First, Pliny had to supply some personal information. His gender and his age and job type. That was no problem. He chose 'retired'. Then, to estimate how many hours he spent each week on various online tasks.
What is multi tasking? he asked me crossly.
It's when you do more than one thing at once, I answered. Don't they explain?
But look at all these different kinds of multi tasking, he grumbled. I'm sure I don't do any of them. I shall just answer 'Never' to them all.
Next, Pliny had to demonstrate his research techniques. 'What words would you enter if you wanted to find out how much caffeine there was in an expresso?'
Do you think it's a trick question? asked Pliny.
Don't ask me, I said.
He entered the words 'caffeine' and 'expresso'.
Next he had to choose which site to go to for the answer.
Normally, he said, I would go straight to Wikipedia. But perhaps they would prefer me to go to BBC information.
That's definitely a trick question. I said. What are you going to do?
Be true to myself, said Pliny. And go to Wikipedia. Oh! Now they want me to rate the information out of ten. Let me see. Yes. It tells me here how much caffeine is in an expresso. I wonder if I should give it ten out of ten?
Why not? I asked.
Because they might think I am too easily satisfied, he said.
Stop worrying, and get on with it, Pliny, I said. It's meant to take you twenty minutes and you've taken quarter of an hour already.
But I made a cup of tea, protested Pliny.
They don't know that, I said. Hurry up.
Next Pliny had to do some simple memory puzzles, followed by some that involved multi tasking.
In the first one, there were four chocolate bars, two red and two blue. You had to press 'Y' if you thought the red chocolate bars had moved in the second frame, and 'N' if you thought that they hadn't. You could practice as many times as you liked.
Curses! said Pliny. Should I practice until I can do it perfectly, or would that be wasting time?
Practice, I advised, until you can do it adequately.
Pliny practiced a few times, but he wasn't improving. He was getting a consistent six out of ten.
I would probably get six out of ten if I just pressed 'Y' all the time, he said. So that's what I'll do. But I feel like a chocolate biscuit. What time is it now?
Showing posts with label Wikipedia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wikipedia. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Research v. Intuition
Pliny's research has been inconclusive. No one on Google or Wikipedia knows how the humbug got its name. Even the old fashioned boiled sweet manufacturers do not know. Humbugs simply are and have always been known as humbugs.
Therefore, I said to Pliny firmly, we should do away with research and think it out for ourselves.
You didn't get very far with that method yesterday, he said, frowning.
Yes, but now we haven't any alternative, I said. I suggest we put ourselves in the place of an 18th century sweetmaker who wants to make a brilliant new sweet to take the sweet-eating world by storm.
I see, said Pliny. Does he think of the name of the sweet first, or the sweet itself?
He thinks of the sweet first, and comes up with the name after he's seen what it looks like, I said.
Yes, that sounds right, said Pliny. That's what I would do.
Would you? So would I. And while we're on the subject, why is the sweetmaker a he?
Let us not get bogged down in gender issues, said Pliny. Let us think beyond that to the sweet-creating process.
Alright, and let us think beyond the sweet-creating process too, because we know the sweet turns out to be a humbug.
Point taken, said Pliny. Now what?
Now, the sweetmaker looks at the sweet she has created. It is short and tubular, twisted off at each end and features smart black and white stripes.
And is peppermint flavoured, adds Pliny. Or aniseed, as the case may be.
Yes, yes. But now she thinks. What shall I call this sweet? What does it most look like?
And she thinks it most looks like a humbug!
No, Pliny. Because a humbug doesn't at that time look like anything. It is merely a hoax, or jest, or a deception.
Wait, said Pliny. I have just remembered a story I read when I was doing my research. It was about Charles Darwin. Two young boys made up a beetle out of the parts of 3 different beetles and asked him to identify the new beetle. Darwin laughed and told them that it was a humbug.
Oh well done Pliny! I said. Perhaps the sweet maker could see into the future. They were making humbugs well before Charles Darwin's time.
But, said Pliny, Darwin was no humourist. It may have been quite commonplace, to identify strange beetles as humbugs.
I believe you may be on to something there, I said. Perhaps that was what she was thinking.
He, said Pliny.
Therefore, I said to Pliny firmly, we should do away with research and think it out for ourselves.
You didn't get very far with that method yesterday, he said, frowning.
Yes, but now we haven't any alternative, I said. I suggest we put ourselves in the place of an 18th century sweetmaker who wants to make a brilliant new sweet to take the sweet-eating world by storm.
I see, said Pliny. Does he think of the name of the sweet first, or the sweet itself?
He thinks of the sweet first, and comes up with the name after he's seen what it looks like, I said.
Yes, that sounds right, said Pliny. That's what I would do.
Would you? So would I. And while we're on the subject, why is the sweetmaker a he?
Let us not get bogged down in gender issues, said Pliny. Let us think beyond that to the sweet-creating process.
Alright, and let us think beyond the sweet-creating process too, because we know the sweet turns out to be a humbug.
Point taken, said Pliny. Now what?
Now, the sweetmaker looks at the sweet she has created. It is short and tubular, twisted off at each end and features smart black and white stripes.
And is peppermint flavoured, adds Pliny. Or aniseed, as the case may be.
Yes, yes. But now she thinks. What shall I call this sweet? What does it most look like?
And she thinks it most looks like a humbug!
No, Pliny. Because a humbug doesn't at that time look like anything. It is merely a hoax, or jest, or a deception.
Wait, said Pliny. I have just remembered a story I read when I was doing my research. It was about Charles Darwin. Two young boys made up a beetle out of the parts of 3 different beetles and asked him to identify the new beetle. Darwin laughed and told them that it was a humbug.
Oh well done Pliny! I said. Perhaps the sweet maker could see into the future. They were making humbugs well before Charles Darwin's time.
But, said Pliny, Darwin was no humourist. It may have been quite commonplace, to identify strange beetles as humbugs.
I believe you may be on to something there, I said. Perhaps that was what she was thinking.
He, said Pliny.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
& Ampersand
Yes Pliny, but aren't all transformations unlikely? Nevertheless, I know that this is true.
And how, pray, do you know that it is true?
Because, Pliny, I read it , not in Wikipedia but in Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable.
Perhaps, then, it was a fable.
No, it is a phrase, which was found in the old hornbooks, I said primly. The character was added after the 26 letters of the alphabet, and was called ampersand as a corruption of 'and per se and'. The ampersand itself is an adaptation of 'et', which as you know means 'and' in Latin.
Nonsense, said Pliny. How do you get from 'et' to that squiggle?
You don't have to. You only need to get from the squiggle back to 'et'.
A good point. And what may I ask is a hornbook?
It's a thin board with a handle, as a backing to a sheet of vellum, and covered by a thin piece of transparent horn. Medieval schoolchildren used them for their lessons.
How delightful, said Pliny. Was anything else written in them?
Numbers, the Lords Prayer, and an exorcism.
Basic, and exemplary, said Pliny.
And how, pray, do you know that it is true?
Because, Pliny, I read it , not in Wikipedia but in Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable.
Perhaps, then, it was a fable.
No, it is a phrase, which was found in the old hornbooks, I said primly. The character was added after the 26 letters of the alphabet, and was called ampersand as a corruption of 'and per se and'. The ampersand itself is an adaptation of 'et', which as you know means 'and' in Latin.
Nonsense, said Pliny. How do you get from 'et' to that squiggle?
You don't have to. You only need to get from the squiggle back to 'et'.
A good point. And what may I ask is a hornbook?
It's a thin board with a handle, as a backing to a sheet of vellum, and covered by a thin piece of transparent horn. Medieval schoolchildren used them for their lessons.
How delightful, said Pliny. Was anything else written in them?
Numbers, the Lords Prayer, and an exorcism.
Basic, and exemplary, said Pliny.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Macaroons
Macaroons! spluttered Pliny. What are macaroons? I can scarcely imagine these waves.
They're little pyramid-shaped coconut cakes, I said, with a cherry on top. The waves looked like little green pyramids bobbing up and down on the lake.
I daresay, said Pliny, that they are not usually green.
No, they are usually white or, if cooked a little longer, golden brown. At least I think so. Let's look them up on Wikipedia.
We typed in macaroons. The Wiki picture of macaroons was not what I was hoping to see. The macaroons were hardly pyramidical. They were slightly burnt and didn't even have a cherry on top.
Hmmm, said Pliny. They do not look like waves. But look here! " Not to be confused with the French macarons." Perhaps you meant macarons.
We clicked on macarons. The macarons were, in the photograph, the exact shade of green that the waves had been, but they were not the right shape, being two flat biscuits stuck together with cream.
Bad luck, said Pliny. Your image is untenable. Now what about the white frothing cherry and the spitting frogs? And the boab tree?
Pliny, you don't get banana points for criticising my blog.
I know, he said crossly.
They're little pyramid-shaped coconut cakes, I said, with a cherry on top. The waves looked like little green pyramids bobbing up and down on the lake.
I daresay, said Pliny, that they are not usually green.
No, they are usually white or, if cooked a little longer, golden brown. At least I think so. Let's look them up on Wikipedia.
We typed in macaroons. The Wiki picture of macaroons was not what I was hoping to see. The macaroons were hardly pyramidical. They were slightly burnt and didn't even have a cherry on top.
Hmmm, said Pliny. They do not look like waves. But look here! " Not to be confused with the French macarons." Perhaps you meant macarons.
We clicked on macarons. The macarons were, in the photograph, the exact shade of green that the waves had been, but they were not the right shape, being two flat biscuits stuck together with cream.
Bad luck, said Pliny. Your image is untenable. Now what about the white frothing cherry and the spitting frogs? And the boab tree?
Pliny, you don't get banana points for criticising my blog.
I know, he said crossly.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Guano
I'm busy today, so Pliny the Elder has graciously agreed to write a blog for me :
Greetings !
After our discussion on bird droppings yesterday, I decided to conduct some research into the modern day uses of the substance which is nowadays more politely known as guano. This term includes the droppings of bats, birds and seals. This I learned from Wikipedia, an excellent source of knowledge.
Guano has many uses today, not least as a fertiliser in the garden, but there are other uses which are more interesting. Indeed, some have generated great amazement in me, used as I am to discovering marvels.
For example guano is used as an ingredient in lipstick and mascara that women use to beautify their faces. Why they feel it necessary to do this must be a matter for discussion on another day. I have discovered that Victoria Beckham, a person of great fame, to name but one, uses a cream made from the excrement of nightingales to rid her skin of pimples. I have this on the authority of Insider.
Next we find that guano is essential to the growing of peppercorns from which we get black pepper. This I learned on a site known as Askville. I must confess this information makes me more reluctant than ever to approach the pepper pot.
Furthermore, guano is an important ingredient in gunpowder, and has also been used in explosive charges to deploy antennas in the Mercury and Gemini capsules. There can be no doubt as to the truth of this, for guano is known to contain a substance called saltpetre.
Lastly, I have seen a claim that guano, cooked with rice and celery, tastes a lot like chicken. This too I discovered on Askville. However, I would not be altogether surprised if the respondent was answering the question in a spirit of jocularity. I have included it here, as I would not wish it to be thought that I lack a sense of humour.
Greetings !
After our discussion on bird droppings yesterday, I decided to conduct some research into the modern day uses of the substance which is nowadays more politely known as guano. This term includes the droppings of bats, birds and seals. This I learned from Wikipedia, an excellent source of knowledge.
Guano has many uses today, not least as a fertiliser in the garden, but there are other uses which are more interesting. Indeed, some have generated great amazement in me, used as I am to discovering marvels.
For example guano is used as an ingredient in lipstick and mascara that women use to beautify their faces. Why they feel it necessary to do this must be a matter for discussion on another day. I have discovered that Victoria Beckham, a person of great fame, to name but one, uses a cream made from the excrement of nightingales to rid her skin of pimples. I have this on the authority of Insider.
Next we find that guano is essential to the growing of peppercorns from which we get black pepper. This I learned on a site known as Askville. I must confess this information makes me more reluctant than ever to approach the pepper pot.
Furthermore, guano is an important ingredient in gunpowder, and has also been used in explosive charges to deploy antennas in the Mercury and Gemini capsules. There can be no doubt as to the truth of this, for guano is known to contain a substance called saltpetre.
Lastly, I have seen a claim that guano, cooked with rice and celery, tastes a lot like chicken. This too I discovered on Askville. However, I would not be altogether surprised if the respondent was answering the question in a spirit of jocularity. I have included it here, as I would not wish it to be thought that I lack a sense of humour.
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