A man after my own heart
I'm thinking of David Cheval - who proposes on PM (BBC Radio4 26/3/2010) that cigarette manufacturers should be required (by law) to wrap filters in fluorescent pink paper, in contrast to the faux cork-effect paper they currently favour; and all in the interests of shaming smokers into disposing of their dog-ends more responsibly.
On hearing his letter read out on the PM program, he dashes into his wife:
Darling, they read my letter! All those years of campaigning, the indifference, the derision. You know, at times, I've even begun to doubt myself. (starts to laugh uncontrollably).
But now, now! Oh I must make plans - I must think, think, think! (digs fingertips into temples).
First thing tomorrow, phone the Director General or - no, no - Eddie Mair, should let him share the credit - mustn't get carried away.
But it's so exciting; we're going to do this! First thing tomorrow we're going to email every MP ....
Mrs Cheval (staring blankly into her drink): And here was I thinking how he was getting better ....
Meanwhile, in the Radio4 studio:
Night Lucy.
Night Eddie.
Great one tonight, by the way, Lucy.
... what?
The nutcase with the fluorescent cigarette butts. Just perfect for the friday night journey home from the office. I don't know where you find them.
With thanks to David Cheval (whoever you are) and no offence intended - I think your idea is brilliant.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Earworms
Since posting my piece on tunes that get stuck in your head I have been amazed to discover that it is a well-known phenomenon and, like all the best minor mental disorders, there's a German word to describe it: Ohrwurm (literally Earworm)
There's an entry in Wikipedia. People have even written academic papers and newspaper articles on the subject:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2006/jun/22/popandrock
http://www.business.uc.edu/earworms
The last site describes 'cutting-edge earworm research' being carried out at the University of Cincinnati and even offers a virtual clinic outlining useful strategies for getting a song unstuck (from which I derived a grain of consolation in seeing my own remedy listed)
Which all goes to show that whatever you can possibly imagine it already exists somewhere on the internet.
There's an entry in Wikipedia. People have even written academic papers and newspaper articles on the subject:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2006/jun/22/popandrock
http://www.business.uc.edu/earworms
The last site describes 'cutting-edge earworm research' being carried out at the University of Cincinnati and even offers a virtual clinic outlining useful strategies for getting a song unstuck (from which I derived a grain of consolation in seeing my own remedy listed)
Which all goes to show that whatever you can possibly imagine it already exists somewhere on the internet.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Cinema Paradiso
I went last night to my local cinema to see The Road - a good film, I thought, even though, as Flann O'Brien might have put it, there wasn't a laugh in it.
But anyway it isn't the film I wanted to write about.
The Electric Picture House is a small, 100-seat cinema in Wotton-under-Edge, Gloucestershire. It is run almost entirely by volunteers and shows mainstream films: Avatar the week before last and Alice in Wonderland this week - both in 3D.
Seats are wonderfully comfortable too - while the interior is decorated in a tasteful dark blue shade that seems perfect somehow for a cinema.
I found myself wondering why I would ever want to go anywhere else.
But anyway it isn't the film I wanted to write about.
The Electric Picture House is a small, 100-seat cinema in Wotton-under-Edge, Gloucestershire. It is run almost entirely by volunteers and shows mainstream films: Avatar the week before last and Alice in Wonderland this week - both in 3D.
Seats are wonderfully comfortable too - while the interior is decorated in a tasteful dark blue shade that seems perfect somehow for a cinema.
I found myself wondering why I would ever want to go anywhere else.
Attention
Facebook borrowed the word friend and constructed an on-line social network around it, but since Twitter it is clear that the real currency is attention - and has been all along.
As a concept, Facebook friendship mimics the qualities of the real, face-to-face variety - things like trust, loyalty and support. But when a person's on-line friends come to be numbered in the thousands, it is difficult to see how those qualities can retain any real meaning.
Attention, on the other hand, is a much more malleable commodity. And it can be traded too - as I have just discovered in a New York Times article on the latest trends in on-line advertising. I say 'just discovered' despite the fact that I thought I understood how this stuff worked: for example you ask Google Translate to tell you the Greek for 'Does your hotel have a swimming pool?' and along with the answer Google obligingly provides you with ads for holiday resorts on the Peloponnese - except for the fact that since I'm already at the stage of asking the hotel about its facilities, I might have been more interested in travel insurance.
So it's kind of obvious and a bit simplistic - or so I thought.
When we go online we are giving things our attention and it is our attention that advertisers compete for, because once they have got it, there is the chance they can turn it to their advantage - or even sell it on. All the same, it came as something of a shock to learn of the degree to which my individual attention is being traded. When I search for something on Google (and it's not just Google by the way) it only takes a second or two for the results to be displayed but that is plenty of time for advertisers - or more precisely, software acting on their behalf - to bid for the right to stick an ad under my nose. The whole auction is conducted in a fraction of a second, with advertisers bidding not simply in response to what what I am searching for at that instant but on the basis of a profile that has been built of me over time. So it might go something like:
Google:lot#123456789:idomnivorist:dob27091949:session4102s:profile follows .. what am I bid?
The fact that I very rarely click on adverts (a fact that must feature quite prominently in my profile) no doubt makes me a less attractive prospect and advertisers might well decide to let me go by unmolested. However, the sight of a different type of on-line shopper heaving into view - one for example with an established tendency to make expensive impulse purchases - must liven up the proceedings no end.
The New York Times article includes a vivid illustration of the way things are going. Picture yourself walking along a city street, late at night, past advertising hoardings that are changing just for you.
No thanks ...
As a concept, Facebook friendship mimics the qualities of the real, face-to-face variety - things like trust, loyalty and support. But when a person's on-line friends come to be numbered in the thousands, it is difficult to see how those qualities can retain any real meaning.
Attention, on the other hand, is a much more malleable commodity. And it can be traded too - as I have just discovered in a New York Times article on the latest trends in on-line advertising. I say 'just discovered' despite the fact that I thought I understood how this stuff worked: for example you ask Google Translate to tell you the Greek for 'Does your hotel have a swimming pool?' and along with the answer Google obligingly provides you with ads for holiday resorts on the Peloponnese - except for the fact that since I'm already at the stage of asking the hotel about its facilities, I might have been more interested in travel insurance.
So it's kind of obvious and a bit simplistic - or so I thought.
When we go online we are giving things our attention and it is our attention that advertisers compete for, because once they have got it, there is the chance they can turn it to their advantage - or even sell it on. All the same, it came as something of a shock to learn of the degree to which my individual attention is being traded. When I search for something on Google (and it's not just Google by the way) it only takes a second or two for the results to be displayed but that is plenty of time for advertisers - or more precisely, software acting on their behalf - to bid for the right to stick an ad under my nose. The whole auction is conducted in a fraction of a second, with advertisers bidding not simply in response to what what I am searching for at that instant but on the basis of a profile that has been built of me over time. So it might go something like:
Google:lot#123456789:idomnivorist:dob27091949:session4102s:profile follows .. what am I bid?
The fact that I very rarely click on adverts (a fact that must feature quite prominently in my profile) no doubt makes me a less attractive prospect and advertisers might well decide to let me go by unmolested. However, the sight of a different type of on-line shopper heaving into view - one for example with an established tendency to make expensive impulse purchases - must liven up the proceedings no end.
The New York Times article includes a vivid illustration of the way things are going. Picture yourself walking along a city street, late at night, past advertising hoardings that are changing just for you.
No thanks ...
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
BBC cuts
Watching Jeremy Paxman interview his boss Mark Thompson on BBC's Newsnight, I found myself imagining the conversation they might have had just before going on air.
Thompson: You know, if this is going to be convincing, you're going to have to work me over a little.
Paxman: Aw shucks boss - I can't do that!
Thompson: No - I'm tellin' yer - give it me straight in the kisser. And make like you mean it!
Paxman: Awww boss ....
Thompson: You know, if this is going to be convincing, you're going to have to work me over a little.
Paxman: Aw shucks boss - I can't do that!
Thompson: No - I'm tellin' yer - give it me straight in the kisser. And make like you mean it!
Paxman: Awww boss ....
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
More on homeopathy
This homeopathy business is more complicated than it first seems and I confess I'm in two minds about it.
Firstly there's today's news that the House of Commons Science and Technology Committee is recommending the NHS should stop funding homeopathy on the grounds that there is no evidence that homeopathic remedies are more effective than a simple placebo.
But then I read that Franklin Miller of the US National Institutes of Health (in response to growing evidence of the power of the placebo effect) suggests that doctors and researchers should think in terms of contextual healing - that is healing produced, activated or enhanced by the context of the clinical encounter. Or as he puts it:
"Finding ethically appropriate ways to tap the use of placebo in clinical practice is where the field needs to be moving."
It's hard to avoid the conclusion that if you had to invent a practice designed to deliver the placebo effect you might well come up with homeopathy - or something very similar. Homeopaths believe in what they are doing, the remedies are harmless (as demonstrated by the recent mass-overdose demonstration) and there is good anecdotal evidence that people experience a benefit.
The problem however is that the scientific establishment just can't bring itself to countenance an explanatory framework that is so at odds with established standards. To give credence to such alchemical principles as the Law of Similars or the Law of Infinitesimals would be to open the door to all sorts of mumbo-jumbo: dowsing, crystals, pendulums and so on.
Every discipline needs a framework of some sort within which to operate. There are some who, by denying homeopathy any scientific credibility, hope to drive it to extinction. My own inclination is to regard homeopathy as an art and its laws as essentially poetic.
Is poetry (in this broader sense) something that nurtures and enriches our lives or is it merely recreational? Maybe it is time for a little humility and open-mindedness on both sides.
Firstly there's today's news that the House of Commons Science and Technology Committee is recommending the NHS should stop funding homeopathy on the grounds that there is no evidence that homeopathic remedies are more effective than a simple placebo.
But then I read that Franklin Miller of the US National Institutes of Health (in response to growing evidence of the power of the placebo effect) suggests that doctors and researchers should think in terms of contextual healing - that is healing produced, activated or enhanced by the context of the clinical encounter. Or as he puts it:
"Finding ethically appropriate ways to tap the use of placebo in clinical practice is where the field needs to be moving."
It's hard to avoid the conclusion that if you had to invent a practice designed to deliver the placebo effect you might well come up with homeopathy - or something very similar. Homeopaths believe in what they are doing, the remedies are harmless (as demonstrated by the recent mass-overdose demonstration) and there is good anecdotal evidence that people experience a benefit.
The problem however is that the scientific establishment just can't bring itself to countenance an explanatory framework that is so at odds with established standards. To give credence to such alchemical principles as the Law of Similars or the Law of Infinitesimals would be to open the door to all sorts of mumbo-jumbo: dowsing, crystals, pendulums and so on.
Every discipline needs a framework of some sort within which to operate. There are some who, by denying homeopathy any scientific credibility, hope to drive it to extinction. My own inclination is to regard homeopathy as an art and its laws as essentially poetic.
Is poetry (in this broader sense) something that nurtures and enriches our lives or is it merely recreational? Maybe it is time for a little humility and open-mindedness on both sides.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Homeopathy and the placebo effect
I've been thinking about homeopathy. This was prompted by a piece by Michael Brooks in the Aug 20, 2008 issue of New Scientist attesting to the efficacy of the placebo effect.
Then just recently I came across a second article by the same author in the Guardian Science Blog that discusses the placebo effect in the context of homeopathy.
For a simple sugar tablet to make you better, it helps if you believe it to be a real, potent medicine. Furthermore, it seems the effectiveness of any remedy is increased if patients are given time, listened to at length and fully consulted about their symptoms, feelings and treatments.
In a typical homeopathic consultation the practitioner will start by taking a detailed personal history covering physical, mental and emotional states. After identifying a remedy appropriate both to the patient and to his or her specific condition the remedy is potentised somewhat ritualistically by means of a series of dilutions and shakings (succussions).
All of which suggests to me that if the placebo effect is real and effective then homeopathy is perfectly configured to exploit it.
So instead of getting worked up about the fact that homeopathic remedies are so dilute as to contain no trace of their active agent, we should be giving serious thought to experiments designed to provide insights into the therapeutic process.
Here's the sort of experiment I'd like to see done:
Firstly, you recruit a statistically significant number of subjects all suffering from a condition considered (by homeopathic practitioners) to be treatable.
Half the subjects are told they will not participate further in the trial and that they will constitute a control group (group A). The other half are given individual treatment by a group of homeopathic practitioners, starting with a detailed case history and culminating in the identification and preparation of a remedy. The practitioners are told that the remedies will be delivered to all subjects once they have been correctly recorded and labelled and they have no further contact with their patients (at least until the study is concluded).
Of the subjects for whom remedies have been prepared, half are told (by the researchers) that the remedy will not be supplied to them (call this group B). The remaining subjects are all supplied with a course of pills but in half the cases (call it group C) the remedy prepared is replaced by a simple sugar pill. The only people to take the remedy identified and prescribed by the homeopath are those in group D (just 1 in 8 of the full set of participants).
At a series of regular intervals, all subjects are examined with respect to changes in their condition. It helps of course if the condition is such that it manifests itself in a measurable way (at least partially)
It is worth noting that groups C and D (considered in isolation) are engaged in a typical double-blind trial. And since such trials have so far failed to demonstrate the efficacy of homeopathy we might expect the same to be the case here. Or to put it another way: of the people who believe themselves to have undergone a full course of homeopathic treatment there might well be no evidence to suggest that the homeopathic remedy is any more or less effective than a simple placebo.
A similar uniformity of outcome might be anticipated amongst the people in groups A and B. None of these people were supplied with any pills and all believe themselves to be part of a control group.
The really interesting question is whether there would be any observable difference between the people who didn't receive a remedy (groups A and B) and those who did (groups C and D). If the second group were to demonstrate a significantly better outcome than the first then we would be onto something. Nevertheless, while homeopathy might take credit for the method of delivery, it would be the placebo effect that could justifiably lay claim to the attribution.
So while I am personally somewhat sceptical about homeopathy, I find myself having to allow for the possibility that, for many people at least, recovery from certain forms of physical and mental illness can entail a degree of willing self-deception.
I don't believe in offering homeopathic treatment on the NHS. Instead I believe we should be working towards a state of affairs where all doctors are trained to recognise the degree to which listening, attentiveness and respect can have a measurable effect on clinical outcomes. Who knows; homeopaths might have something to teach them in this area.
Then just recently I came across a second article by the same author in the Guardian Science Blog that discusses the placebo effect in the context of homeopathy.
For a simple sugar tablet to make you better, it helps if you believe it to be a real, potent medicine. Furthermore, it seems the effectiveness of any remedy is increased if patients are given time, listened to at length and fully consulted about their symptoms, feelings and treatments.
In a typical homeopathic consultation the practitioner will start by taking a detailed personal history covering physical, mental and emotional states. After identifying a remedy appropriate both to the patient and to his or her specific condition the remedy is potentised somewhat ritualistically by means of a series of dilutions and shakings (succussions).
All of which suggests to me that if the placebo effect is real and effective then homeopathy is perfectly configured to exploit it.
So instead of getting worked up about the fact that homeopathic remedies are so dilute as to contain no trace of their active agent, we should be giving serious thought to experiments designed to provide insights into the therapeutic process.
Here's the sort of experiment I'd like to see done:
Firstly, you recruit a statistically significant number of subjects all suffering from a condition considered (by homeopathic practitioners) to be treatable.
Half the subjects are told they will not participate further in the trial and that they will constitute a control group (group A). The other half are given individual treatment by a group of homeopathic practitioners, starting with a detailed case history and culminating in the identification and preparation of a remedy. The practitioners are told that the remedies will be delivered to all subjects once they have been correctly recorded and labelled and they have no further contact with their patients (at least until the study is concluded).
Of the subjects for whom remedies have been prepared, half are told (by the researchers) that the remedy will not be supplied to them (call this group B). The remaining subjects are all supplied with a course of pills but in half the cases (call it group C) the remedy prepared is replaced by a simple sugar pill. The only people to take the remedy identified and prescribed by the homeopath are those in group D (just 1 in 8 of the full set of participants).
At a series of regular intervals, all subjects are examined with respect to changes in their condition. It helps of course if the condition is such that it manifests itself in a measurable way (at least partially)
It is worth noting that groups C and D (considered in isolation) are engaged in a typical double-blind trial. And since such trials have so far failed to demonstrate the efficacy of homeopathy we might expect the same to be the case here. Or to put it another way: of the people who believe themselves to have undergone a full course of homeopathic treatment there might well be no evidence to suggest that the homeopathic remedy is any more or less effective than a simple placebo.
A similar uniformity of outcome might be anticipated amongst the people in groups A and B. None of these people were supplied with any pills and all believe themselves to be part of a control group.
The really interesting question is whether there would be any observable difference between the people who didn't receive a remedy (groups A and B) and those who did (groups C and D). If the second group were to demonstrate a significantly better outcome than the first then we would be onto something. Nevertheless, while homeopathy might take credit for the method of delivery, it would be the placebo effect that could justifiably lay claim to the attribution.
So while I am personally somewhat sceptical about homeopathy, I find myself having to allow for the possibility that, for many people at least, recovery from certain forms of physical and mental illness can entail a degree of willing self-deception.
I don't believe in offering homeopathic treatment on the NHS. Instead I believe we should be working towards a state of affairs where all doctors are trained to recognise the degree to which listening, attentiveness and respect can have a measurable effect on clinical outcomes. Who knows; homeopaths might have something to teach them in this area.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Omnivorist is now tweeting
And if you are on twitter too there is a tweet this button at the end of every post. If you're not, then please don't lose any sleep about it.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
OCDM2
As if it isn't enough to suffer the distressing effects of horological monodigitism, I find myself plagued by a new problem - a mild form of obsessive compulsive disorder with musical manifestations (OCDM2)
I can think of no better explanation than to describe a typical episode.
I'll be enjoying the recollection of one of my favourite pieces of music - let's say Liszt's Fifth Hungarian Rhapsody - when I suddenly become aware that I have been whistling the same 4 or 5 bars under my breath for most of the morning. By the next day it has taken a firm hold and I find myself replaying the same loop in my imagination, more or less unconsciously. It's easy to put the tune aside once I become aware that I am playing it, but it has a sneaky tendency to start up again as soon as my back is turned. It's not unusual for a single tune to get lodged for 4 or 5 days, with occasional episodes lasting anything up to a month.
'Aha', I hear you clamouring to suggest: 'Why don't you just think of a different piece of music ?'.
If only it were that simple.
Certainly using one tune to drive out another is a sensible strategy. But consider this. There are only certain tunes capable of displacing one that has outstayed its welcome. The tunes you'd like to recall - the one's you're particularly fond of - they always turn out to be useless.
Just before Christmas, for example, I had a particularly persistent fixation with Happiness (by Goldfrapp). Now, on the whole, I consider this to be an intelligent and appealing piece of music but after two weeks of uninterrupted mental playback I was beginning to find it tiresome.
I tried a couple of alternatives. The Byrds: Eight Miles High - that classic from the very zenith of Californian hippy culture - never really got much of a hold. Much more promising was Friday Night and Saturday Morning (the Nouvelle Vague version featuring Daniella D'Ambrosio). I've worked with it in the past and know from experience that, while very effective as a musical purgative, it can be a devil to get rid of once it's got it's feet under the table. But - mercifully perhaps - it didn't take on this occasion.
So I was stuck with the Goldfrapp for a few days more before I did what I knew I'd be forced to do all along.
You see there's a fiendishly subtle twist to this particular neurosis that makes one suspect it to be the work of some malevolent intelligence. It's this. While there is no particular difficulty in identifying a tune to do the business - it will invariably be one that is both more banal and persistent than the tune it displaces.
So, out of desperation, I forced out the Goldfrapp with Jesus Wants me for Sunbeam which I endured for an afternoon before resorting to Puff the Magic Dragon. Beyond this point the choice suddenly becomes quite limited as there are only a handful of tunes that are sufficiently fatuous to deal with Puff the Magic Dragon. Of course, there's always The Chicken Song - but that could be regarded as overkill. No, there's really only one candidate as far as I'm concerned and that's Lily the Pink (by The Scaffold).
Some might regard the fact that this song topped the UK singles chart for 4 whole weeks in 1968 as no more than a minor cultural footnote. For my part, I consider it as clear evidence of a significant public health risk.
I can think of no better explanation than to describe a typical episode.
I'll be enjoying the recollection of one of my favourite pieces of music - let's say Liszt's Fifth Hungarian Rhapsody - when I suddenly become aware that I have been whistling the same 4 or 5 bars under my breath for most of the morning. By the next day it has taken a firm hold and I find myself replaying the same loop in my imagination, more or less unconsciously. It's easy to put the tune aside once I become aware that I am playing it, but it has a sneaky tendency to start up again as soon as my back is turned. It's not unusual for a single tune to get lodged for 4 or 5 days, with occasional episodes lasting anything up to a month.
'Aha', I hear you clamouring to suggest: 'Why don't you just think of a different piece of music ?'.
If only it were that simple.
Certainly using one tune to drive out another is a sensible strategy. But consider this. There are only certain tunes capable of displacing one that has outstayed its welcome. The tunes you'd like to recall - the one's you're particularly fond of - they always turn out to be useless.
Just before Christmas, for example, I had a particularly persistent fixation with Happiness (by Goldfrapp). Now, on the whole, I consider this to be an intelligent and appealing piece of music but after two weeks of uninterrupted mental playback I was beginning to find it tiresome.
I tried a couple of alternatives. The Byrds: Eight Miles High - that classic from the very zenith of Californian hippy culture - never really got much of a hold. Much more promising was Friday Night and Saturday Morning (the Nouvelle Vague version featuring Daniella D'Ambrosio). I've worked with it in the past and know from experience that, while very effective as a musical purgative, it can be a devil to get rid of once it's got it's feet under the table. But - mercifully perhaps - it didn't take on this occasion.
So I was stuck with the Goldfrapp for a few days more before I did what I knew I'd be forced to do all along.
You see there's a fiendishly subtle twist to this particular neurosis that makes one suspect it to be the work of some malevolent intelligence. It's this. While there is no particular difficulty in identifying a tune to do the business - it will invariably be one that is both more banal and persistent than the tune it displaces.
So, out of desperation, I forced out the Goldfrapp with Jesus Wants me for Sunbeam which I endured for an afternoon before resorting to Puff the Magic Dragon. Beyond this point the choice suddenly becomes quite limited as there are only a handful of tunes that are sufficiently fatuous to deal with Puff the Magic Dragon. Of course, there's always The Chicken Song - but that could be regarded as overkill. No, there's really only one candidate as far as I'm concerned and that's Lily the Pink (by The Scaffold).
Some might regard the fact that this song topped the UK singles chart for 4 whole weeks in 1968 as no more than a minor cultural footnote. For my part, I consider it as clear evidence of a significant public health risk.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Crocodile tears
Having picked up from somewhere that Alastair Campbell had come 'close to tears', on the Andrew Marr show, over the matter of the sexed-up Iraq dossier, I eagerly tuned in to the BBC website only to find that the tears were of the crocodillic variety and in any case didn't amount to very much. All the same, he did seem a bit upset and it seems that it's all to do with the way everyone seems to want to go on and on about the lead-up to the war.
What he doesn't seem to realise is that, while he may be tired of the whole matter of Iraq, the rest of us are just warming to the task of understanding exactly how things turned out as they did.
What he doesn't seem to realise is that, while he may be tired of the whole matter of Iraq, the rest of us are just warming to the task of understanding exactly how things turned out as they did.
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