Oh, damn, damn!
I have been trying not to come to some conclusions,
not because they do not make sense, but because
they seem arrogant. Let me put some things together.
Was it William Stern, or Alfred Binet, or Louisiana Beignet--
somebody or thing like that--who created a scale in which
100 represented a level of intelligence in which half of
the population was less intelligent, and half more intelligent.
Most of us hover around 100. Truman Capote flew
in the intelligence atmosphere. Everybody believes he or she
has relatives who trudge along at the other end of the line.
What is the moral to this fascinating story?
Some people are smarter, some dumber, than others.
I find things more easily than Mari does.
I think the reason is that spatial, not temporal, things
come easily to me. Mari remembers dates, times,
events, anniversaries, birthdays, and when we traveled where.
I often hear myself saying something like this to her:
"Look at that person over there! Doesn't she look
like your aunt Caroline's daughter?" Mari often
confirms my observtion by saying, "I guess so."
Similarly, I am fascinated by older married couples.
Very often, they look alike: long noses, narrow faces,
wide faces, or maybe both as plump as peaches.
It ought not to be a surprise, then, that we elect
people to office who think something as we do.
How could John Kyl get elected to office if lots of people
in his constituency did not agree with him, or he with them,
about distrusting people with brown skin, who speak Spanish?
The IQ scale tries to measure intelligence.
There ought, also, to be a conspiracy scale.
"How did you test out on the Conspiracy Quotient scale?"
"147? Wow! That puts you right up there!
Is that a tea bag I see on your hat? You from Idaho?"
If there were a Conspiracy Quotient, we would have a number--
perhaps 100--to indicate a place at which about half of us
would be less inclined to conspiracies, and the other half
would be more inclined to believe conspiracies. If, in elections,
we elect people to represent us, we might see some
politicians who are smart, some dumb, some inclined to
conspiracies, and others more inclined to plain facts,
that is, to a kind of Occam's Razor set of mind.
The mechanics of evolution are such that our genes
are not set in concrete. Accidents happen to our genetic
codes. The stuff that bombards us from space, unseen,
rips little holes. Working in an X-Ray lab, or living
near nuclear radiation sites, the chemicals we ingest,
the wear and tear of age, and a thousand other ordinary
events have genetic effect. Sexual reproduction is a
scrambling of genetic codes with a medley of effects.
Stupid people are created by very smart parents,
and very smart kids happen along in tedious families.
All of that is, in fact, to the advantage of our survival.
One cannot predict what traits will prove to be
of advantage to our survival in subsequent generations,
and which familial characteristics will prove to be debilitating.
It must be the case that conspiriatorial mindsets
are sometimes advantageous, too, else we would not see
so much of it as we do, personally, and politically.
For instance, if one lived in a dangerous environment,
it might be to advantage to suspect conspiracies all about.
The conclusions I have been trying not to arrive at
are that a lot of us are pretty stupid, and that a lot of us
are conspiracy theorists of an ordinary kind, and more,
that a good number of the people we elect to office
were sometimes elected because they represent
our own stupidy and conspiracies. How else can you explain
Sharron the Voice of God Angle? Or supply-side economics?
Or the descendents of immigrants who hate immigrants?
(I am trying, mightily, not to say anything about the
grammar or syntax of either Sarah Palin or Bert Blyleven,
to say nothing about the theories of Michele Bachmann!)
It is clear that ignorance, and conspiracies, and intelligence,
plain thinking mix and match just as genes do. Even so,
I find myself getting curious about evolutionary vestiges.
I have been trying not to come to some conclusions,
not because they do not make sense, but because
they seem arrogant. Let me put some things together.
Was it William Stern, or Alfred Binet, or Louisiana Beignet--
somebody or thing like that--who created a scale in which
100 represented a level of intelligence in which half of
the population was less intelligent, and half more intelligent.
Most of us hover around 100. Truman Capote flew
in the intelligence atmosphere. Everybody believes he or she
has relatives who trudge along at the other end of the line.
What is the moral to this fascinating story?
Some people are smarter, some dumber, than others.
I find things more easily than Mari does.
I think the reason is that spatial, not temporal, things
come easily to me. Mari remembers dates, times,
events, anniversaries, birthdays, and when we traveled where.
I often hear myself saying something like this to her:
"Look at that person over there! Doesn't she look
like your aunt Caroline's daughter?" Mari often
confirms my observtion by saying, "I guess so."
Similarly, I am fascinated by older married couples.
Very often, they look alike: long noses, narrow faces,
wide faces, or maybe both as plump as peaches.
It ought not to be a surprise, then, that we elect
people to office who think something as we do.
How could John Kyl get elected to office if lots of people
in his constituency did not agree with him, or he with them,
about distrusting people with brown skin, who speak Spanish?
The IQ scale tries to measure intelligence.
There ought, also, to be a conspiracy scale.
"How did you test out on the Conspiracy Quotient scale?"
"147? Wow! That puts you right up there!
Is that a tea bag I see on your hat? You from Idaho?"
If there were a Conspiracy Quotient, we would have a number--
perhaps 100--to indicate a place at which about half of us
would be less inclined to conspiracies, and the other half
would be more inclined to believe conspiracies. If, in elections,
we elect people to represent us, we might see some
politicians who are smart, some dumb, some inclined to
conspiracies, and others more inclined to plain facts,
that is, to a kind of Occam's Razor set of mind.
The mechanics of evolution are such that our genes
are not set in concrete. Accidents happen to our genetic
codes. The stuff that bombards us from space, unseen,
rips little holes. Working in an X-Ray lab, or living
near nuclear radiation sites, the chemicals we ingest,
the wear and tear of age, and a thousand other ordinary
events have genetic effect. Sexual reproduction is a
scrambling of genetic codes with a medley of effects.
Stupid people are created by very smart parents,
and very smart kids happen along in tedious families.
All of that is, in fact, to the advantage of our survival.
One cannot predict what traits will prove to be
of advantage to our survival in subsequent generations,
and which familial characteristics will prove to be debilitating.
It must be the case that conspiriatorial mindsets
are sometimes advantageous, too, else we would not see
so much of it as we do, personally, and politically.
For instance, if one lived in a dangerous environment,
it might be to advantage to suspect conspiracies all about.
The conclusions I have been trying not to arrive at
are that a lot of us are pretty stupid, and that a lot of us
are conspiracy theorists of an ordinary kind, and more,
that a good number of the people we elect to office
were sometimes elected because they represent
our own stupidy and conspiracies. How else can you explain
Sharron the Voice of God Angle? Or supply-side economics?
Or the descendents of immigrants who hate immigrants?
(I am trying, mightily, not to say anything about the
grammar or syntax of either Sarah Palin or Bert Blyleven,
to say nothing about the theories of Michele Bachmann!)
It is clear that ignorance, and conspiracies, and intelligence,
plain thinking mix and match just as genes do. Even so,
I find myself getting curious about evolutionary vestiges.
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