Cluck You, [chat]

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Walking on (x2) Kickin' Ass

Some assnoob bet me tonight's dinner tab that the lyrics are:
Walking on
Walking on
Walking on
Broken Glass.

Needless to say, I really wish he'd gone double-or-nothing on the lyrics to:


Also, is that Dr. Phil on keyboards?

WoW 4.3: OH NOES, A DAGRON!

The Wrong Decision: Booyah

Mathematical problems have right or wrong, correct or incorrect, answers as a result of mathematics being a formalized structure of definite abstract rules. Within a system, such as basic arithmetic, we can define “2”, “3”, “5”, “+”, and “=” in such a manner as to create a context wherein “2 + 3 = 5” is correct. In saying that this is correct, what we mean is that it follows the rules. We could construct a different system of rules wherein “2 + 3 = 5” is incorrect if we modify the definitions of those symbols. The meanings of the symbols, and the rules by which the symbols are arranged, result from people, because people are the ones who made this shit up in the first place.

There is no inherent metaphysical relation between the goofy-ass symbol of “2” and some intrinsic meaning within the fundamental structure of reality; mathematics is not a manifestation or mirroring of reality. It is a tool, constructed by human beings, for getting along in reality. One never encounters the perfectly mirrored ontological referent for “two”, “2”, “II” out there in “the world”, but rather one understands the various things into which one bumps in terms of that abstract symbolic representation of a concept.

I realize this is a problematic notion for some, as they maintain that 2 is, supposedly, easily found in situations of grouping. So, think of it this way: Have you ever encountered a triangle in reality? Have you ever encountered a slice of pizza, a corn kernel, or even a component of a bridge that was a triangle? I contend that you have not. They might be vaguely triangular, or kinda approximately triangular, but one never bumps into actual triangles. Because, at the very least, triangles only exist in 2-dimensional Euclidean space, and you’ve never been there.

The meanings of mathematical statements are found in a realm of abstraction; triangles occur in 2-dimensional Euclidean space. We apply these abstract notions to reality, but the reality to which these symbols are applied is neither abstract, clear, nor distinct; we do not live our everyday lives in 2-dimensional Euclidean space. Life is very messy, mathematical abstractions are very neat and tidy, and so we understand reality in terms of our abstractions in an effort to simplify the vague generalities of reality with which our minds have difficulty coping.

We good? Alright. Now, let’s talk about ethics and morality.

You might be surprised to learn that ethical and moral norms are akin to the norms of mathematics: They are abstractions that are not found in reality, but rather are applied to reality by persons. In the same way that we never bump into a triangle, we never bump into good. Rather, we apply our abstract notion of good to vague situations that seem to kinda jive with our conception, or definition, of goodness. Similarly, we never bump into wrong, but find ourselves in vague situations to which we apply the label “wrong”.

We define the moral “wrong”, or bad, in the same way that we define “triangle”. We conceive of an abstract realm of definite clarity and posit ethical and moral norms within that realm. So, we get “killing is wrong” or “infidelity is immoral” or “lying is bad” up and running in our realm of abstraction, then attempt to live our lives by applying these abstractions to our everyday existence. Everything works fine, for about two seconds, and then we find ourselves in Nazi Germany, hiding jews in our attic, only to be confronted by a stormtrooper at our door who asks, “Are there any jews in your attic?”

Gosh, wouldn’t you know it? Our clearly defined rule of “lying is bad” just doesn’t fucking work anymore because life is far more vague, messy, and ambiguous than the ideal realm within which we fabricated the childishly simplistic rule! Unless, of course, you contend that the correct action is to tell the Nazi the truth.

In the same way that life is not the sort of thing that contains triangles, life is not the sort of thing that contains absolute, clear, discrete instances of moral rightness or wrongness, ethical correctness or incorrectness. These are notions that arise from a realm of abstraction, a realm of mental conceptions.

There are times when these abstract terms may be utilized within life: A 2nd grader can write “2 + 3 = 5” and the teacher can write, “correct” without encountering any sort of ontological or epistemological dilemma. A pupil may tell an instructor, “Cheating is wrong!” and receive a preferable grade. But when we go beyond the naivety of the classroom and find ourselves mucking about in the vagaries of reality we find that our simplistic arithmetic understandings of reality do not jive with our experience.

Two cups of popcorn plus two cups of milk does not equal four cups of popcorn-milk.

Saying, “Yes, there are jews in my attic.” to a Nazi is not morally praiseworthy.

Shit be complicated.

Human beings construct abstract conceptual tools to get along in the world. But we have to remember that there is a distinction to be made between the abstract concept and the world. There is a distinction to be made between a triangle and a slice of pizza. There is a distinction to be made between our conceptions of moral and ethical norms and the everyday situations within which we find ourselves while living our lives.

This is why, when confronted with a decision between multiple options, there is no inherently “wrong” decision. One can define option-A or option-B as the “wrong” option, but that wrongness is not found in reality. Reality is not the sort of thing that has wrong decisions; “wrong” is something that occurs in our mind, in our conceptual toolbag of abstractions.

Just like a triangle.

It’s easy, and comforting, to pretend that life is a realm of black and white, of definite right and wrong, correct and incorrect. But when we progress beyond the mentality of a six year old, and perceive reality as it actually is, we begin to understand that our moral and ethical norms are akin to our mathematical tools: They are shit we made up. We constructed math because we wanted reality to be knowable, controllable, and so we subjected reality to a system of abstraction that is easily understood. We constructed morality and ethics because we’re terrified of the fact that you can smash my skull with a rock while I sleep, and I can smash your skull with a rock while you sleep. So, best to construct a moral rule that renders “skull smashing” to be wrong and really, really, hope that no one ever questions why they follow it.

This is not to say that morality and ethics are stupid or useless. Rather, I’m trying to communicate the idea that morality and ethics are like mathematics: They are ideals that help us deal with reality, rather than mirror reality. They are tools for our mucking about in our lives. Sometimes different situations require different tools. Sometimes we’re dealing with Euclidean triangles. Sometimes we’re dealing with non-Euclidean triangles. And sometimes we’re dealing with slices of pizza. We employ different abstract tools in different situations. So, it makes sense that we would employ different abstract rules for morality and ethics in different situations.

Lying is neither right nor wrong, correct nor incorrect, good nor bad. Lying is the act of knowingly deceiving another. The moral or ethical value of a lie depends upon the moral or ethical ruleset by which that lie is assessed and the context within that ruleset is employed. Are you deceiving a Nazi? Are you deceiving a friend? Are you deceiving a stranger? In each of these cases deception occurs, but in none of these cases did a good, bad, moral right, or ethical wrong occur. Because good, bad, moral right, or ethical wrong are labels we apply to actions when we subject those actions to our ethical or moral rulesets.

And since we made all of this shit up in the first place, we can change it at our leisure.

Which, by the way, is a truth that Jeff Winger discovered as a child:

What is this, Horse[chat]?

Cuz I am surrounded by naysayers!

Wordplay.

Can’t & Won’t: Two Different Words

It seems to be the case that people are confused about the definitions of can’t and won’t. I think this confusion is problematic. By using these terms interchangeably, or in the wrong way, one creates a psychological problem for oneself by conceiving of one’s situation incorrectly. So, this rant isn’t about clarity of language so much as it is about psychological, mental health. Once we understand the difference between can’t and won’t, we can employ these terms correctly and deal reality as it actually is. In order to understand the difference between can’t and won’t, begin by considering these two sentences:

(A) I can’t have a baby.
(B) I won’t have a baby.

Ponder those for a moment. What is the difference between A and B?

CAN’T indicates an impossibility. If I can’t do X, then it is impossible for me to do X.
One can translate any utterance of “I can’t X” with “It is impossible for me to X”.

WON’T indicates a lack of willingness or volition, a choosing otherwise. If I won’t do X, then I am unwilling to do X.
One can translate any utterance of “I won’t X” with “I am unwilling to X.”

Now that we’ve squared away those definitions, let’s test what we’ve learned by considering these pairs of sentences to determine the sentence in each pair that utilizes the term can’t / won’t correctly:

(A1) I can’t have a baby, because of my hysterectomy.
(A2) I can’t have a baby, because I am a busy lawyer.

(B1) I won’t have a baby, because of my hysterectomy.
(B2) I won’t have a baby, because I am a busy lawyer.

A1 and B2 are linguistically correct statements. A2 and B1 are wrongheaded nonsense. Let’s assess each sentence.

A1: A1 correctly indicates an impossibility. A hysterectomy is the surgical removal of a uterus. A uterus is required for having a baby. It is impossible for a woman who has no uterus to have a baby. Therefore, it is correct to say that hysterectomy woman CAN’T have a baby.

B2: B2 confuses impossibility with unwillingness. Since some lawyers have babies it is incorrect to state that it is impossible for a lawyer to have a baby.

B1: Since a hysterectomy renders an individual incapable of having a baby, it is incorrect to say that hysterectomy woman won’t have a baby. While there is no baby to be had, the lack of a baby does not result from a lack of desire or willingness. Instead, the lack of a baby results from an impossibility of there being a baby.

B2: B2 correctly indicates a lack of willingness. It is possible for a lawyer to have a baby. Therefore, the won’t in B2 correctly identifies a lack of willingness instead of a lack of possibility.

Having assessed the definitions of can’t and won’t via these examples, we now understand the difference between can’t and won’t, and the situations in which each term can be correctly utilized. Can’t indicates an impossibility whereas won’t indicates a lack of willingness.


The Moral "Problem":

One nagging problem for the can’t / won’t distinction is the mistaken thought that a relation exists between morality/ethics and possibility. Some individuals, for example, would argue that a Christian can’t eat shrimp, because of Leviticus 11: 9 – 12. The attempt is to smuggle ethical or moral considerations into one’s conception of possibility. The argument goes like this: Even if a Christian could perform the physical actions require to consume shrimp, the belief in Leviticus would render this act to be impossible.

Which, you know, is moronic.

The answer to this problem is to ask why shrimp consumption is impossible under the Christian schema. When the Christian replies, “It is impossible because the Bible says ‘thall shall not’.” one can calmly remind the Christian that “shall” is a version of “should” and Should Is A Funny Word. The Bible’s shall does not undermine one’s ability to consume shrimp but rather it elicits an emotive response that causes an unwillingness to consume shrimp. This lack of consumption is based on an emotive response and so it falls under the purview of won’t. Remember our translations:

“I can’t X.” = “It is impossible for me to X.”
“I won’t X.” = “I am unwilling to X.”

If a person insists that their ethical or moral code creates an impossibility, rather than an unwillingness, then you may calmly reply: “So, your ethical / moral code is like having a hysterectomy, only instead of your uterus being removed, your physical ability to chew and swallow shrimp has been removed?”

If they affirm that claim, then we walk away. Slowly. Without turning our backs on them. Because they are fucking crazy people.


I think it helpful to clearly understand the meanings of the words we use, and understand the impact our linguistic utterances have on our understanding of reality. If an individual continually says “I can’t X” then that person is reinforcing the notion that X is an impossibility. But if we assess X, determine that it is not impossible, and begin to say “I won’t X” instead, then we can begin to deal with one’s actual relation to X, rather than one’s confused and mistaken understanding of the situation.

The only problem lies in discerning possibility. But that is for another rant.

Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword - Zelda in the Sky

I’m playing Skyward Sword at the moment, and while I haven't finished it yet, what I really want to talk about is the Zelda series.

I fear that the series, as with many others, uses each iteration to make strictly mechanical changes of the sort where the locations and setting are different, the player gets to try new or modified abilities, the game is in 3D instead of 2D, etc. I expect this is so because of the emphasis on fun, which probably requires a certain level of novelty and variety to really work. If it were enough to just keep giving you the same swords and bows every time without also throwing in double hookshots and remote controlled bugs, then it would make better financial sense to just replay an old Zelda game instead of buying the new one.

The problem is that a large part of what differentiates one Zelda from the next really just boils down to what tools he’s using to solve dungeons and kill bosses. Sure, there is always at least a barebones story to justify taking Link around the world, but that story is largely the same every time. I don’t know that I’d necessarily care about that if, as with Mario, the fundamental story was kept at a superficial or silly level.

After Link to the Past and Ocarina of Time, though, it sure looked like Nintendo was wanting to tell a story with a little more weight. I reckon that was about the time when they started to build a mythology around Hyrule, they began to flesh out Ganon as a character and experimented with who Link and Zelda really are. Yet as cinematic as those games are, and as relatively complex as the characters may be, I’m not convinced that Nintendo has ever felt the need to go any farther towards doing something truly good with what they have. The mid-to-late ‘90s Zelda is apparently as deep as the mythology is prepared go, while the toolset Link uses goes ever deeper.

That isn’t to say that the story in each game is interchangeable, nor that I have ignored or disliked the tweaks Nintendo is making to the relationships between characters and the particulars of the plot here and there as time goes on. But I think that’s just another way of making mechanical changes in the same way that adding a new tool is mechanical. It keeps things fresh and fun, sure, otherwise there really would be no reason not to just replay the old games, but I can’t help but wish that they could find a way to elevate the series from a franchise based on amusement and finally reach some kind of payoff for the narrative groundwork they started laying two decades ago.

As it stands, they've got a reasonable adventure outline, a villain who is often sympathetic, and a heroine who has shown herself capable of participating in the adventure. Link is still a bit intangible as a hero, but they could give him a personality easily enough, I should think. Wind Waker surprised me with its emotional punch, though I wouldn't say the series consistently does that right. On the whole, I think the stories are competent and well-crafted, they're just missing a narrative that brings all of these things together in a way that communicates something more meaningful than "be a good person and not a bad person".

Actually, I would settle for a Zelda game that uses that same message, but does so with some subtlety. I have to admit that I don't yet mind hearing the same kinds of stories endlessly so long as I have to do a little work to interpret them. It's great that Nintendo is working hard to keep making Zelda fun, I just wish they would put forth a little effort to make it interesting as well. What I really want is a Zelda game where thinking about the story is rewarding, perhaps even more so than thinking about playing the game.