The most dangerous road-user: The pedestrian.

I've had a long week. I've lost two races, got two essays and a problem sheet to write, and I have to find where several hundred pounds has run off to.

But all that I signed up to, in a sense. So I'm not going to moan about that. I'm going to moan about cycling. Because I didn't sign up to be abused every time I get on the road.

I love cycling. I cycle practically every day. It's a good way to keep fit, but more importantly, it's probably the fastest, cheapest way of getting around Oxford. Even if you have a car! Believe me, in bad traffic, I can run rings around jams.

But what winds me up is the respect I get as a cyclist. Or rather, the complete lack of it.

A cyclist is a road user, just like a car driver, bus, or motorbike. But for some reason, when a pedestrian crosses the road, they will look both ways for a car, bus or motorbike, and will completely fail to see a cyclist. Or they will step just off the pavement to get round someone or something, forgetting that cyclists have to stick to just that part of the road. Now, I confess I do not cycle with enough kit on to look like a neon sign, but I'm hardly invisible, and I do carry reflectors and lights. And yet, people will walk out in front of me, either because they didn't look, or because they did and decided to do so anyway!

I'm really not kidding. Every time I cycle into town, someone will walk out in front of me. I usually have time to slow down or swerve, but this is still rude behavior! You don't walk out in front of cars or buses just because they have time to slow down for you!

But today, it was particularly bad. I was cycling back home, down a cycle lane while some cars were lined up to my right. They had stopped for a red light, and the tailback was a good 100m or so. And so I cycled down the hill, with a clear view in front of me. But the cars meant that if some idiot decided to cross the road between the stopped cars, I couldn't see him.

So, some idiot, who had obviously decided to take this opportunity to cross the road, walked out in front of me. Without even looking!

He must have seen the cycle lane. There were great big white lines marking it. But he didn't look left until he heard my brakes screeching.

My brakes have to be slammed on to be screeching, as I've tuned them pretty well. If I can hear them, it means I'm not braking properly. If you brake properly on a bike, you don't slow down quite as much as you can. If you don't brake properly on a bike, you go over the handle bars.

I went over the handle bars. It was that or hit him. And, well, I'm a giver.

Fortunately, I've been to the odd judo class in my youth, so I know how to fall without breaking your collar bone. So I picked myself up, dusted myself off, checked my bike was still okay, and then looked this guy in the eye, and waited for an apology, which I got. If I hadn't got one, I don't know if I could have kept myself from having a flaming argument. But I did, so I politely told him to make sure he looked where he was going next time, and then got back on my bike and went. Hopefully that's one person who will be a bit more aware of cyclists next time.

Today, with all the talk about going green and saving the planet, it would be nice if more people cycled. It would not only help solve climate change, it would also help deal with the growing problem of obesity in this country, as well as congestion in some cities. You can get six bikes in the space a car takes! Bikes also cost far, far less to buy and maintain than a car.

But we will not get more people cycling if people do not enjoy cycling. And they will not enjoy it unless they have to have the reflexes of a cat to prevent the accidents caused by the arrogance of pedestrians, and the patience of saint not to lose their temper at them. Sadly, there are not many of these people.

So, Mr Geoff Hoon, Transport Secretary, if you want to get more people cycling, you need to change the attitude, not of the cyclists, but of the pedestrians. I am not scared of being run over by a car whilst cycling. I am scared of having to brake and swerve to avoid an idiot who deserves a Darwin Award, and then being run over by a car. And worse, that driver will probably lose his licence for bad driver, when in fact he or she was perfectly safe. And the pedestrian will walk away feeling entirely blameless, when in fact he should be suffering the consequences of his stupidity.

How not to get thrown in the river.

Today, I am procrastinating writing my essay. It's on philosophy of science. I haven't written an essay in months, so this might be a warm-up. But instead of Popper and Lakatos, I'm going to talk about coxing.

I've never wanted to row. I don't get enough pleasure out of that kind of physical activity. But I decided that it would be a shame if I left Oxford after three years without ever having got into a boat. So I signed up for coxing. Lucky for me, the college boat club is rather cox-starved, so I'm getting a lot of attention, opportunity, and gratitude.

For those of you who don't know, the cox is the chap who sits at the back (usually) of the boat, and doesn't appear to be doing very much, at least as far as the observer on the banks is concerned. He is usually a lot smaller and lighter than the rowers, as he doesn't need any kind of muscle to do his job. But that job is as vital as any of the other rowers. Lose a rower, and the boat doesn't go anywhere, except possibly in circles. Lose a cox, and something worse happens. The boat DOES go somewhere. Usually into another boat.

The cox's job consists of two things. First and foremost, safety of boat and crew, in that order. Apparently boats cost more. I asked about this, thinking that family's suing for negligence would be more expensive, but I was told we get people to sign their rights away, so it's all good. Since safety is the number one, this means I have the right to interrupt the coach whenever I like. Not usual for most sports.

The cox's second job is a bit more complicated. It involves many things, but boils down to getting eight people to work together seamlessly. I get two tools to do this; a rudder and a microphone.

At the moment, I'm just working on steering the boat. I've more or less learnt how to keep it in a straight line, and to spin it around when we reach the head of the river. Anything more than that is advanced stuff.

You may think that keeping a boat in a straight line is child's play. For most boats, yes. I've steered longboats and motorboats in the past, the they're pretty straightforward, provided you remember that you are on water and not on a road. But they usually have nice big rudders, near-perfect, non-shifting balance, and engines that push constantly and tell you exactly how much power they have and when they're going to run out of fuel. You also don't have to worry about them having a tantrum and throwing you in the river because you managed to say the wrong thing.

Disclaimer: None of my rowers have had any tantrums or been in the slightest bit uncooperative. They've actually been very sympathetic and understanding. But that doesn't mean I don't worry about it!

So when I first got in this boat and started steering, I realised that it was not as easy as I had thought. It was as long as a bus, had a rudder the size of a credit card, and the handles did not align, so I didn't know when it was centred. I also realised that if one of the rowers missed a stroke, I would have to slam the rudder to one side until they had got it back, as we'd be unbalanced. Half the time all eight oars were in the air, so the boat was much less balanced. Then you have to take into account the current and the wind, which make a big difference in a little boat. So just steering, without issuing any commands, was tough enough.

Then you have to get eight people to row, in time, with the right pressure, all whilst sitting with your knees just below your chin. You have to remember that side is bow, that side is stroke, odd numbers on the right, even on the left, that motion is feathering, that position is backstops, rower will get you to that position, and those guys coming up behind you at full steam probably haven't noticed you...

So it's rather tricky. Add to all this the coach cycling down the riverbank, yelling instructions, and it becomes a very interesting afternoon.

However, I have to say I loved every minute. I loved watching eight people slowly getting more and more in time, feeling the boat speed up. I loved the grins on their faces as we overtook a slower crew. I loved issuing the orders so that we ended up in just the spot I wanted, especially if I'd done it in fewer strokes than last time. And I loved the challenge of moving this bus around the river, whilst getting eight people to do exactly what I needed, and making sure they were happy about it.

Keeping rowers happy is important. A happy crew works better together and is prepared to put in more effort. But from a purely selfish point of view, I want a happy crew because my life becomes very difficult if they're not. As soon as we step onto shore, and get the boat put away, any authority I have vanishes, and they are at liberty to tell me exactly what they think. So I work hard to make sure that, after two hours of full-body exercise on a chilly late October morning, with a light wind and the perpetual risk of being dumped into a large body of very cold water, they still smile and thank me for getting the best out of them.

They thank me! I sit at the back and shout at them!

A Big Anticlimax

Today's post is going to be my first rant. And it's going to be against the media.

This morning, at around 8.30am BST, a few thousand protons made a round trip in an 27km long tunnel. All right, as a physics student, I'm prejudiced, but it was nonetheless an achievement that took several decades of hard work, and it should soon start paying huge dividends.

I also noticed the media making a medium-level frenzy about how it might cause a micro-black hole or a strangelet, leading to the end of the world. Frankie Boyle on Mock the Week even went so far as to say the end of the universe. Despite it being a comedy show, I didn't notice a hint of humour in voice as I watched. I was also slightly appalled that he didn't care what new results the LHC will provide. This morning, a friend asked me on Facebook: 'According to the BBC, based on interviews with some of the scientists involved, "The LHC should answer one very simple question: What is mass?" Philosophically speaking, this sounds at best naïve. Can you explain?'

This chap is an intelligent man that I have quite a lot of respect for. He's part of the way through a philosophy doctorate, which, despite the mockery it sometimes gets (occasionally from me), is a very difficult subject. As far as I know, his knowledge of physics ends at either GCSE or A-level standard, but he was still capable of realising that "What is mass?" is a very stupid question, while the BBC failed to do so.

What finally made me irritated enough to write this post was an article by Gerald Warner in this morning's Telegraph. You'll find it on page 21, entitled "If you're here to read this, perhaps all is well". It's a sterling example of the press writing a scientific article without fully understanding the issue. He writes "science is entering an era of unknown risks...Where is the international jurisprudential structure to enforce responsible behaviour and consult the interests of global humanity?" He goes on to say "Decisions to proceed with certain types of research should not be taken within the magic circle of 'the academy', where the presumption is always in favour of enhancing knowledge rather than taking precautions. We need international authority, dominated by laymen but with access to expert technical opinion."

I was originally going to take up his offer and "Comment on Gerald Warner's view at telegraph.co.uk/personalview", but his article is conspicuously absent from the site. A brief search finds a blog of even greater cynicism than I would ever aspire to. I wonder where Mr Warner thinks the silicon chips in his computer were developed, or how the network that he blogs on was started?

My criticism: Let's start with Frankie. I can forgive him a little, because he is, after all, a comedian, but even comedians need to take some responsibility for the information they bring to the public's attention. There is no chance that the LHC will cause the destruction of the Universe. It wouldn't even cause the destruction of the planet. If the collisions that the LHC will create could cause such a catastrophe, it would have already happened in cosmic rays that collide with Earth and all the other bodies of the solar system every second, and have done since the Sun formed from a body of interstellar gas. I think we might have noticed the sudden loss of a planet.

All right, so the new results probably won't affect his job very much. But that's hardly a reason not to care. I suspect he would care if we landed on Mars, though I doubt that would affect him either. But then, landing on Mars would be showy. The point is that the LHC is a colossal scientific endeavour that will push back the boundaries of ignorance in same way that the telescope did for Galileo, or the electromagnet for Faraday. Even if it doesn't make a difference to him, the net effect on humanity will be huge. There is bound to be at least one person that it will affect that Frankie ought to care about.

Then there's this question "What is mass?". Some of you might think "I don't really care." I refer you the above paragraph. But this really is a stupid question. You can take either, or both (they are not mutually exclusive) views on mass that would lead you to believe, quite rightly, that this is a naïve question.

View one. We know what mass is. It is a number that we've invented, like temperature or electrical charge, that we use in our theories to predict how a body will react to certain stimuli. We define it as how much impulse we need to move a body at a certain speed, or by how much a body is gravitationally attracted to another. Asking what it is when we invented it is like a telephone engineer asking what a phone number is.

View two. The LHC will not, cannot, answer the question "What is mass?". All it can do is produce results. If these results are not in line with the predictions of our theories, then we must discard those theories. However, if they are in line, it does not make those theories "correct". It merely makes them useful. They may provide some explanation for what mass is, but accurately predicted results does not mean that their explanations are in any way true. Failure to realise this is indeed highly naïve on the part of the physicist, and only slightly less so on the part of the journalist and reader.

In face, none of the theories up for testing at the LHC is attempting to answer "What is mass?"The real question, however, is not quite so catchy on a newspaper article, and it certainly isn't simple (if you think "What is mass?" is).

Current particle physics believes that we know the fundamental particles of matter. They fall into three groups: Quarks; Leptons; gauge bosons. There are six quarks, six leptons, and five gauge bosons (that we know about, as well as their corresponding antiparticles). You can easily find a table of their properties on wikipedia or in a library book, and you will probably notice patterns. For instance, the leptons all have a charge of either -1e or 0 (where -1e is the charge of the electron, itself a lepton). All the quarks have a charge of either (+2/3)e or (-1/3)e. The gauge bosons have either +1e, -1e, or 0. However, if you look at the masses, they appear to have seemingly random numbers attached, with no obvious pattern.

Quantum theory is currently very good at predicting what a particle will do, given its properties. Some theories even managed to predict the existence of particles with certain properties, such as antimatter and strange quarks. But it hasn't, yet, been very good at predicting what masses the new particles will have. And it is the theories that try and do this that the LHC will test.

All right. On to Gerald Warner.

Firstly, this morning's test was a trial run. The protons made a round circuit, and then stopped. No collisions occurred. So even if his fears had any foundation, he loses respect for sheer ignorance. Forgivable in a "layman" as he calls them. Not in a reporter who is supposed to inform the public.

Secondly, he goes on to say that "Dissident scientists are concerned about a number of possible hazards: the creation of black holes, the generation of "strangelets", monopoles, black energy, vacuum energy - all mysterious to the layman." Clearly, then, he is a layman. A monopole (by which I assume he means magnetic monopole - I cannot believe him to be so stupid as to think an electric monopole any kind of danger) is no danger whatsoever, though it would certainly be interesting. I have never heard of "black energy", though he may possibly mean dark energy or dark matter. Both, if they exist, are supposed to be massive and very weakly interacting, which means that there is so little they can do that we will only notice them by the absence of other particles. Vacuum energy is the energy of free space. Are you worried by space between you and your computer screen? Hardly. And anyway, who are these dissident scientists? What peer-reviewed papers have they published on the subject? What research do they have to back up their theories? Are they widely respected as authorities on these subjects? No. This is why they are dissidents.

Black holes and strangelets, however, do deserve some explanation. A black hole is formed when matter is clumped together past a certain critical density. This doesn't happen often, because matter repels matter at short distances, via something called the exchange principle. Only the collapse of massive stars, hundreds of times larger than the sun, is considered to be enough. However, it is just possible that the LHC will be able to concentrate matter enough to reach this critical density.

Strangelets are clumps of quarks consisting of roughly equal numbers of up, down and strange quarks. They are completely hypothetical; unlike black holes, we don't even have circumstantial evidence for them. The worry is that, on contact, they turn normal matter into strangelets, and could lead to a chain reaction that would convert the entire planet.

Why I'm not worried about black holes consuming the Earth: If a black hole was to be created, it is predicted that it would decay rapidly by a process known as Hawking radiation. It would be lucky to last as long as a second. Warner's response to this is that Hawking radiation is no more than a theory. He is correct; we haven't found any handy black holes to test it on, which is something the LHC should provide. However, Hawking radiation is a widely accepted theory that has no theoretical weaknesses. I'm prepared to bet on it being fairly accurate. However, even if it turns out otherwise, we should still be able to capture our baby black hole with an electromagnetic field (black holes can carry electric charge) and keep it safely from harm. Even failing that, it should still take several centuries before it has any noticeable affect on us. Plenty of time to find another planet to live.

As for strangelets, I'm betting we won't find any. The aforementioned cosmic rays should have consumed most of the solar system if the energies we're dealing with had even the faintest chance of one cropping up. Furthermore, the idea that they convert normal matter is also an untested theory, and one with far less going for it than Hawking radiation.

You might think I'm taking an unnecessary and irresponsible risk. It is a risk, certainly, but not an unnecessary or irresponsible one. It is one that we need to take in the interests of science and the advancement of mankind, just as we took when we exploded the first atomic bomb, drove the first car at sixty miles an hour (it was thought that the driver would suffocate), and broke the speed of sound. Warner claims that we are entering "an era of unknown scientific risks". How insightful! All risks arise from the unknown, whether it be if the stock market will go up or down, or if you missed seeing a car when crossing the street. Risks are to be managed, not avoided. What Warner is advocating, ironically enough, is to procrastinate the inevitable.

Finally, I want to heap scorn on this idea of "an international authority, dominated by laymen but with access to expert technical opinion" that he thinks should decide on the avenues of research, rather than "the magic circle of 'the academy', where the presumption is always in favour of enhancing knowledge rather than taking precautions." These quotes again show Mr Warner's colossal ignorance of the subject.

Scientists bring more to the table than just sheer knowledge. They bring a scientific approach. Put laymen in charge of all scientific research decisions, and one of two things will happen: Either, our laymen will become technically minded scientists in their own right; or, more likely, the will have no idea what is good research and what is not, and will make decisions based on faulty judgement and information. Expert technical opinion is of no use if you do not know what it looks like, so our laymen could be bombarded by bad science such as creationism, and end up making bad decisions. In any case, "laymen" have quite a lot of say in how research is done: laymen like publicly elected politicians who control research budgets, grants from private companies and foundations, and, possibly the biggest contributor, the military. There is no "magic circle of 'the academy'".

Furthermore, what reason does Mr Warner have for thinking that "the presumption is always in favour of enhancing knowledge rather than taking precautions." Scientists don't want the world to end any more than he does, and considerably less than some. Anyone unbalanced enough to want to herald the Apocalypse is unlikely to have the intellect work in the field of science. Scientists take every precaution, because they're often the ones at the centre of the blast zone. Failures like Chernobyl, Three Mile Island, and other disasters occurred, not because of bad science, but because of poor engineering, management, or interference from politicians. Everything that happened, happened in exact accordance with theory.

I want to end by confessing that scientists ought to take some responsibility for outrages like Frankie Boyle's comments, the BBC's inaccurate reporting, and Mr Warner's ignorance. Scientists are not often expected to explain their theories to non-scientists or non-engineers, and I have noticed that scientists (particularly physicists) are often very poor at communicating their theories to the rest of the world. But the fact is that many people simply aren't interested, don't understand, or worst of all, think they understand but don't. Scientists have a responsibility to change that, and "laymen" have a responsibility to as well.

Einstein's God

Okay, so I've just finished reading Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion. About a year after the rest of the planet, but never mind.

I have to say, it was better than I was expecting. A lot of hard-core atheists I've met are as bad as religions fanatics. They're so full of fire and brimstone that they can't appreciate for a moment how the other person sees the world. And if your can't do that, you haven't a hope of getting them to change their mind. They degenerate to the standard of the fundamentalist, screaming stupidity and the old "I'm right, you're wrong" line without any attempt to prove it.

Dawkins puts together a rational, well-argued case against believing in God. Any God. He's not picky about which. He does it throughout the book with calm and control, and the willingness to be proved wrong that the best scientists aspire to. Many of his arguments are good ones, ones that I've heard before, and many of the arguments for believing in God that he attacks are bad ones, which I've also heard before. Naturally, there are a few arguments for God that he hasn't attacked, mostly ones that are a bit harder to bring down, but also a bit harder for the layman to grasp, so it's understandable that he hasn't bothered with them. I'm particularly glad that's drawn attention to the religion double-standard. It's aptly summed up by the cartoon. The willingness for society to bend over backwards to stop religious groups being offended, or risk drawing accusations of racism, whilst refusing to give the same standards to those, not of a different religious belief, but of no belief at all!

However, whilst I'm very glad that Dawkins has taken a stand, I do have two criticisms to level at him. The first is that, whilst he presented a very good case for not believing in the existence of God, he presented a very poor case for believing in the nonexistence of God. The two are not the same; not believing in the existence of God means a lack of belief; believing in the nonexistence of God is an active belief that there is no such creature that fills the criteria of God.

To be fair to Dawkins, asking him to provide such a case is quite unreasonable. As any scientist or logician knows, proving the nonexistence of an article is virtually impossible: one would have to examine every article in the universe and conclude that each is not God. And even then, after an exhaustive* search, one could never be sure that one had found every article. By contrast, proving the existence of an article is easy: you simply have to find a single example. However, Dawkins does argue that the absence of any evidence for the existence of God is sufficient to actively believe in his nonexistence, by using the analogy of a celestial teapot. The analogy goes: At the third Lagrange point of the Sun-Earth system, there is a teapot. It cannot be seen by telescopes, as they have insufficient resolution. Should you believe there is a teapot? Of course not.

However, God is not a teapot, and the lack of any evidence at all for his existence is debatable. Very debatable. Several centuries of debate, in fact. My point here is that God cannot necessarily be treated with the same logic as the teapot. For instance, I have never been to Alpha Centari, though I'd love to visit someday. I have limited evidence for its existence, as it lies in the sky of Southern Hemisphere, and I have never been south of the equator, but people and organizations that I trust assure me of its existence, and I'm prepared to believe in them. People and organizations also assure me of the existence of God. Why should I be prepared to believe one group and not the other? This, however, is a separate debate, which I shall leave to another time. The point is that if Dawkins leaves his opponents just this one leg to stand on, it is quite enough for them to survive on.

My second criticism of Dawkins is that he doesn't seem to realise the futility of his work. He publishes an article of sublime reason and logic. But in it, he admits that reason and logic are not going to work on the faithful! Of course they aren't. Try persuading any churchgoer that there is no God, or even ask him to explain the reasoning behind his belief, and you will never find logic so faulty. The slightly more reasonable will not bother; they will admit that there is no logic to their belief; it is pure faith. I have a modicum of respect for those, but I'm not prepared to accept their surrender without one sacrifice: if they confess that logic cannot explain their belief, then they should not expect or demand their beliefs to be shared by anyone else, or demand respect and understanding for their belief. You may believe in your celestial teapot if you wish, but do not expect anyone to take you seriously, or for people not to challenge and mock your belief. This is not hypocrisy in view of the previous paragraph; I did not write that there is no evidence at all for God, unlike our teapot. But if someone confesses pure faith, then they must be the ones who consider there to be no evidence at all.

In view of this, I'm not sure what Dawkins was trying to achieve. Perhaps draw a few who were already wavering over to his banner? But he cannot honestly expect to have won over anyone who did not already have their doubts, because his sublime logic and reason are not going to work on them!

Overall, I don't think I'll ever be able to take religion seriously. But this doesn't mean that I'm opposed to all religion on principle, in the way that Dawkins is. Every religion has a few skeletons in the closet, such as genocide and indoctrination. Of course they do! The theory of evolution predicts that the religions that survive are not the ones that play nicely, but the evangelical, aggressive survivalists. But that was in the far more simple world of centuries past. Today, where cooperation is forced on us by a far more sophisticated system of sharing precious resources, with the threats of annihilation by nuclear fire or irrevocable climate change, religion will be forced to evolve again into something else. I'm hoping it will start to approach the form of pantheism that Dawkins mentions right at the start of his book, where he describes Einstein's God. This God is still omnipotent and omniscient, but is not a personal God or in any way anthropomorphic. Instead, He is nothing less than Nature itself. This is a form of God that I find far more appealing, a natural rather than supernatural entity. It's also one easily reconcilable with science; His "miracles" are everything you might consider to be utterly mundane. He is also the God that I think most physicists quietly believe in. We go looking for the patterns in the universe, in the belief that there are patterns, rather than just coincidences. It is not a huge step to equate God with those patterns, since they are everything, though it is a colossal step to equate that God with the anthropomorphic, jealous, violent entity that is the Christian, Islamic or Jewish God.

Finally, some of my deeply Christian friends are the nicest people I've ever met. I find it unlikely that the correlation between religion and pleasantness is entirely coincidental.

*Both meanings of exhaustive are appropriate here.

The late cat would prefer coffee, pancakes, and a side of bacon...

Okay, so if the title of this blog was really accurate, you'd expect the first post to go up late. Or perhaps not at all; after all, there's nothing inevitable about it. But since I haven't really established a routine, it's not really late.

That said, I've been talking and thinking about starting a blog for ages now, so I suppose it is a bit late, in a sense. One of the things that kept putting me off was thinking of a title. I thought something about what I study would be good (Physics and Philosophy), or maybe where I study, because Oxford's a fascinating place (you've read His Dark Materials? If you haven't, you should. And there's plenty of other literature based on or around the City of Dreaming Spires). But those aren't really permanent, and I don't really want to start a blog that I have any intention of stopping. Not that I'm promising to be now and forever.

I also have a bad habit of procrastinating several other things that I really shouldn't. Like the problem sheet that I got in the post nearly a month ago. Or working out how I'm getting from the airport in Treviso to the hostel my friends and I have booked in Venice. Or getting a job (probably the worst). I suspect I wouldn't procrastinate quite as much though, if I wasn't fairly certain that I will get these things done. Eventually. Because not getting them done isn't really an option.

So I realised that, being my blog, I don't need a theme or topic, other than myself. I just need an excuse. And the fact that I'd been putting it off for so long was as good a reason as any to get on with it. So I'm making no promises. I'll try to post regularly, but I might not. I might even post early if I feel like it. I don't intend to stick to a particular topic, though I might have the occasional rant. It's mainly that with so many things in life that determine when and what you MUST do, it's nice to have something that can wait for me. I imagine I'm not the only one to get a little frustrated sometimes at being at the beck and call of the of the powers that be. *

Bonus points if you can work out the reference in this post's title.

*i.e The Taxman, the Gods of Health and Safety, Good Manners, Political Correctness, The Student Loans Company, Fashion, etc. Paradoxically, these are all good things, but they often get in the way of doing what's right. One day, I'll put together a comprehensive list. Let me know if you have any suggestions.