athens).  In any event, the women from the tea rooms preferred the peanuts produced in Red Neck over all the others.

Wait a minute, women prefer brown arms, an ivory chest and red necks--"Women want a man with a farmer's tan." (from the musical "Pump Boys and Dinettes," words and music by Jim Wann)

I know, I know, it was awful, but once the outline occurred to me, I just couldn't help myself....