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Putting Your Money Where Your Beliefs Are

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David Sklansky, well-known poker theorist, is challenging Christian fundamentalists to a battle of standardized-test-taking skills! (Via Unscrewing the Incrutable and Cynical-C.)

This is an open challenge to any American citizen who passes a lie detector test that I will specify in a moment.

We will both take the math SAT or GRE (aptidude test). Your choice. We will both have only half the normally allotted time to lessen the chances of a perfect score. Lower score pays higher score $50,000.

To qualify you must take a reputable polygraph that proclaims you are truthful when you state that:

1. You are at least 95% sure that Jesus Christ came back from the dead.

AND

2. You are at least 95% sure that adults who die with the specific belief that Jesus probably wasn’t ressurected will not go to heaven.

If you pass the polygraph you can bet me on the SAT or GRE. Again this is open to ANY one of the 300 million Americans.

Also, for those who think I am being disengenuous because I would make the offer to anyone at all, you are wrong. I am now so rusty that at least one in 5000 Americans are favored over me and I would pass on a bet with them. That’s 60,000 people. If the number of people who would pass that polygraph is between 10 and 30 million, which I think it is, that means that at least 2000 of these types of Christians are smart enough to be favored over me. Given such Christian’s intelligence is distributed like other American’s are.

But I’m betting fifty grand they are not. Their beliefs make them relatively stupid (or uninterested in learning). Or only relatively stupid people can come to such beliefs. One or the other. That is my contention. And this challenge might help demonstrate that.

(I’d feel better about Sklansky’s chances if he knew how to spell “resurrected” — good thing he’s sticking to the math test.)

This sounds like an interesting way to get publicity, but the theory behind it is kind of … dumb. It relies on the idea that there is some unitary thing called “intelligence” that correlates in some simple way with both test-taking skills and religious beliefs. If only it were anywhere near that simple.

Assume for the moment that belief in the literal resurrection of Jesus really does indicate a certain amount of credulity, lack of critical thinking, etc. (Obviously not an unproblematic assumption, but let’s grant that it’s true for the sake of argument.) Why in the world would that be inconsistent with being a math prodigy? The human mind is a funny, complicated thing. There are extraordinarily basic mathematical calculations — taking the square root of a fifty-digit number comes to mind — at which a pocket calculator will always do much better than any human being. Yet if you asked the calculator to invent a theory of gravity based on special relativity and the Principle of Equivalence, it wouldn’t get very far.

Some people (and physicists are among the most guilty, for obvious reasons) seem to think that the ability to do math is the quintessential expression of “intelligence,” from which all other reasoning skills flow. If that were true, scientists and mathematicians would make the best poets, statesmen, artists, and conversationalists. And faculty meetings at top-ranked physics departments would be paradigms of reasonable discussion undistorted by petty jealousies and irrational commitments. Suffice it to say, the evidence is running strongly against. (It’s true that physicists are incredibly fashionable and make the best lovers, but that’s a different matter.)

There really are different ways to be smart. Which is not some misguided hyper-egalitarian claim that everyone is equally smart; some people are very smart in lots of ways, while others aren’t especially smart in any. But it’s very common for people to be intelligent in one way and not in others. David Sklansky, for example, is a great poker player and quite mathematically talented. But his understanding of human psychology falls a bit short.

(I should add that Sklansky may in fact know exactly what he is doing, judging that hubris will be enough to lead more people he can beat to accept the challenge than people he will lose to. But from the discussion, it seems as if he really doesn’t think that anyone fitting his criteria will be able to beat him.)

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Explaining America in movies

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Found at Majikthise, Lawyers Guns and Money, and Lance Mannion, and apparently originating here: choose ten movies that you would show to someone to explain America to them. Here’s my list, off the top of my head, making some effort not to duplicate the others.

  1. The Player (1992)
  2. Cool Hand Luke (1967)
  3. Training Day (2001)
  4. Metropolitan (1990)
  5. Easy Rider (1969)
  6. A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)
  7. Hoop Dreams (1994)
  8. The Sting (1973)
  9. Glory (1989)
  10. Dr. Strangelove (1964)

I thought at first it would be hard to think of ten good ones, but I ended up having to leave out Fargo, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Thelma and Louise, The Conversation, The Untouchables, Blue Velvet, and a bunch more. I’m not providing any explanations for my choices — figuring it out should be half the fun.

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7×7

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Robin at 3 Quarks Daily has tagged me with a meme. For the less blogocentric among our readers, it’s the internet hybrid of a chain letter and a personal ad — you’re supposed to answer a set of questions and then send it along to other people. This is a 7×7 meme, with seven answers to seven questions. (It seems to have become a little stuffier since its earlier days.)

  1. Seven things to do before I die: Learn French, become a passable bass player, learn to tango, spend at least six months living in Paris, publish a novel &/or play, fly an airplane, testify before Congress
  2. Seven things I cannot do: Speak any foreign languages at all (dammit), play any musical instruments decently (dammit), dance (sigh), cook a variety of dishes without recipes in front of me, surf, pay my bills on time, tell when people are bluffing
  3. Seven things that attract me to [Chicago]: Von Freeman, Patricia Barber, Webster’s Wine Bar, the Weiner’s Circle, Cloud Gate, the skyline view from the Adler Planetarium, Remy Bumppo
  4. Seven things I say most often: “Sadly”, “I don’t understand what that can possibly mean”, “I’ll get it done this weekend”, “Sure”, “Lagrangian”, “Raise”, “Dessert sounds good”
  5. Seven books I love: Pride & Prejudice (Austen), Mason & Dixon (Pynchon), The Book of Revelation (Thomson), The Moon is a Harsh Mistress (Heinlein), Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius (Monk), Love in a Dead Language (Siegel), The Debt to Pleasure (Lanchester)
  6. Seven movies I could watch over and over again: Brazil, Dr. Strangelove, Bound, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Casablanca, Vanya on 42nd Street, Mullholand Drive
  7. Seven people I want to join in: Edward Witten, Jeanette Winterson, Tom Stoppard, Angelina Jolie, John Medeski, Jared Diamond, Barack Obama

By not taking the final question realistically, I will likely be held in contempt by the spirits of the blogosphere and my hard drive will crash or something equally awful. But readers are encouraged to answer themselves, either in comments or on their own blogs.

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Gridiron excitement

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For purposes of this year’s Rose Bowl to decide the national championship of college football, Cosmic Variance had an official rooting interest in the University of Southern California, for obvious reasons. Nevertheless, we recognize that it’s good to let the plucky underdogs win one once in a while, and concede that it was quite the entertaining contest. Congratulations to our football-crazy colleagues from the University of Texas.

Congratulations also to the Penn State Nittany Lions, whose Orange Bowl win the previous night extended coach Joe Paterno’s record number of bowl wins to 21. It’s a world in which magic is where we find it.

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Rearrange your liver to the solid mental grace

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Close to the EdgeSome holiday frivolity for you. I’m a big fan of Yes‘s progressive-rock masterpiece Close to the Edge, but I’ll admit that I always presumed the lyrics were mostly nonsense. Not true! It turns out that every line is imbued with subtle and hermeneutically challenging messages, worthy of the closest of readings. Happily, such a reading has been provided by the Church of Yahweh (don’t ask). Here are the lyrics by Jon Anderson, Steve Howe, and Chris Squire; have a crack at interpreting them yourselves before peeking at the answers.

I. The Solid Time Of Change

A seasoned witch could call you from the depths of your disgrace,
And rearrange your liver to the solid mental grace,
And achieve it all with music that came quickly from afar,
Then taste the fruit of man recorded losing all against the hour.
And assessing points to nowhere, leading ev’ry single one.
A dewdrop can exalt us like the music of the sun,
And take away the plain in which we move,
And choose the course you’re running.
Down at the edge, round by the corner, not right away, not right away.

Crossed the line around the changes of the summer,
Reaching to call the color of the sky.
Passed around a moment clothed in mornings faster than we see.
Getting over all the time I had to worry,
Leaving all the changes far from far behind.
We relieve the tension only to find out the master’s name.

Down at the end, round by the corner.
Close to the edge, just by a river.
Seasons will pass you by.
I get up, I get down.
Now that it’s all over and done,
Now that you find, now that you’re whole.

II. Total Mass Retain

My eyes convinced, eclipsed with the younger moon attained with love.
It changed as almost strained amidst clear manna from above.
I crucified my hate and held the word within my hand.
There’s you, the time, the logic, or the reasons we don’t understand.

Sad courage claimed the victims standing still for all to see,
As armoured movers took approach to overlook the sea.
There since the cord, the license, or the reasons we understood will be.

Down at the edge, close by a river, close to the edge, round by the corner.

Sudden call shouldn’t take away the startled memory.
All in all, the journey takes you all the way.
As apart from any reality that you’ve ever seen and known.
Guessing problems only to deceive the mention,
Passing paths that climb halfway into the void.

As we cross from side to side, we hear the total mass retain.

Down at the edge, round by the corner, close to the end, down by a river.
Seasons will pass you by.
I get up, I get down.

III. I Get Up, I Get Down

In her white lace
You can clearly see the lady sadly looking.
Saying that she’d take the blame
For the crucifixion of her own domain.

I get up, I get down, I get up, I get down.
Two million people barely satisfy.
Two hundred women watch one woman cry, too late.
The eyes of honesty can achieve.
How many millions do we deceive each day?

Through the duty she would coil their said
amusement of her story asking only interest
could be laid upon the children of her domain

I get up, I get down, I get up, I get down.

In charge of who is there in charge of me.
Do I look on blindly and say I see the way?
The truth is written all along the page.
How old will I be before I come of age for you?
I get up, I get down.

IV. Seasons Of Man

The time between the notes relates the color to the scenes.
A constant vogue of triumphs dislocate man, so it seems.
And space between the focus shape ascend knowledge of love.
As song and chance develop time, lost social temp’rance rules above.

Then according to the man who showed his outstretched arm to space,
He turned around and pointed, revealing all the human race.
I shook my head and smiled a whisper, knowing all about the place.
On the hill we viewed the silence of the valley,
Called to witness cycles only of the past.
And we reach all this with movements in between the said remark.

Close to the edge, down by the river.
Down at the end, round by the corner.
Seasons will pass you by,
Now that it’s all over and done,
Called to the seed, right to the sun.
Now that you find, now that you’re whole.
Seasons will pass you by,
I get up, I get down.

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The following are NOT blues beverages

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  1. Perrier
  2. Chardonnay
  3. Snapple
  4. Slim Fast

Via Chad Orzel, Scott Spiegelberg’s instructions on How To Sing the Blues.

If death occurs in a cheap motel or a shotgun shack, it’s a blues death. Stabbed in the back by a jealous lover is another blues way to die. So are the electric chair, substance abuse, and dying lonely on a broken-down cot. You can’t have a blues death if you die during a tennis match or while getting liposuction.

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Titling

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For reasons having nothing to do with the obscure films post, I recently had the opportunity to see Terry Gilliam’s Brazil (for perhaps the fifth or sixth time). It’s a close call between that and Casablanca for my all-time favorite movie — how can you go wrong combining Kafka and Orwell with Monty Python and Tom Stoppard? (Brazil, I mean, not Casablanca.)

Of course there is a wonderful backstory to the making of the movie, in which Universal studios chopped up the movie to make a “love conquers all” version with a happy ending, which Gilliam refused to have his name associated with. Fortunately that version never got released, as Gilliam resorted (intentionally or not) to a fiendishly clever strategy: he surreptitiously showed his version to groups of film critics, and the LA film critics society awarded its “best picture of the year” award to a movie that hadn’t even been released. The awards, which Universal would much have preferred go to its other movie Out of Africa, embarassed the studio into letting Gilliam’s version be distributed, albeit without any support.

You can read all sorts of fun trivia in the Brazil FAQ. My favorite is this: Sidney Scheinberg, president of Universal and the man in charge of the happy-ending version, decided he didn’t like the title, and solicited suggestions from his staff. (To be fair, the title would have made less for his version; in Gilliam’s version there is an elaborate soundtrack by Michael Kamen that is constructed primarily out of variations of the song “Brazil,” all of which was replaced in Scheinberg’s version by rock music, to attract teenagers.) Here are the suggested replacement titles:

  • If Osmosis, Who Are You?
  • Some Day Soon
  • Vortex
  • Day Dreams and Night Tripper
  • What a Future!
  • Litterbugs
  • The Works
  • Skylight City
  • You Show Me Your Dream…
  • Access
  • Arresting Developments
  • Nude Descending Bathroom Scale
  • Lords of the Files
  • Dreamscape
  • The Staplegunners
  • Progress
  • Forever More
  • The Right to Bear Arms
  • Explanada Fortunata Is Not My Real Name
  • All Too Soon
  • Chaos
  • Where Were We?
  • Disconnected Parties
  • Blank/Blank
  • Erotic
  • Shadow Time
  • Maelstrom
  • Forces of Darkness
  • The Man in the Custom Tailored T-shirt
  • Fold, Spindle, Mutilate
  • Can’t Anybody Here Play the Cymbals?
  • Sign on High
  • The Ball Bearing Electro Memory Circuit Buster
  • This Escalator Doesn’t Stop At Your Station
  • Gnu Yak, Gnu Yak, and Other Bestial Places

I can’t for the life of me understand what they were thinking for most of these. (Okay, I kind of like “Litterbugs.”) I suspect they had a thought process along the lines of “Well, the movie’s kind of weird, so let’s make the title … weird!” I’ve had my own battles with Physical Review over titles of my papers, but nothing like this.

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Obscure films

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Since we’re doing holiday frivolities here, let me point to a post by Tony Galluci at milkriverblog, who is collecting nominations for the best film that too few people know about. I’m not very good at these games, since I only catch on to quality small films once twenty other people recommend them to me, at which point I can’t really claim that too few people know about them.

So, at the risk of being insufficiently obscure, I’ll nominate Vanya on 42nd Street as a dramatically under-appreciated film. In this movie we have:

  1. A play by Anton Chekhov,
  2. adapted by David Mamet,
  3. directed (in rehearsal) by Andre Gregory,
  4. filmed by Louis Malle,
  5. performed by an amazing cast featuring Julianne Moore, Wallace Shawn, Larry Pine, and several other New York theater regulars.

Happily, these raw materials come together into an amazing whole. We start with a play that has the typical Chekhovian layerings of meaning and mood, and embed it in a film that follows seamlessly from the actors arriving at the theater into beginning their rehearsal (one of the jolts of the movie is when you realize the play has already begun and you hadn’t noticed). We alternate between being drawn in completely to Chekhov’s dialogue and being pushed out by reminders that these are actors performing a play; the juggling act could have fallen flat, but all the different balls are kept artfully in air. It’s not such an obscure film, but I can still push it as under-appreciated.

Forced to slightly greater obscurity, I’ll vote for Gazon Maudit (French Twist). A completely hilarious film that starts as your typical frustrated-housewife-falls-for-lesbian-truck-driver picture, and then takes, unsurprisingly, a twist. Americans could never have made this movie — certain things the French will always do better.

Nominations? I’m sure people can out-obscure me without much trouble.

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