Open Letter to Nat Geo, Discovery, and Ilk

O Mighty Custodians of Popular History and Science,

I'm tired of most of your programming.

I'm tired of programs that rehash the same history/ science and pretend to be new. I'm tired of Penguins, Nazis, King Tut, Polar Bears, Aliens, Tigers, Mythical Monsters, 2012, Nostradamus, Dinosaurs, Black Holes, Whales, and UFOs. If I had to put a number on it - looks like I'm tired of 80% of your content! (Pareto - it gets everywhere, what can I say!)

I hate how your programs feature silken-voiced narrators who pose rhetorical questions about the most banal things before a commercial break to build "suspense". For example: Narrator says "Could the team on the verge of proving Einstein wrong?... fade to Kellogs Corn Flakes commercial. Seriously? Dude, wasn't it obvious from the past 40 minutes of jabber that the old master WAS in fact wrong about some things? Your whole program was predicated on that. For all I care, the program TITLE was "Einstein's Greatest Mistakes".

Complexity

The world is complex.

This simple admission is too much for most to stomach.

“No!” they protest, “when you think about it, when you break it down to manageable pieces, within the context, it is not that complicated at all! Why...” and then they proceed to stop thinking, start believing, and disseminate said belief, in manageable pieces and within the context, of course. Except soon that context will be stripped off and said belief will become an unassailable truth, an axiom of civilization!

Consider a student, young and of nimble mind, toiling away at his lessons. He has been told by all quite often that his lessons will determine his life's direction, its quality, and content. He works away, devouring knowledge that everyone agrees is relevant and germane… and yet that knowledge is not the only determinant of his future, nor is it even the most important determinant. What is? How the fuck would I know? The world is complex!

Causality is a fact, undeniable, enshrined in the very nature of the universe we inhabit. That is not to say however, that it can be gleaned by any human. These waters are muddy, and those on the quest to uncover the bottom only succeed in kicking up more silt.

And yet there are those that take whatever glimmer they caught of some causal relationship and they peddle it as the truth. Within context, initially, until one day it becomes the whole truth,the truth of their existence, and of all existence,the prime mover, the cause at the beginning of all causes! Until one day it becomes a cause of its own, and then they come down the mountain and crush all dissent…

Their certainty, you see – their faith in the veracity of that glimmer – is the most dangerous thing in the world; not only when they are wrong, but also – and especially – when they are partly right. For then this certainty, bolstered with a smattering of evidence, and a throng of believers, makes them… zealots.

The Great Malazan Re-Read

As many of the readers of this blog will know "The Malazan Book of the Fallen" is a ten part series, written by Steven Erikson (SE) that I first started reading in May 2005. It is (in my rather informed opinion, if you allow the hubris) one of, if not the best high fantasy - or for that matter SciFi and Fantasy (SF&F) - set of books/ series out there now.

When I first read it, my fantasy obsession was in full bloom, although it was not yet the lifestyle it is now. I proudly claimed to have "evolved" in my reading, starting from Tolkein/ Clarke/ Asimov to Robert Jordan to Stephen King to... and so on until I read Stephen Donaldson. (Aside: a retrospective from back then on the old blog: My Fantasy Bibiliospective).

I thought I had read everything there was to read.

As stupid statements go, that one was... really stupid, because with my discovery of"Gardens of the Moon", the opening volume of the series (from a hearty recommendation by Donaldson on his site), I was about to be blown away. Never before or since have I found anything that comes close in the genre for sheer scope of imagination, expert story-telling, or literary significance (yes, that old chestnut!).

On Being A Generalist (BA)

A colleague and friend of mine (Anupam) posted an opinion on the virtues of being a generalist Business Analyst (BA) vs being a specialist BA. He seems to be leaning toward saying specialists have an easier life and that being a specialist overall is better.

As a generalist (and coincidentally a BA) myself, I feel compelled to offer a counterpoint! :) Enough to bring me out of my blogging semi-retirement. (Well, more like laziness induced inertia)

First, check out his post here: http://www.upmaan.com/2010/06/15/are-you-a-generalist-business-analyst/ For those too lazy/ unable to do so, rather than quoting him wholesale here, I'll attempt to summarize each of his points and rebut:

From The Darkness, Light

A vast darkness, not empty at all, but full of... things.

Colossal clouds of matter, luminous and dark, constantly in flux, morphing anew into shapes and essences and structures wondrous and complex and astonishingly ephemeral. A superstructure one cannot begin to grasp or visualize, let alone comprehend. A wild dance of chaos and order hurtling, hurtling, and in spite of all the matter and all that energy in eternal conflict, all is eerily silent.

I am falling.

Riotous colors assault me. Blue and yellow, red and green, orange and purple; and yet the inky blackness pervades all; my very soul. Yet I hear nothing, can utter no sound, no screams, no howl of wind; so I imagine one for myself. I am cold; so very cold - yet I am on fire. A remote speck of light in what was a blinding, remote array but a moment ago suddenly surrounds me, as though it were a universe by all by itself, it snatches me from the inky shroud and fills my world with blinding light.

They are dancing.

Globes of fearsome majesty move along in tune to an unheard melody. Strands of light stretch between them, faintly glowing as if they were the trails of their motion from ages past. And yet they last for only an instant in time... their own tiny era... before they dissolve. Dissolution is everywhere now... this cloud is dying. Slowly, and gracefully, but surely. I stifle the inevitable sob, the aching despair, even as I dance myself, to that melody... and the cloud is past me.

And then I see it.

Another cloud, as though a disc, spinning, its tentacles reaching out and whipping back, a whirlpool of light and matter. It is my objective - it ever was. Not its center, no, that place is for the behemoths that will not be denied. A remote corner instead, away from their pull, away from... everything.

Then I hear them. Others. For the first time, others!

The inky black makes way for another yellow globe, and the littler globes around it. I am upon one of the smaller globes now, where I hear them... I really hear them. Screaming, laughing, speaking, crying, moving, shaping, struggling, mating, living, dying. There are billions, here, suddenly, there are billions! I call to them myself, in exhilaration I finally let voice to that vast emptiness I have been lugging around... and they ignore me! ME!

But I will not be denied. I have traveled too far, too long. An explosion then, of heat, and light; a roar to quell their voices for one moment, so they see I am come. I darken the sky they look at with wonder, scarcely knowing what lies beyond; and for that reason their wonder is inadequate. I hasten to show them.

Look! This is your universe, as it is mine. I have seen it, and you have not. See it for yourself - look! You need no names, no comprehension, no words, just to look. To be drawn in and be buffeted by this majesty. To look beneath and beyond the obvious, to the essence of things and thought.

They fall to their feet. Not in wonder, but - to my anguish - in fear. They chant and burn things. They kill and offer. They cajole and rail, and worst of all, they close their eyes and bow their heads. They seem to think I care. They seem to think I know. They seem to... live and die... for me?

For the first time, then, incredulous, I laugh, and they cower some more. So it is, to the moment I depart...

Once again, falling... seeking...