Clean As Mud

By Steve Carr

I was listening to public radio this morning, not because I don’t like music but because the fancy computer AI system in my new car befuddles me with its array of options and endless data feeds. “Hello, Steve. Are you sure you want to listen to Snoop Dogg?  He’s not on your favorites list.

May I suggest you stop for a coffee while I locate a more fitting channel? Please exercise caution, there’s a school bus ahead.” My car’s busy-bodiless voice, undeviatingly steady and mollifying, chats with me in stereo surround sound.

The radio program host, undeterred despite the car computer  speaking over him, was interviewing the author of a book entitled, Naked Statistics, Stripping the Dread from the Data. And yes, I was intrigued—it had the word “naked” in it. 

The naked truth is, late-middle age has little effect on certain Pavlovian effects. I’m conditioned. The hook worked. I listened.

I’ve always enjoyed statistics (except maybe for my .025 Little League batting average). It was algebra that I dreaded. Algebra doesn’t account for real life variables. When asked, for example, which of two trains traveling in different directions at different speeds would reach the station first, I was more interested in knowing which train had a bar car. Who cares then if it arrives a little later?

Anyway, statistics can be fun, as in, on average, how many Idaho college students does it take to screw in a light bulb?  The answer is zero.  Idaho students, as compared to their counterparts, are so bright they don’t need supplemental lighting. Or so say some policy makers.

You see, we need the bigger picture to be able to arrive at the more accurate answer. My unembodied AI friend tells me that statistically the odds of being struck by lightning are greater than are my chances of winning the lottery. 

But Naked Statistics strips away the technical details to focus on the underlying intuition that drives the numbers. It teaches us to consider variables.  For example, if I don’t venture outdoors, the odds of winning the lottery will then become higher than the chances of being struck by lightning. Which is good news. I like to win.

Speaking of the lottery, if I don’t win, our public schools receive additional funding, thus benefiting from my wagered losses.  And although some understandably would prefer to save the state from the slippery slope toward full-on gambling and toward what they contend amounts to a toll on those who can least afford it, our schools need money to buy math books.

The lottery does net the state lots of money.  To procure those funds another way might require an additional tax. We don’t like taxes in Idaho. Oh, the layers of logic.

I suppose there is another reason, besides avoiding a lightning strike, to stay indoors and bask in our own private nakedness. Too many layers make us sweat.

The naked truth? Perhaps. But then, I don’t look so hot stripped down. Few of us really do. Pavlov notwithstanding.

“Hey, computer. Yes, please, play Snoop Dogg.”