Logic Games and Web Comics

I'm currently reading Superfreakonomics, the followup to the popular Freakonomics. I really enjoyed the last chapter I read, titled, "Unbelievable stories about apathy and altruism." There's a really interesting part about Economics games/experiments (click for the excerpt, though the book goes even deeper on several of the topics mentioned here). I participated in one such experiment when I was in undergrad, so it was really interesting to hear the theoretical logic behind it. These experiments altered theory and "conventional wisdom" about people's behavior in surprisingly concrete ways. The chapter then goes on to describe real-world and laboratory experiments that changed the new conventional wisdom yet again. I didn't see the later developments in my brief exposure to econ experiments, so it was even more interesting to hear about the changes that have happened since then.

Hearing about these quandaries reminds me of how much fun logic games can be. The book (not the above excerpt) describes "The Prisoners' Dilemma" (note the apostrophe, which I believe to be more correctly placed than the more-common "prisoner's" since there are two people making choices). The Prisoners' Dilemma, and some of its cultural impact, is shown here in comic form. There's also the deceptively tricky puzzle: "There are two doors, one to heaven and one to hell. In front of them are two identical guards, except one always lies and one always tells the truth. You have one question to ask one guard before you make your choice and live with the consequences." It took me a while to remember how to answer this puzzle, and I'll fully admit that I don't think I could have figured it out if I hadn't heard the answer in some long-distant conversation. But in reading about it I came across this even trickier variant. It looks intimidating to read, but I found the email conversation a very thoughtful way of walking a non-logician through the problem. But if you really want to stretch your brain, try this variant.

Speaking of that, I found a new webcomic I like called

Following are some of my favs:

• Today's. What a good day to discover this site! It's like a cautionary tale for me on my laziest of days.


• ...and speaking of cautionary tales, this is a cautionary tale from the past about me on April 14, 2009, at 11:50pm. (Thank God for Tessa, by the way.)


• ...and speaking of the past, try this with your friends from The Future!


• ...and speaking of the future, it's nice to know I'll be appreciated!


• ...and speaking of books I read last year/movies I saw last week, I'm pretty sure this one's straight out of Cormac McCarthy's The Road.


• ...and speaking of the unspeakable!

Buttersafe has been enthusiastically added to my RSS reader. When reading through some of the archives I was literally laughing out loud, which, by the way, I abbrev as "LLOL."

Movies, comics and family, don't you know

Today I read this installment of Dinosaur Comics and it made me think thoughts. I don't know about clapping in movies, I have no strong opinions about that at this time, but panels 4 & 5 really spoke to me.

This jumped through the author-internet-reader conduit as a conversation that my lady and I have had innumerable times. I like to stay for the credits, she likes to get on with it. Antecedently, my family always stayed for the credits and hers never did. My parents have a long tradition of looking for the "Best Boy" and the "Key Grip," which is cute and fun. What do those people do? I have no idea, but they're always listed in the credits (never a "Best Girl" though). Not knowing anything about the movie industry nor anyone in the industry, my parents have no real need to look for the BB or KG, but it's just fun. It's like a long, moving word search. I like to look at the music credits. See who performed the songs (both pop songs and the score), who composed the score, which recording company did the work and who's releasing the soundtrack, et cetera.

For me thinking about the music is a way of reflecting back on the movie. "That movement was called 'intense dreams?' Oh that must have been during..." or "When did they play 'London Calling?' Wait, it wasn't The Clash's version? Was there a reason to use a cover version?" It's all part of the larger purpose of the creditstime: to come down from the movie experience, to reflect, to prepare myself to walk back into the lighted hallway and reintegrate with the world that has not just seen the movie. I tend to get so wrapped up in the movie experience that this processing time is important. My lady, on the other hand, consumes a movie and moves on. Not to make her sound like Galactus or something, but she just doesn't get as transported by the experience of movies, or most art for that matter. It's not for lack of attention. We have had some interesting and occasionally impassioned discussions about movies. She often catches subtleties that I missed, maybe because they didn't sink in during my end credits processing time.

She has her own way of enjoying the movie experience. She takes in the movie as it happens and, I believe, processes it best while she's doing other things. So in the dark theater she doesn't need the processing time, doesn't play the "find the Best Boy" game, nor has she any other reason to stay. (She does quite like soundtracks, and has even purchased a few, but she prefers to look them up when she gets home.) For her the movie credits are merely a signal that it's time to leave. She is not alone in this, of course, as almost everyone leaves within a minute or two of seeing the credits roll. Perhaps I'm in some weird, shrinking minority.

But apparently, T-Rex and I are members of the same minority. (I'm sure we could find other things in common, too.) My "why stay for the credits" reasoning is played out pretty accurately in this comic. T-rex's is pithier of course, as it's a six-panel comic and few of my thoughts can be so condensed anyway. But I think the heart of the argument is the same. I feel a kinship with the Terrible Lizard King. This makes the non-sequitur ending even funnier, by the way. As with the whole rest of this line of thinking, getting more deeply involved allows me a greater enjoyment of the component parts and the whole. Furthermore, writing this has made me appreciate my overall credit-watching experience, this particular comic experience, and the current writing experience, all the more! This is so freaking meta!

Does it ruin the meta-ness to point that out? Or enhance it? I don't know. Process this on your own, I've got other stuff to do.

An interesting story !

Lo, the pony-riders turn in their dusty, rock-topped graves, for David Malki ! tells us how to subvert the US mail.

My friends, check it. Also you should read his fantastic webcomics, created by repurposing 19th century woodcuts and engravings.

Oh Yes And Also This

The end of the semester is a great time for Pictures For Sad Children

Runs in the family stocking

On a break at work today I read the comics in the paper. When I came back someone asked me how my break was and I said, "it was good, I read the paper." If you only have a few minutes, glancing over the front page and reading the comics totally counts as reading the newspaper.

When I got home my dad was already back from work. He said he had a very productive day and had come home early. He was "catching up on the paper [he] didn't read this morning." When he set down the paper a little while later I took a look at it, and sho' nuff it was the very same comics page.

Between my dad and me, people have always compared our faces, voices, senses of humor, facial-hair-growing-abilities and the like, but this was a comparison that really hit it home for me. As my Aunt Kitty (my dad's sister) used to say, "no matter how you fight it, you turn out like your parents!" Of course, there are always differences, often major ones, but there are some inheritances you just can't deny.

No zen, no motorcycle. Just maintenance and a dash of art.

Me, last night.

Me, today.

A man's beard can only take him so far in this world. After that, hit the books and get to steppin'.

Before I knew about Alan Moore, Frank Miller, and Neil Gaiman

Sometimes you have to remember what meant to be 13 years old. You've got to respect that, that version of you, and the things you did and experienced. Those were formative times. Those things became you, and many are still with you right now in some way. Maybe by looking back you can figure out where you're going next.

I just finished watching The Punisher (the 2004 version with Tom Jane, not the 1989 version with Dolph Lundgren). I don't care if isn't very good. I liked it. First of all, I'm willing to admit that I LOVE sci-fi/fantasy/action movies of any kind. I loved Van Helsing, enough said. But that's not the whole story with The Punisher. We have a past, he and I. I have a personal history with this fictional character. When I was about 11-14 years old I used to read a LOT of comic books, and the three titles devoted to The Punisher were my favorites. I didn't just read those stories, I absorbed them. Every part of my life was pervaded by what I read and saw in those comics. For example:

• I have a huge poster of the Punisher on the wall of my bedroom. (A color version of this with the logo.) When I moved back in with my folks I changed a lot of things about the room, but not that.


• I have three big boxes of comic books from my old days. One of the boxes is entirely filled with Punisher comics.


• My first email address was PunisherJM@aol.com. Occasionally family members or super-old friends will still ask me if that's my email address.


• The girl I was dating in 8th grade wrote lots of notes to her friends and me. She liked to use little symbols instead of names in case, I suppose, the message was intercepted. I chose the Punisher symbol. I had my girlfriend write me notes where she referred to me as a skull.


• I wrote a comic book, that I found over a decade later, that was dedicated to the Punisher. Though it was not about the Punisher at all, it had Punisher quotes on the back cover.


• I think I learned more about patriotism, respect for the flag, and knife/gun safety, from the Punisher comics than I did from being in Cub Scouts for three years. That thing sucked.

I've recently been going back and re-reading those old comics, Punisher and all the rest. Some of it blows me away with how genuinely funny, emotional, profound, or in any other way mature it is as fiction, as art. Right next to that is the worst pulp I could imagine, way worse than I remembered (and I remembered laughing at it then). The stories don't make sense, the dialogue is shameful, and even the art is pitiful. Where did they find these guys? I mean, any freshman art student can draw a face, any semi-cogent reader should be able to make two consecutive panels depict a sensible punch to the face. Most of it is in the middle: just fun reading, nothing special, nothing bad.

But those good ones, they're worth all the bad/mediocre ones and more. Those special comics are magic. Even today they can connect everything I appreciate about art as an adult with everything I loved about art as a kid. It's not nostalgia, it's real again.

This one is for the sleepovers when we'd stay up until all hours playing Street Fighter II: Turbo, watching the precursors to modern-day sci-fi/fantasy/action movies, and carrying on. This one is for the kid who watched Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie so many times that he really felt confident if he ever had to get in a fight. This one is for the version of me that wondered if I would/should grow up to be a badass vigilante.

It was more than escapist fiction, it was a stone-cold reality to that 12 year old, and without it I certainly wouldn't be the person I am today.

Peace, Frank.

8-bit truth

on music!

on inevotable robot uprisings!

on national generalizations!

on indie rock snobs!

Today's blog entry brought to you by www.dieselsweeties.com in honor of my friend Kurt finishing his master's degree project of building a robotic dog! NEWS FLASH: It did not rampage and kill everyone in the room! Yet!




... or did it?