The Classic Data Mistake

Discovery & its consequences
In 1932, a breakthrough discovery was made:  A team of researchers discovered that by altering the level of light in the workplace, productivity skyrocketed.  Whenever brighter lighting was used, productivity was higher.  

Companies pounced upon this information, and substantially invested in brighter lighting -- to see virtually no benefit whatsoever.   It was a huge waste of money.

Brighter lighting was correlated with productivity, but didn't cause it.  They later discovered that the workers were (temporarily) more motivated because more attention was being paid to them, now known as the Hawthorne effect (here's the Wikipedia article).

Knowing right, yet doing wrong
The problem here, of course, is that correlation does not equal causation.   You probably already knew this.

The interesting part is that you might make the mistake, anyway.   Even people who are well-aware that correlation does not equal causation will routinely conflate the two.  It happens in the corporate world all the time, even to the savviest of business analysts.

So what gives?  Why do smart people keep making such a fundamental mistake, despite knowing the exact mistake they're making?

Brains have needs, too 
The answer is that our minds crave to understand how things work.  This is not a cognitive need (controlled by the cerebral pre-frontal cortex); it's a visceral need (controlled by the more primal limbic system).

We subconsciously WANT to generalize, to stereotype, to model, to simplify things around us.   And for good reason, as explained by this hilarious Onion t-shirt:

Stereotypes, generalizations and patterns make our mental lives much easier.  It's a mental burden to reserve judgment and evaluate situations on a case-by-case basis.  And as a result, our brains constantly search for shortcuts. 

Viewed from that perspective, racists and sexists aren't so much evil as they are lazy.  But such generalizations pervade most aspects of how we see the world:

• Financial: Buying groceries at CVS is expensive.
• Social:  Southerners are friendly.
• Local:  Seattle is a rainy city.
• Misc:  French press coffee tastes good.

Every one of these generalization makes our world a bit more understandable -- even if this "understanding" sacrifices accuracy, and are sometimes flat-out wrong.

Identifying the right path
It might sound bizarre, but the root of this mistake isn't cognitive, it's emotional.  We know that correlation does not equal causation, but we simply give into the temptation to "know".
 
As such, the best you can do is to recognize this emotional urge, steel your nerve, and try to think through the situation carefully.

This doesn't mean you should ignore the correlation -- just treat it as as kind of a hunch.  Perhaps the cost/benefit nature of your situation warrants proceeding anyway.  Perhaps there are ways to rule out other causes, and increase your odds.

Whatever happens, by controlling your innate urge to understand (even if falsely), you're likely to make a better decisions.

Mario has a Soul

Yes, "It's-a-me Mario" from 1985 Nintendo NES.

Here's the gist:  Having a soul is when somebody on one dimension temporarily controls someone on another dimension.   When the character in that other dimension "dies," the original one lives on.  Consider this:  If you've ever played any Super Mario Brothers, then Mario had a soul while you were playing him.  YOU were his soul.  When he died, part of him went with you.

Reaching In
Consider when you type out an email.  You are, in a manner of speaking, "reaching in" to the computer to type it.

Reaching in is, of course, the wrong metaphor.  I'm not sure what to call it.  But you're interacting through the computer.  Like, if someone would to ask "Who wrote that email?" we'd be hard pressed to say that the computer wrote it, even though, all you did was touch the keys and worked the mouse.

Why is that, exactly?  Because the control was from you -- operating from a different ...dimension, as it were.  (Ooh, I love saying the English "as it were."  It's such a classy expression, ten grammar points Brett!)

Inter-Dimensional Signal   (Very Nerdy Segueway, Please Skip)
If you want to get more technical:  You typing into Google is the very definition of an inter-dimensional interaction, even though people don't usually think of it as that.  Reading is, too -- transforming a one-dimensional signal (if you think about it, reading is just a long ribbon: information in one dimension), temporarily translated through a four dimensional signal, and then (depending upon how you want to think of it) possibly into a weird uni-dimensional signal which is consciousness, in which we reside.  Television is a two dimensional signal.  Radio is a one dimensional signal, translated into a three dimensional signal.  (Note: You can add another dimension to each if you wish to include time as a dimension.)

 Back to Google
 So consider this:  When you wrote something into Google, clearly that was you and not the computer.  What about if you play a game online?  A game like Mario Brothers?  Is that "you"? Are those "your" actions?   Or are those the actions of that character?  It's both.  Mario is himself, but he's also you. You live on, even after you totally led him into one of those goddamn biting flowers that come out of the pipes.

Well, it has been demonstrated (in several ways, in fact) that the universe is a richly detailed rendering.   (There are enormous consequences to that, which I've written about lots on this site -- four links, right there.)    If so, then the possibility remains that we are being controlled from without.  Just like how you control Mario.

That could be.

Screw You, Religion
Now, technically, there are a lot of people who would say something quite similar to this.  Indeed, many Orthodox religions would. "Yes, that's Heaven.  Are you ready to welcome into your heart now?"  

Yes, maybe it's real.  But I'm pret-ty sure (and that "pret-ty" implies an ever-so-slight pause between the t's, which is unbelievably annoying if you're on the wrong end of it) that it's not some goddamn Middle Eastern text (or Chinese or Tibetian or whatever) text.  And even if there ARE parallels, that demographic's credibility is total crap because until super-recently (historically speaking) they believed in Adam and Eve and Satan.  They fail the logic test, out of the gate.

The only one I'd give a pass to is Taoism.  They're cool.

What About Us?  Do We Have A Soul?
All of this, of course, begs the question:  Do we have a soul?

Well, I've though about this.  I've thought about it a LOT, from as many angles as I could.  And in the end, I reached a conclusion that I've actually quite confident in:   I have absolutely no idea.

I could really go either way on this one.  I could totally see that when we die, that we simply discorporate and that's that.  Or I could see when we die, that we discorporate here, but on some level our awareness pops out on some cosmic Playstation 4, and goes to get a sandwich.

However, what I have concluded is that if there is another dimension as such, that curiously the laws of religion apply:  You can't take material things with you.*  But clearly if you helped someone here, they would appreciate it up there.  Goodness passes through, even though material things don't.  And if you want to get serious, it wouldn't surprise me if you can Find Out What Happened.  Boy would that suck for, like, every person on the planet.


So if you're a colossal asshole down here, and you wake up there, they might still think you're a colossal asshole.  But if you're kind down here, maybe they'll buy you a cosmic beer.  So I'm going to try to be nice, if only to be the first trans-dimensional ingratiatingly nice person -- and I bet the beer is way better.

The Ultimate Analogy

Do you know how you understand things?  Do you know what your brain is doing, to take a concept and really get it?

Partly, the answer is rote memorization -- there's plenty of that.  But to the extent that you can intuitively grasp a concept, the answer is simple:  Your brain makes comparisons.

It's like this.  It's like that.  It's like a ball.  It's like a rope.  It's like running alongside a moving train.

Put simply:  You make analogies.

What the heck is an analogy, anyway?  
Most people think that an analogy is just a colorful example of some phenomenon or dynamic.  It's just a more vivid picture.  And indeed, it is that, without a doubt.  But it's more than that, too.  Or, at least, the process of finding an analogy is more than that.

Finding an analogy requires grasping the nature of something, and then seeking out something else with a similar nature.  Matching patterns.

It's actually the process of understanding something, laid bare.  You first observe, and then you "try on" (i.e., apply) various analogies:  You hold them up to the light, look them both from a variety of perspectives, and assess how faithfully they match.  Quite often, you discard a potential comparison, because there's a flaw:  the analogy does not sufficiently hold.

Oh here's another tidbit about analogies:  They cannot be perfect.  The only perfect analogy would be to compare something to itself, which wouldn't technically be an analogy -- it would be something known as a "tautology."

Nevertheless, some analogies hold up only from very limited perspectives, and other analogies go deep -- where even under varied circumstances the patterns continue to match.  I'm always delighted when I find a particularly deep analogy -- it happens so rarely, though, that I can't even think of a good example. 


I'm The Analogy "Type"
I'm a fan of the Meyers-Briggs psychology tests, and am an ENTP.  That means:

• Extroverted (vs. Introverted)
• iNtuitive (vs. Sensing)
• Thinker (vs. Feeler)
• Perceiver (vs. Judger)

See that "iNtuitive" up there?  Yeah, those're the people who use analogies.  Sensers (the other type) don't.  While Intuitives seek hidden patterns, Sensers are concrete observers.  They live in the clarity of the now, and pay close attention.

Indeed, Sherlock Holmes is the quintessential Senser: he had a preternatural ability to observe the world around him, at all times, to the finest detail.  Albert Einstein would be the quintessential Intuitive -- grasping the hidden laws of the universe, while no doubt forgetting where he parked his car.

Worst.  Analogy.  Ever. 
I once worked with an extreme Senser.  Hyper-literal and concrete, he was very precise, but often hard to fully understand.  Speaking to him was like reading the 2004 Acura TSX Drivers Manual, or reviewing a summary of your federal taxes:  Factually correct yet any comprehension comes only with much concentration.

Anyway, someone suggested that this person try to use more analogies like me.  He asked me if he could try some out.  I said sure, I was delighted to help!

So he says, "Okay, let me try one:  The reporting system is like a car."  Then looks at me, eyebrows raised for feedback, and there's a pained silence.

So I said, "Um, you have to say how it's like a car."  Oh!   He hadn't know that.  Good to know.

Needless to say, his analogies greatly improved, even if I usually winced at even the best of them.

Seeking the Ultimate Analogy
Anyway, I mentally compare a lot of stuff.  Especially when it comes to the Very Big (e.g., galaxies), the Very Small (e.g., quantum physics), and the Very Profound (e.g., meaning of life).

So consider this question:  What state of matter is life?  What is life "like"? 

I mean, if you had to draw an analogy to another state of matter, what would it be?  Granted, it's a part-solid, part-liquid mishmash, but neither solid nor liquid really captures its essence.  First and foremost, those states don't die and discorporate like we do.   You might be skeptical that there's any state of matter that dies.

But there is:  Fire.

Life is a very slow burn.  This fire can be transferred to new life (e..g, having children), but once it's out, it can't be lit again.  So if we have to compare ourselves to anything else that's out there in the universe, I think that Fire is our closest relative.

I'm not sure what this tells us.  Does it mean that perhaps stars are alive?  I don't think so.  I think they are unfocused burning.  But perhaps other forms of burning could also be considered life.  I do think that any form of life must involve some sort of burning -- life requires a flame.

I think this must be what those kids meant back in high school, when they called me a flamer.   I had no idea how right they were.

How Can Someone So Smart Do Something So Stupid?

Most people I know think that I am smart, but that I do stupid things.  You could describe many of my friends the same way.  If you're part of a particular clique of super-smart WPI twenty-something engineers, I bet you could be described this way, too.  (Note:  I hear that you do jello shots on garage roofs -- I rest my case.)

Anyway, take a look at the Title Question.  Has that ever been said about you?

My wife says that phrase approximately once every six hours about me.  And she means it every time.  I've heard my friends' wives say it about them.  Hell, I've heard our wives commisserating about how we're all that way.   What the heck does that mean?

In other words:  How the hell CAN someone "so smart" do something "so stupid"?

I think I've figured it out!

Before I go any further, I don't think this is necessarily a man / woman thing.   I have little doubt that literally millions of times per year, men say that about their wives.    At the very least, we can debate that some other time.  I just want to describe the phenomenon, not start World War III.

The So-Smart-So-Stupid Answer
The answer is that there are many dimensions of intelligence, and two are breadth and depth.  (There are probably many other meaningful dimensions, but these are two.)

For a given set of raw brain-processing ability, it can be divvied up into different attention-chunks.  So two people with IQ's of, say, 140, can allot their attention in different amounts -- and either to a few topics deeply, or more topics not-quite-as-deeply.

So here is precisely what happens, which leads to the Blog Title Question.

1. A "Deep" person can demonstrate a few tasks extremely well.
2. The "Broad" person observes that this person is really good in a very precise area.  Even if she has this skill herself, she senses the depth.
3. However, the "Broad" person also sees that there's some really basic things that said Smarty is totally screwing up.
4. This seems like a contradiction.

And hence:  "How can someone so smart do something so stupid?"

Epilogue  (I wrote this later)
So I wrote this post and was feeling pretty good about the article -- then I went back a few hours later and noticed something a bit ...untoward.  (Whoa, there's a word you don't hear much.)  Anyway, if you take the picture above (of the woman) totally out of context, it looks like I'm saying "This is the stuff that broads talk about."

That is not how I meant it.  And lest anybody say, "Yeah, but I bet I that's where the term 'broads' probably came from, so you're just as bad!  We're not broads!"  I would like to say that I'm pretty damn sure that the phrase "broad" originally referred to a woman's decolletage, not her perspicacity and parallel mental processing abilities.

Brett Finds God

All of my life I have been an avowed atheist -- well, at the very least, I'm unaffiliated from any run-of-the-mill Gods. 

Yet, I have read countless times about the benefits of praying.  Praying helps you focus your thoughts, and helps you live up to your own ideals.  Nevertheless, for the longest time, I thought this was one of the downsides of atheism:  No praying.

Then, a few years ago, I decided to forge ahead with praying anyway.

Nothing In Common With "Capital-G" God
I quickly concluded that if I were going to pray, it certainly would not be to the Judeo-Christian God.  I have virtually nothing in common with that Guy.   I mean, how boring is He: totally all-powerful, all-knowing, all everything. I cannot relate to Somebody like that whatsoever.

I need a lower-case-g god:  A god who is more human, more flawed, with strengths and weaknesses, not one who checks every goddamn box in the Awesome column.  Not somebody for whom I gotta capitalize my frickin pronouns when I refer to Him.

God Shopping

I'll Pass

So I went god shopping. I inspected a few of the Hindu gods that had promise -- but nothing panned out.  I discovered that I have a natural aversion to praying to any god with any of the following:

• A trunk
• More than two arms
• A pastel complexion

Then I investigated the Christian saints: So lame.  Christian saints are to mythology what Thomas the Tank Engine is to children's toys -- they took something that could be cool and made it uptight and stodgy. 

But then I hit the treasure trove: the Greek gods!

Here's my take on each God:

Asshole Divorcee

Zeus:  The ultimate father figure, but more of a selfish, divorced dad than Mike Brady.  Too philandering and bossy -- kind of an asshole.  If he were a mortal, I have little doubt he'd drive a Corvette, date twenty-something waitresses well into his late 40s, and occasionally have chlamydia.

Hera:  Meanwhile, if Zeus is the prototypical divorced dad, then Hera is the bitter ex-wife.  It seems like she spends all of her time bitching about Zeus (not that he doesn't deserve every bit of it), rather than just getting on with her life.   Hardly inspirational.

Achilles:  Sure, Achilles is a great warrior, but in kind of a single-dimensional way.  He doesn't really represent my values. Plus, do you know why Achilles sat out the first half of the Trojan war? It was because Agamemnon filched his most attractive slave (Brisies) for himself! I could hardly worship somebody who took sex slaves in the first place, much less was happy to stand by while a war raged, because his harem was a bit light.

Hercules:  Great, you're really strong, we get it.  Maybe I'll pray to him if the lid gets stuck on the pickle jar again, or if I want to carry three boxes up from the basement in a single trip.   But otherwise I'll keep looking.

Attractive Dingbat

Aphrodite:  She's the stereotypical brainless hot chick, who almost got herself killed by a mortal (Diomedes) because she wasn't paying attention.  Put on some decent clothes and get a job, you trollop.

Hephaestus:  Not cool himself, per se, but he has all sorts of neat stuff:  he was the armorer for the gods, and makes some really slick weapons. But he himself is weird and moody.  Worshiping him would be like hanging out with a creepy kid just so that you can play his Xbox One.  Nope.

Paris / Helen of Troy:  Fuck no.  Choosing them would be like worshiping Jason Priestly or Shannon Doherty.  Out of the question.

Apollo / Ares:  I could never quite figure out Apollo, except for the fact that he was typically pissed about one thing or another. And Ares was even worse.  A bunch of meatheads, if you ask me.

Hades:  He's like a creepy goth kid, with whom nobody wants to hang out.  So he gets this angry dog (Cerebus) to make some sort of statement. Get a life.

God Found!
So far, I had no luck.  I needed a god who was strong, yet clever. Someone who could not rely on power alone, because in the real world, nobody can.  Someone who was cunning at times, but clearly had a very good heart.  Someone who did important things.  Someone I could relate to, and be inspired by.

At long last, I found my god -- or, as it turned out, goddess: Pallas Athena.

About Pallas Athena
Pallas Athena is the goddess of Just Warfare, which is awesome.  In other words, she fights, but she fights nobly.  Also, while she's not quite strong enough to go toe-to-toe with Ares (who is the primary god of war), she typically gets the best of him anyway.  

Totally Awesome

She's kind to mortals, and isn't always bitching about sacrifices, like some other gods I could mention.  Generally, she wants to avoid bloodshed, and tries to help the mortals to get along.

Her symbol is the owl, which is an awesome creature in its own right:  An owl is a quintessential predator, yet is known for its wisdom.  (Plus, have you ever seen an owl up close?  Man, those things are cool.)   It captures her spirit perfectly.

Oh,  and she's not some hussy.  Aphrodite or Hera were always tramping around with the other gods, or seducing mortals, but not Athena.  Hephaestus tried to throw himself at her once, but he was no match for her, and just ended up embarrassing himself.  She very well might be a lesbian.

Even how she was born is awesome: She sprang from Zeus's head in full battle armor, and pretty much had a not-to-be-fucked-with demeanor from the get go.


Worship 101
I'm still figuring out how to best worship her.  I'm treading a bit lightly -- I certainly don't want to piss her off.  But I hope she doesn't hold me to ancient Greek standards, as I can hardly afford to be sacrificing hecatombs, like they did back then:  I looked it up: a hecatomb is 100 cattle.   My wife would be pissed if I bought 100 cattle and then slaughtered them in the back yard.

But I did buy a statue of her decked out for battle, with this awesome owl.  I pray to it now and then, when I need strength or focus -- like before a big presentation at work.  I like to think that she's rooting for me, too.

However, if you ever hear that I've been struck dead by a bolt of lightning, you can conclude that I either offended her, or one of the other gods heard I was talking smack.  For my sake, please do NOT forward this blog to any dieties.

How to Think About Forecasting

When I graduated college in 1995, I got a job working in Data Warehousing -- setting up reporting systems using a variety of relational and multi-dimensional databases.  It required a balance of financial reporting (i.e., what to report) and data design skills (i.e., how to report it).

Yet, if you asked my grandmother, you'd hear a slightly different story.  As far as she was concerned, "Brett works in computers."   Now, people often said such things in the 1980's, and it's probably acceptable septuagenarian-speak today.    But for most of us, it no longer cuts it.

Working "in Computers"
Why is that?  How is it possible that a phrase that was totally legit in the 80's can now sound so ridiculous? 

The answer:  As a society, we have learned things, and as we learned, language got more precise.   The phrase "in computers" was fine, back when few people did.   But today, it's just a catch-all for a broad array of specialties -- networking, security, graphics, databases, software development, etc. etc. 

Here's the kicker:  As our language evolves, even some of these terms will become too generic.  I already know term that's bound for the trash heap:  Forecasting.

Forecasting isn't really a thing.
These days, I tell people that I do forecasting, and they nod approvingly.  Quite often, they exclaim, "You should talk with So-and-So."  Sometimes I do talk with So-and-So, and find that we have very little, if anything, in common.

Why this?   The answer is simple:  Forecasting isn't one thing.  People picture it as a specialty, like something specific, like database administration or UI development.   People think that it surely has some common base of skills that all forecasters share, the equivalent of a DBA's schema or accountant's general ledger -- but it doesn't.

If you choose any two forecasts, they're likely to be wildly, crazily different.  They can use radically different techniques, different math (or as my Oxford-trained friend puts it: different "maths"),  different error tolerances,  different outcome distributions, etc. etc.

How to Think About Forecasting
I've dreamed up many analogies and descriptions for forecasting, to try to convey to people just how broad forecasting really is (and consequently how devoid of meaning the term is).

Here's the best one I've come up with:  Forecasting is just guessing what's going to happen next.   That's it.

If you think of it in those terms, a lot of what I've written becomes obvious.  You might presume that forecasting is a formal skill -- but what about "guessing what's going to happen next"?  Is that a formal skill?  Not quite so much.

Also, if someone at a party says that they do "Forecasting", you might not your head.  But what if they said, "I guess what's going to happen next."  ...There, you'd probably give them a blank-eyed look, because it's such a meaningless thing to say.

But that's all forecasting really is.

Brett's TSX

Anybody who knows me is aware that I love my car.  It's not an impressive car of anyting -- it's not an Audi RS5, a Porsche Cayman, or a Tesla.  In fact, it's eleven years old -- I bought it in November 2003.  It's a glorified thin-person's Honda Accord, but I love it.

But it hasn't always looked so nice:  I maintained it meticulously for the first few years, but eight years on, it was really showing its age:  All that time, I had to park it outside, and the net effect was that the outside got dulled (due to the icy winter) and oxidized (due to the blazing summer).  Its cherry gloss red dulled to a milky matte red; the wheels got a fair share of scrapes; the headlights fogged. 

By 2011, I was looking for something new, and had a good shot at convincing my wife to let me get something a bit pricier.

Quest For The New
So I went on a quest for an new car.  Here are the front-runners, in no particular order, that I was considering:

I fell into a pattern of falling in love with a car based upon pictures and reviews, and spending endless cycles building and re-building the car online.  Ultimately, I'd go see the car in person, and for one reason or another, I'd find myself happy to get back into my own car.   Some were too loud (Cayman), some felt a bit heavy (S6 and 6-Series), some simply left me flat (Jaguar XK, Mercedes SL), and some weren't compellingly different from what I currently drive (Lexus IS350, Infiniti Q50 and Audi S4).

Fun Facts About the TSX

• Acura is the bling version of Honda, much like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese Deluxe is the bling version of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese:  Technically, yes, it's better, but you're still not impressing anybody.
• The TSX is the sports version of the Honda Accord sold in Europe.  Honda sells a different model as the Accord in the United States, because Americans are fat.  This is true.
• It sports a naturally-aspirated (i.e., non-turbo) four cylinder, with 200 horsepower and 168ft/lbs of torque.  To those who don't already know, these numbers compare quite favorably to many mopeds.

Brett's Bet and the Result
Around then, I happened to see my mechanic (a wonderful guy) and I asked him how much life was left in my TSX.  "This car here?", he said.  "This car is not even halfway through it's life yet.  You could drive this over 250,000 miles." 

That's when I decided to take the plunge:  Instead of buying a new car, I'd fix up the one I had.  I tracked down Pasquale Bruno, a passionate Italian autobody expert, and we set to work:

• A high-end paint job.
• New headlights.
• New trim.
• New wheels.
• All worn pieces on the inside replaced.
• Cold-air exhaust and re-spec'ed ECU (both to bump up horsepower)
• Stainless steel brake lines.
• Rear-view camera
• Bluetooth and iPhone integration

What's more, I cleaned out my garage and hardly ever leave it outside (especially not in the winter).

The result:  I'm ecstatic.  I preen over it constantly -- washing, waxing, polishing.  As a result, it looks and runs great, and I still get compliments (including this past weekend from a valet).

Here are some other pics of it (click to expand them):

All told, I've probably put $12,000 into it so far.  I know it's a waste of money, but on the bright side, it's much less of a waste than the depreciation of a new car!   Or, at least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Frequently Asked Questions
Okay, time to dive into my mailbag, and answer questions people have sent me about my car!  Let's see what's on peoples's minds, shall we?

Q: Isn't the TSX more of a girl's car?
A:  Shut up.

Q: The only way that car would break 100mph, is if you dropped it out of an airplane.
A: That's not even a question. 

Hm, I guess there aren't a lot of questions.  Okay, that's all for now!

Epilogue
After I wrote this, my friend Rachel took this picture and sent it to me.  She can go jump in a lake.