Friday, August 13, 2004
The silence of the frogs
I guess God™ didn't like my humiliation of his first meager attempt and decided to have another go. Currently we're being drowned by leftover rain from Tropical storm Bonnie, and on Saturday I will attempt to drive to Clemson without being totally consumed by hurricane Charlie. The hurricane looks like it'll be a doozy, but hopefully it'll get too full on dead Floridians to bother us too much. Maybe we'll get lucky, and it'll sever the peninsula at the base!
While the weather channel is again screaming their heads off, the daily reports that come on every 10 minutes don't seem to indicate our impending doom. The robotic voice just drones, "Slight chance of rain. Slight chance of rain." You'd think they'd have programmed it by now to say, "The end is nigh! Fucking hurricane people! HURR-I-CANE!"
Because of all the rain, there's been a lot of minor flooding here, and tonight, the frogs are loving it. They are making those loud chirpy/ribbity noises they love to make, which wouldn't normally be annoying if there weren't a millions of them.
During a break in the rain, I went for a run, down the road, into the Coastal Carolina University campus, and onto the track they have nearby. Just off the track, on one end, they have tiny ramp leading down into the ground, which ends with a small storage shed. In the dark, you can't see the very bottom because of a long deep shadow, but I could tell that it was full of water. It was also full of at least a dozen frogs, who were making enough of a racket for me to hear through my headphones. So I decided to see what would shut them up.
I tried spitting into the hole first. I'm not much of a spitter, and generally find it distasteful when people just spit in public for no good reason, but runners need to spit more than normal, so I took the opportunity. A second after I did it
the ribbiting ceased one by one, sort of the way talking dies down when a performance begins. I could sense their little froggy ears were very alert. I decided to do another lap (1/4 mile) and see what happened next. When I came back, they were at it again, like a bunch of loud schoolchildren in a cafeteria. This time I just spoke.
"Hey! Shut up you guys!" Half of the ribbits paused, while the others continued. "Hey! I said shut up!" I said, this time pointing into the darkness of the hole. All the ribbiting ceased. I strained to see anything in the darkness, but failed to see if their little froggy eyes were wide with fear.
I began to walk away, and 10 seconds later, one single ribbit emitted from the hole. I smiled. It must have been the froggy equivalent of, "What an asshole!"
While the weather channel is again screaming their heads off, the daily reports that come on every 10 minutes don't seem to indicate our impending doom. The robotic voice just drones, "Slight chance of rain. Slight chance of rain." You'd think they'd have programmed it by now to say, "The end is nigh! Fucking hurricane people! HURR-I-CANE!"
Because of all the rain, there's been a lot of minor flooding here, and tonight, the frogs are loving it. They are making those loud chirpy/ribbity noises they love to make, which wouldn't normally be annoying if there weren't a millions of them.
During a break in the rain, I went for a run, down the road, into the Coastal Carolina University campus, and onto the track they have nearby. Just off the track, on one end, they have tiny ramp leading down into the ground, which ends with a small storage shed. In the dark, you can't see the very bottom because of a long deep shadow, but I could tell that it was full of water. It was also full of at least a dozen frogs, who were making enough of a racket for me to hear through my headphones. So I decided to see what would shut them up.
I tried spitting into the hole first. I'm not much of a spitter, and generally find it distasteful when people just spit in public for no good reason, but runners need to spit more than normal, so I took the opportunity. A second after I did it
the ribbiting ceased one by one, sort of the way talking dies down when a performance begins. I could sense their little froggy ears were very alert. I decided to do another lap (1/4 mile) and see what happened next. When I came back, they were at it again, like a bunch of loud schoolchildren in a cafeteria. This time I just spoke.
"Hey! Shut up you guys!" Half of the ribbits paused, while the others continued. "Hey! I said shut up!" I said, this time pointing into the darkness of the hole. All the ribbiting ceased. I strained to see anything in the darkness, but failed to see if their little froggy eyes were wide with fear.
I began to walk away, and 10 seconds later, one single ribbit emitted from the hole. I smiled. It must have been the froggy equivalent of, "What an asshole!"
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Counting dead babies
Because I'm feeling informative this evening, I'm going to take a little time to talk about a little statistic known as the infant mortality rate.
The infant mortality rate (IMR) is the number of infants, out of a thousand births, who die before their first birthday. In order to qualify, the child must be alive when he/she is born. The rest is up to the data-collector. There are some countries that consider a child with a heartbeat but no respiratory function alive. This leave some room for error, but enough to endanger its use. It is one of the biggest indicators of socioeconomic well-being in the world.
Historically, infant mortality rates have been quite high. In previous centuries, you'd expect more than half of your babies to kick the bucket. As innovations in medical technology appeared, the number began to drop in the West. By the 20th century, the most advanced nations had this number below the 100s (meaning less than 1 in 10 babies were now kicking the bucket).
Today, OECD member countries (i.e. the big guns) are still fighting over the position of lowest IMR. As of 2003, Norway, Denmark, France, Germany, Finland, and Spain were tied for 1st place, with an infant mortality rate of 4 per 1,000 live births. The US is several places behind, with 7, putting us in the same bracket as Croatia and Cuba. Out of the top 25 most developed countries in the world, we've got the highest IMR (for reasons I'll talk about later).
So why is the IMR such an important statistic? Well, for one, it allows us to determine how much of a demographic transition a country as undergone. A country usually starts out in a pre-industrial state of high mortality and high fertility. Its citizens have a lot of kids, but most of them die before they can add enough to the population to move it out of its slow growth. This is why, for most of human history, our population's increase has been relatively stable.
One of the first thing a developing country faces is a lower level of child mortality, soon followed by an overall increase in life expectancy. This is because either income has grown enough to allow for medical advances within the country (less likely) or that technology has been imported from more advanced countries (more likely). This is known as a countries mortality transition. It is typically followed by a population explosion, because people are living a lot longer, but still having as many babies as before. This state of relatively low mortality but high fertility has led to the huge population explosion we've seen in in this world over the past 100 years, and it's often due to huge reductions in infant mortality rates.
The IMR also tells us how well a society is taking care of its children. The infant mortality rate is closely tied to the Under 5 mortality rate (the same as the IMR, except we wait to see if they can make it to their 5th year). Societies with low child mortality are more likely to invest in the children they have, for there is a greater chance the kid will live to be a productive adult. If so many of your babies die before their 1st birthday, a poverty-stricken mother, as horrible as it sounds, may not give each one the attention it needs anyway, especially if there are other children to attend to. The infant mortality rate in many countries is much higher for girls than it is for boys, as resources are often shifted to the one most likely to be a successful bread-winner for the family.
So how did we get our infant mortality down to such a low number? Well, medical tech and pre/post-natal care do a great deal, but a lot is owed to the status of the mother. The number one killed of babies in the third world is low-birth weight. Children just aren't provided well enough for while they are in the womb, and so come out with less mass on them than usual. This means they will have a weaker immune system and be more susceptible to disease at an early age. Once you've taken care of the mother before birth, and the baby after birth, you've accounted for at least 80% of the average third world's countries IMR.
The rest is due to taking care of the naturally disadvantaged. Plan old genetics causes a lot of kids to be born with problems that only a great deal of technology can help with. This is why you see the infant mortality rate drop sharply as countries get richer, until they hit a rate in the 20s, after which it takes a great deal more money to save one baby in a thousand. I've heard talk that Japan has pushed theirs down to 3 children in a thousand, but I doubt it will go much lower than that. It's been accepted that 3 or 4 is the human races 'natural' infant mortality rate, one that is just due to problems beyond our control.
Wait a minute, didn't I just tell everyone the US's IMR was 7? Why is ours so much higher than the other OECD countries? Well, for one, we're still quite well off. The third world still loses around 100 babies per 1000 live births, and we only lose 7. However, we could still do a lot better. The answer isn't in some technological problem, but a racial-economic one.
Let's use South Carolina as our case study. In 2002, South Carolina had an infant mortality rate of 9.3. Sound's pretty high doesn't it? Well, the infant mortality rate for children with white mothers was, in fact, only 5.9. Children with non-white mothers faced an infant mortality rate of 15.4! That's about the same as a Bosnia or Bulgaria. It is the poor black and Latino populations of this country that face the worst figures in the country, and are the reason why the US can't brag about having low infant mortality rates and high life expectancy, because we have a whole racial/economic class of poverty that we have yet to deal with. I often find it hard to accept the anti-abortion argument from a cohort who typically doesn't care too much about the real numbers on irrefutably dead babies. This statistic tells us so much about a society and where it's going.
In Oconee county, we faced a good year, as our IMR was only 5.3. For those of you from Aiken, you faced one of 8.9. Any of you in Pickens dealt with 8.8. Back here in Horry county, we dealt with a very high 10.7. Charleston 13. Marion faced 17.2.
That's about as much as I feel like going into it tonight. This is just one of the many statistics that I hope to be dealing with on a frequent basis in my career. I've written a econometrical paper on economic inequality and its effect on the infant mortality rate, so I'm fairly familiar with its usage.
The infant mortality rate (IMR) is the number of infants, out of a thousand births, who die before their first birthday. In order to qualify, the child must be alive when he/she is born. The rest is up to the data-collector. There are some countries that consider a child with a heartbeat but no respiratory function alive. This leave some room for error, but enough to endanger its use. It is one of the biggest indicators of socioeconomic well-being in the world.
Historically, infant mortality rates have been quite high. In previous centuries, you'd expect more than half of your babies to kick the bucket. As innovations in medical technology appeared, the number began to drop in the West. By the 20th century, the most advanced nations had this number below the 100s (meaning less than 1 in 10 babies were now kicking the bucket).
Today, OECD member countries (i.e. the big guns) are still fighting over the position of lowest IMR. As of 2003, Norway, Denmark, France, Germany, Finland, and Spain were tied for 1st place, with an infant mortality rate of 4 per 1,000 live births. The US is several places behind, with 7, putting us in the same bracket as Croatia and Cuba. Out of the top 25 most developed countries in the world, we've got the highest IMR (for reasons I'll talk about later).
So why is the IMR such an important statistic? Well, for one, it allows us to determine how much of a demographic transition a country as undergone. A country usually starts out in a pre-industrial state of high mortality and high fertility. Its citizens have a lot of kids, but most of them die before they can add enough to the population to move it out of its slow growth. This is why, for most of human history, our population's increase has been relatively stable.
One of the first thing a developing country faces is a lower level of child mortality, soon followed by an overall increase in life expectancy. This is because either income has grown enough to allow for medical advances within the country (less likely) or that technology has been imported from more advanced countries (more likely). This is known as a countries mortality transition. It is typically followed by a population explosion, because people are living a lot longer, but still having as many babies as before. This state of relatively low mortality but high fertility has led to the huge population explosion we've seen in in this world over the past 100 years, and it's often due to huge reductions in infant mortality rates.
The IMR also tells us how well a society is taking care of its children. The infant mortality rate is closely tied to the Under 5 mortality rate (the same as the IMR, except we wait to see if they can make it to their 5th year). Societies with low child mortality are more likely to invest in the children they have, for there is a greater chance the kid will live to be a productive adult. If so many of your babies die before their 1st birthday, a poverty-stricken mother, as horrible as it sounds, may not give each one the attention it needs anyway, especially if there are other children to attend to. The infant mortality rate in many countries is much higher for girls than it is for boys, as resources are often shifted to the one most likely to be a successful bread-winner for the family.
So how did we get our infant mortality down to such a low number? Well, medical tech and pre/post-natal care do a great deal, but a lot is owed to the status of the mother. The number one killed of babies in the third world is low-birth weight. Children just aren't provided well enough for while they are in the womb, and so come out with less mass on them than usual. This means they will have a weaker immune system and be more susceptible to disease at an early age. Once you've taken care of the mother before birth, and the baby after birth, you've accounted for at least 80% of the average third world's countries IMR.
The rest is due to taking care of the naturally disadvantaged. Plan old genetics causes a lot of kids to be born with problems that only a great deal of technology can help with. This is why you see the infant mortality rate drop sharply as countries get richer, until they hit a rate in the 20s, after which it takes a great deal more money to save one baby in a thousand. I've heard talk that Japan has pushed theirs down to 3 children in a thousand, but I doubt it will go much lower than that. It's been accepted that 3 or 4 is the human races 'natural' infant mortality rate, one that is just due to problems beyond our control.
Wait a minute, didn't I just tell everyone the US's IMR was 7? Why is ours so much higher than the other OECD countries? Well, for one, we're still quite well off. The third world still loses around 100 babies per 1000 live births, and we only lose 7. However, we could still do a lot better. The answer isn't in some technological problem, but a racial-economic one.
Let's use South Carolina as our case study. In 2002, South Carolina had an infant mortality rate of 9.3. Sound's pretty high doesn't it? Well, the infant mortality rate for children with white mothers was, in fact, only 5.9. Children with non-white mothers faced an infant mortality rate of 15.4! That's about the same as a Bosnia or Bulgaria. It is the poor black and Latino populations of this country that face the worst figures in the country, and are the reason why the US can't brag about having low infant mortality rates and high life expectancy, because we have a whole racial/economic class of poverty that we have yet to deal with. I often find it hard to accept the anti-abortion argument from a cohort who typically doesn't care too much about the real numbers on irrefutably dead babies. This statistic tells us so much about a society and where it's going.
In Oconee county, we faced a good year, as our IMR was only 5.3. For those of you from Aiken, you faced one of 8.9. Any of you in Pickens dealt with 8.8. Back here in Horry county, we dealt with a very high 10.7. Charleston 13. Marion faced 17.2.
That's about as much as I feel like going into it tonight. This is just one of the many statistics that I hope to be dealing with on a frequent basis in my career. I've written a econometrical paper on economic inequality and its effect on the infant mortality rate, so I'm fairly familiar with its usage.
When a boom stick comes in handy
Doom 3 is almost the scariest games ever made. It's graphics are frightingly realistic. The lighting itself is almost on par with Thief 3, so any shadow you see is a potential threat (under Doom 3 law, any shadow WILL contain an idle zombie. With 5.1 speakers, you can hear the murmurs of the dead and the demons as they sneak up behind you in the dark. Only the report of your single-barreled shotgun can answer the evil that awaits you.
However, despite being a wildly fun game, full of some of the best man vs demon firefights seen in ages, despite manages to go SUPRISE every 2 minutes, despite having horrible horrible creatures such as the half-baby half giant flies you have to deal with, or the upsidedown heads with spider-legs, despite the great physics engine, the crystal clear textures, despite this all, Doom 3 is not the scariest game ever made. It's one of the best single player first-person-shooters ever made, but this only means it shares a basket with Half-life, Thief, Unreal, Far Cry, and the scariest game ever made, System Shock 2.
Doom 3 can do dread all right. There are times I don't feel like going on. But them I remember I'm a one-man-tank, and so I rush through a hallway until I have half the demon army chasing me, I hide in a corner, and I dispatch them as I come around the corner. I almost die, but I never do. I always fine enough ammo or health to save myself.
System Shock 2, which not as perfect as Doom in the SUPRISE department, managed to instill this wonderful sense of dread that still has me scarred. You were not a fighting machine. You were fairly weak, and not only were you always short on ammo, but there was always a chance your gun could jam, or flat out fall to pieces. Your enemies didn't jump out at you, they hunted you slowly through the dark spaceship corridors, calling you to come out to them. Your heard metal feet clickity-clacking across the cold floors, coming for you. Your enemies left messages for you. You found audio logs of people having their guts torn out. You were truly alone.
Doom 3 is like a mish-mash of Doom, Half-life, and System Shock 2. Its action it gets from Doom. Your fights are fast-paced, full of strafing and firing and shouting, "Die motherfucker die!" as you blow to pieces that demon that scared you so badly. It's set-up is Half-life to the extreme. HL showed us how wonderful scripted scenes could be, but Doom 3 is pretty much one big scripted scene. Almost every enemy appears because you triggered it. Sometimes you'll be walking, and the game will open a magical door in a wall just so a zombie can get you from behind, or demons will just randomly teleport in. It's a little too old school. The game's atmosphere/setting is taken from System Shock 2. The Mars base you are trapped on feels very much like the Von Brauhn, full of dark corridors and lots of computer screens with detailed numbers on them. Your objectives are "fix this part of the ship" just as often as they are "find the key for the door." Doom 3 is certainly the prettier of the pair.
But don't get me wrong, Doom 3 is as good a game as Far Cry, even if it is a different game in every way, and is well worth your time, if you have the rig to run it, that is. I barely do.
