Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Getting Real



The order of our perceptions shows the goodness of God, but affords no proof of the existence of matter.

— George Berkeley

A new paper published in the science journal Entropy says consciousness underlies the universe.

The paper seeks to unify quantum mechanics and immaterialism.

The paper claims that, in reality, everything—you, your spouse, your kids, your dog, your house, your car, your office, your bosseverything is... pure thought.

The universe "self-actualizes" into existence through an algorithmic rule the authors call the "principle of efficient language." 

Everything, they claim, is a single "grand thought." 

Human beings—as well as animals, houses, cars, offices and bosses—are just "emergent sub-thoughts."

"The Self-Simulation Hypothesis Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics" is the product of a team of scientists led by the Los Angeles-based entrepreneur and cannabidiol-promoter Klee Irwin.


Sound too woo-woo for you?

Well, in the words of Yogi Berra, it's déjà vu all over again.

Eighteenth century philosopher George Berkeleynamesake of the California college-town and woo-woo world headquartersalso maintained that reality is a mental construct.

In his 1710 book A Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge, Berkeley explained how things are actually thoughts, and that the thoughts composing the universe persist through time—even after we're deadbecause God is keeping her eye on them.

Berkeley was an Anglican bishop, not an entrepreneur; and he lived in London, not LA.

But, oddly enough, Bishop Berkeley was a promoter—not of CBD but of "tar-water."

Indeed, his best-selling philosophical work, Siris, published in 1744, sought to prove the elixir was a panacea: it could lead you to perfect health and (special bonus offer!) to the contemplation of God.

Here's a handy one-minute guide to Bishop Berkeley.

Friday, April 24, 2020

My Take on the Events Industry


Dear Pollyanna:

So sorry to burst your bubble.

The ride you're on is neither brief nor V-shaped. 

Covid-19 has thrust events into an existential crisis.

Whether the crisis was overdue is beside the point.

Everyone knows this year will be seen disruptive.

But no one knows—once we get control of the virus—whether or when the events industry will rebound, or what shape events will take.

Yes, I agree with you: face-to-face fills a Maslowvian need.

But events will have to be reformulated to succeed post-pandemic. 

Attendees aren't going to revert to old behaviors. 

Your can't, either.

If you're betting otherwise, call me.

I have a bridge to sell you.

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Green When Green Wasn't Cool

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Hyperbole


“Truthful hyperbole" is a contradiction in terms.

— Tony Schwartz

Spartan. Dangerous. Terrifying. Nightmarish. Horrific.

Too often in recent days, I've heard these words used by journalists to characterize the temporary hospitals that are propagating the country.

Spare me.

Valley Forge was spartan. 

Vietnam was dangerous. 

The Blitz was terrifying. 

Aleppo was nightmarish. 

Auschwitz was horrific.

In fact, the temporary hospitals are havens for the sick. 

And the job our military is doing is nothing short of herculean.

There's a hyperbole you don't hear enough.

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Hedging


You can fudge. 


You can waffle. 

But if you're really low-life, you hedge.

The verb hedge, meaning to "screen yourself from a bad choice," comes from the Old English noun haga, meaning "fence."

The Brits stole haga from the German word HeggaThe Germans stole Hegga from the Latin word caulae, meaning "sheepfold."

In Merry Old England, hedge came to mean "shelter," because the homeless—highwaymen, knights and vagabonds—would sleep under hedges.

By the 16th century, hedge was used as a verb meaning to "dodge" or "evade." By the 17th century, it began being used to mean to "bet against loss."

Money-lenders in the time would make an unsecured loan to a borrower only were he willing to roll it into an outstanding loan that was secured.

The lending practice was known as hedging.

Of course, gentlemen never hedged.

That may have prompted Samuel Johnson, in his 1755 Dictionary, to say hedge "notes something mean, vile, of the lowest class."

Johnson didn't beat around the bush.
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