One, Two, Many Words Missing

Einstein wrote somewhat famously about relativity in his work in physics, but his theory gets more use, I think, in everyday politics. Many of these politicians, it turns out, are lawyers, and if there’s one group other than editors who’ve learned to be exacting in their use of language, it’s lawyers.
They try hard to speak at great length and say very little, and when you think about what they’re saying, you might find they imply more than they state. The more they do this, the more successful they are as politicians.

English is pretty old language, I think, and was more suited to talking about groups of things back when it was invented. It’s brimming with vague words to talk about numbers, ones we use every day somewhat casually.

We talk about a couple of things, everyone knows we’re talking about two. A few is three or four, and several seems to me to be talking about no more than five to seven. After that, I think we pretty much run out of words except for dozens, hundreds, grosses, and others that don’t get frequent use. We do have plenty of other vague words to describe numbers of things, not the least of which is plenty, itself. Except for some and many. We use those a lot, and politicians are very fond of them and use them all the time. Some is a great word. It logically means “more than one,” and is used to describe, literally, any number of things, especially when we don’t want to be specific.

When I say, “I have some problems,” unless you press me for details, you have no idea how many problems I have. If I say I have a handful, you get an idea, more than you would have if I said lots. Lots, like some, is relative.

President Bush occasionally tries to show his awareness of opposition by saying that “some on the other side” or “some people” disagree with him. The thing is, he’s right, but he isn’t saying anything. Some can mean four people, and in that context it would only make sense if he was talking about a local Lions club, not the 300 million American people.

“Many people support my proposal,” is equally true. It sounds great, almost as if nearly a majority of people are on his side, but it would be a true statement if only a dozen did.

We have unspecified words to indicate one more than half, a majority, but in the case of the US there’s a wide gap between dozens and 150,000,001 that none of our words specifically indicate. When our tribes numbered no more than twenty, some people agreeing could mean you had less than half, less than the number that might be indicated by many.

Whenever I hear any politician use these terms in their speeches or debates, I cringe, even more so when they use them as if I know what they mean. There should be no “many” in politics, not unless I know for a fact that they’re talking about more than six people in their inner party.
It sounds good, but means nothing. Maybe that says more about a politician than I care to consider.

Daytripper

According to many, the Amgen Tour of California is the premiere bicycle racing event on the planet. One reason for this may be that it’s the last event team Jelly Belly will be part of in California, except for the Sea Otter Classic and the mildly less famous Chevron Manhattan Beach Grand Prix.

Anyway, I went to see the finish of Saturday’s race in nearby Santa Clarita.

!@(TDCalif.JPG:L120 popimg "Bike Race")

I could almost feel the sweat, except it was a cold day and they weren’t sweating nearly as much as I’d seen before.

Instead of hanging out on the side of the road, I was near the finish line, at the 100m mark. I tried to watch myself on TV, but my TiVo improperly changed channels and I ended up with two hours of pretty exciting weather channel broadcasting. I tried, again, to catch the later showing, but the channel that showed the race started the program half an hour late, which meant I never saw the last half hour of the program which would have featured me and the thrilling climax.

The one thing I noticed this time, being on flat ground, is that the peloton, or group of 100 or so riders who are all bunched up, generate one hell of a lot of wind. It wasn’t noticeable the first couple times they passed (they had to do a few short laps to finish the race for some reason, probably something American), but on their last pass they were right next to the barrier that kept me from interfering with the race.

They generate, I’d say, as much wind as an eighteen wheeler.

The other big difference about being at the end of the race is that you can spend quite a bit of time and money buying souvenirs and crap from the many vendors, including Health Net whose team, ironically enough, was nearly all wiped out from illness. I bought a pair of bicycling gloves for the reasonable price of $5 and a thermal shirt for the less reasonable amount of $35. It says Rock Racing on it, another new, hip team, whose designer owner has so much money to burn his team’s support cars are Cadillacs.

Not that the other times use Toyota Corollas, mind you. Racing, at this level, is all about money and the burning thereof. It takes money to win, and winning is just about everything in this competitive sport.

We left before finding out who won. There was one of those incidents, one of those judge review things, that can take forever. Also, the rain was nearing our location, and while my UCLA knit cap has much to recommend it, sheltering one from the rain is nowhere among its many benefits.
If you’ve never seen a bike race, I’d recommend it. You get to spend hours eating chips waiting for a brief glimpse of what looks remarkably like lots of guys riding bicycles for a living flanked by motorcycles and cars carrying spare bikes, yelling managers, and first aid. Plus, sponsors come by and give you free shit. I snagged a can of Xcito energy drink, a product proudly produced in the USA by CytoSport, which I’ve never seen before.

One can expect it to stay in the fridge until someone really sleepy drops by.

Affirmative Action

Like about half the country, I voted yesterday, but I don't think I did as good a job of it as most people. Oh, sure, I got most of 'em right, but I wasn't as involved as I should have been.

We had about ten propositions on our state ballot, or maybe they were called something else. I think they all had to do with Indians and casinos, which are becoming as connected in our current society as they used to be with wooden statues. I got them all right, of which I'm justifiably proud, but I can't brag about my reason for doing so.

Unlike everyone else, I didn't study these issues at all. I didn't read the propositions and supporting arguments the way I usually do. I didn't try to make sense of the arcane language or understand the arguments of those arguing for or against them, and I didn't pay any attention to any of the flood of ads that came my way alerting me to the dire consequences if any of them either passed or failed.

Those opposing the propositions, Californians Against Unfair Deals, is a group I would like to think I belong to. Those in favor aren't, curiously enough, Californians Against Fair Deals, like one would have expected, but were the Coalition to Protect California's Budget & Economy. For me, it was a choice between being for unfair deals or demolishing California's budget and economy.

It was a tough choice.

On the one hand, I was torn about the Coalition to protect California's Budget & Economy. I could see ravaging the budget, that gets done all the time by whoever's in charge, and exposing our economy to danger didn't seem to be all that threatening, but the two of them together pack quite a punch. If it was one or the other, I could live with that and myself, but the two were joined by that pesky conjunct that makes answering multiple choice questions so very difficult.

In the end I held my breath, took my chances, and voted in favor of the propositions, as did most Californians. I'm just glad I wasn't the only one, and when historians begin pointing at the fall of this great state as beginning with our acceptance of unfair deals, I won't be the only one.

As far as unfair deals go, I think the Indians know more about it than I ever could, anyway.