Now, come on, what did you really think I meant by that title, hmm?
We all love Ben Goldacre (I have to say that: I think they take away your Gilsons if you say anything bad about him). And his exposés of homeopathic nonsense, medical charlatanry, lousy reporting and triumphs of marketing over substance in drug trials and the like are legendary, a service for which he deserves an OBE, if not a couple of pints.
However, I do sometimes wonder if he should not pick his battles with a little more discernment. Be a little less gung-ho about matters. Because when he writes, again, about these ludicrous formulae that we see in the papers, I do wonder if he’s doing more harm than good.
I mean, surely, we know it’s all crap, don’t we? Not science—the ‘maths’ that gets published in the name of selling newspapers. Does anyone take that junk seriously? And, more to the point, is anyone’s perception of real maths and science affected so negatively by a formula describing the inappropriateness of Britney Spear’s wardrobe, or how to be happy, or whatever the hell some publicity-hungry editor (_a tautology, surely?—Ed._), comes up with next? (If it is so affected, then I don’t think Ben’s ranting is actually going to make any difference: such a person is too far gone already).
Although we know that the media, like the turny-thing it is, lies to us (from my own experience I estimate that approximately half the statements in any news story are incorrect to some degree), I suspect that the vast majority of people are sophisticated enough to realize that stories such as this are mindless fluff, and are not unduly influenced by them.
I could be wrong. Like the good scientist I am, I’d like this hypothesis to be tested.
But as Bryan Appleyard says, I’m not sure the Sun (or even the Torygraph) does that much harm to the perception or the cause of science. I think Ben would be better aiming his statistical dissecting kit at juicier targets.
All right, that’s that’s not strictly ‘bad science’, but then neither is reporting on a surreal columnist).
You want tits? Inevitably, here’s a pair of great tits:
I’ll disagree with you on Ben Goldacre too. I’m pretty sure a lot of people don’t see this as just something silly: the only maths stories they’ll hear are these or “proper” mathematics, proving the Church-Turing thesis, or something. The proper stuff is so abstract that it doesn’t resonate: this stuff does, and it give readers the impression that we boffins are doing stuff that’s trivial.
Back in the 1995, some workers at the IFR in Norwich won the Physics Ig-Nobel for showing that if you poor milk on corn flakes, they go soggy. Apparently, the IFR received several letters and phone call complaining that this was a waste of taxpayers’ money. So, if this work gets criticised (and there was a serious purpose behind it, to understand what exactly make corn flakes behave the way they did), why wouldn’t silly maths stories have the same reaction?
Careful what you say about Beachcomber. I know Maxine is a fan, too. Even if Bill Hartston isn’t J.B. Morton. Oh, and to link back to your introduction, I have a couple of Hartston’s books. Including Soft Pawn.
I’m sure you had a point and everything, but look at the pretty birds! With their fluffy bellies and adorable beaks. And Bob’s tits made me choke on my coffee. They remind me of paparazzi photos where the beautiful creatures just want to be left alone (!) and are disgruntled and offended by the constant media attention. (I really should add something that makes me look less simple, but I just woke up.)
Oh come on, Bob. The point is that Hartson is a funny columnist. The whole piece on Britney Spears, this ‘formula’ included, is surely him taking the piss?
I’d like to think he’s laughing at Goldacre for getting so recreationally miffed.
Katie, I’m sure your comment was actually very deep, but I’ve just woken up too and can’t tell what it is, yet.
I don’t object to the creation of silly formulas – they are a great PR tool, whether created accidentally or deliberately.
And they do give across some idea that maths can be about modelling – not the wearing high heeled shoes modelling, but the understanding how the world works modelling.
Do these silly maths equations undermine when serious ones, like the mathematical models of climate change, or foot and mouth outbreak, hit the headlines? I don’t think so. It could even be seen as a gentle introduction to what a maths formula is.
Oh, I should have hit preview, and not been on MSN. The bit I forgot to type was “I don’t object to the creation of silly formulas – they are a great PR tool, whether created accidentally or deliberately, and I’m sure people just realise they are.”
The tits using my feeder employ a polite dual queueing system. That’s how I know my garden is in Britain.
Do American tits just push everything else to the side to get to the front, then?
I can’t believe I just typed that in innocence.
hahahaha
Do they actually say, “No, after you?” or “But I insist” in tit-speak?
Thank you Scott (I was replying to Jenny) I now have an uncontrollable
titfit of the giggles.I’ll see your tits (ha!) and raise you a booby
Link
How about a shag?
Is that a Greater Northern shag?
No, it’s a little shag.
Click through:
Ahh, Richard’s Mardi Gras thread … Show us your tits!
Now throw us a bead, mister!
Well, with a name like yours…
Perfectly decent German name.
The entry street to my neighborhood, on the other hand, has a name worthy of a stripper.
I know it’s a good German name, and I even know what it means!
My parents live just round the corner from Acacia Avenue. I think there’s even a 22.
Ha ha! An Iron Maiden song, no less!
Of course you know that the Balinese Room in Galveston TX, of ZZ Top fame, didn’t survive the wrath of Hurricane Ike.
Oh yes… but the less said about my ‘shaggy’ days the better.
Before Iron Maiden went trendy, when Eddie had his first brain.
Once upon a time, when the world was young, and people sent their manuscripts in by post, including several copies in case we wished to send the ms for review, I received a ms from a
nutterpervertregular correspondent on the secondary sexual characteristics of Homo sapiens with special reference to the female of the species.In support of his thesis he sent a special issue of a
razz magjournal of record in which said secondary sexual characters were displayed in a variety of poses, in luridly full colour. Actually, he sent four of five copies of the same magazine, for thetitliiationedification of referees.I sent the whole package back. And no, I didn’t keep one of the enclousures for further editorial perusal. For all I know, the correspondent, having counted his tits out, would have been counting them back again.
I think you’ve told a similar story before; not that it doesn’t bare [sic] repeating.
counted his tits out an obscure cultural reference, I wonder who gets it?
I just love the effect this is having on my ‘Your Network Snapshot’ page:
Tits, Tits, Tits, Buy a Brain Cell for Christmas, Tits, Tits, Henry Gee’s Secret Name, Tits…
We could fit a tune to that, Brian. Like the Monty Python Viking song, perhaps?
I think you’ve told a similar story before
Oh, probably, but then my
mammarymemory isn’t what it was.“Oh, what did it used to be, then?”
That’s just it. I can’t remember.
You do remember that fifty quid I lent you, though?
No. If there’s something I never forget, it’s money.
Ah, well, it was at least 60.
Excuse me, Madam, but does this bus go to the station?
never fails, that one. It always confuses people, especially Maxine
Oh,
titsdamn! I can’t believe I let a new job as acoffee boylackeyflunky in a cheap suitpowerboker on the edge of forever get in the way of this thread!It’s the tie, Ian. It cuts off the supply of blood to the brain. Evil things.
Is there a formula for that?
Probably, and I’m guessing that some of the sad bastards at USyd might come up with one.
As it were.
Stop! Stop! You’re killing me!
“Excuse me madam, does this bus go to the station?”
Aaaaanyway. Isn’t anyone, apart from Bob, going to defend Ben’s honour?
Come on. Me and Scott will take you all on.
I think not, Richard. Perhaps you should invite Ben along to
defend himselfadmire our tits and boobies.What, you mean Ben doesn’t read NN?
For shame.