Bad Stats

Back when I worked for the Great Big Research Company in Johannesburg, I had a boss who had the unnerving habit of doing random checks on my calculations.  (I should point out for my Readers who were born after we discovered the wheel that computations were done not with slide rules but with the newfangled invention called a “calculator” — which could do only the basic math functions of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division — and the literally thousands of numbers were taken off pages and pages of computer printouts from a thing called a “mainframe”.)

Anyway, if the Poison Dwarf (as we not-so-jokingly called him) discovered a single mistake, he would tear it all up and make me redo the entire job, with the rationale that “If I can’t trust one thing, I can’t trust anything.”  The result, after only a couple of these episodes, was that I not only took an inordinate amount of time in performing the calculations, but spent almost as much time rechecking everything to make sure that absolutely every statistic or number I presented to my clients was 100% correct, and they could take the actions I recommended with complete confidence in the strength of the data.

The time spent in doing all this was based on another of the Poison Dwarf’s aphorisms:  “There’s never enough time to do the job properly, but there always seems to be enough time to do things over.”  Well, I never had enough time to do things over — I had client meeting deadlines — so I had to get it right the first time, regardless of the time taken.

That habit persisted with me for the rest of my working career.

I say all this so everyone will know exactly where I stand on bullshit like this (with emphasis added):

A young Florida resident who died in a motorcycle accident is included in the state’s official COVID-19 death count, a state official reveals.
FOX 35 News in Orlando discovered this after asking Orange County Health Officer Dr. Raul Pino about two young COVID-19 patients in their twenties who died, and whether they had any preexisting conditions that contributed to their deaths.
“The first one didn’t have any. He died in a motorcycle accident,” Pino said. Despite this shocking answer, Pino was not aware of this person’s data being removed from the state tally when asked.
“I don’t think so. I have to double-check,” Pino answered. “We were arguing, discussing, or trying to argue with the state. Not because of the numbers — it’s 100… it doesn’t make any difference if it’s 99 — but the fact that the individual didn’t die from COVID-19… died in the crash.”

You stupid fucking quack.  It’s not whether it makes a difference between 99 and 100 — it’s how many more mistakes of this kind have occurred in your compilation of the data.

Remember the Poison Dwarf:  “If I can’t trust one thing, I can’t trust anything.” 

So if one death (1%, in this case) was incorrectly attributed to the Chinkvirus, how many more cases are incorrect?  10%?  20%?  90%?  We don’t know, because the numbers were obviously not checked after being submitted.

Here’s something from Powerline which makes the same case quite succinctly:

Funny, but not so funny.

Here’s the thing.  A lot of decisions, very weighty and momentous decisions, are being made based on the data our much-vaunted medical establishment is presenting.  States’ economies are being damaged or destroyed, people’s livelihoods ditto, and I’m not even going to start to estimate the social cost of foolish governmental decisions taken on the basis of what may turn out to be fatally-flawed data.

So I’m going to mimic the Poison Dwarf (for the first time ever):  I’m not going to trust a single fucking piece of data these assholes present to us, ever again.  As far as I’m concerned, it’s all lies and bullshit, and I don’t trust any of them.

Monday Funnies

When this is what faces you on Monday:

…it’s time to start thinking about getting away from it all:

And here’s a small incentive to get outta here and fly to exotic climes:

Of course, you’ll never actually see anything like that, but it’s all part of the dream, innit?

Fond Farewell

I see that British Airways is finally retiring their wonderful Boeing 747 airliners from service, which gives me yet one more reason not to fly with them.

Seriously:  if I ever had a choice between flying DFW-LHR-DFW on American or BA, I generally preferred to fly with BA even though my track record with the pocket-picking bastards has not always been a good one.  And the 747 was the only reason, because these ugly giants were designed back in the day when passenger comfort was the goal (as opposed to sardine-packing economic reasons, e.g. the 777), and Boeing aircraft could be relied on to act like airliners and not lawn darts (ahem  737MAX).

And call me a timorous wussy, but I’ve always preferred four engines over two when it comes to long-haul flights, because if I’m flying at 40,000 feet over an ocean, I like having the redundancy of lots of engines — no matter (or especially because) how much the engineers try to reassure me that two engines will be just the same, cross their hearts.  I know the odds;  and while one engine failure is bad with either a two- or four-engine aircraft, two engine failures will have a totally different outcome for a 777 versus  a 747.

Gah.  It’s probably a good thing that the Chinkvirus has fucked up international travel for a while.  It’ll give my irritation a chance to subside.

Dept. Of Righteous Shootings

From here in Texas (via several Readers, thankee).

Executive Summary:  two goblins decide to do a little undocumented parts removal from some Olde Phartte’s car.  When he points a gun at them and tells them to stop, they charge him, with the predictable outcome.

My only regret is that neither goblin went to that Great Auto Parts Department In The Sky, but at least he nailed both, and one is listed in “critical” condition, so there’s that.

Note to Our Hero:  you need to upgrade your weapon of choice (as the media never tell us what caliber, what bullet type etc., the morons), OR you need to get a little more shooting practice.

Both would be good.

And They’re The Opposite

Both New Wife and I had to deal with this kind of shit before in South Africa.  Every time we insisted on punctuality, we were told to observe “Africa Time”, which makes “mañana” or “domani” look positively hidebound.  Appointment times are simply guidelines, and meeting times wild approximations, but always, always on the late side.  (I’ve always suggested that if these pricks really want to go onto Africa Time, then their salaries can be paid anytime their employer feels like it, ditto welfare payments, and visits to the ER at a hospital would involve a six- to eight-hour wait, regardless of emergency.  Also, bus service would be sporadic, and stores can be opened and closed whenever the proprietors feel like it.)

Here’s what I’m talking about, in part:

The National African American History Museum suggests being on time, self-reliance, avoidance of conflict and intimacy, and rugged individualism are markers of “whiteness.”

So I guess that “non-whiteness (actually, Black)” markers would be:  extreme tardiness, dependence on others (especially government), conflict-seeking and herd behavior.  (I’m not going to touch “intimacy”, although I would suggest that judging from the unwed motherhood statistics among Blacks, they probably need to avoid it a lot more.)

Sorry, but I’m afraid all that’s not American, but African — and we are not Africa.

Of course, these Marxist fuckers want to turn us into Africa (and they already have, in places like Minneapolis), but that’s just not gonna happen.

All this nonsense is just so wrong, I can barely begin to refute it.

I can’t wait for November.