Entry 1738 — Mr. Thunk to the Rescue

February 28th, 2015

Last night in bed before going to sleep I had what I thought were good ideas for the re-description of the ideas I wrote about yesterday, so wrote the following (which, alas, is all I have for today’s entry):

***  Preliminary quick jottings.   ABC, then ABJ.  Memory stronger than environment due either to (a) abnormally high charactration which keeps the level of cerebral energy up or (b) the solution of a Major Problem that causes the accelerance mechanism to boost the level of cerebral energy, and keep the level there because of the ongoing solving of related problems.

So AB(2C/J).  If AB, then 2/3 of B’s cerebral energy goes to C, which is enough to activate it, but only 1/3 goes to J, so fails to activate it.  Result: AB(3C/J)

* * *

My first concern is (a).  Here’s a slow description of the creation of a rigidniplex in the brain of Mr. Thunk, a relatively extreme rigidnik.  It will contain everything I can think of that happens without concern for repetitions or otherwise saying too much:

(1)    Mr. Thunk encounters stimuli in his external environment that his nervous system translates into the knowleculane A*B*C as it stores it in the mnemoduct in the awarea (i.e., area of awareness, or small section of some major or minor awareness or sub-awareness) of his cerebrum that is dedicated to (let us say) Literary History.

(2)    Mr. Thunk later encounters stimuli in his external environment that his nervous system translates into the knowleculane A*B*J as it stores it in the same mnemoduct it stored A*B*C.

(3)    Mr. Thunk, as a fairly extreme rigidnik (i.e., a man whose rigidnikry is just short of making him a psychotic), will have an excessively powerful charactration mechanism.  This means that it will generally keep the level of his cerebral energy abnormally high.  Since cerebral energy, in my theory, is the energy the cerebrum makes available to those cells (master-cells) responsible for activating knowleculanes, this means that Mr. Thunk will tend automatically to much more strongly attempt to activate any knowleculane it tries to activate.

According to knowlecular psychology, as Mr. Thunk’s nervous system acquires and stores A*B*J, master-cells [A], [B] and [J] will become active in order.  Each will transmit energy to other master-cells that at some time were active after it (including, perhaps, itself).  In this case, we shall ignore any such cells it might transmit energy to except the single one that we know each did.  Ergo, so far as this example is concerned, when [A] becomes active, it will transmit energy to[B]; when [B] becomes active, it will transmit energy to [C]; we don’t know where [J], once active, will transmit its energy, but for the purposes of this example, it doesn’t matter.

At the core of my theory of rigidnikry is what I contend results from [B]’s distribution of energy: to wit, the activation of [C].  I am saying that because of its very great amount of energy, [B] , representing a stored knowleculane, or memory, will be as successful in activating [C] as the external environment will simultaneously have been in activating [J].

Mr. Thunk will thus experience A*B*C/J4.  His original knowleculane will become A*B*2CJ—or A with one entrance to B, B with 2/3 or an entrance to C and 1/3 to J.

This means that if Mr. Thunk next encounters stimuli in his external environment that his nervous system translates into the knowleculane A*B*—and stops there—[B] will transmit 2/3 of its abnormally large amount of energy to [C], which will be enough (in this admittedly exaggerated-for-educational-purposes example) to activate it, but fail to activate [J], 1/3 of its energy not being enough (in this example) to do that.

What this means should demonstrate why it is at the core of my theory of rigidnikry: it means that a rigidnik, due to his fiercely powerful charactration mechanism, will form a knowleplex much too attached, dependent on, protective of, immune to contradiction of, a core axiom only because the rigidnik experienced the knowleculane that becomes the core axiom before the rigidnik experienced  any other knowleculane.  And that core axiom will continue to dominate the knowleplex formed, which we can now call a rigidniplex, regardless of how many similar knowleculanes the rigidnik experiences, some of which are highly likely to have made a more effective (because more rational) core axiom.

What it means in general terms is that a rigidnik’s memory will be more important in determining how he thinks than his environment.  In the example just given, Mr. Thunk’s memory of A*B*C proved stronger than the presentation by his external environment of A*B*J.  Ergo, the key to my theory of temperament is that a person’s temperament is determined by how strong his memories, or inner understandings, are compared to any new understandings his environment his environment gives him opportunities to access.

Mr. Thunk will be sadly unable effectively to access any new understandings concerning anything he has already formed an understanding of.  Mr. Thunk will also have a hard time later improving the knowleplex formed by comparing its core axiom to any possibly better ones, or other knowleculanes in his knowleplex because compatible with A*B*C to possibly better ones.

(4)    A normal person who encounters the same stimuli that Mr. Thunk, our rigidnik, first did, and then the stimuli his nervous system translates into the knowleculane A*B*J, will not make A*B*C the core axiom of a knowleplex, for his [B] will not transmit enough stimulation to [C] to activate it.  Hence, he will form knowleculane A*B*CJ, and A*B*C and A*B*J will have equal chances to become the core axiom of a knowleplex—if a knowleplex ever results  that has anything to do with either.

There are all kinds of problems with my theory of rigidniplexes as so far described.  I can’t cover them all here, but will try to say something about a few that bother me at the moment.

* * * I continued but didn’t finish, so figure this is a good place to stop.



Entry 1737 — My Own Little Eurekaplex

February 27th, 2015

Today I derailed enthusiastically for a while into the following, which I now declare are the result of a Eurekaplex I myself constructed in my little brain:

A Maximally Simplistic Attempt to Describe the Workings of a Eurekaplex

To understand what a Eurekaplex is, one must first understand what a Rigidniplex is.  That, in turn, requires one to understand what a Knowleplex is—so that’s where I’ll begin.  At bottom, a knowleplex is just a complicated tangle of “molecules” of recorded knowledge (memories, in other words) that I call “knowlecules” arranged in a system of interconnecting “knowleculanes” that are stored in what is in effect an almost endlessly long container called “the Mnemoduct.”  (Note: There are many mnemoducts, and thus many different knowleplexes, most of which occupy more than one mnemoduct.  For the purposes of this essay, however, I will be considering only one of them. )

Knowlecules provide a person his understanding of small things, knowleculanes his knowledge of larger things, and knowleplexes his understanding of whole subject areas such as “The Author of the Works of Shakespeare” up to “The Science of Physics.”  The easy way to think of these is to think of knowlecules as knowledge a single word can represent fairly fully whereas only a sentence or a paragraph can represent a knowleculane effectively while an essay or whole book, or library, is needed to come close to representing a knowleplex effectively.

Now, then, a rigidniplex is a knowleplex that, among many flaws, is excessively impervious to contradiction, irrational, and constricted.  Despite all that, it may sometimes validly reflect reality, but most often it does not.  The more rigidnikal a person is, the more his knowleplexes will be rigidniplexes.

(Editorial note: it was here that my too-potent accelerance mechanism took over.)

The major difference between normal knowleplex and a rigidniplex has to do with their responses to new data: the normal knowleplex is appreciably more hospitable to it, the rigidniplex sometimes near-impervious to it.  It’s pretty simple, really.  Let’s imagine a person’s knowleplex as a gated community only allowing entrance to external knowleculanes consisting of certain knowlecules in a certain order.  Then imagine an external knowleculane comprised of the argument, “Meres referred to Buckhurst as a great writer of Tragedy but not as a great writer of comedies, or a writer at all of comedies; therefore, Buckhurst was NOT Shakespeare” shows up.  If the person involved is normal (and knowledgeable about Elizabethan times), his knowleplex will run through its records of knowleculanes and find strands like “Meres referred to Buckhurst in 1598 . . .”  It will allow the knowleculane entrance on the basis of its having a 4-element strand matching one or more of the strands the knowleplex found.

If, on the other hand, the person involved is a rigidnik (who believes Buckhurst was Shakespeare), his knowleplex will run through its records of knowleculanes looking for far longer matches, and refuse admittance as soon as it has found a strand representing, “Buckhurst was Shakespeare.”

* * *

My problem with this, I think, is that it’s too simplistic.  I suddenly see much that needs amplification and I see no way to do it without killing its accessibility completely.  I have to think about it.  But the above is not completely worthless.



Entry 1736 — The Eurekaplex

February 26th, 2015

The following is from an essay-in-progress I took out of the review I’ve been working on for centuries of Sabrina Feldman’s The Apocryphal William Shakespeare:

Thoughts on How an Intelligent Person like Sabrina Feldman Became an Authorship Skeptic

When, thirty or forty years ago, I first became actively involved in the Shakespeare Authorship Question (SAQ), I had read and thought about it enough to have been convinced that anyone who thought Shakespeare was not responsible for the works attributed for so many years by so many intelligent people who had studied him, his works, and his time were flat-out insane.

But I soon also perceived that many of them seemed otherwise mentally normal, and even more or less as intelligent as I took myself to be (when trying to be objective enough about that to ignore how vastly superior in intellect to anyone else ever born the megalomaniac in me told me I was almost as often as my sometimes endocrinologically-crippled Poorest Self told me I was an irrelevant imbecile . . . and therefore possibly only more intelligent than 99.99% of the world’s population).  How could this be?  How, for instance, could Charlton Ogburn, Jr., even now considered among the SAQ immortals by anti-Stratfordians, as Shakespeare-doubters are formally known?

Ogburn, Wikipedia informs us, graduated from Harvard in 1932 and wrote and worked in publishing. During World War II he joined military intelligence, leaving with the rank of captain. He returned to the US to begin a career with the State Department.

After the success of his story “Merrill’s Marauders”, a Harper’s Magazine cover story in 1957, Harper & Bros. offered an advance for a book and he quit the government to write full-time in 1957 and had a distinguished career as a journalist and novelist.  How could anyone term him insane?

Or similarly describe Sabrina Feldman, an anti-Stratfordian whose career, so far, is similarly distinguished, for she attended college and grad school at Cal Berkeley, getting a Ph. D. in experimental physics.  Far from one-dimensional, she took a Shakespeare class taught by Stephen Booth, world-class Shakespeare scholar, while an undergraduate, and got the only A+ in the class!  She now manages the Planetary Science Instrument Development Office at the NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory—while doing her duties as a happily married mother of two.  Furthermore, among her most eminent friends is: Me (in spite of how opposed to her theory she knows me to be).  In short, gifted but more or less normal in every respect, and unarguably knowing enough about Shakespeare and his times for her thoughts about the SAQ to merit attention, although ultimately proving to be wrong.  However wrong her theory might be, however, it was clearly even more difficult to call her insane because of it than it was to call Ogburn that.

By the time I ran into Sabrina, though, I had stopped calling Ogburn and others opposing my man insane.  I continued to think their SAQ views insane, though, so coined the word “psitchotic” to describe them—they were “psituationally psychotic”—or only crazy about one subject (or, not about so many things to need drugs, electrotherapy, confinement to a nuthouse or the like).

At first, because of Ogburn and many of the anti-Stratfordians I had exchanges with on the Internet (mainly at a site created for unmonitored discussion of the SAQ, HLAS (humanities.lit.authors.shakespeare), I thought that all the formidable anti-Stratfordians were what I termed rigidniks.”

Back in my middle twenties, I had begun my own life as a theorist without credentials, going a bit loonier quantitatively than Ogburn and the others turning out theories about who really wrote the works of Shakespeare with a theory intended to explain the whole human psychology, giving the  book I then wrote about it and self-published, An Attempt at a Total Psychology.  It included a fairly wide-ranging theory of temperaments that posited the existence of various temperament-types of which the most important—in the present version of the theory—are the “rigidnik,” “milyoop” and “freewender.”   I could write a full book about each of these, I believe, but for now will sum them up as being rough equivalents of (in order) David Reisman’s “inner-directed,” “other-directed” and “autonomous” personality-types.

While Ogburn was definitely a full-scale rigidnik, and many I argued with at HLAS seemed as rigidnikal as he, or even more so, I also began running into authorship skeptics that seemed much more flexible and tolerant than they, most of them Marlovians (those choosing Christopher Marlowe as their True Author) but at least one who was an Oxfordian.  An easy way to tell them from the rigidniks is that they much more willingly admitted that our side had a case.
Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to do with my outliers, so I merely changed my claim that all serious anti-Stratfordians were rigidniks to the claim that most of them were.  Some who were not were easy to categorize: they were milyoops, a trademark characteristic of whom was suggestibility.  Because of that, they became rigid anti-Stratfordians because too weak of character to resist the influence of some rigidnikal anti-Stratfordian.

But what about the anti-Stratfordians who seemed to me to have enough strength of character to have their reason overthrown by someone else and were also intelligent enough not to seem likely to fall for, or invent, a highly irrational theory of anything themselves, like several Marlovians I’d met, and then, only a few years ago, Sabrina Feldman?



Entry 1735 — A Visiopoetic List

February 25th, 2015

Here’s a list I threw together for a group show in Minneapolis last year that Harriet Bart curate(or co-curated, I can’t remember which). I got my copy back a few days ago. I think the items in the show were all for sale. If so, I forget what price I put on it. Not the ten dollars that someone might have paid not because he liked it but because he thought someday some nut might be willing to pay a lot for it for some reason.

I consider it an interesting rough draft that there’s a chance I could make something of inspired. Aside from that, it’s a genuine list of ideas. I need to start making visiomathematical poems again, so have it nearby in hopes I’ll idly look it over and suddenly want to follow through on one of the ideas. Meanwhile, even though I may have posted it here already, it’s here today, which is another day on the edge of my null zone. If it gets me to make anything, I’ll post it here. Unless it’s so terrific I fear someone will steal it and make a bundle offa it. (Note, I never worry that anyone will steal anything from me: I may be wrong but I believe no one intelligent enough to think anything of mine worth stealing would steal anything of mine. Aside from that, maybe such a person could actually get something of mine to a reasonably large audience. Even if no one knew the True Author of it, I would enjoy knowing that something of mine was reaching more than my friends and relatives.


Later note: I’ll be very upset with myself if I don’t soon make something of the one with “qbfsfbkhsz” as its dividend–or should have that that since it looks like I wrote it wrong.



Entry 1734 — “Poem Meets His Author”

February 24th, 2015
        Poem Meets His Author

        One day Poem found him
        self sitting at a pic


            table in a pleasantly
           sunny park facing a weird,
          bald-headed old man with a pony-tail
         and an engaging smile.

        Immediately he knew who the man was:
           his author.
        No mystery how he knew: everything he knew
        his author provided him when his author needed
        him to know it (seldom when he did).

        Poem wondered what was up. That came from
        his most essential self--i.e., the personality,
        character, exterior or whatever you
        wanted to call it, that his author had given him
        when creating him.

             More accurately, it was what the author himself had gotten
             from, who knows where, at some point in his
             growth toward what he had been when what he was made
        him recognize the need for an later ego that,
                   caused him to bring forth Poem.

        "Blah," Poem thought. "This joker is just
        another alter ego of Bob Grumman's, just one
        maybe closer to his real self."

        "Does that make a difference?" asked
        the text's Bob Grumman. Before Poem



Entry 1733 — A Limited Entry

February 23rd, 2015

Okay, maybe I shouldda said “more limited than usual.”  I’ve had a busy day away from the computer–with nothing I was sufficiently burning to say to inspire a good entry, anyway.  So, just a minor thought followed by Knowlecular Psychology stuff I’ve written about before but want to repeat to get my brain a little more well-fastened to it.

* * *

Thinking about my tendency to try too hard to make sure my readers had all the information they needed fully to understand what I was writing, it occurred to me technology could come to my aid: I’m sure Kindles could be fixed to allow me to avoid boring any reader with information he doesn’t need could but also provide him with a text he could click to at any time which would have all the extra information. Right now footnotes can do this, but what I’m speaking of would not be intrusive the way footnotes are.

Indeed, a reader could be given a choice of texts–one with the math explained, one without that, for example; or any other appropriate specialized version.

* * *

Re: my knowlecular psychology, I was thinking again about what most poems are about, and went through my list again: (1) people; (2) imagery sans people; (3) concepts . . .  Is that all?  Doesn’t sound right, but I’m too out of it right now to think of any others.

What knowlecular psychology has to do with this, is that the first category could be described (as I’m sure I’ve more than once already described it) as “anthroceptual poetry.”  Or as “sagaceptual poetry,” which is poetry in which what happens to one or more people is more important than the people–for the reader, the joy of vicariously experiencing a human triumph is more important than the joy of empathetically merging with another human being.  Two kinds of people poems.

By imagery poetry, I mean poetry that is more concerned with conveying the beauty of the sound and/or the visual appearance (primarily or usually) of what is denoted by a poem’s words–or protoceptual poetry.  As for concept poetry, I’m not sure any kind of genuine poetry is more conceptual than either of the other two (and almost all poems contain both anthroceptual and protoceptual matter).  If it existed, I would call it “reducticeptual poetry.”  A good example would be “lighght”: it is aesthetically dependent on its conceptual element–the conceptual datum about its orthography; but that element’s only use is to metaphorically lift the image the poem is about into, well, poetry, so I consider the poem more protoceptual than reducticeptual.

It may be that certain conceptual poems do use conceptual elements to lift a content that is ideational rather than sensual into poetry.  Indeed, perhaps one of my mathematical poems may provide some reader more with a feeling of the poetry of asensual mathematics than with anything sensual image that may be an element of the poem.

Something requiring more thought.

Note: what I wanted primarily to glue into my memory was the term “protoceptual.”  I’ve had trouble with it because I for a while was using “fundaceptual” in place of it.  Eventually I needed “funda” elsewhere in my psychology and felt it too confusing to have it there and with “ceptual,” so went back to “protoceptual,” which I used before for the term.



Entry 1732 — “Marmalooted But Carrying On”

February 22nd, 2015

I was planning to tell you about my horrible last night.  For some reason the word, “marmalooted” occurred to me, and it seemed for who-knows-why to described what happened to me.  Then “unluted” followed it into my verblageniusse brain and I thought, why not instead a new Poem poem!!!  Ergo, whether it’s any good or not:

     Marmalooted But Carrying On

     Poem was so sure for the first three hours of the evening
     that he'd be unluted the rest of his miserable life,  
     that he regretted he had no gods
           to pray that he'd quickly die 

      No, that's not quite accurate: he did not wish for death
       because certain of it (as he always had been
     when his body felt significantly more screwed up
       than it always felt since, at 57, he had actually
                 been afflicted with something life-
                   threatening for the first time
     (prostate cancer).

          Be that as it may,       
               every time he moved 
           any part of 
             his body, he shivered instantly below zero,  
 in spite of
        the four layers of clothing he'd put on 
            including his winter overcoat,
       and the three blankets and comforter he was
                 lying    under.  

     This was not the first time he'd been attacked
         for some unknown reason by severe chills.  Not only
     had he always survived them, but he always got over them 
     no more than a few hours after they'd begun, and
      the after-effects were minor and lasted no more than a day.

           No exception this time.  This was unfortunate, for
    it resulted in this wretchedly marmalooted report.

Good but far from great this might be as a prose text, but DOA (dead on arrival) as a poem. Hmmm, I think I would call it informrature, or a factual report rather than a poem. Oh, well, whatever it is, it’s another daily entry here.

Note: I originally put it in my blog’s “From My Poetry Workshop” category. I think it’s finished now, though–i.e. I don’t think it worth trying to improve even if I had any idea how that might be done. So it’s in the “Of Poem” category (which I’m happy to realize doesn’t claim it to be a poem).


Entry 1731 — Some of My Internetting Today

February 21st, 2015

I stole the following from my friend Lynne Kositsky’s Facebook page:


I was there on Shakespeare-Authorship-Question (SAQ) business.  Here’s what I wrote:

Hey, I see you’re at “Self-Employed,” Lynne. I used to be there, to, but am now at “Self-Fired.” The reason I came here, though (nice site, by the way), is to ask what I hope you won’t consider an impertinent authorship question: would you agree with me that Kevin Orlin Johnson is detrimental to Oxfordianism and that his being almost unanimously agreed with (and praised!) by his fellow Oxfordians could cost Oxfordianism credibility with anyone neutral who happened to see the thread his post is in? Some Oxfordian should gently help him toward a bit more reasonability, it seems to me.

(In case you forgetted, I am on record as accepting that there IS evidence for Oxford as the True Author: for instance, his being named a playwright. Many, perhaps most, of my authorship colleagues would not count this as evidence, but it puts him in a fairly small group of people known to be able to write the kind of thing the True Author did, if not necessarily as well as he did [and I, again unlike my colleagues, am unwilling to say Oxford’s known writings indicate he could not have been the True Author, because we do not yet, in my view, have an objective way to indicate that].

I believe in a hierarchy of evidence (for demonstrating that a given person did X) that begins with data that makes him one of, say, ten thousand who are the only ones in the world who could have done X, and goes up to data that makes the person one in one who could have. But that does not end the matter. I believe that data that makes the person one among only one who could have done X should then be arranged in a hierarchy going from anecdotal data, say, through impersonal data on up to the testimony of ten thousand or more witnesses who personally know the given person, and say they personally saw him do X. Or the like. This part of my analysis of kinds of evidence gets complicated.

I think too few on either side of the SAQ think very deeply about what evidence is and isn’t. I feel I still have quite a way to go before I can consider myself on top of the subject.

There, lucky you: a whole bunch of words from me, none of them insulting (I hope).

all best, Bob

At her timeline it says she’s an “award-winning at Self-Employed,” hence my liddle joke.  at the beginning of the above.  Here’s the text by Kevin Orlin Johnson I was referring to in my post to Lynne:

You know, we really just need to leave the Stratfordians to themselves. They’re the fringe, they’re the irrational, they’re the ones who will never, ever accept evidence, no matter what.

When we’re dealing with people who keep saying things like, “Most crucially, Shakespeare absolutely was recognized as an author during his lifetime. About half of Shakespeare’s plays were printed during his lifetime. Many of those list his name as author on the title page,” we have to recognize that we’re dealing with people who simply cannot get it.

It may be natural density, it may be some unfortunate emotional or psychological disorder, but that argument–central to their position–automatically disqualifies them from rational discourse and confirms that they’re never going to be able to understand the question, much less the answer.

Let them say what they will, let them print what they will. Let’s channel our time and other resources toward producing positive research proving that Oxford is the author. That shouldn’t be so difficult. And with a body of sound work on the record things will set themselves right when this generation of Stratfordians passes away.

Here’s my critique of the above, which I wrote because I like to do the kind of analysis it requires:

Kevin Orville Right.  I mean, Kevin Orlen Johnson: You know, we really just need to leave the Stratfordians to themselves. They’re the fringe, they’re the irrational, they’re the ones who will never, ever accept evidence, no matter what.

Me: 1. If they are the fringe, why are there so many of them?

2. Define “evidence.”  Can you really believe ALL Stratfordians are PERMANENTLY incapable of accepting evidence?  I won’t suggest you mean what you say, which is that they won’t accept any kind of evidence, for I’m willing to allow that you meant SAQ evidence.Johnson: When we’re dealing with people who keep saying things like, “Most crucially, Shakespeare absolutely was recognized as an author during his lifetime.”

Me: Few of us say that.  We say things like, “Shakespeare was recognized by many during his life as an author.Johnson: “About half of Shakespeare’s plays were printed during his lifetime. Many of those list his name as author on the title page,” we have to recognize that we’re dealing with people who simply cannot get it.

Me: You really don’t accept the names on title-pages as evidence for Shakespeare?  It’s not proof of that, but it has to be considered good evidence of it, particularly when there is no explicit evidence from the time that the title-pages were fraudulent or mistaken. And we advance many other arguments that you are ignoring here that are supported by explicit evidence–his actual picture in the First Folio, for instance–which Ben Jonson’s words authenticate.  Sure, it’s possible he was lying, but where is the explicit evidence that he was?  That is, do you have a letter of his in which he says that he feels ashamed of his lies about Shakespeare, but realized the importance of keeping anyone from finding out . . . the Truth.

Johnson: It may be natural density, it may be some unfortunate emotional or psychological disorder, but that argument–central to their position–

Me: No, it isn’t–at least for me.  At the center of my argument is Leonard Digges’s poem in the First Folio because (1) circumstantial evidence makes it hard to believe Digges did not personally know Shakespeare; (2) he calls him “the deceased Author Maister W. Shakespeare,” thus both naming him and indicating his status as a gentleman; (3) he mentions his tomb in Stratford, which names him, gives dates of his birth and death which church records confirm and speaks of “all he hath writ” and says he had the art of Virgil; (4) all this in a book with Shakespeare’s picture in it and the testimony of three men known to have been friends of his that he had written the plays in the book.  I suppose someone could fail to accept this as demonstrating that Shakespeare was the author of the plays in the First folio and not have “some unfortunate emotional or psychological disorder,” but to refuse to accept it as evidence of that is absolute proof of that.

Johnson: automatically disqualifies them from rational discourse and confirms that they’re never going to be able to understand the question, much less the answer.

Me: What in the world is the question if not, “Who wrote the works attributed to William Shakespeare?”  How can anyone not understand your answer, “The 17th Earl of Oxford,” however hard to understand why it is the answer?

Johnson: Let them say what they will, let them print what they will. Let’s channel our time and other resources toward producing positive research proving that Oxford is the author. That shouldn’t be so difficult. And with a body of sound work on the record things will set themselves right when this generation of Stratfordians passes away.

Me: Considering that your side has had more than 150 years since Delia Bacon wrote the first serious attempt to show that Shakespeare did not write the works attributed to him, and almost a century since John Looney advanced the theory you all now believe in that Oxford wrote those works, why do you need more time.

I’m also curious to know if you really believe no one of your generation is a Stratfordian (which I take to be people born around 1990).

One person responding to what Tom Reedy said about Johnson’s post (which was what made me take a look at it) thought something call the “Dunning/Kruger Effect”, explained it.  Here’s what an entry in Wikipedia said about it:

Dunning and Kruger proposed that, for a given skill, incompetent people will:

fail to recognize their own lack of skill
fail to recognize genuine skill in others
fail to recognize the extremity of their inadequacy

The phenomenon was first tested in a series of experiments published in 1999 by David Dunning and Justin Kruger of the Department of Psychology, Cornell University. The study was inspired by the case of McArthur Wheeler, a man who robbed two banks after covering his face with lemon juice in the mistaken belief that, because lemon juice is usable as invisible ink, it would prevent his face from being recorded on closed-circuit-television surveillance cameras.

They noted that earlier studies suggested that ignorance of standards of performance lies behind a great deal of incorrect self-assessments of competence. This pattern was seen in studies of skills as diverse as reading comprehension, operating a motor vehicle, and playing chess or tennis.

I quote it because amusing.  It is also valid but not illuminating.  For it to be that, it would have to explain the effect, not just describe it (although it has been extended by others to suggest that the incompetent have many incompetences, one being a poor sense of humor.



Entry 1730 — Fooling With Another Of My 39

February 20th, 2015

Here’s what I had:

               Q Quaverful of Deedle

               Although he knew he wasn't
               responsible for the summer's cymbular round
               decline to words, Poem flickered ever-
               inxiously prior.

               The pure blue churches paying his rent
               reasingly beyond the sky,
                     failed to comfort him.
               And all the science myraculously
                     shimmyred more than blue in the zeal
               of their covenant with the clouds.
               The rain laughed but did not fall.
               The ocean revised the prayer it had
                    formed a small wharf of just to the left
                        of Poem.

Here’s what it is at the moment:

               A Summer Day's Ascent to Words

               Poem was barely a flicker in
               the summer day's cymbularical ascent
               to words.

               The ocean began revising
               the prayer it had
                    formed a small wharf of just to the left
                        of Poem

               and fourteen sciences myraculously
                     shimmyred more than blue in the zeal
               of their covenant with the clouds.

               Was he being epiphanied again Poem wondered.

About all I’ve done has been to take out the stuff I don’t understand.



Entry 1729 — “A Quanthrille of Grrr-rille”

February 19th, 2015

I found another Poem poem from that batch of 39 I made early in 2014 and discovered I liked it quite a bit:


There’s a large problem with this, though: it’s too much like this, which I posted back on the seventh:

               A Quadrille of Deedle

               The rain lifted, but over-churched 

               somewhere by the glymmyr the first

                      ocean's philosophy,
               fell into the West
               lighk a thousand 
                          spandered leaves

               A prayer away, a cloud rose just behind the dis

               tant wharf and
               remained in place.

                  A girl in pale blue loy
                   tered on it.

               Wordsworth and       Shelley

                 joined her.  The
                  rain re
                       turned.  Heavily.  

                                     The girl
                             dissolved to the left of the poets,        

                                        in an obsolete meaning of "the."

There’s at least one more variation on the above.  What to do?  I suppose just making a theme and variations set?  Or perhaps a splice of the two here with some of the repeated material changed?  The bottom one seems before the second.  I’ll have to think a while about them. . . .