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October 01, 2006

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standpipe b

I don't know why you were reluctant. I liked your responses.

ben wolfson

Does the "ANSI C" stamp on the cover of the book, as displayed by Amazon, mean that K&R C is officially dead?

ogged

Glad you like what you're doing, but you would have been a good doctor.

teofilo

Aw, my first meme tagging. Thanks, Becks; I'll probably get to it tomorrow between services.

soubzriquet

Ben: yes, it's been officially dead for ages. The book is still a wonderful example of a technical book done right. Not as good as `structure and interpretation of computer programs', I suppose, but it has a different purpose.

Becks

My K&R has always had an ANSI C stamp on it. Which probably belongs in Beloit's mindset list or something.

soubzriquet

just realized that my comment is ambigous. The ansi version of K&R book is still current, as far as I know (has there been an update?). I just meant that it, in either incarnation, remains a (somewhat) rare example of a well written and structured technical book.

ac

So where is Tim?

ben wolfson

soubz: there's been a new ansi standard.

SomeCallMeTim

I must not have read to the end; I'll try to do it this weekend, I guess.

Becks

Woo, Tim!

Matt Weiner

WELL, TIM?

ac

We're waiting...

Becks

That's OK, Tim. I still love you even if you don't do my memes.

SomeCallMeTim

I've answered about half of it. It's not very exciting, but I'll post it tomorrow. I just wanted to give it a day, in case I was momentarily forgetting something that could be described as interesting.

Becks

Woo-hoo!

SomeCallMeTim

These inventories seem to be designed to demonstrate how boring I am, and how unfulfilled I should feel. Fair warning: my tastes run to the plebeian.

1. One book that's changed your life

I wish I had an answer like Becks's, but I don't. Many books have meant a lot to me; they've changed my life at the margins. At the moment, though, I'm in revolt against allowing books much influence in my life: that I'm looking for meaningful answers in a book is usually a sign that I'm well into the weeds and not likely to get out soon. So I'll punt and point at "Frog and Toad Together." Mom read the first three pages out loud and then told me I'd have to learn to read if I wanted to know how it ended. (NB: It's possible that first book was actually one of the Anatole books.)

2. One book that you have read more than once

Like Becks, I often reread books for comfort. "The Second Confession," a Nero Wolfe mystery, is a cozy favorite. It has a nice '40s glamor movie feel to it, and there are several moments of lovely banter between Archie and the It Girl of the story. I'm not sure it's fair to say that I reread these books, really, as I usually start about five or ten pages prior to the scene I want and end a couple of pages afterward.

3. One book you would want on a desert island

I'm stealing Becks answer, because it seems so sane. I want a "1001 Things to Make on a Deserted Island." For fun, the "Jeeves Omnibus" (or whatever the real name is.)

4. One book that made you cry

I instinctively avoid books (and movies and songs and people) that are likely to make me cry. And when I tear up, it's usually over something very maudlin: America, the guy on the phone calling mom, (gawd help me) that Jordan commercial. I can't remember the last book to make me cry or even tear up. Growing up, anything from the "Bad Thing Happen to Black People, Jewish People, or Poor People" genre probably would have worked. I'm sure Sammy Davis, Jr.'s biography would have left me feeling suicidal.

5. One book that made you laugh

I'm horrible with names, but there are a couple of Donald Westlake mysteries that are hysterical. I don't know why they can turn an Elmore Leonard book into a good movie, but they can't do it with a Westlake book.

6. One book you wish had been written.

"Epistemology: When You Should Care and When You Shouldn't In Ten Easy Lessons," maybe constructed as an index of circumstances to which one could refer. I've been more or less convinced by the PoMo folk (or maybe, based on the quotation on Beyerstein's blog from a week ago, by Quine) that there is usually some possible set of underlying beliefs (or, with a hat-tip to pdf23, "set of common priors") for which the idiot statement made by the doofus with whom I'm arguing makes sense. And there's a little voice in my head that makes me feel bad when (and, let's be honest: it's "when," not "if") I don't acknowledge that possibility. If I had the epistemic index, I'd know when I could tell the voice (and the doofus) to fuck off.

I'd like a book about professional basketball about which I didn't have major complaints. Everything available is trivial, hagiographic, or somehow tainted with contempt for the subject matter. It's such a beautiful game.

7. One book you wish had never been written

Wolfe's "The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test." I read it in one sitting, immediately walked out of my apartment and another three blocks, and deposited it the available corner trash can. Something in it--maybe just Kesey--sounded a bit too appealing. I was afraid that if I left it anywhere near my apartment, I would continue to hear it calling to me. Spooky. I still feel uneasy when I see it on someone else's bookshelf.

8. One book you are currently reading

Oh crap. I just finished a decent science fiction book (something Compass, I think), and I really needed a book, any book. I have occasional bouts of insomnia, and I get edgy about not having something easy at hand. I realized this late yesterday, only arrived at the nearby bookstore just before closing, and didn't have time to rummage. And I didn't want to end up with Grisham or Brown or something like either, because that can be worse than insomnia; those books make me feel dirty. So there were a lot of factors at play, including a ticking clock.... Fuckit: "Lie by Moonlight," Amanda Quick. Yes, it's a romance novel. Fuck off.

9. One book you've been meaning to read

Well, not "Lie by Moonlight," I assure you. "Knowledge and the Wealth of Nations," David Warsh, based on Tyler Cowen's blogged recommendation. It should probably be "Against the Odds," as I borrowed the book over a year ago. But it's not. Sorry SCMT-friend.

Becks

Tim!!1! Yay! Great answers! Thank you for making my day.

ac

A window to your soul at last at last.

Matt Weiner

Tim!

I hear The Hot Rock is supposed to be a decent movie, but I've never seen it. And I laughed a lot at What's the Worst That Could Happen?, but the relaxed dollar-theater atmosphere really helped. That's a subpar Westlake novel anyway (I really think it's time for Dortmunder to retire). And it started to get really funny only when it started to get away from the book.

What you're talking about sounds a little more like Davidson than Quine to me. Quine's argument is basically that no (or very few) statement is directly connected to the evidence; any statement requires auxiliary hypotheses before you check it against the evidence. Like (to choose a directly relevant example) you might think that the way to check whether the Iraq war is going well is to look in the papers and see what they report about it. But the hypothesis that "The Iraq war is going shitty" isn't directly entailed by "The papers report that the Iraq war is going shitty"; you need the additional hypothesis "The papers are telling the truth." And some people have chosen to deal with the evidence in the papers not by rejecting their hypothesis that the war is going well, but by attacking the auxiliary hypothesis that the media is reporting accurately (in other words, by crying about media bias). Lindsay's point is that this is pretty pathological.

I guess that is kind of in line with what you're saying, that there are some basic assumptions that the doofus is saying on which the particular doofotic thing that they just said makes sense.

Davidson, on the other hand, actually has an argument that says that people can't be wrong about absolutely everything. If you think you're interpreting someone as wrong about absolutely everything, then that's evidence that you're misinterpreting them. I think this has limited application in everyday life, frankly, since most of the agreement (as Davidson says) will still be on "sky is blue and grass is green" stuff and there's a lot of room for someone to be wrong about everything that's actually in dispute.

Anyway, I often lean toward telling the voice and doofus to fuck off. (For instance, that shnook at Ezra's who now seems to be arguing that promoting intelligent design as something that "a growing number of scientists" believe in doesn't make the Heritage Foundation hackish.) Sometimes people have interestingly different perspectives that are causing the disagreement, but sometimes they're just bending themselves into pretzels to try to avoid the f'in obvious, and though in theory you could break down the evidence into little bitty pieces in order to locate the exact disagreement in practice it's not worth it.

Your book kind of sounds like "One book I wish someone would give me tenure and a fat grant to write."

Matt Weiner

Actually, if someone wants to give me tenure and a fat grant to write any book on a subject I'm interested in, that would make me happy.

SomeCallMeTim

I know that Westlake is well-known, yet somehow it warms my heart to know you read him. Agree on Dortmunder.

Quine's argument is basically that no (or very few) statement is directly connected to the evidence; any statement requires auxiliary hypotheses before you check it against the evidence.

Huh. I took this to mean that it was auxiliary hypotheses (nearly) all the way down, and that with careful minor modification of the hypotheses farthest from the central point, you could keep the shape of the argument, and all connected hypotheses, come what may by way of evidence.

though in theory you could break down the evidence into little bitty pieces in order to locate the exact disagreement in practice it's not worth it.

Part of what underlies the feeling is that the important thing is the connective tissue between the little bitty pieces, and that often my justification for making that connection seems not much more than cultural predilection. This is, in fact, why I get so much more furious at the Galt than at other, more egregious, wingnuts: I know that her background (education, locales, the way she writes, etc.) is sufficiently similar to mine that I feel secure claiming that--given her background--she cannot fairly arrive at where she is. I don't feel so secure with other people, because the shape of their arguments--the way they connect the little bitty pieces--seems more like interpretive dance than argument. But I'm not sure that's much more than me being oppressive.

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