Rooting for the Goat

Well, the Cubs won the Pennant. After nearly a century of being the losing-est team in baseball, Chicago’s blue-eyed darlings defied convention, broke the spell, and are headed to the World Series. Cubs fans, now scattered across the globe, can be found yelling gleefully at strangers something about a goat.

Because you see the Cubs, for the last seven decades, have not just been a bad baseball team. They’ve been terrible. So bad you could forgive their coke sniffing frat boy fan base for being so irritating because the team was just so damn pathetic. They’ve been plagued by losing seasons and bad luck for so long that the only conceivable culprit at this point is witchcraft. Voodoo. A curse.

The last time the Cubs played in the World Series was 1945. Things were looking up, the Cubs led the seven game series 2-1 heading into game four at Wrigley Field, until William Sianis showed up with his pet goat and insisted they both be seated. The usher denied the goat access, allegedly on the grounds that the animal smelled bad. Sianis threw up his hands and swore that “The Cubs ain’t gonna win no more.” They went on to lose the game and then the series.

After the final game Sianis sent a telegram to the team reading, “Who stinks now.” The spell was cast. The Cubs have not won a World Series since.

curse-of-the-goat
PC: Nick Merrell – The curse of the goat.

Baseball is a game fraught with superstition. Pitchers won’t step on the lines. Players don’t wash the luck out of their jocks. But even for baseball the Curse of the Goat runs deep. In a pivotal playoff game in 1969 a black cat wandered onto the field and gazed into the Cubs dugout. They lost momentum and lost the Pennant race.

In 1986 the curse followed Bill Buckner to the Red Sox. In the 10th inning of a World Series game, he committed a Little League level blunder that led to his team’s loss. He was wearing a Cubs batting glove under his mitt.

But nothing compares to the bad luck of 2003 (the Chinese Zodiac year of the Goat). It was the 7th inning of the fourth-of-seven games in the National League Champion Series. The Cubs led the series 3-2 and the game 3-0. A high foul ball left the bat of Luis Castillo for an easy out into the glove of left fielder Moises Alou. Instead, the now infamous Steve Bartman leaned across the wall to catch the ball, interfered with Alou, and watched the Cubs go on to lose the series.

This curse, it seems, is the real deal.

And it’s why this recent spate of Cubs good luck is so bittersweet. The Curse of the Goat, more than a winning team, is something to rally behind. For our entire lives, the Cubs have been the essential underdog, the original Bad Luck Bears.

The annual Sisyphusian trudge through the regular season is as essential to the Cubs experience as the ivy covered walls at Wrigley Field. The Cubs without the curse is like contemplating Thanksgiving without turkey. Sure, it’s kind of the worst part of the whole thing, but it needs to be there.

Without the Curse, the Cubs are just another sports team, adrift in a city that loves its sports. Championships come and go, and the fair weather zealots (looking at you, Blackhawks fans) drift from franchise to franchise based on a complicated algorithm of athletic merit and nearby dive bars.

The Curse is a part of old Chicago. Of Al Capone, and deep dish pizza, and Meigs Field. To see it go is like seeing the Sun-Times give way to the Trump International. It’s the cruel wheel of progress that values glamour over tradition.

So yeah, like any expatriated Chicago kid, I’ll probably keep an ear tuned for news on the World Series, even if I haven’t seen a baseball game in years. And maybe that makes me a bandwagon fan. Maybe. Except that this midwestern expat is rooting for the goat.

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Should You Buy a Pass This Year?

Rejoice! For summer’s tyrannic reign is over.

The larch are popping, rains have arrived, and it’s finally cool enough to think straight. In a few days, the woods will alight with the echoing booms of the autumn harvest, and the white horizon will creep a bit lower. Woodsmoke will hover in the air, soups will steam gently on the range, and we’ll tighten our coats around our necks and brace for the most wonderful time of year.

But in the meantime, there’s business to attend to. Primarily: should you buy a season pass this year? A pass is no small investment; in some places it’s pushing $2k for the privilege of taking a ride to the top of the mountain. It would be foolhardy to plow blindly forward, and there are a number of considerations at play.

Here are a few study questions to help you with the hardest decision of the fall.

Do you like Skiing? This one seems elementary, but it’s worth thinking long and hard about. Sure, all your friends like to ski, but do you usually just take one token run then head to the lodge for alpines and cheese fries? Remember that skiing is difficult, dangerous and cold. Also, ski hills aren’t country clubs. Lodge privileges are open to the public! If you don’t actually like to ski, maybe save a few bucks and spring for a nice jacket so that you look the part curled up with a book next to the lodge fire.

What’s the long range forecast? Are we looking at a dismal forecast like the terrible drought of aught-8? Or on the cusp of another glorious powmageddon like ’11 (or dare we dream of ’96!)? predicting the weather five months out is a notoriously tricky job, but there’s no reason not to try. I wonder what The Blob is up to? Or equatorial sea surface temperatures in the Pacific? Best to bone up on your climate science before pulling trig on a pass!

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Should you buy a pass this year?

Is there a boycott you need to know about? The relationship between ski hill operators and passholders is not a traditional business/customer trade off. There’s usually only one or two real options for skiing, and they’re selling a fix to a large number of addicts. It really looks a lot more like drug dealer/junkie relationship, where mutual contempt is on a constant simmer, but everyone knows that at the end of the day people are going to put their principles aside and go skiing. But keep an eye out for a boycott, sometimes the people need to make their voices felt, and you’d hate to be the only scab in the lift line.

Can you get a deal? Do you have a buddy in the ticket office? Does your local hill offer a AAA discount? Is there anyone that you can blackmail or kidnap? If not, then there are other ways to save some coin. Ski bums across the west have made great progress in working off passes by hanging chairs, bootpacking bowls, and other unpleasant and labor intensive tasks. It’s worth seeing if you can work something out!

How about uphill traffic? Does your local hill allow skinning? Experts are torn on what uphill traffic policies do to ticket sales. Some folks are worried that people won’t buy tickets if they can hike, other folks actively boycott ski hills with retrograde skinning policies. Where do you stand?

What about a weekday Pass? If you’re thinking about buying a pass, then you probably live in a little mountain town. And if you live in a little mountain town, then you probably have some kind of weird, probably-at-least-partially-made-up job that trades trivial things like “health insurance” and a “living wage” for a great deal of flexibility. See if your ski hill offers discounted mid-week passes. You don’t want to wait in the Saturday lift lines anyway.

These study questions are intended to help you decide weather to pull the trigger on a pretty significant purchase this winter. Ultimately, the choice is up to you. I hope it helped!

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Entropy at Work

Those of us who were born recently enough to only have followed the last several national elections may be forgiven for coming to the conclusion that our democracy is in the throes of unraveling, and that the Great American Experiment is, at last, a failure.

2000 found us stating that we were faced with the worst candidates in history. In 2004, we took it all back and declared that no, in fact, these were the worst candidates we’d ever been forced to elect. In 2008 the ascendancy of our country’s first black president gave rise to latent white nationalism from coast to coast, and was the most polarizing election in memory. The most polarizing election in memory, of course, until 2012, when the TEA party hijacked the Republican party and talking heads spoke exclusively in superlatives for like eight months. That shit was wild.

But then we have 2016. Holy crap. The world, it seems, is on the cusp of demise.

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This election cycle has seen the most inflammatory language we’ve ever heard on the presidential stage, and it has incubated the ugliest in all of us. The last debate nearly came to blows, the candidates finally resorted only to libel. The Republican party is actually imploding before our eyes, and zealots across the political spectrum are openly calling for revolution if they don’t get their way.

Isn’t it great?

See, our body politic is reeling right now, but there isn’t really any better way for it to unfold. What we’re seeing here is entropy at work. Entropy, remember, is that pesky tenet of thermodynamics that you heard about in college and forgot about as soon as f’ing possible. That tendency in a closed system to err toward disorder.

Physicists deal with it all the time in a candid way, but entropy is a constant in all of our lives. You ever notice how it’s a full time job to keep the kitchen clean? Or the bedroom picked up? How a clean house will apparently descend into chaos over the course of a week if it’s allowed? That’s entropy. And it’s at work right now in our body of representatives.

It takes an outside force to restore order. It takes effort. The Trump campaign is, like he promises (one of the few things he’s right about), well positioned to fix a broken system. He really is poised to Make America Great Again, the same way that months’ worth of moldy pizza boxes under the couch are poised to get you to clean the living room.

Partisan inflexibility has gridlocked Congress for more than a decade. It’s that ineffectiveness that’s given rise to a candidate like Trump. People are sick of that shit, and this is what we’ve come up with: a big, orange cudgel brandished at our representatives that they’d better get their damn affairs in order or we’ll give ’em more of this whack job.

I hope that the Trump candidacy is simply an indication that our national politics have reached a state of squalor unparalleled outside of Shel Silverstein poems (a garbage fire, in other terms). That it’s time, now, to clean our bedroom. To put away those dishes. To wash and fold those piles of dirty clothes. Unchecked, the state of things will always tend toward disorder and chaos. I hope that we can agree that it is time, now, for a reset. It’s physics, after all.

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Logical Fallacies of Facebook

Woo! OK!” she said. I couldn’t agree more.

Here we are, in our offices and in front of our desks, on the first work day after the first Presidential debate of the 2016 election. Ho man. If you’re anything like pretty much anyone else on earth, you’re probably spending at least a third of your time on Facebook, watching the pinging back and forth between your “Bernie or Bust” college roommate and your redneck uncle who’s stockpiling weapons somewhere in the Idaho panhandle.

Yessirree, it’s going to be a wild few months on the ‘ol social media as the Great American Experiment grinds through the electoral process and millions of armchair analysts freshen their coffee, turn on CAPS LOCK, and fire away into the cloud.

It can get confusing out there, in your Facebook newsfeed. There’s yelling. There are hyperlinks to plain HTML websites with black backgrounds as citations. People keep telling you you hate the troops and you’re going to hell and all you really want is an affordable way to go to college. What gives?

raffael-plato
“First of all, you’re fucking crazy.” – Plato

At work in this country is our communal failure to properly identify and avoid logical fallacies in the pursuit of our civic process. And so to help streamline things a little bit, I’ve picked out a few that you should keep an eye out for.

The Logical Fallacies of Facebook:

a user’s guide to dealing with your redneck uncle and whackjob aunt so you can all still enjoy Thanksgiving together in a few months

The False Equivalency – falsum ex condigno – This is a big one. Maybe the main one. It stems from establishing an incorrect premise on which an argument is built. Think about it this way: if you were baking a cake, and you ran out of ingredients, but then you remembered hearing in a presidential debate that vegetable oil and motor oil are interchangeable, your cake would make a lot of people sick. This kind of confusion happens a lot.

One of the most damaging false equivalencies that keeps rearing its head is the notion that science is science, and therefore all science is equal. We see this across fields. Whether folks are arguing that Creationism is just as scientifically valid as Evolution, or that climate change is somehow not a thing, or that some bar chart that the Drudge Report shared is as rigorous as a peer reviewed and published statistical analysis of police violence against minorities.

Because that’s the thing about science. It’s tricky. Which is why we have scientists who do it for us. And just to make sure those scientists don’t get all fast and loose, we have other scientists check their work through a process called peer review. So when it gets through that, you can be pretty sure it’s legit.

We rely on scientists to do our science for the same reason that we elect politicians, and go to doctors, and have people with tattoos make our coffee. It’s so that we don’t have to figure out how to do it ourselves. Multi-level Bayesian analysis and crafting policy and negotiating arms deals with Iran is confusing. We hire people to do that for us so that we can follow our true calling: cranking beers and yelling at each other on the internet.

The Appeal to Nature – appellare ad naturam – And while we’re talking about science, the notion that something is “natural” is not a valid argument for why it is right. Vaccinate your damn kids.

The Anecdotal Fallacy – anecdotal fallacia – I had a roommate once tell me that he never wears a seat belt because his father has been in three rollover collisions without a seat belt and every time he was thrown to safety. You can file this in the same place as the story that thousands of Muslims in New Jersey cheered as the towers came down: it is, at best, irrelevant, and pretty much guaranteed to be made up bullshit anyway.

The Bandwagon Approach – argumentum ad populum – “A lot of people are saying [insert claim here].” This one should be obvious. Cite your damn sources. Real ones. Not that fifth-page-Google-results tripe that just links to Alex Jones blogs if anything at all.

The Irrelevant Conclusion – ignorantio elenchi – This is another big one, and  you see it a lot in debates, both televised and unfolding on the wall of an unsuspecting gradeschool classmate that you haven’t seen or spoken to in nearly two decades. It’s sort of like saying “I have a pet duck, therefore your car is purple.”

Keep a close eye out for Straw Man (changing or oversimplifying an opponent’s argument so that it’s easier to refute) and Red Herring (changing the subject because your point doesn’t actually make any sense and you don’t want to talk about it anymore) arguments, and remember that neither of them are characters on Game of Thrones.

Appeal to Improper Authority – argumentum ad verecundium – “CALL SEAN HANNITY! ASK HIM!”

Remember, the employment if these fallacies is not crafty debate technique. It just makes you look ignorant and uninformed. So study up, cite your sources, and don’t be afraid to change an opinion when faced with compelling evidence that refutes it!

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Books for the Dark Ages: fall book recommendations

Winter is coming.

But it’s not here yet, and it won’t be here for a while. It’ll be dark like 20 hours a day soon, and the snow won’t fly for a little while longer, and the new season of Game of Thrones apparently doesn’t air until like July. Pretty much we’re doomed.

What are you going to do? We’re eeking toward that time of year when everything is exciting and wonderful because it’ll be ski season soon, but when it’s actually just cold and dark and kind of miserable because it’s not ski season yet. We’ve got a little bit of time until that happens, though, and while everything is dark and mysterious and before your friends and loved ones try to send you to an early grave with like 8-10 holiday parties a week, I propose that you read a book.

A BOOK!?

Yes. A paper one. With pages. None of those Kindle things. Isn’t that a Kardashian, anyway?

And so to get you started, here’s a few fall book recommendations that should get you through ’til the snow flies.

Fall book recommendations.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre – B. Traven – Good ‘ol dang ‘ol adventure story with just enough socialist indignation to really resonate with a generation of millennials. A few down-and-out strangers in the 1920s skip town to search for a lost and cursed Aztec gold mine. Warning – there is a morale to this story.

The Immortal Irishman – Timothy Egan – Irish Republican indignation? Old timey frontier antics?  Mysterious deaths of famous people? He had me at “indignation.” The story of an Irish revolutionary and Montana’s first Governor, this one is a biography that reads more like fiction.

Trinity – Leon Uris – If The Immortal Irishman left your indignation cup just half full, then slip on some sheepwool slippers, pour yourself a Jameson (bring the bottle, this book is long), and crack into Trinity. If Jack London wrote the Bible and set it in 19th century Dublin, you might get something like this.

The Monkey Wrench Gang – Edward Abbey – This book opens with two characters cutting down billboards with a chainsaw, and the hijinx just keep going from there. If you’re feeling any indignation about Bernie not getting a fair shake, or the North Dakota Access Pipeline, or you’re just generally angry at The Man, here’s a great place to find some inspiration. Jeep week is right around the corner!

Alpine Ski Tours of the Canadian Rockies – Chic Scott – Because ski season is almost here, after all, and we can’t just be angry all the time.

Hot Water – PG Wodehouse – Light-hearted, hilarious. Best to read it with an English accent.

A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole – Here’s one that you might not quite know what to make of the whole time you’re in it, and then one day you realize it’s your favorite book. An homage to self-righteous, over-educated under-achievers everywhere.

Don Quixote – Miguel Cervantes – The first novel. No, really. It’s more than 400 years old, but it is absolutely modern in its concerns and its relevancy. You really owe it to yourself to know more about Don Quixote than that he jousted with windmills. Just make sure you get a good translation.

The Italian Grill – Mario Batali – It’s dark out. It’s cold. It’s actually a great time to fire up the grill. Batali’s recipes here take a long time (frequently days), so it’s a great thing to kind of work on a little bit during the week and then reap the rewards on the weekend. Summer cookouts are fine, but there’s nothing better than grilling under a crisp winter night. Batali himself has had some little ethical issues (like widespread, systematic wage theft in his restaurants), so feel free to get this one at the library or find a pirated copy online.

Under the Wide and Starry Sky – Nancy Horan – Buy this book. Buy one for yourself. Then buy one for your girlfriend/boyfriend/regular friends. Buy one for each roommate. Then for each member of your family all the way through third cousins. Hardcover is preferred. It’s the life and history of the man who brought us Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Treasure Island and Kidnapped, packaged as a riveting novel. Probably you should buy a spare.

Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail ’72 – Hunter S. Thompson – This is an election year, the media has pretty much blown it, and we’ve got one of the craziest candidates in centuries. This is an election cycle that deserves Hunter S. Thompson.

Infinite Jest – David Foster Wallace – You will laugh. You will cry. Carrying this book around is the perfect complement to your Warby Parker glasses and Gitanes cigarettes. The magnum opus of a deeply troubled, profoundly insightful man, you’ll get out of this one what you put into it. You will not get through this a few pages at a time before bed; I recommend leaving the country for someplace without electricity for a month and just, like, living between the pages, man.

The Nix – Nathan Hill – Is it disrespectful to call The Nix diet Infinite Jest? I don’t know. I do know that it’s got a similar style, similar feel, and also that it’s way, way more user friendly. You still get the fragmented narrative, the semi-cynical insights to the world around us, but you can probably read this one at home.

Don’t forget to support your local bookseller, and holler if there’s anything I’m missing.

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