Comments, observations and thoughts from two bloggers on applied statistics, higher education and epidemiology. Joseph is an associate professor. Mark is a professional statistician and former math teacher.
Aaron Carroll (writing for the Incidental Economist) points out one interesting result of the new study:
Not too long ago, ACA opponents were claiming that Medicaid was bad for health. Some even claimed it killed people. So I was eager to see if an RCT would find that. The initial results were positive and statistically significant.
All by itself this finding is a worthwhile addition to the discussion; the meme that Medicaid coverage could lead to worse health outcomes was always a bit tricky to understand. Trying to illicit a causal mechanism where Medicaid was worse for health but private insurance/Medicare were not that led naturally to the policy of "end Medicaid" was always a bit dicey. If it was malice on the part of medical doctors due to low reimbursement rates then that rather changes the discussion in important ways.
And yet, we did find a significant improvement in catastrophic medical bills, which coincidentally also affect about 5% of the control group. Yet the folks saying Oregon's sample of diabetics is too small to tell us anything do not think it is too small to tell us anything about catastrophic medical bills.
I think that there are two points here. One, the point estimates of the changes for chronic medical conditions are well within the levels of clinical significance. So it is odd to suddenly interpret the data like an extreme frequentist and claim that the only interpretation is "no effect".
But the other piece that is more important is that this is actually a good result. If we take Megan's 5% rate, that would mean that 5% of poor Americans have a catastrophic medical bill within a two year period. How can trying to solve that problem not be a major priority? Isn't this great evidence that (given how expensive medicine has gotten) that this was a massively successful intervention?
I'd have more sympathy for the situation if we were making hard decisions to bring down costs. But that isn't a major priority right now. Medicaid is a very cost effective way to deliver care in a country where care is very pricey. Why isn't this a major and positive result?
Noah Smith has garnered a lot of attention for his recent post on economics in science fiction. Not surprising given that much of the genre involves thought experiments about alternate ways of organizing society. Furthermore, lots of economists are fans of the genre (Paul Krugman even wrote an introduction to a recent edition of the Foundation Trilogy).
I doubt you'll find as many fans in the dismal science of crime novels but for those of you out there, here's a post we ran a while back about books that look at econ and business from the noir side, followed by some titles that occurred to me since the initial posting:
Of the many crime novels built around businesses, the best might be Murder Must Advertise, a Lord Whimsey by Dorothy L. Sayers. The story is set in a London ad agency in the Thirties, a time when the traditional roles of the aristocracy were changing and "public school lads" were showing up in traditional bourgeois fields like advertising.
Sayers had been a highly successful copywriter (variations on some of her campaigns are still running today) and has sometimes been credited with coining the phrase "It pays to advertise." All this success did not soften her view of the industry, a view which is probably best captured by Whimsey's observation that truth in advertising is like yeast in bread.
But even if Sayers holds the record for individual event, the lifetime achievement award has got to go to the man whom many* consider the best American crime novelist, John D. MacDonald.
Before trying his hand at writing, MacDonald had earned an MBA at Harvard and over his forty year writing career, business and economics remained a prominent part of his fictional universe (one supporting character in the Travis McGee series was an economist who lived on a boat called the John Maynard Keynes). But it was in some of the non-series books that MacDonald's background moved to the foreground.
Real estate frequently figured in MacDonald's plots (not that surprising given given their Florida/Redneck Riviera settings). His last book, Barrier Island, was built around a plan to work federal regulations and creative accounting to turn a profit from the cancellation of a wildly overvalued project. In Condominium, sleazy developers dodge environmental regulations and building codes (which turned out to be a particularly bad idea in a hurricane-prone area).
Real estate also figures MacDonald's examination of televangelism, One More Sunday, as does almost every aspect of an Oral Roberts scale enterprise, HR, security, public relations, lobbying, broadcasting and most importantly fund-raising. It's a complete, realistic, insightful picture. You can find companies launched with less detailed business plans.
But MacDonald's best book on business may be A Key to the Suite, a brief and exceedingly bitter account of a management consultant deciding the future of various executives at a sales convention. Suite was published as a Gold Medal Original paperback in 1962. You could find a surprising amount of social commentary in those drugstore book racks, usually packaged with lots of cleavage.
* One example of many:
“To diggers a thousand years from now, the works of John D. MacDonald would be a treasure on the order of the tomb of Tutankhamen.” - KURT VONNEGUT
I omitted MacDonald's own probable choice for his best business story "The Trap of Solid Gold" because I misplaced my copy of End of the Tiger before I got to it. It is very much on my to-read list.
I also left out Donald Westlake's novel about union organizers, Killy and I have no idea why. This is straight Westlake (as compared with comic Westlake and tough-guy Westlake) and it's quite good, with both characters and institutions growing more morally ambiguous as the story progresses.
You can get an interesting take on the way many economies actually worked in the novels of Eric Ambler, where ill-equipped, often stateless protagonists try to do business (sometimes legally) while navigating the corrupt, Byzantine bureaucracies of multiple countries. Hard to believe that before Ambler, the face of the British spy novel was John Buchan.
Lawrence Block is an exceptionally intelligent writer who can be counted on for sharp observations. "Batman's Helpers" (along with "the Cold Equations" and Block's friend Westlake's Levine stories, one of the most memorable of the anti-genre genre stories) addresses, of all things, copyright while The Burglar who Painted like Mondrian plays a series of witty games with the question of value.
I know I'm missing lots a examples. Maybe Smith will do another science fiction post in a couple of years and I'll take another whack.
P.S. Andrew Gelman nominates George V. Higgins as the crime novelist with the most focus on economics. Having slept on it, I'm wondering if we should stretch things to include game theory. That might lead to an interesting take on Hammett's Red Harvest and its many imitators. In terms of strategically supplying or withholding information in multiplayer games, Erle Stanley Gardner came up with all sorts of interesting variations in his novels and, if the anecdotes are to be believed, in his actual law practice as well (those who like more focus on character should start with the Cool and Lam books). Maybe someone could write a paper of game theory in Black Mask.
[Posts are like the hydra, every time you do the research for one post you end up with two more that you want to write. Maybe that's why so many journalists have given up fact checking.]
I once jotted down the names of some movies that I didn’t associate with any celebrated director but that had nevertheless stayed in my memory over the years, because something in them had especially delighted me—such rather obscure movies as The Moon’s Our Home (Margaret Sullavan and Henry Fonda) and He Married His Wife (Nancy Kelly, Joel McCrea, and Mary Boland). When I looked them up, I discovered that Dorothy Parker’s name was in the credits of The Moon’s Our Home and John O’Hara’s in the credits of He Married His Wife. Other writers worked on those films, too, and perhaps they were the ones who were responsible for what I responded to, but the recurrence of the names of that group of writers, not just on rather obscure remembered films but on almost all the films that are generally cited as proof of the vision and style of the most highly acclaimed directors of that period, suggests that the writers—and a particular group of them, at that—may for a brief period, a little more than a decade, have given American talkies their character.
A few days ago, a friend and I were discussing movies and the subject of films that cast Keanu Reeves in a lead role and emerge unscathed came up. Speed was one of the few names that came up.
Then yesterday when I was checking background for a post that mentioned Joss Whedon I came across this:
According to Graham Yost, the credited writer of Speed, Whedon wrote most of the film's dialogue
Whedon, of course, needs no introduction and (with the qualifier that I haven't had a chance to check out Homeland and Game of Thrones) Yost has created my choice for best show currently on TV.
Ken Levine has a follow-up to his widely-read post on the Kickstarter campaigns of Zach Braff and Rob Thomas (creator of Veronica Mars). Well worth checking out (as are most of Levine's posts) but this in particular caught my eye:
And finally, a lot of you agreed with me about Zach Braff but not VERONICA MARS. You pointed out that creator Rob Thomas did try for years to get Warner Brothers to make it and they flatly refused. This was a viable alternative. There would be no VERONICA MARS movie had it not been for Kickstarter. Fair enough and I’m looking forward to seeing it. I also give Rob Thomas points for ingenuity. He was the first to use Kickstarter in this regard.
First off, I think Rob Thomas is an extraordinary talent and I readily put him in the company of writer-producers like Joss Whedon and Matt Nix who not only have rediscovered the lost art (at least in America) of high-concept television, but have brought a new subtlety and dramatic range to the genres. I'd love to see a Veronica Mars movie.
That said, Mars strikes me as an even worse fit for Kickstarter than the Braff project. Consider a thought experiment: imagine you had never heard of any of the people involved in either project. If you read descriptions of the Veronica Mars Movie Project and Braff's Wish I Was Here, which one would sound like a Kickstarter project? Not which one is a better idea. Not which one you'd like to see. Which one sounds like a Kickstarter project.
I haven't followed Kickstarter that closely but Braff's indier-than-thou concept certainly seems more Kickstarter. Nonetheless Thomas seems to be getting less criticism and will probably end up getting more money.
The specific lesson I'd draw from this is that fans of high-concept television are disproportionately likely to be active online and to pledge money to a Kickstarter campaign. The general lesson is that, from a marketing and demographic perspective, the internet is different than the real world.
It's true that most people are online but some are on a lot more than others and those heavy users are not representative of the general public (if they were, Veronica Mars would have broken the top 100 -- or just the top 120 -- at some point in its three year run). Add to this the potential for fraud, the tendency to rack up deceptively large numbers, the susceptibility to trends, and the hopelessly complicated relationship between the internet and the rest of the media which further distorts an already muddled picture.
We constantly hear about some overnight internet sensation and are told it represents the future of retailing, the future of education, the future of philanthropy, the future of _____. The trouble is many of these successes don't stand up to scrutiny and those that do often prove not to be sustainable and /or scalable. The internet can be a great source of business ideas. Because of its fast turnaround time and low barriers to entry it can be a great place to try out something new.
But some of these lessons don't generalize very well.
Davy Crockett may have been the first great American political fabrication. He really was a woodsman and guide of note and, though there is some disagreement on this point, he probably went down fighting at the Alamo. As a legend, though, "Davy Crockett" was largely a creation of the Whigs who were desperate to counter the man-of-the-frontier threat posed by Andrew Jackson. If memory serves, Crockett himself deeply resented being reduced to a walking self-parody.
It was fairly easy to forgive that sort of thing in the 1830 when journalists were working with limited technology and crude institutions. These days, there is not really a good excuse for passing along an obviously manufactured persona, but the practice continues. Hell, it might even be on the upswing.
The first President elected (rather than re-elected) during the Internet Age was successfully marketed as a plain-spoken cowboy despite being on the record as having a strong aversion to cowboy boots and being deathly afraid of horses* (google "Vicente Fox George Bush Horses"). Bush was, of course, the Republicans' answer to Bill Clinton's man-of-the-people appeal just as Crockett was the Whigs' answer to Jackson. I read Age of Jackson early in the Bush years and I always wondered why more wasn't made of the parallel.
Currently, the fabrication du jour is Paul Ryan -- honest conservative, dedicated policy wonk, everyday guy. Jonathan Chait, Paul Krugman and others had seemingly taken apart the Ryan edifice so thoroughly that there was no stone on stone, then salted the ground so that nothing there again shall grow, but we are dealing with some hardy weeds.
The Belgian restaurant lists 115 beers on its menu, but not Miller Lite, Ryan’s beer of choice. “I ended up getting some lager I’d never heard of,” said Ryan, who mistook the place for a French joint. But it turned out McDonough had done his homework in other ways. He knew that Ryan had graduated from Miami University in Ohio the same year as his own wife Kari. Both men hailed from former frontier towns in the upper Midwest, and both had been drawn to Washington as young congressional aides. They were nerds, in the best sense of the word, and they were fierce competitors.
Not surprisingly, Chait takes this one apart:
It's worth noting that Ryan's tastes in alcoholic beverages do not always run along such downscale lines. In 2011, a liberal confronted him drinking a $350 bottle of wine at Bistro Bis, a swanky French restaurant catering to the political elite. ("Its regular guests include Senators, Congressmen, celebrities and powerbrokers looking to dine in the ambiance and luxury of one of Washington's most popular restaurants," boasts its website.)
Bistro Bis probably does not serve Miller Lite, which likely forced Ryan to instead order $350 wine as a fallback, as most Miller Lite fans do when their beer of choice is unavailable. And you can see why he mistook a Belgian brewery for a French restaurant. The one time he was publicly confronted at Bistro Bis is probably the only time he has ever patronized a European restaurant of any kind, and he probably naturally assumed that all European restaurants are French.
This is obviously a trivial example but it reflects a bigger point. the Sherers unthinkingly repeat a standard narrative even after it's been thoroughly debunked. They pay no penalty for shoddy work while the rest of us become progressively less informed.
* I grew up around cows and horses but I have to admit I'm with Bush on the cowboy boots.
There is perhaps no more important decision a company can make than the name of its conference rooms.
All right, perhaps we jest, but some companies are spending a lot of time choosing the perfect name of their conference rooms, names that reflect their corporate culture, says Rupal Parekh with Advertising Age.
“If you look online, you’ll find all of these threads that are basically people that seem like they are in a state of panic, begging for help with naming their conference rooms,” Parekh said.
Some well known companies don’t seem to have much trouble naming their meeting spaces. Facebook, “knowing that they have a culture that is all about learning from their mistakes,” has named theirs after massive mess-ups in history. Case in point: one is named ‘subprime-mortgage.’
Other companies ponder choosing themes like characters played by Matt Damon (proposed on a Reddit thread) or members of the Wu-Tang Clan (proposed on a Yelp thread).
Others go for the inside joke by naming the rooms after employees who have worked at the company the longest (The Richards Group in Dallas) or a mashup of foods and band names (hence, Slayer Cake over at Etsy).
I've worked for companies that spent a non-trivial amount of time coming up with themes for their conference room names. They also had "fun" events where we learned about synergy and did cute team-building event like this (without, unfortunately, the alcohol):
So, this winter, as Blizzard Nemo was bearing down on New York City, Griffi n bunkered his top executives at the downtown Ritz Carlton for the cable news version of a military training exercise. A Navy SEAL spoke to them about how to manage fear during combat. They toured the September 11 museum, where they discussed the pressures of public scrutiny with the museum’s president. And, later, they participated in drills designed to sharpen their competitive instincts, including one where teams of two each created a specialty cocktail they felt “embodied MSNBC.”
Unless you've been in one of these companies, you probably wouldn't believe how much time, energy and money some places waste in an attempt to convince people that they're having fun.
A few years ago I was in a room filled with fairly well paid statisticians, all of whom had pressing deadlines and we spent an hour writing a mission statement in the form of a parody of the opening of Star Trek ("To explore new data sources..."). There will probably come a time when I see how precious every hour of a life is and when that time comes, I'm going to be really pissed about wasting one of those hours in that meeting.
There are, of course, companies that are genuinely fun and that's a good thing, but it has to be organic. Otherwise, you just spend a lot of money not fooling anyone.
This post by television writer Ken Levine (MASH, Cheers, Frasier, and many other shows) appears to have gone viral. Deservedly. He makes excellent points about Braff's Kickstarter campaign (which is a bad idea) and the Veronica Mars campaign (which is worse). More importantly, though, it provides some useful examples of something not that far from regulatory capture. Rules and institutions (in this case created by the private sector) formed with the intention of making things fairer and more democratic end up favoring the favored, serving the people who need them least because those are the people who can best work the system.
The idea – and it’s a great one – is that Kickstarter allows filmmakers who otherwise would have NO access to Hollywood and NO access to serious investors to scrounge up enough money to make their movies. Zach Braff has contacts. Zach Braff has a name. Zach Braff has a track record. Zach Braff has residuals. He can get in a room with money people. He is represented by a major taent agency. But the poor schmoe in Mobile, Alabama or Walla Walla, Washington has none of those advantages.
So someone who otherwise might have funded the Mobile kid instead will toss his coins to Zach Braff because he figures it’s a better bet and he gets to rub shoulders with show business.
Yes, it might take Zach Braff a year of knocking on doors to get his money, so now he figures, hey, just show up, sit back, and let the cash come to me. This is not an option Walla Walla kid has. I’m throwing my support to those who really NEED it.
Recently, Kickstarter was used to fund a new VERONICA MARS movie. This is obscene to me. It’s a known television series distributed by a major studio. Are you a big fan of VERONICA MARS? Want to support it? Great. Buy ten tickets and see the movie ten times.
This is what Hollywood does, dear reader. It sees an opportunity for exploitation and takes it. The Sundance Film Festival is another prime example. At one time it showcased modest little movies by unknown filmmakers. Kevin Smith made CLERKS – a grimy black and white film starring all unknowns. The result was discovered talent. Now look at the festival. Every entry features major Hollywood stars. During the festival they all descend upon Park City, along with Harvey Weinstein, reps from every major studio, and a thousand CAA and William Morris agents. Any hint of the original purpose of the film festival has long since vanished.
If Will Ferrell or Brad Pitt – just to name two random examples – are in an independent film, do they really need a film festival to get Harvey Weinstein to screen their film? The chubby nerd from New Jersey who maxed out his credit cards to make a film about a local convenience store couldn’t. He needed a film festival. He needed an audience to appreciate his effort before he could be recognized. And now today’s equivalent of a young Kevin Smith can’t even get his movie into a festival much less Harvey Weinstein’s screening room.
Sundance is a lost cause. But Kickstarter isn’t. Not if we put a stop to this now. If you only have so much money to give to charity, give it to cancer research and not to help redecorate Beyonce’s plane. Support young hungry filmmakers. The next Kevin Smith is out there… somewhere. He (or she) just needs a break, which is what Kickstarter is supposed to provide. Zach Braff can find his money elsewhere. He did once before. He’ll make his movie. And if it’s half as good as GARDEN STATE I will praise it to the heavens in this blog and urge you to go spend your money to check it out.
When I used to broadcast for the Orioles one of my partners was the legendary Chuck Thompson. Most of our games were at night. Chuck was an avid golfer. He played the public courses and only on weekdays. He used to say the weekends were for the “working man.” Chuck could play any day he wanted, they could only play on Saturday and Sunday so he didn’t want to take one of their starting times. It’s a great way to live by.
Side note: if you have any interest in either the art or business of television, Levine's is one of the best blogs out there.
[I've been meaning to write more about the business approaches of terrestrial superstations for a while now though I didn't mean to write quite so much -- damned thing got away from me.]
Back in my college teaching days, I produced and edited some videos to accompany an algebra book. They were terrible, crime-against-humanity bad, but they paid off the remainder of my car loan and, along with a few other projects, they gave me a lifelong appreciation of how much or how little work goes into what you see on TV.
Of course, most of my projects were easy to put together, just cut from the instructor to the steps of the problem. There was seldom much doubt about what shot to use or which one went where. The hard part comes when you have hours of footage and you have to decide which shots to use and which order to put them in.
This under-the-hood perspective throws an interesting light on the difference between the promos of Weigel Broadcasting's METV and those of NBCUniversal's COZITV and the way those promos reflect the strengths of the first company and the weaknesses of the second.
METV specializes in promos that link clips from different shows together either stylistically, thematically or to form a narrative. In order to do this you can spend a tremendous number of man hours combing through different shows looking to find something useful or you can find people with extensive knowledge of the shows in question and spend merely a large number of man hours.
The thing that jumps out at me about there promos (beyond the sheer number, most apparently done by the prolific Joe Dale) is the aptness of the clips. Consider this ad built around the two definitive Bob Newhart bits, the therapy session and the phone call (Here's the backstory). Each clip has to work on two levels, flowing smoothly into the gag while promoting the brand.
(On a strictly technical grounds, the sound editing is also quite good. I count audio from six different sources recorded in three different decades and extensively resequenced. This was not an easy mix.)
I also liked the sound editing on this one.
This is a good time to step back and make a point about marketing. Advertisements have got to work with a company's brand. In the case of METV, this means presenting the channel as sort of a TCM for television lovers, a place with both a high variety of titles (over fifty a week) and a high number of well-remembered shows. This promo emphasizes the variety.
(also a lot of nice editing here)
The other side of the brand is the appeal to fans and connoisseurs. Many of the ads work best if you know the context of the clips.
(God, Mumy was creepy)
And I'm not sure the following works at all if you don't know the twists being spoiled.
At the risk of being repetitive, hard core fans are the target audience and the promos do a beautiful job playing to them. For example, if you were to ask fans of the Mary Tyler Moore Show to list favorite Sue Ann moments, most of them would be represented here:
This also brings up one final point. METV faces an interesting branding challenge. One of their main selling points is variety, expressed in the number of shows aired a week, the frequent changes in line-up and the special features like the Sunday Showcase, a themed three hour block that often features shows not currently on the schedule. For reasons far to complex to go into now, both research and experience have shown that too much choice can actually push customers away while brand identity is built on repetition. In other words, variety is good but you can't build you ad campaign around it.
If you'll forgive the mixed metaphor, METV addresses this by marketing certain shows as anchors and flagships. Anchors are relatively permanent fixtures in the line-up (Rawhide will come and go; Gunsmoke will always be there). They are also shows you would expect to see on a classic TV channel, Twilight Zone, Perry Mason, Rockford, Columbo, I Love Lucy, and the like.
The flagships are the face of the channel. They run in prime time. They are promoted with elaborate ads...
...some featuring interviews and short sketches with the original stars.
(Asner's picture is a nice touch)
The point is to find shows that are well known and well remembered and are associated with the qualities you want people to associate with your brand. The three shows Weigel chose, Mary Tyler Moore, Dick Van Dyke and Bob Newhart, were almost ideal for this purpose.
Here's Carl Reiner's assessment of one of these promos:
I apologize for going through this at such length but there's more to this story than just a TV channel with a knack for cutting clever spots. Weigel is an independent broadcasting company that is succeeding because it has a smart strategy, a superior product and a deep understanding of and respect for its viewers, but that success is only possible because of the way digital broadcasting opened up the market.
One of the many reasons to object to the current push to kill over-the-air television is that it further protects huge media companies like Disney and Viacom from healthy competition. To see just how bloated some of those behemoths can be, take a look at NBCUniversal's recently launch terrestrial superstation, CoziTV. The contrast is telling.
Weigel is a story of a small, nimble company doing a lot with a little. COZITV is a story of a huge, slow-moving company doing a little with a lot.
COZI often has a terribly cheap feel, with annoying infomercials and some of the worst quality prints of public domain shows that I've ever seen broadcast, but if you look closely you'll realize that much of the programming is surprisingly expensive. They air multiple original reality shows. Programs like Magnum are still reasonably popular (and thus not in the bargain bin). Many of the movies shown (like Soderbergh's Out of Sight, Far from Heaven and the remake of the Producers) still fall in the 'major motion picture' category. Their "I Love the Eighties" inspired debut special actually featured fairly well-established comics (including one who did frequent bits on Best Week Ever).
But for all that, the on-air promotions are stunningly ineffective, having all the telltale signs of executives so clueless they don't even know they're clueless. There is no indication that anyone involved thought about what the brand should be or how to build it or who the target audience is supposed to be.
Unlike METV and its constant stream of promos, COZI spent a lot on a few spots that left all of their movies and much of their series line-up unpromoted. Furthermore, the choices of what gets covered are often inexplicable. For example, the Monday night prime time line up consists of George Peppard in Banacek and Rock Hudson in McMillan and Wife. Banacek is one of their most heavily promoted shows; McMillan appears to have no coverage whatsoever. We could go back and forth about the merits of the two shows, but the business case here is exceptionally clear: while both shows were originally part of a rotating format that resulted in very short seasons, McMillan had a six year run and racked up an acceptable 40 episodes; Banacek ran for two and had 17. With a handful of exceptions like Fawlty Towers, you simply cannot use a series with a less than 30 episode run as a tentpole (particularly not a show that wasn't that popular to begin with). Add to that the fact that Hudson's films (being part of the Universal catalog) are prominently featured on COZITV and the decision makes even less sense.
This is not an isolated case. At least one other prime time series (the Bold Ones, another revolving series starring, among others, Leslie Nielsen, Burl Ives, and Hal Holbrook) is left out as are shows like I Spy and Alias Smith and Jones and the Canadian imports, the Border and the Collector (both action dramas). Nor do the rest of shows that do get covered hold together. Action shows are mixed with schmaltzy family dramas like Highway to Heaven and Marcus Welby that don't even run in prime time.
But what really strikes me here is how the promos that actually got made fail as promos. They aren't very funny and, more to the point, when they aren't funny they generally aren't anything. Just minimally edited clips that can serve as set-ups for punchlines that pop up on the side of the screen or are interjected by VH1 style talking heads. I started to embed a few examples but I don't like COZI's embed format so here are some linked descriptions:
Banacek is having a picnic with a woman. His car phone rings and his chauffeur starts to wave him over. Punchline: "He needs a car with a longer cord."
Magnum is playing baseball. His friend Rick takes a line drive to the crotch. The woman who had hit the ball sees him collapse and asks, "is it your stomach?" Punchline: "Stomach? Try a little lower."
Some of the spots are funnier than these examples but none are any good at their primary purpose. They don't build brand, they don't build viewer loyalty and since only a handful of shows get all the promotion, they don't even help to build awareness.
The executives at COZI don't understand how to promote and brand a terrestrial station. They are obviously clueless about scheduling. They don't know how to put together line-ups. They have little interest in their product and a vague feeling of contempt toward their viewers. They are, in any number of ways, the anti-Weigel.
It is worth noting that upon deciding to move into the terrestrial market, the Fox Entertainment Group (which is, as a rule, waaaay smarter than NBC) decided to take the exact opposite approach.
There's a bigger point here about how bloated and out of touch big companies can get and about the importance of opening up markets to small independent players, but this post is already far too long so that will have to wait for another day.
It was interesting to go from reading this piece on the lives of the urban poor to this piece from Felix Salmon. I had not previously heard the term BANANA (Build Absolutely Nothing Anywhere Near Anything), but it does seem to nicely reflect the sensibilities of the people in question. But the real issue is why this is a stable state of affairs:
The result is that the normal state of affairs — where powerful individuals
get trumped by even more powerful construction-industry inevitabilities — is
turned on its head, to the point at which new construction can no longer keep up
with the de-densification endemic to gentrification. Bloggers may rail against
this state of affairs — both Ryan Avent and Matt Yglesias have written at great
length about how important it is to allow new buildings to rise within urban
areas — but ultimately the natural conservatism of the rich is winning out,
across the nation. If you want to move to a city where density is going up
rather than down, you might just have to move to Miami. Or China.
I mean I like the idea of nice places to live and low density can be really pleasant in a lot of ways. But I think these thigns should be compromises and it is a sad fact of reality that growth and statis are going to be inevitability opposed.
You know how, if you keep repeating the same word long enough it will eventually start to become meaningless? Over at Unqualified Offerings, Thoreau has a post up that shows that the education buzzword 'flipping' has apparently reached that stage.
Today a literature professor told me that her Dean had asked to consider “flipping” her class. Now, in a literature class the professor has to operate on the assumption that you’ve read the novel outside of class. Class time is devoted to discussion of the novel. Is that not the definition of “flipping”? Basic information is delivered outside of class, and class time is devoted to discussion, application, analysis, etc. Especially in a small class like hers. And, here’s the amazing thing: Back in 1994, before the internet was popular, before Khan Academy existed, I actually took a literature class like that. Can you believe it? A class that was “flipped” before the concept of “flipping” was a buzzword!
Now, some of you might be saying that online literature classes exist, but that’s different from flipping. Flipping means moving the lower-level information delivery to outside of class, and then spending class time on discussion and higher level analysis. Yes, my friend will sometimes introduce a bit of information in class, e.g. discuss an analytical framework, or fill in some background information not present in the readings, but by and large the time is spent on discussion, not the basic outline of “Who is Hamlet? What country is he Prince of? What has happened in his life to make him so melancholy?” We’re talking about allocation of time and effort in the class, not moving the class online. Also, moving a literature class online does not automatically mean it’s “flipped.” In a non-flipped online class they’d spoon-feed you information on the novel, via powerpoints, video lectures, chats, whatever. In the flipped online class, they’d assume you’ve read the novel and devote video chats, discussions, or whatever other presentations to analysis of the novel.
We should stop and note that while it is possible to have a flipped online class, the viability of a flipped MOOC is far more questionable. The activities reserved for a flipped classroom aren't readily scalable, particularly if you're using a simplistic Thomas-Friedman definition of a MOOC.
This is one of the most annoying part of the education debate (and it's a discussion rich in annoyances): there some solid and enormously promising ideas behind many proposals for flipped and online classes, but they are completely lost amongst the garbage coming pundits who don't know the history and haven't thought through the issues, partisans looking to advance non-educational agendas and con artists trying to turn a quick buck (or some combination of the three).
I've been thinking a lot about social and economic distance and what seems to be the increasing difficulty with which information travels to certain parts of the network and the tendency for members of certain subnetworks to mistake local perception for the global.
I suspect that Congress's swift action on the FAA (compared with complete inaction concerning the rest of the sequester) was based in part on mistaking attitudes toward flight delays within their subgroup for the attitudes of the nation as a whole.
Likewise the coverage of over-the-air television has been rife with errors and omissions (see here and here and almost every other story on the subject) in part because it's a product used primarily by the lower and lower-middle class.
Another aspect of this increased distance is greater difficulty forming professional networks that reach across demographics and economic and educational strata.
You don’t usually need a strong social network to land a low-wage job at a fast-food restaurant or retail store. But trying to land a coveted position that offers a good salary and benefits is a different story. To gain an edge, job seekers actively work connections with friends and family members in pursuit of these opportunities.
Help is not given to just anyone, nor is it available from everyone. Inequality reproduces itself because help is typically reserved for people who are “like me”: the people who live in my neighborhood, those who attend my church or school or those with whom I have worked in the past. It is only natural that when there are jobs to be had, people who know about them will tell the people who are close to them, those with whom they identify, and those who at some point can reciprocate the favor.
Because we still live largely segregated lives, such networking fosters categorical inequality: whites help other whites, especially when unemployment is high. Although people from every background may try to help their own, whites are more likely to hold the sorts of jobs that are protected from market competition, that pay a living wage and that have the potential to teach skills and allow for job training and advancement. So, just as opportunities are unequally distributed, they are also unequally redistributed.
All of this may make sense intuitively, but most people are unaware of the way racial ties affect their job prospects.
Certain of the newspapers, when this book was first announced, made a mistake most natural upon seeing the sub-title as it then stood, A TALE OF SUNDRY ADVENTURES. "This sounds like a historical novel," said one of them, meaning (I take it) a colonial romance. As it now stands, the title will scarce lead to such interpretation; yet none the less is this book historical—quite as much so as any colonial romance. Indeed, when you look at the root of the matter, it is a colonial romance. For Wyoming between 1874 and 1890 was a colony as wild as was Virginia one hundred years earlier. As wild, with a scantier population, and the same primitive joys and dangers. There were, to be sure, not so many Chippendale settees.
We know quite well the common understanding of the term "historical novel." HUGH WYNNE exactly fits it. But SILAS LAPHAM is a novel as perfectly historical as is Hugh Wynne, for it pictures an era and personifies a type. It matters not that in the one we find George Washington and in the other none save imaginary figures; else THE SCARLET LETTER were not historical. Nor does it matter that Dr. Mitchell did not live in the time of which he wrote, while Mr. Howells saw many Silas Laphams with his own eyes; else UNCLE TOM'S CABIN were not historical. Any narrative which presents faithfully a day and a generation is of necessity historical; and this one presents Wyoming between 1874 and 1890. Had you left New York or San Francisco at ten o'clock this morning, by noon the day after to-morrow you could step out at Cheyenne. There you would stand at the heart of the world that is the subject of my picture, yet you would look around you in vain for the reality. It is a vanished world. No journeys, save those which memory can take, will bring you to it now. The mountains are there, far and shining, and the sunlight, and the infinite earth, and the air that seems forever the true fountain of youth, but where is the buffalo, and the wild antelope, and where the horseman with his pasturing thousands? So like its old self does the sage-brush seem when revisited, that you wait for the horseman to appear.
But he will never come again. He rides in his historic yesterday. You will no more see him gallop out of the unchanging silence than you will see Columbus on the unchanging sea come sailing from Palos with his caravels.
And yet the horseman is still so near our day that in some chapters of this book, which were published separate at the close of the nineteenth century, the present tense was used. It is true no longer. In those chapters it has been changed, and verbs like "is" and "have" now read "was" and "had." Time has flowed faster than my ink.
As soon as I get caught up with a few other projects, I'm planning a regular classic puzzle feature over at my math teaching blog, You Do the Math. That got a lot easier when I found out (via Wikipedia of course) that two of Henry Ernest Dudeney's best known collections (Amusements in Mathematics and The Canterbury Puzzles) are available as free e-books from Project Gutenberg.
If you're the the type of person who can hear the phrase "recreational mathematics" without snickering and you don't already own a copy, you'll want to check these out. Here are a couple of tastes.
First, from Amusements:
118.—CIRCLING THE SQUARES.
The puzzle is to place a different number in each of the ten squares so that the sum of the squares of any two adjacent numbers shall be equal to the sum of the squares of the two numbers diametrically opposite to them. The four numbers placed, as examples, must stand as they are. The square of 16 is 256, and the square of 2 is 4. Add these together, and the result is 260. Also—the square of 14 is 196, and the square of 8 is 64. These together also make 260. Now, in precisely the same way, B and C should be equal to G and H (the sum will not necessarily be 260), A and K to F and E, H and I to C and D, and so on, with any two adjoining squares in the circle.
All you have to do is to fill in the remaining six numbers. Fractions are not allowed, and I shall show that no number need contain more than two figures.
The Ploughman—of whom Chaucer remarked, "A worker true and very good was he, Living in perfect peace and charity"—protested that riddles were not for simple minds like his, but he[Pg 44] would show the good pilgrims, if they willed it, one that he had frequently heard certain clever folk in his own neighbourhood discuss. "The lord of the manor in the part of Sussex whence I come hath a plantation of sixteen fair oak trees, and they be so set out that they make twelve rows with four trees in every row. Once on a time a man of deep learning, who happened to be travelling in those parts, did say that the sixteen trees might have been so planted that they would make so many as fifteen straight rows, with four trees in every row thereof. Can ye show me how this might be? Many have doubted that 'twere possible to be done." The illustration shows one of many ways of forming the twelve rows. How can we make fifteen?
More on bad narratives and the lengths some journalists will go to cling to them.
To talk about bad journalistic narratives implies that there are good ones out there. What would a good journalistic narrative look like? This is a complicated question -- narrative is a complex and elusive concept -- but there is one important aspect that we (being a statistically inclined crowd) should be able to get a handle on. A journalistic narrative is a hypothesis.
What do we ask of a hypothesis?
1. It should fit the facts;
2. The likelihood given our hypothesis of what happened should be greater than the likelihood given the previous hypothesis (the one most readers would reach given the facts);
3. There is not an obvious simpler hypothesis that meets conditions 1. and 2. as well as the new hypothesis does (personally, I like certain 700-year-old quotes but that is, perhaps, a topic for another post);
and if possible
4. It should have predictive value, provide insights and/or suggest interesting questions.
I got to thinking about this due to a post by David Silbey (via Thoma, of course) that addresses a repugnant piece by Jason Zengerle entitled How Savvy Jenny Sanford Sabotaged Ex-Husband Mark’s Political Comeback. Zengerle's title is, from the standpoint of grabbing attention, a good headline but it is also a bad narrative given the rules above.
Here's the previous hypothesis: Jenny Sanford has been open about her low opinion of her husband and this campaign but is not getting involved in this campaign.
And here's Zengerle's hypothesis: "Indeed, while Jenny has never come out and publicly opposed Mark’s congressional candidacy — choosing to remain officially neutral — she’s waged a brutally effective passive-aggressive campaign against it."
Zengerle then lists various events that are as or more consistent with the previous hypothesis than they are with his. Perfectly natural choices like bringing charges when you catch an ex-spouse sneaking out of your house are spun as part of a devious plot.
Zengerle gives us no reason to believe Jenny Sanford is being in any way dishonest or inconsistent; he just assumes we'd rather believe something sleazy.
