Few people learn cursive these days with any skill or speed. It’s a shame. This is a form of traditional art and communication. Handwriting is a slower way of writing, that leads to a different type of letter or essay. The sentences are, typically longer, and the words more expressive because the experience of writing and reading cursive is more expressive than with text. The emotional state and energy of the writer comes through the cursive writing, because the writing itself is a form of creative art, adding to the words.
Send a letter or a post card, and you’ve sent a work of art. You’ve communicated words, or course, but far more than with a text or email. First off, there is the picture on the card. You bought that card, or took the picture. Then there is the art of how many words you use. Each letter is directed to only one person, not to 100 as with a text. As a result, people will keep your letter or card far more than they will not keep a text an email. It is more from you, and more to them. You are likely to put more (or different) things in: experiences and feelings that don’t go into an email or text-letter. The size of your writing communicates and even your cross-outs are part of a cursive communication. With email or text, there are no natural cross outs, and you can send the same letter to 100 people, so you write more blandly, with an eye for eventual reuse for someone else. A cursive note is intended for only one person, the one recipient, and this affects both the words, and the form of the words.
Cursive also lends itself to adding a small sketch or doodle. This becomes part of a personal part of the art in a way that does not fit with normal text. It’s calligraphy and conceptional art, an important part of education, and a continuation of western culture. In normal texts, some people have come to add emojis or GIFs, but these are nowhere near as personal or expressive. The cursive letter or note is personal and spicy. It’s an important art form, at least a valid an art form as any that could be taught in school, and it should be.
Robert E. Buxbaum, Sept 1, 2024. I’m running for school board, and like the idea of teaching basic knowledge as a foundation of creativity. One of these basics, I think, is cursive writing.
I used to follow an Australian science blog, called “I Fucking Love Science.” Elise Andrew and her crew scanned the literature with a keen eye for the interesting. They regularly posted to Facebook and alerted science nerds like me to all sorts of new science bits with minimal commentary, minimal advertisements, and no politics. On average they found 6 or 8 really interesting posts, per week, generally one or two on fundamental physics, one or two on materials, one or two on biology or medicine, one or two astronomy, perhaps a chemistry post. My post about the color of the sky on Mars was ignited by a picture of the Mars sky that I saw on IFL Science — the sky was yellow, and I had just written about why the sky on earth was blue, and not green.
But, as with all quirky things, this one matured. The name changed to “IFL Science” — a change that I suspect was designed to promote sharing. There were more advertisements, and click bait — “this starlet lost a ton of weight,” “you won’t believe what this famous person’s partner looks like now,” etc. And there was politics, vaguely presented as science. Ms Andrew wrote more and more of herself, making herself into a personality whose travels and speaking tours would interest us. And there were non-science, guest bloggers too: People telling you who to vote for and more importantly who to vote against. All for the good of the world, she said, but it was her opinion, and not what I’d gone to IFL for.
The science got less technical, too and more popular. More pretty pictures and misleading headlines. Currently there is no math, no equations, no chemical diagrams. A top story of this week told of a semi-interesting approach for women with constipation — something that “would change everything.” When you click on the story, you find that women put their finger in their vagina and work out the poop that way, something called “splinting.” It’s sort of science, but not the sort that made me love science. Another top story — the top one from today is as follows:
Top story from IFL science today, Feb 28, 2021. Is there really no fuel use? No. The fuel is a battery, and the speed in 4m/s (9mph), and the plane looks nothing like this.
If you follow the links to here, it turns out that the plane (unmanned) looks nothing like this. It uses electric energy from a battery to move ionized air rearward at an efficiency far lower than with a propeller. The forward speed is 4 m/s (9 mph) and the maximum distance covered was 55m, half a Canadian football field. As presented in IFL science, it’s a misleading, non-math clickbait for something that’s interesting engineering — sort of. As for being Star Trek like, no. To move this plane, you need air.
I’m sorry, you can not make quantum mechanics for dummies. No dummy will understand it. You can make a book that’s not quantum mechanics for dummies, or a quantum book not for dummies. Just saying.
In the treatment of the work of the recent Noble laureates, IFL Science didn’t talk about the work so much as the biographies of the people, and their struggles, and that two of the people who won Nobels for their work in biology were women — for an advance related to CRISPERS– but that wasn’t science. I’d prefer to know what the advance was, and how it works. I’d prefer to figure out that these were women from their names or from the pronouns like, “she” or “her”. There was also no information about other two researchers (males, I assume, or perhaps females who had less-interesting biographies?). It was the same with the Physics Nobel except that I already knew there was a black hole at the center of the galaxy, and that those who found it are long dead. Instead the Note Prize was being awarded for a photograph of the black hole. Interesting (sure doesn’t look like a black hole to me). Is there something they learn from the photo. I’ve noted that we are likely within a black hole, and I show why this is using some, not too difficult math.
Having griped along this way, I have to say that that IFL isn’t that bad, it’s just non-mathy, popular, and a little grown up. That’s sad, but it’s not toxic. Grownups make money, and please customers, and that’s how it goes. To quote a wonderful book, The outsiders, “Nothing gold can stay.” In my own blog, I try to be more math-y, and more science-y. My model is Isaac Asimov, a writer who excited me to love science from when I was 8 to when I entered college, nine years later (1972). He would die of AIDS from a transfusion, 20 years after that.
Some days, I spend hours at a time on facebook, and when I’m done, I often feel it was a complete waste of time. I do not make friends this way, and I have little evidence that I’ve convinced anyone. Still, for some reason, I can’t seem to stay off for long, so I figure I might as well look for the attraction.
One positive thing I do (did) with FB was to run for office. I lost, but I was able to speak to more people using FB in a day than I could have otherwise. Another thing I do is to spread articles — those I find interesting, and my own writing, blog posts, mostly. I write these posts for free, and while I imagine my blog posts do some good. I sometimes get nice comments suggesting people read the blogs and think about what I say. Still, it does not make money, and takes a fair amount of effort.
I can imagine I help mankind in some subtle, long range way, or perhaps gain some long-range fame. But who cares about long-range fame? And, as for helping people, it is also possible I will hurt them too. Computers sit analyzing my words, and everyone’s, tracking their views and using the data for what. I’m just feeding the computer, and that makes me think my writing may harm more than help. What I write on FB is owned by FB. It’s free content for the owners of FB to re-use to sell: my personality, capsulated, my friends likes and dislikes, for sale at a price. My posts turn me and my friends into commodities — and there isn’t even remuneration.
It is claimed that, in the 2016 election, Trump was able to win, at low cost, through a Russian-managed facebook campaign. The educated elites of politics were not able to come with the wiley Russians, for all their brain-power, and despite help from the FBI, or so the theory goes. If so, it’s a warning that all the information I provide to facebook is available to Trump and the Russians to use against me. The management of facebook was committed to Ms Clinton in 2016, and is completely committed to Trump’s removal as best I can tell. If they are not able to beat the Russians, maybe I should not try. Then again, maybe they’re not as elite as they think.
Sometimes I imagine that the alternative of not-posting is worse; it is to have no voice at all, and to have no information of the common discussion. The newspapers seem no less biassed than those on my FB. I write then in a bizarre chasm between hope for posterity, and a better world, and out of desperation that to be an unheard, quiet one, is to be dead. I suspect I’m not unique here.
A common opinion of Samuel Johnson was that “No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money”. It’s recorded by Boswell on April 5, 1776 well into the revolution, and applied equally to the American revolutionaries and all other unpaid enthusiasts. Johnson wrote for money. He wrote sermons for priests, he wrote political speeches for Troys, he wrote serialized travel logs, and at one point a tearful apology for a priest about to be hanged for forgery. That he was paid was proof that he was good at writing, though not 100% convincing. The priest was forgiven and acquitted in the public eye, but he was hanged for the forgery none-the-less.
Some Samuel Johnson Quotes about America
Johnson was unequivocal in his opinion of American independence. His pamphlet ,”Taxation no Tyranny” 1775 (read it here) makes a semi-convincing Tory argument that taxation without representation is in no way tyranny, and is appropriate for America. America, it’s argued, exists for the good of the many, and that’s mainly for the good of England. He notes that, for the most part, Americans came to the land willingly, and thus gave up their rights: “By his own choice he has left a country, where he had a vote and little property, for another, where he has great property, but no vote.” Others left other lands or were sent as criminals. They “deserved no more rights than The Cornish people,” according to Johnson. Non-landed people, in general had no vote, and he considered that appropriate. Apparently, if they had any mental value, they’d be able to afford an estate. His views of Irish Catholics were somewhat similar , “we conquered them.” By we, Johnson meant Cromwell over a century earlier, followed by William of Orange. Having beat the Irish Catholics at the battle of the Boyne meant that that the Protestants deserved to rule despite the Catholics retaining a substantial right to land. I am grateful that Johnson does not hide his claim to rulership in the will of God, or in some claim to benefit the Irish or Americans, by the way. It is rule of superior over inferior, pure and simple. Basically, ‘I’m better than you, so I get to rule.’
One must assume that Johnson realized that the US founders wrote well, as he admitted that some Whigs (Burke) wrote well. Though he was paid for writing “Taxation no Tyranny”, Johnson justifies the rejection of US founding fathers’ claims by noting they are motivated by private gain. He calls American leaders rascals, robbers, and pirates, but is certain that they can be beat into submission. The British army , he says, is strong enough that they can easily “burn and destroy them,” and advises they should so before America gets any stronger. He tells Boswell, “Sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to be thankful for anything we allow them short of hanging.” Even after a treaty was signed, he confides, “I am willing to love all mankind, except an American.”
I’ve come to love Johnson’s elitism, his justification for rule and exploitation based purely on his own superiority and that of his fellow British. It allows him to present his prejudices uncommonly clearly, mixing in enough flattery to be convincing to those who accept his elitist perspective. That makes his words eminently quotable. It doesn’t make them right, nor does it mean that his was a useful way to deal with people or problems. Adam Smith was willing to admit that the Americans had a gripe, and suggests the simple remedy of giving Americans a voice in Parliament. His solution might have kept the empire whole. Edward Gibbon, an expert on Rome who opposed rights for Americans, at least admitted that we might win the war. Realistic views like this are more productive, but far less marketable. If you are to sell your words, it helps to be a pig-headed bigot and a flatterer of those who agree with you. This advantage of offending your opponents was not lost on Johnson as the quote below shows.
Johnson writing about notoriety, a very American attitude.
I’m left to wonder about the source of Johnson’s hatred for Americans though — and for the Irish, Cornish, and Scots. In large part, I think it stems from a view of the world as a zero-sum game. Any gain for the English servant is a loss to the English gentleman. The Americans, like the Irish and Cornish, were subject peoples looking for private benefit. Anything like low taxes was a hurt to the income of him and his fellows. The zero sum is also the view of Scrooge in a Christmas Carol; it is a destructive view.
As for those acted in any way without expectation of pay, those who would write for posterity, or would fight the Quixotic fight, such people were blockheads in his view. He was willing to accept that there were things wrong in England, but could not see how an intelligent person would favor change that did not help him. This extended to his beliefs concerning education of children: “I would not have set their future friendship to hazard for the sake of thrusting into their heads knowledge of things for which they might not perhaps have either taste or necessity. You teach your daughters the diameters of the planets, and wonder when you have done that they do not delight in your company. No science can be communicated by mortal creatures without attention from the scholar; no attention can be obtained from children without the affliction of pain, and pain is never remembered without resentment.” This is more of Johnson’s self-interest: don’t teach anything that will bring resentment and no return benefit. Teach the sons of the greats that they are great and that they are to lead. Anything more is a waste or an active harm to the elite.
But what happens when America succeeds? Johnson was still alive and writing in 1783. If the Americans could build an army and maintain prosperous independence, they would have to be respected as an equal or near-equal. Then what of the rest of the empire? How do you admit that this one servant is your equal and not admit that your other servants may be too? This is the main source of his hatred, I think, and also of the hatred the Scrooge has for mankind. It’s the hatred of the small soul for the large, of the sell-out for the enthusiast. If the other fellow’s sacrifice produces a great outcome, that suggests a new order in the stars — it suggests that everything you’ve done was wrong, or soon will be. The phrase “novus ordo seclorum” on our dollars alludes to just that idea, ‘there is a new order in the heavens.’. He must have realized the possibility, and trembled. Could there be something to the rabble, something beyond cash, safety and rule by the elite? I suspect the very thought of it insulted and angered poor Samuel. At his death, he could be comforted that, at least the Irish, Indians, and Canadians remained subservient.
Robert Buxbaum, December 2, 2019. This essay started out as a discussion of paid writing. But I’ve spent many years of my life dealing with elitists who believed that being paid proved they were right. I too hope that my writing will convince people, and maybe I’ll be paid as an expert (Water commissioner?) To hope for personal success, while trying to keep humble is the essential glorious folly of man.
To get into any college you have to write an essay or two, generally including one describing why you want to go that particular college, and many students have trouble. How do I make myself stand out, they ask. My suggestion: Don’t. Make it clear that you want to go, but dare to be dull with the details. John Kennedy did; you can too.
JFK’s dull letter to Harvard. It’s his only essay.
Most school essays limit the number of words. The reviewer too prefers you keep it short. If you want to go to Harvard, or Princeton, or Iowa state, show you can say what needs to be said within the word limit. The first sentence must tell them that you want to go that college, specifically. Mention the college: you want to go to Old Ivy, say. Once that’s taken care of, just state your reasons. Unless you’re going into the writing program, the baldest, simplest terms will work just fine — e.g. that Old Ivy provides an excellent education. It’s better if you can mention a more-specific field of study, e.g. liberal arts or zoölogy, but that’s not necessary. You can now list three or so details to back up your claims. For example, you might mention that the zoölogy program at Old Ivy is well-regarded (mention the school often), that you enjoy their sports team (the ground-hogs, say), or their extracurriculars. Mention that your dad went there or your uncle (and is your hero — hero is a good word) or that you like the location. Surely there is some reason you want to go. If you can mention a famous teacher or alumnus, all the better. Flesh it out if you have space; don’t if you don’t. Conclude with a sentence pointing to the future: that this school will help me do something you want to achieve. You can be specific or not, but don’t lie. Dull is more effective than a lie. I’ve copied, above, John Kennedy’s essay to Harvard, and below his essay to Princeton. These essays follow the pattern, and are dull within the pattern. His conclusion for the first essay: that he wants to go to Harvard to be “a Harvard Man.” He got in. He used the same, dull letter for Princeton, but had more space. For Princeton he said It would have a good effect on me, and that he wanted to be “a Princeton Man.” He got into Princeton too, and went there for two months before switching to Harvard.
John F. Kennedy’s, almost identical letter to Princeton. He got in there too.
You may think that letters like this only work if you are John F. Kennedy, and to some extent that is true. But not totally. I got into Princeton grad school from a background in public school, with no famous relatives or money. My grades were better than JFKs, but my essay had the same structure with some more specifics. As I recall, I explained that I wanted to go to Princeton because I wanted to study chemical engineering in a top department. I may have mentioned a famous professor, and stated I wanted to work on nuclear fusion — a big Princeton specialty at the time. That’s about all, as I recall.
This formula can be tweaked for the other college (and non-college) essays. I’ve previously written about the two speeches at the opening of the Gettysburg cemetery, in 1863. Edwin Everett gave the first speech of the day, excerpted and analyzed here. His speech followed the formula and was lauded. He told folks that it was important that we are here honoring the dead, and followed with three or four reasons for why it was important. His conclusion pointed to the future significance of the events. Republicans and Democrat listeners agreed this was a speech to remember from a scholar of note. Everett’s face graced the $50 bill for the 40 years after his death.
Abraham Lincoln also spoke at the Gettysburg dedication, but he didn’t follow the formula. He spoke of liberty, and America, and of a government of the people. His speech was panned at the time, even by Republicans. More details here. Though people now see his Gettysburg address as a landmark, at the time even the Republican press didn’t like it Fortunately for Lincoln and the republic, they warmed to the speech over the next year – in time for the election of 1864. When you apply to college, you want entry now. You can’t wait a year for people to warm to your essay. Stick to the formula. You don’t want the compliment of finding, years from now, that one of the reviewers who rejected you remembers your words fondly. That will be too late. Write for the dull audience in front of you; help them put your application in the “accepted” box. As a last note: If you can not find any truthful reason that you want to go to Harvard or Old Ivy you probably should not be going there. The beginning of wisdom is self-knowledge, and the primary audience for your essay is you.
If you find you have good reasons, but find you need help with the process or with your english grammar, I should mention that my niece owns a company to help folks get into college — link here. She also has a book “From Public School to The Ivy League.”
Robert E. Buxbaum, August 7, 2017. Some two years ago, I wrote an essay for my daughter on the joys and pressures of entering her junior year in high school. Here it is.
