Category: General

Lindsay Mitchell and Paul Moon: What were they thinking?

[Another potential title for this post: That Mitchell and Moon Thought]

I’ve been running (blog) silent for almost a month now. As I am in the endgame of the thesis I find it difficult-qua-impossible to contemplate, let alone actually engage in, other writing work when the thesis (seemingly) is going so well and so strongly. I can’t actually see or understand how anyone who is getting through a PhD could also blog regularly (although I am sure it is possible ((I am beginning to sound like an old supervisor of mine, who thought it was impossible to both work and do a thesis at the same time, despite the fact that lots of people not only do just that, but produce excellent theses all the same.))).

I also had a massive database crash (not my fault) and lost a rather long and lengthy post about Wikileaks, which really did quite annoy me. That lead to me renaming the blog (now under the lovely title of “EPISTO!”) and trying to move it to episto.org proper (rather than hosted in the “all-embracing” sub-domain) but that doesn’t seem to be working (various plugin issues; I’ll resolve it at some point and move the blog properly early next year).

Anyway, as this is the last post of the year, I want to talk about Lindsay Mitchell and Dr. Paul Moon, both of whom have said some remarkably stupid things in the last few days. Moon really has no excuse for his ill-considered comments; Mitchell probably just doesn’t know better. Let’s start with her.

In the category of “People Who Give Opinion Columnists a Bad Name…”

Lindsay Mitchell, former ACT candidate and a “welfare commentator” ((Whatever that is. Can I be a “Welfare Commentator Commentator?” I am commenting on a Welfare Commentator, after all.)) wrote this wonderfully stupid column for Monday the 27th of December’s New Zealand Herald. In it, she commits the “Correlation is always causation” fallacy when, amongst other things, she writes:

While by no stretch of the imagination wholly explaining the incidence of abuse, the more that ‘poor’ families are paid to look after their children, the more abuse has occurred or, at least, has been notified and substantiated. More money certainly isn’t curing the problem. So perhaps it is time to ask if more money is exacerbating it?

Now, since the development (and partial subsequent dismemberment) of the Welfare State in the Western World a lot of things have happened; software piracy has risen dramatically, the prevalence of autism is now much higher, the Cold War started and ended… The list goes on. All of these things are correlates; they happened about the same time. Correlates are not necessarily causes of effects, although they might be, and there are a whole host of tests we can apply to test whether a correlate pair is either a cause-effect pair or a set of two effects that share a common cause, and so forth.

Now, Mitchell is claiming that the Welfare State might be the cause of an increase in the incidence of child abuse but she does admit that all we might be seeing is an increase in the reporting of child abuse. Now, an increase in the reporting of child abuse is precisely what we should hope will happen under a welfare state; if child abuse rates remain steady the oversight the welfare state brings should bring more of these cases to light ((And, although this is pure conjecture on my part, if child abuse rates decrease, then the oversight the welfare state brings might well make such stories all the more newsworthy because such stories will be surprising.)).

Now, what we aren’t told by this increased reporting of child abuse (which is the measure we have) is whether the increased reporting indicates an increase in child abusing. Mitchell doesn’t tell us that child abuse is on the increase, just that we have more reporting of it. You can’t, then, infer that putting more money into the system is making the problem worse. Indeed, you might be excused for thinking that more reporting of child abuse is good; the more attention that is drawn towards it, the more likely something is going to be done about it.

Mitchell does marshall another fact to give her argument some credence. She says:

The incidence of abuse amongst non-working families is around four times higher than among working families.

Now, this is another example of correlation which may or may not be an example of causation. It might be the case that being on a benefit leads to child abuse, which would be straight causation. It might be the case that both child abuse and being on a benefit are the effects of some prior cause (say, a failure of the welfare state at an early stage, the failure of the education system to prepare the parents, et cetera) or it might be the case that there is an additional cause of this incidence of reporting, which is that families on benefits typically get more oversight from the welfare state. You would expect there to be a higher incidence of reported child abuse from families on benefits because they are more likely to have contact with social workers and the like. This, on its own, doesn’t tell you that child abuse is more rife in families which are receiving benefits. It simply tells you that child abuse is more likely to be reported in such situations (and, if we believe the rate of child abuse is roughly equal across the board, it indicates that child abuse is under-reported in working families, which is a disturbing thought).

Mitchell is, in essence, using this talk of child abuse to engage in that beloved past-time of the Far Right, the attacking of beneficiaries. Her argument is the usual canard that ACT likes to bring out to play, which is that decent, middle-class Pākehā are having pay their precious tax dollars to support the dirty poor. It says a lot about our society that such stories are both popular with and not widely ridiculed by the media. Still, given the company Mitchell keeps, I don’t think she knows much better ((My favourite part of Mitchell’s diatribe is this:

Unlike the Old Age Pension, Maori were easily able to access the Family Benefit which, with their typically large families, accrued a tidy sum by the 1940s.

What she isn’t saying is that the reason why Māori weren’t able to access the Old Age Pension is that most of them didn’t live long enough to ever benefit from it; the health system failed Māori, leading to Māori, particularly Māori men, dying much earlier than the national average and well before they could apply for a pension. Unfortunately, this horrible statistic isn’t much better today.)).

In the category of “People Who Should Know Better…”

Dr. Paul Moon of AUT University ((What, pray tell, does the U in AUT now stand for?)) wins a special place in my heart for saying this to the New Zealand Herald:

“If Maori reached New Zealand waters just 300 years before the first Europeans, some people might also start to reconsider the idea of Maori being indigenous. It could be interpreted as a different type of ‘indigenous’ from the sort that applies to peoples who inhabited countries exclusively for thousands of years. This would be an unfortunate conclusion to draw, but is something that might have to be faced.”

I don’t actually know if Moon is simply ignorant of what indigeneity is for Māori or whether he is simply being disingenuous. What is is doing is using the wrong kind of metric for measuring what makes a people indigenous, which is time.

Now, let’s not be silly; the length of time a people have inhabited and lived in a place is an important aspect of what it is to be indigenous to that place. If a people who have been in a place for two weeks say they are indigenous to that place, then I think we can quite happily say there is something wrong with their reasoning. Give these people a generation of being in that place and then it becomes more tricky.

Time is not a particularly useful metric on its own because as a measure of what makes a people indigenous to a place it suffers from the Sorites Paradox.

Imagine a heap of sand. Now, imagine removing one grain of sand from that heap. Is it still a heap? Most people will say yes. Yet, if we continue to remove single grains and ask that question, we are going to get to a point where the heap will be only a few grains of sand, and many punters will begin to quibble as to whether a set of five grains of sand is or is not a heap. “Heaps,” as a concept, lacks sharp boundary conditions ((It’s also quite useful to imagine the process in reverse; start with a single grain of sand and start adding additional grains. At what point do you get a heap?)).

Indigeneity, if it is measured by time, is like a heap of sand; does a people become indigenous when they have been here for one generation? Is it two? Is it three, plus five years? No, a better marker of indigeneity is a peoples relationship the land and the culture they have developed. I’m fairly sure Moon knows this; if he doesn’t then maybe he should look it up. It shouldn’t matter, if Moon is right, that Māori where here only a mere three hundred years before the Pākehā because time isn’t important when considering whether Māori are indigenous to Aotearoa/Te Wai Pounamu.

Moon goes on to say:

“Ironically, the mid-fourteenth century date for the first arrival of Maori in New Zealand was widely accepted up until the 1950s, when academics challenged it on the basis of Maori whakapapa, and shunted back the date by hundreds of years. Now, it looks like it will have to be dragged forward again”.

Now, the question is, where did this mysterious “Māori arrived about 800ACE” date that Moon is talking about come from; the standard view both in academia and in history is that the Māori arrived about seven hundred years ago, possibly slightly earlier ((There are two things we need to keep in mind in re the arrival of the Māori. The first is that before the Māori arrived en masse there would have been some to-ing and for-ing between Aotearoa/Te Wai Pounamu and (most likely) the Cook Islands, so it’s likely small groups were here, possibly not as permanent settlements, earlier. The second point we must keep in mind is that a lot of the sites where Māori would have first settled were coastal sites which have subsequently been claimed by erosion and the sea (take, for example, Te Namu pa in the Taranaki; it has lost two thirds of its mass to the ocean in the last one hundred years and may not be with us at all in another fifty; most of the archaeological evidence for that site is disappearing and we have fairly good reason to suspect that this has a) happened to a great many coastal sites and b) some of those sites were first settlement sites.)).

Most of Moon’s arguments seems to hinge on this:

Maori oral histories which recall lists of ancestors have been used to date the first arrival in New Zealand as early as 800 AD, Dr Moon said.

“If these Maori whakapapa [genealogies] are out by over five hundred years, then this must raise questions about their reliability.

Moon’s adherence to the notion there is an orthodoxy that says Māori arrived and settled here around 800ACE might be an example of the curious tension between History and Archaeology, which is not quite the happy little co-operative those of us outside of History and (here in Aotearoa/Te Wai Pounamu at least) Anthropology departments might want to believe. Archaeologists (and I’m using the term broadly to encompass, for example, biologists who are interested in the pre-historic faunal and floral record) seem to be in agreement as to when we can say that there was a settled, permanent human population here in Aotearoa/Te Wai Pounamu, which is somewhere about the mid-thirteenth century ACE. Sometimes historians tend to distrust the archaeological record when it doesn’t fit the historical accounts to hand.

Historians, of some stripes, also distrust oral histories, believing them to be more prone to distortion than their written counterparts. I do not have the time to finesse this particular argument in much depth, but I come from a school that thinks that oral histories are just as unreliable as written histories.

Now, I still can’t fathom where it is Moon gets the idea that we have an orthodoxy that says that Māori arrived here eight hundred years ago. It seems he is appealing to the process of Treaty claims:

Dr Moon said the study could also impact on the findings of the Waitangi Tribunal, which has accepted evidence of a much earlier settlement date.

Now, as mentioned earlier, the date at which the Māori arrived is not particularly important with respect to claims of their indigenous status to Aotearoa/Te Wai Pounamu; even if it turns out that the Treaty of Waitangi Tribunal has accepted an earlier date for the arrival of the Māori than, say, archaeologists and historians, that doesn’t matter. Treaty claims are not about how long Māori have been here; they are about what happened after the arrival of the P&#257ke&#257a.

So, is Moon just being stupid or disingenuous. Probably the former, although, really, you would think he should know better.

A Special award to Daniel Pipes…

Pipes who, despite his reptilian politics, wrote half a good book on conspiracy theories, gets an award for not only linking his fear of Muslim anchor babies to Aotearoa/Te Wai Pounamu’s (New Zealand’) entry visa card but also has the grace (or the foolishness) to link to a Wikipedia article on anchor babies that basically shows up and rubbishes the very phenomena he is trying to make us all afraid of. Well done, sir; I would expect nothing less from a man who tends to only cite himself in articles he writes for his website.

Right, so, let’s get one thing straight, my few remaining readers; don’t expect any real updates on this blog for the foreseeable future. I have a thesis to finish and I’m just not going to have the time nor the inclination to write posts of any particular quality. I may post on matters becoming my interest or I might not.

Still, good news; I should have an exciting announcement to make at some point early next year which will be directly linked to quality blogging.

Trah.

Happy New Years et al.

The 1st Twitter Conference?

Question for all you people out there (and non-people; I’m not prejudiced): was the 1st Episto Twitter Conference> (#twecon) the first tweet only conference? I don’t ask because I want to claim “Look at me; I’m new, novel and original.” Rather, I want to know if there is any prior art and how, if anything, #twecon was different. My suspicion is that similar conference-like uses of Twitter probably do exist; like Leibniz and Newton both developing calculus at the same time, I think using Twitter for giving papers is just a logical extension of the emergent technology of Social Media ((That’s probably the wankiest thing I said in a while. Well, the last five minutes.)).

Whatever the case, new or same-old same-old, #twecon was, I think, a resounding success. Mike Dickison has written his thoughts up about the affair over at Statistically Improbable Phrases. Cheryl Bernstein has also shared her thoughts on the matter over at Art, Life, TV, Etc.

My thoughts, such as they are:

1. Choosing, arbitrarily, to limit papers to six tweets or less, was a good idea. It forced me, at the very least, to focus my argument on the essentials.

It also made me realise that some of the terminology in my thesis is just there to make things look fancy; when it comes to turning the thesis into a book I know what terms are going to get the boot.

2. The 140 character limit to a tweet was also a hidden bonus (as kids might say); once you numbered the tweet and added in the hashtag you were down to 132 characters. If you added in a link or a photo, well, that made it even harder.

Academics like to think that they are clear and succinct, but that’s a lie we tell ourselves, mostly to justify our use of (increasingly) wanky jargon. Whilst I didn’t end up using any txt spk or the like (because I’m a wanker who thinks he is above such things as letting the language evolve to suit new forms of communication), keeping my premises/tweets to under 132 characters was really quite a challenge and I’m glad I spent a fair bit of time writing and rewriting my paper to get it to the fit the limits. The constant rewriting actually allowed me to add in an extra premise when I realised that two tweets said essentially the same thing and could, with a bit of license, be rewritten into one.

3. Next time (and there will be a next time) I think I’ll announce the conference and start accepting papers and not have a final due date for paper titles and abstracts.

I ran this conference as if it were a fairly standard academic affair, and, really, I think it would be better to just let paper suggestions come in right to the last second. I don’t know, actually; I keep changing my mind on this one. Maybe make the due date the day before the conference?

4. Not having a brief for the conference was good; I imagine that had I said “Philosophy Twitter Conference” I’d have had two papers and about as many followers of the hashtag. An open brief meant an exciting diversity of content.

5. I wish I could find out how many people were following the #twecon tag.

6. I’m very tempted to announce the next conference now, but that might be a silly idea. Still, I might make the Episto Twitter Conferences a quarterly affair, with a yearly Proceedings published in December or January.

7. Whilst, conceivably, tweet-papers (someone suggested I coin the term “epistotweets”) can be written up quickly, having a suitable topic upon which to base such a paper requires a lot of thought.

8. A lot of people, after #twecon, have said they wished they had known about the conference as they would have liked to have presented at it.

I originally only wanted to advertise the conference via Twitter to see just how well that would work, but the problem with tweets is that they can be very easily glossed over. I might lean upon friends with both twitter accounts and high-traffic blogs to aid and abet the next call for papers.

9. Which brings me to my last thought. Twelve papers, an opening and a closing address were conducted yesterday.

When I posted the opening address at nine yesterday morning I worried that the conference would be over in about an hour, with everyone rushing to put their material up. In fact, we finished at about six, and we only had one case of two presenters posting at the same time. The day actually felt quite busy, in part because of the aforementioned surprising amount of content in the papers themselves. If we had more papers, would it have been two busy? Or am I just being a bit old-fashioned? You don’t have to read the papers live…

I’m proud of the 1st Episto Tweet Conference. It worked, and worked well. The reason why it worked was that the presenters all had interesting material and worked hard to offer it up in six tweet-sized pieces. So, really, I’m proud of all of you who presented material yesterday. You all rock, as the kids definitely do say. You’re all awesome; you’re all O for awesome.

#twecon

Due to work and my webhost being unreliable, blogging is, well, non-existent at the moment. Still, you can catch what I’m up to by following the #twecon hashtag on Twitter today. I’m giving a paper in the 1st Episto Tweet Conference and it’s bound to be…

Well, short.

Just like this post.

A Conspiracy Week of Tweets 2010-11-21

  • Even though the "Sarah jane Adventures" works better without Luke, it does make it a bit weird that Sarah Jane only hangs out with kids. #
  • "Rubicon" has been cancelled. Where am I going to get my TV-based conspiracy fix from now? #
  • Not the most productive of days. #
  • E-mail once again on the fritz. Popmedia, you are losing a customer. #
  • E-mail seems to be back up and running, although missing e-mails are still missing. #
  • I can honestly say that the paragraph I am working on, in re the thesis, is the worst thing I have ever written. Idea's good though. #
  • If anyone tried to e-mail me over the weekend, those e-mails would appear to be lost forever. Please try again. #
  • Reminder: one week to go for abstracts, topics, et al for the tweet conference: http://bit.ly/9WHPzZ #twecon #
  • Today, the Oklahoma City Bombing. #
  • Huzzah. More good commentary on my most recent work, including praise for a section I was worried I had gone too far into the crazy with. #
  • Praise from supervisor has gone to my head. I'm now sure I can finish the thesis off tomorrow afternoon and take a summer vacation. #
  • Tomorrow is the final day to register interest in the Tweet Conference: http://bit.ly/9WHPzZ #twecon #
  • People should share this with their friends: http://bit.ly/aOXiIF #
  • The Real Story of Climategate « ClimateSight http://tumblr.com/xquql2l9l #
  • Today I will resolve the connection between claims of "Conspiracy!" and the use of such claims in explanatory hypotheses. Or go for a walk. #
  • Vague Conspiracy theories can still be warranted: Why being vague isn't, you know, all that much of, what do you call it, a problem! #twecon #
  • Many conspiracy theories are criticised for consisting of a series of vague claims. I will argue this criticism is often misplaced. #twecon #
  • I've decided I can't keep up with this "not-being-a-racist" schtick I've been doing for a while now. Who should I get my rage on towards? #
  • Unknown facts about history: It was Marcus Britus, not Brutus, who conspired to kill Caesar (according to my thesis). #
  • My footnote about Cylons has been purged from the thesis. "They have a plan!" is now unremarkable. #
  • Yo, Auckland-based tweeps; drinks at mine tomorrow night. DM me for details if you want to come along. #
  • This mash-up of "That's All" by Genesis and "Tell You Tonight" by the Scissor Sisters blows my mind. This is what civilisation waited for. #
  • The entire mash-up album is brilliant: http://bit.ly/bDDVKm #
  • Now listening to the Genesis original and I have to say that layering Phil Collin's vocals over a Scissor Sisters' track really improves it. #
  • Oh, the bad 80s synth has entered the building. #
  • purchased an album… "The Goodies's "Funky Gibbon," re-released for charity (to save the gibbons, funky or n… http://t.co/yQ6G2f3 #iTunes #
  • The conspiracy theory episode of "Community" is almost brilliant but can't sustain itself. #
  • Have woken up in a parallel reality when the Catholic Church gives the thumbs up to condoms. What else is different in this new world? #

Written in a fug

I don’t often blog about my private life. I don’t live an exciting life of subterfuge and backstabbing (despite what some people might assume) and my life is largely innocent and definitely not filled with welcome depravity ((This may be a lie.)), so the following story, whilst personal, is really just about my thesis and conspiracy theories.

An illustrative example, if you will.

Last Friday I went to see “The Rocky Horror Show” with some of my close friends. Afterwards we adjourned to Starks to discuss the performance and the consensus was that good but not brilliant.

Eventually, as more and more alcohol entered out systems, the conversation become more wide ranging. We had been joined by a lovely couple from what used to be North Shore City and upon being told what I do (“…stare at a computer screen and think about conspiracy theories all day long.”) they put the screws on me ((By which I mean they plied me with drink) and demanded I answer questions.

Drunken conversations about conspiracy theories do not differ all that much from sober discussions on the topic. In my (admittedly large and growing) experience you either end up defending the notion that people really do believe in wacky conspiracy theories or you have to convince people that the explanation they are proposing for some event is actually a conspiracy theory.

Fun fact: The higher the alcohol content of the speaker, the more likely it will be that they will find connections between increasingly unrelated phenomenon. I have seen otherwise sensible people appeal to an all-embracing thesis that links the American government, monitor lizards and the Nazca Lines with the lack of Asahi on tap in whatever bar the conversation is happening in.

These things happen.

What normally doesn’t happen when I’m talking the talk is me being hit on.

I was in the midst of trying to explain how the Celts might have paddled their goatskin coracles over from Australia when a guy in his mid-twenties stumbled up to our table. “Stumbled” really is quite accurate; his approach was watched carefully because he seemed to be possessed of two legs, neither of which were cooperating with one another, let alone wanting to orders from appendages further up his body.

Jonathan, for that is his name, wanted to steal some cigarattes off of one of my companions. After a bit of an argy-bargy it turned out that “some cigarettes” really just meant “one cigarette,” and that it had to be a rollie. Given the incredibly insensate state of this cigarette half-incher, my companion, rather magnanimously, offered to roll it for him. So overcome was he that he promptly hugged her.

Then he hugged me.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered into my ear.

Compliments are always welcome, although I do vacillate between that horrible English-like inability to accept them and a rather Zaphod Beeblebrox “I sure do, baby” attitude. I honestly can’t remember which of those two responses I went with, because, at that very moment, one of my drinking companions demanded I explain the what the term “Outside Job Hypothesis” means.

“Jonathan, what are you doing? I named him, you know. I was four.”

As opening lines go, this managed to be both an admonition and utterly arrogant. The speaker was brother Matthew (not me, another Matthew) and he proceeded to dominate his brother and play up himself. For example, within minutes he told us he was a lecturer at St. Andrews, the financial support for Jonathan, a former teacher of Prince Harry and someone who was cynically bored of his short stay in Auckland yet dreading returning to Scotland.

He even claimed to dislike Edinburgh, which, frankly, I did not believe for an instant.

“I have to look after him, you know,” Matthew said.

“Is he still at uni?” I asked, figuring that might be the best explanation of his brother’s financial state.

Matthew stared at me with a look of incredulity on his face. “Universities are useless,” he finally barked. “All degrees are useless.”

“I won’t argue too much about that,” I said, grin on my face. I’m just about finished with my PhD.”

“It won’t get you a job. It’ll be in a useless subject. Almost all of them are.”

“It’s in Philosophy, so maybe you’re right,” I replied, still smiling.

There is a particular strategy some people use to hit on prospective mates. They play themselves up whilst trying to undermine the other person’s self-esteem. This sketch from “That Mitchell and Webb Look” illustrates the form perfectly. It is, as far as I can tell, a technique largely guaranteed to fail in its execution; why someone would go “Oh, you’re so right; take me!” after being made out to be less than sub-human makes no sense to me. Then again, I think the whole hitting on people dialectic is confusing and sub-optimal, mostly because I very rarely recognise when someone is trying it on me.

I am, however, fairly sure that Matthew was hitting on me, and failing quite miserably.

“So, what’s you topic?” he finally asked, having exhausted his list of praiseworthy aspects of himself.

“The Epistemology of conspiracy theories,” I said. I didn’t italicise the words as I spoke them; I’ve not worked how.

“And that is?” he said, smirking.

“Well, epistemology…”

“Oh god, another PhD student deigning to tell me what `epistemology’ is, as if I don’t already know.”

“You did ask,” I said.

“I have a PhD student who is smarter than me. I find it very depressing. Don’t you, knowing people are smarter than you.”

Matthew was obviously trying to get me into a moment of drunken existential crisis, all the better for the “Would you like a little date?” routine that was to come. Still, he failed to recognise that not only was I also a cynic, like himself, but that I am of the perverse variety. I am a cheerful cynic; you can tell me the world is going to hell in a hand basket and that there is no escape and I will say “Quite right, and about time,” smiling all the way. Depressive cynics, when faced with cheerful cynics, will then try to be more cynical, hoping that whoever they are talking to will finally succumb to the tragic and horrible affair that is the rendered veil. Cheerful cynics will just egg depressive cynics on.

Back to conspiracy theories.

Matthew, a lecturer at St. Andrews whose specialist subject is Queer Geography, couldn’t understand why someone might study conspiracy theories. Now, as I think I have shown, he was being obnoxious and quite possibly trying to hit on me in the most disastrous of ways, but still, he reminded me why I have such a low opinion of the Academy at the moment. My peers don’t seem to think there is anything interesting to say on my subject.

Now, maybe they are right; perhaps the material I have spent the last four years on is just the received wisdom dressed up in new clothes. Still, you would think that someone about my age (which Matthew is) whose area of expertise is almost as marginalised as my own, might extend some sympathy and interest towards an academic investigation of these things called conspiracy theories.

Then again, he was acting like an arse.

“Matthew, Jonathan is sitting out in the bus stop; I think it’s time to go,” a bearded man I assumed was Jonathan and Matthew’s father said.

“Well,” Matthew started, “it was an interesting conversation.”

“I’d say it’s been a pleasure talking with you, but you know that would be a lie,” I said, shaking his hand.

I can understand the reluctance of my older peers to think there is nothing interesting to say about conspiracy theories. They grew thinking they were hokum. My generation, though? Surely some interest in the finer details of our political lives is a necessary factor in just coping with the world.

But no. I know a lot of people my age or younger who think that it’s vitally important we sort out whether “or” is inclusive or exclusive in meaning, or that we need to know which version of temporality, the A or B-Series, is correct but don’t really think there is anything interesting to say about, for example, theories that posit the Celts got here first.

It’s a good thing I’m a cheerful cynic, eh?

No moral.

A Conspiracy Week of Tweets 2010-11-14

  • Call for Papers: 1st Episto Tweet Conference, December 3rd, 2010 http://bit.ly/9WHPzZ #twecon #
  • "The Perigo Position" #lindsayperigotvshowtitles #
  • "How to Argue Fallaciously the Perigo Way" #lindsayperigotvshowtitles #
  • "The Perigo Proposition" or "Propostion: Perigo." #lindsayperigotvshowtitles #
  • Experimental biscuit baking goes well; I succeed in making nutritious vegan chocolate apricot oat cookies! #
  • My blog's database has gone missing; not that impressed by Popmedia's hosting this last twelve months. Any suggestions for a new local host? #
  • Posts are back. #
  • Actually discussing 9/11 in the thesis. I've managed to avoid it for quite some time. #
  • I find it very hard to put forward a convincing case (to then debunk) for the Inside Job Hypothesis. It just seems so flimsy. Is flimsy. #
  • Nice! 3Deals is giving away an Apple iPhone 4 …enter here: http://winthis.co/3deals/r/7865 /cc @3dealsnz #
  • Yes, sometimes I shill for the advertisers. I am a poor student. #
  • New biscuits are good but could do with a little less sugar. #
  • Too much time spent trying to make sense of 9/11. I need chips, fizzy and maybe some Guinness. #
  • The subtitles on the copy of "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" that I just watched were hilariously awful. "Stop rooting up my daughter!" #
  • Bugger. Once again, got distracted by the thesis and worked past the point of being able to attend "Media 7." Sorry, @publicaddress #
  • Ted is funny in this episode of "How I Met Your Mother." First time in seasons. "Good luck killing James Bond!" #
  • "The Girl Who Played With Fire" (novel) was a bit rubbish. No real mystery and very drawn out. I will read the next book but am in no rush. #
  • It seems @dpfdpf hasn't recently met a conspiracy theory about the New Zealand Left that he hasn't decided to endorse. What fun it must be. #
  • Having defended the Outside Job Hypothesis and proved that Al-Qaeda did it, I'm going to celebrate with an early coffee. #
  • Next up: I prove that Marcus Brutus and friends definitely killed Gaius Iulius Caesar and that Stalin was a monster. #
  • Some days I think the thesis should be called "In retrospect, it was blindingly obvious…: the Epistemology of conspiracy theories." #
  • This three and an half thousand words can go to my supervisors. #
  • Glad to see the Herald is helping advertise the sale of a Moa skull. I mean, they couldn't have waited until after the sale to do the story? #
  • The film of "The Girl Who Played With Fire" must be incomprehensible if you haven't read the book. It looks like it was shot on the cheap. #
  • So, British Civilisation has just ended on a whimper, in re #twitterjoketrial It was never much to start with, but to die like this? #
  • Reminder: Tweet-based conference on the 3rd of December. Call for Papers here: http://bit.ly/9WHPzZ Get those abstracts in! #twecon #
  • Spent large chunk of last night talking conspiracy theories to drunks only to get berated by a lecturer for St. Andrews. True story. #
  • #twecon followers, I recommend following @Lawrence_Miles, whose multi-part tweets were part of the inspiration behind the Twitter conference #