Another Example of Being Autisitc

I looked at the clock just now; it was 3:43 PM. 343, I said to myself. 7 x 7 x 7 is 343. But, I continued, the time 3:43 does not refer to the number three hundred and forty-three, because the first 3 means 3 x 60, not 3 x100. 3 x 60 minutes past noon or midnight, plus 43 more minutes. 3:43 on the clock  means 223 minutes past noon or midnight, past noon in this case.

Then I said to myself, wait -- is 223 a prime number? And I soon discovered that it was, because it not evenly divisible by any of the primes 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, or 13, and the square of the next-highest prime, 17, is higher than 223. It is 289. 

It took me about 10 seconds to do that math in my head, and to double- and triple-check my math, and to be certain that 223 is a prime number. Without a calculator, without pencil and paper. Not Rain Man. But above average. 

This is an example of why I got frustrated with people who couldn't do the math back in March 2016, when Obama, Rachael Maddow and I told them that Hillary had clinched the nomination. 

Also, I am autistic, and for 9 1/2 years I haven't been able to explain to a single person how it was that Barack, Rachel and I knew. I assume Barack and Rachel have both been able to explain it to at least a few people, because they both have far more people paying attention to them, and also because neither one of them is autistic: they're both much better at talking to people, at persuading people. 

Dover Books on Mathematics, at Amazon: https://amzn.to/40CvBwT 

Randon Thoughts About Some Golf Stats

According to the website golfplayed dot com, there are 38,864 golf courses in the world, and of those, 16,752 are located in the US. Japan is in 2nd place with 3,169 courses. Scotland, widely agreed to be the birthplace of golf, is in 10th place with 614 courses. That's about 1 golf courses for every 200 square miles in the US, every 500 square miles in Scotland, and every 35 square miles in Japan.

An estimated 1 to 2 billion golf balls are made annually. That's roughly 25,000 to 50,000 balls per course, per year. Where do they all go? The folks in the golf subreddit, the best experts I know, say: driving ranges, water hazards, golf bags, garages, Bigfoot. Perhaps the #1 answer is; Yeah, I don't know either, that's a whole bunch of golf balls.

How many golf carts are there in the world? Or perhaps I should ask, after searching and searching for even one estimate: why is no one willing to answer this question?  But I see that the golf cart industry is about $2.5 billion a year and growing. At $5,000 to $15,000 a cart, that's hundreds of thousands of new carts a year. 

Hundreds of thousands a year. That's a lot.

Golf carts have been selling well since the 1950's. I'd say there have to be millions of golf carts out there. Not necessarily mostly on golf courses full-time either, because is there room for all of them on golf courses? Not all at once. I've seen a lot of golf carts on movie lots, in movies about movies.

And here's where I start to get paranoid: I've been paying rather close attention to electric vehicles for about a decade now. I had never been one of those Who-holds-back-the-electric-car guys until now, when I think about all those big shots playing golf, the guys who call the shots, riding around in millions of electric golf carts for the past half century or so. Electric, because almost all golf carts are electric, because golfers, just like the rest of, would rather not be bothered by the noise and stink of internal combustion.

All those big shots playing all that golf, riding around in those constant reminders that electricity provides perfectly good, reliable transportation, all the way back to the Eisenhower administration...

 

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Rainbow-Translucent Graphite-Fiber K-Pop Hyper-Efficient Micro-Mini EV's --

 -- would sell well here in the US. To those who say that they wouldn't sell, I ask: who's trying?

The post title refers to EV's which currently exist only in my head, unless they're on sale somewhere else in the world, and if I saw them I'd say, Yes, that's it, exactly. There are many, many tiny inexpensive EV's which have been sold in other countries. Every report of a new one ends: "-- and they will not be available in the US." The smallest US-made EV was the Chevy Bolt, manufactured until the end of 2023. We're waiting for the next-generation Bolt, and while we wait, the next-smallest EV from GM is -- the Equinox? Ain't exactly small. 

I literally dreamed about those tiny EV's with K-Pop vibes and colorful, translucent exterior panels. In the dream, magically, I was able to make drawings of cars in my head. In real life, I must rely on the magic of words. In my head, these tiny, sleek, fun 2-passangers cars have a K-pop youthful vibe. In my dream I was pitching the design to Hyundai/Kia, and they were talking about building and selling them here in Murrka.

In the dream, some friends of mine disapproved, saying that public transportation and walking and bicycling should be promoted instead. I replied that all of those things should be promoted, and EV's too. It's a debate I've had many times in waking life. 

The dream design I was pitching to Hyundai/Kia was fun. These are tiny little hot hatches, and the see-through exterior panels, as far I know, would be a new thing. Maybe we could save the world without having any fun, but would there be a point to that?

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Too Paranoid? Or Not Nearly Paranoid Enough?

 If AI is so smart, how come it hasn't warned humanity that they're wasting way too much electricity on AI?

Or maybe AI has already decided that humanity is just in the way, and the energy wastage is part of the plan to wipe us out?

And if I'm right, since I'm posting this publicly, maybe AI will track me down and take me out firs -- AARRGGHHH! Goodbye, humanity! I loved some of you! And many dogs! And all cats! squeeeeee *ominous dial tone* (ask your grandparents)

Haha, just kidding, I'm still here! But food for thought maybe? 

I daydream sometimes that Gavrilo Princip missed Franz Ferdinand, and Franz Ferdinand manages to talk Europe's leaders out of WWI, which in turns means that the Nazis and WWII and A bombs and H bombs never happen, and Franz Ferdinand visits Princip in confinement far more luxurious than anything Princip has seen, and they have long talks and become good friends and when Franz Ferdinand becomes Emperor in 1916 he orders a series of plebiscites which begin a rapid and yet peaceful break-up of the Austrian Empire, and Princip mentions Nikola Tesla to Franz Ferdinand, who persuades Tesla to return to Europe, where very soon he is Rector of Belgrade Polytechnic, and electric vehicles, solar and wind energy and information technology establish themselves very rapidly all over Central and Eastern Europe, the region's carbon footprint is below zero by 1930, and instead of having a Great Depression the world follows the example of the former Habsburg empire and goes very very very green, and...

I said "daydream" but I usually have these fantasies just before going to sleep at night. 

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Bruce Hornsby and... ?

I don't know whether Bruce Hornsby is really into golf. Huey Lewis is really into golf. And Lewis and Hornsby have worked together. As musicians, I mean. And Hornsby's first big hugely successful group was Bruce Hornsby and the Range, who broke a hole in the sky in 1986 with their debut album The Way It Is and its inspiring title track.

Now, I cannot stress strongly enough that I do not know any of the persons, places, businesses or events in what follows. I am just a big silly goof who calls himself a monkey. For a living. The following is a work of the imagination.

I'm imagining Bruce Hornsby at a driving range in 1984. Big tall guy, Bruce is, minding his own business and hitting some golf balls, when a guy about a foot shorter with a receding hairline comes over, kicks over Bruce's bucket of balls and starts poking him in the chest with a forefinger and yelling at him:

"Yeah, so you think you're a hot-shot piano player, right? You think you're the best piano player around? Huh?" Poke! "Huh?!"

"Um... Hello?" Bruce says. 

But the little bald guy -- relatively little. But so are most guys. Bruce is a huge freak -- is undeterred, he keeps right on poking and yelling: "You think you're hot shit, huh? College Boy?'

"'College Boy'?!"

"You really think you're hot shit, huh? You know where Suzy's is? On route 9?"

I myself do not know of any establishment, past or present, called Suzy's, nor do I know the route of any road called Route 9. I'm just sitting here imagining this. That's all.

"Yeah," Bruce says, "I know where Suzy's is."

 "You sure? I could draw you a map."

"I've been there several times." 

"Well, if you can manage to be there Friday night, around 9 o'clock, then maybe we can see what kind of hot-shot you are. I'll be there, I'm the drummer and lead singer. Suzy's has a piano. I hear there even have it tuned now and then. ...unless you're gonna be too busy."

Bruce looks down and mumbles the admission: "No, I'm not going to be too busy."

And in fact -- that is to say: purely in my imagination -- Bruce is not too busy that Friday evening, and pretty soon he's the group's main lead singer, and two years later they're on MTV playing "The Way It Is" and making a lot of money -- or, at least, Bruce is making a lot of money -- unless they've got a manager who s terrible at his job, or ripping them of, or both. But at the very least, they let the drummer wear a fairly fancy-looking hat and suspenders during the filming of the video.

And for a variety of reasons which I'm too tired to go into here and now, I suspect that Burce was makin' some bank, and that he was paying the band okay too.  But I don't actually KNOW anything about it.

And maybe they were called Bruce Hornsby and the Range because they met at a driving range. Although there's no reason to believe that any of this is true or even coincidentally remotely close to what happened.

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"It's Golf O'Clock Somewhere!"

I have the impression that it's rare for golf players who are not pros to walk the course and carry their clubs the whole 3, 4 miles, instead of riding carts. I hope I'm wrong about that.

I heard a story about the Dallas Cowboys' management buying every player on the roster an electric golf cart. I was surprised: I knew some pro athletes were into golf, but I'd had no idea that many of them were into it that much. 

Than I wondered whether the real story here might be about the Cowboys' management being far out of touch with the daily lives of their players. I pictured some rookies who earn the NFL minimum, saying, "Thanks, Boss, I appreciate the gesture, I really do, but I still live in an apartment. How about paying me enough that I can buy a house so I'll have some place to park this cool new golf cart off the street?"

Then I wondered whether many individual golfers actually own their own carts, or if they just rent them at the course? I googled golf cart rental, and the rates are so high that it seems to me that the best thing might be to buy your own cart, and then buy a van to drive it back and forth from the course. Or just buy a 2010 Leaf and drive it to and from the course and use it as a cart, because that would be a lot cheaper. 

I wondered whether there are still many non-electric golf carts in use.

Then I researched the story and found that it was the Cowboys QB who had gotten a gift for all the players, not the management. And that he had bought each one an electric moped, not a golf cart. 

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Dream Log: Power

I dreamed I was in a huge enclosed space, so big that thousands of us were in there without feeling crowded. Most or all of the floor was carpeted. In the center of the space various sorts of fancy coffee were constantly brewed and dispensed. There were plenty of comfortable chairs and sofas and coffee tables. 

I and thousands like me roamed the space, men and women all dressed like executives: Presidents, Premieres, legislators, judges, lobbyists, chairpeople of boards, analysts, pollsters, strategists, financiers, entrepreneurs, party leaders, journalists, fixers, negotiators, some us having moved through several of those categories. We moved through this large indoor space making deals, breaking promises, forming coalitions, wheeling, dealing, moving, shaking. I had the impression that we were all pros, that no-one was there because he or she was born rich or became famous in something other than politics.

But I also wondered to what extent we might be fooling ourselves. Kings and queens have been known to believe that everything is just as it should be and every position deserved. There was no clearly-established career path I could see from truck driver, for example, to here.

I might have been tempted, in earlier eras, to call this place a "smoke-filled room," except I didn't notice anyone smoking. On the other hand, many of us seemed to have serious caffeine habits.

I made deals, strategized, huddled, sized others up and they sized me up. This was fighting with all but the physical violence. Some of the people in this room would no longer look at me or shake my hand. I assumed this was temporary in some cases, but not all. Trust was an asset in here, as much as political office and money. It was unwise to squander any of them. Or so it seemed to me at least. 

We struggled with each other, made alliances, shifted alliances, with the fates of corporations, markets, nations, the fates of many, many people at stake. Some of us world-famous, others always to be unknown to those many people whose lives we affected. Some of us, young and old, amazingly idealistic. Others amazingly cynical and heartless. Young and old.

On the perimeter of the space were doors with lighted signs above them: "EXIT" in orange letters. Now and then someone would come or go through ones of these doors. I had no idea where we were: Manhattan? London? The Central Asian steppe? I didn't know, and it really didn't matter to me. We were connected to the whole world.

And then I woke up.

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