Bat-Flu Blues, Street Life & Some Utopians Are Seemingly Quite Happy With New Authority Even If Utopia Hasn’t Arrived-Some Links

Via Darwinian Conservatism on the COVID-19: ‘The CDC Lowers Its Estimate of the COVID-19 Infection Fatality Rate‘:

‘The general lesson from all of this is that when people understand what kind of pandemic they are facing, their behavioral immune system will motivate them to spontaneously change their behavior in adaptive ways to mitigate the health costs of the pandemic through social distancing, while also securing the social benefits of freedom of movement.’

I’m as much concerned about many ideas afoot in the Republic, the people we’ve elected, and the incentives those people are receiving, as I am about the disease.  We’ve been rewarding many weak, often incorrect, and sometimes, hysterical voices in our current institutional landscape.

We also have a lot of large, semi-functional bureaucracies out there, full of people who haven’t been elected making decisions.

I try and get information from many sources.

Speaking of information, Youtube appears to be mainstreaming and monetizing itself apace, while Twitter still seems to be amplifying LI=Loudest ignorance and selecting for LAB=Loud Activist Bias.

As many readers know, I have full trust and absolute confidence in the Twitter Trust & Safety Council.   In an attempt to be as fair as I can, however, I suspect some Twitter problems are all-too-human.  This could merely include the sentimental soft spots and biases of a few people scaled-out across the network, now involving lots of money and influence.   If you’re building something other people use, perhaps it’s best not to scale-out your own biases and sentimental soft spots and tell users it’s raining.

Dear reader, this is why I write a blog with a few thousand followers.

Enjoy the rain!

As for the tendency in engineering types towards techno-utopianism which I’d argue could do with a good humanities, history or legal education (not necessarily the kinds of education available these days with so much bad institutional stewardship and capture):  Today’s well-designed new software platform (if it’s lucky enough to gain traction), could well become tomorrow’s flea-market or center of online blight, with pockets of prostitution, drug-running and the occassional murder.

Do you want the online cops to run another dragnet for wrongthink while they unroll a new murderer-friendly outreach program?

Incentives matter.

It’s always worth a reminder:  If you choose play the activist game, don’t be surprised if your partners suddenly flip-over the board, start throwing pieces around and claiming you are the new oppressor.  The logic was there all along, after all.

Change, but at what cost?

As for my sentimental soft spots, here are a few things a reader points out (I’m into more classical guitar music, blues-based rock, some folk and a little jazz).

I had never thought to put these two together, so thank you.  There’s a message in here, but you’ll have to dig it out yourself:

We Real Cool

The Pool Players.  Seven At The Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We
left school.  We

lurk late.  We
strike straight. We

sing sin. We
thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
die soon.

Gwendolyn Brooks

Wednesday Poem-Gwendolyn Brooks

A Sunset Of The City

Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love.
My daughters and sons have put me away with marbles and dolls,
Are gone from the house.
My husband and lovers are pleasant or somewhat polite
And night is night.

It is a real chill out,
The genuine thing.
I am not deceived, I do not think it is still summer
Because sun stays and birds continue to sing.

It is summer-gone that I see, it is summer-gone.
The sweet flowers indrying and dying down,
The grasses forgetting their blaze and consenting to brown.

It is a real chill out. The fall crisp comes.
I am aware there is winter to heed.
There is no warm house
That is fitted with my need.
I am cold in this cold house this house
Whose washed echoes are tremulous down lost halls.
I am a woman, and dusty, standing among new affairs.
I am a woman who hurries through her prayers.

Tin intimations of a quiet core to be my
Desert and my dear relief
Come: there shall be such islanding from grief,
And small communion with the master shore.
Twang they. And I incline this ear to tin,
Consult a dual dilemma. Whether to dry
In humming pallor or to leap and die.

Somebody muffed it? Somebody wanted to joke.

Gwendolyn Brooks

Some Landscape Photography Links & A Poem By Gwendolyn Brooks-Also, Deeper Conservative Disputes

-Via Rod Dreher on a deeper conflict going on beneath, but manifesting within, never-Trump vs pro-Trump current politics:

‘The Ahmari vs. French standoff is a version of what Patrick Deneen, in a 2014 TAC article, identified as “a Catholic showdown worth watching.” Deneen identifies the antagonists not as left vs. right, but a dispute between two kinds of conservatives within US Catholicism. On one side are classical liberals — the Neuhaus/Novak/Weigel folks — who believe that Christianity can be reconciled with liberalism, and enrich it. On the other are those — Alasdair MacIntyre, David Schindler — who believe that they are fundamentally incompatible.’

and

‘Where do I stand? Somewhere unsatisfying between Ahmari and French, for reasons I will explain. Essentially, I lack French’s faith in classical liberalism, and I lack Ahmari’s faith that this is a battle that can be won (also, I’m not quite sure what “winning” would look like, but I’ll get to that).’

—–

-Via Edge Of Humanity, click through for some good landscape photography from Daniel Reficha.

-Via Mick Harley via BookForum comes a review-‘Camera Obscura: ‘A Biography Of Street Photographer Vivian Maier

As posted: vivianmaier.com

You may have already heard this mystery photographer’s story, if not, take a look.

Just a link for all the unknown photographers out there, documenting the grit and stuff of life.

kitchenette building

We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,
Grayed in, and gray. “Dream” makes a giddy sound, not strong
Like “rent,” “feeding a wife,” “satisfying a man.”

But could a dream send up through onion fumes
Its white and violet, fight with fried potatoes
And yesterday’s garbage ripening in the hall,
Flutter, or sing an aria down these rooms

Even if we were willing to let it in,
Had time to warm it, keep it very clean,
Anticipate a message, let it begin?

We wonder. But not well! not for a minute!
Since Number Five is out of the bathroom now,
We think of lukewarm water, hope to get in it.

 

Tuesday Poem-Gwendolyn Brooks

kitchenette building

We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,
Grayed in, and gray. “Dream” makes a giddy sound, not strong
Like “rent,” “feeding a wife,” “satisfying a man.”

But could a dream send up through onion fumes
Its white and violet, fight with fried potatoes
And yesterday’s garbage ripening in the hall,
Flutter, or sing an aria down these rooms

Even if we were willing to let it in,
Had time to warm it, keep it very clean,
Anticipate a message, let it begin?

We wonder. But not well! not for a minute!
Since Number Five is out of the bathroom now,
We think of lukewarm water, hope to get in it.