While this _is_ pretty slick (and Google’s service generates many, many types of charts), I think this is as good a time as any to remember that pie charts are terrible. SEED magazine summarizes findings from Bill Cleveland (emphasis mine):
although we’re good at comparing linear distances along a scale — judging which of two lines is longer, a task used in bar graphs — and we’re even better at judging the position of points along a scale, pie charts don’t bring those skills to bear. They do ask us compare angles, but we tend to underestimate acute angles, overestimate obtuse angles, and take horizontally bisected angles as much larger than their vertical counterparts. The problems worsen when we’re asked to judge area and volume: Regular as clockwork, we overestimate the size of smaller objects and underestimate the size of larger ones, to a much greater degree with volume than with area.
I noticed something strange earlier this week. Peter’s Cajun Creole Pizza, our favourite pizza place, was dark before midnight. Then, Tina left a comment at this blog suggesting that Pete’s has been “shut down by the landlord.”
Tonight, upon closer inspection, I confirmed that Pete’s (and Peter’s Corner) are indeed closed, and there are notes on both doors from the landlord.
If you had gone to Germany in the mid-1470s and said, let’s see what this printing press is doing, right, you would miss novels, you would miss newspapers, you would miss the rise of scientific publication, you would miss Martin Luther’s “95 Theses,” you would miss the Venetian publishing industry. So many of the changes brought by the kind of abundance created by the printing press were in the second 50 years of its existence, if not the second century of its existence, that I think that over-extrapolating from current trends would leave us in the same position as if we tried to do the printing press in 1473.
Here’s a wonderful sort of factoid which may be helpful: The Western version of the printing press is invented in 1454. It takes 50 years for page numbers to emerge. It took humans that long to figure out that it might be useful to put numbers onto the pages.
Or, as management-types like to say, “It’s early days.”
Lee Rainnie, director of the Pew Internet and American Life project, from this week’s On the Media, speaking about social isolation and internet use:
For centuries, when new technologies come on the scene there’s almost an instinctive human reaction, particularly among those who are challenged by the new technology, to blame the technology for any social ill that happens to arise at the same time. Something has gone on with our social networks in the past 20 years. Our data matched the data that the previous researchers had collected showing the networks are shrinking.
And so, now we’re inviting other social scientists and researchers like ourselves to go out and find the real culprit and not just think that the Internet lies behind it just because the Internet was being adopted at the same time this harmful social trend was emerging.
On Wednesday night at The Tranzac downtown, a 34-year-old man took to the stage and spewed more than 60 insults and obscenities to a large crowd. They hooted with laughter, gasped at the more taboo terms and broke out into applause when it was all over.
Andrew Jehan’s performance was an extreme example of what audiences might hear at Grownups Read Things They Wrote as Kids, a free reading series whose name pretty much says it all. This was the eighth installment of a show where people read old diary entries, angsty teen poetry and mystifying grade school assignments to a roomful of strangers.
A big thanks to everyone who came out to GRTTWaK8 at the Tranzac on September 17th. It was a great time.
I have two more Wednesdays at the Tranzac this month, with two very excellent shows:
So, I’ve had my Brompton for four weeks now, and I’m very pleased with it. It rides well, folds well, and I’ve had no trouble bringing it anywhere. It’s come with me into work, restaurants, and shops. And just yesterday, I learned that it fits perfectly inside a shopping cart:
Sadness yesterday. Frog Hollow Books locked its doors for good. I’d been trying to go in there for two weeks to say goodbye, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. Managed to get my act together ten minutes before closing. Went in and had a good cry with Heidi, drank canned wine from a Tim Horton’s cup, bought three books I don’t even know what they are, just to buy them, cried some more, and got the hell out. I will miss that place, and I wish I’d thought to go in there every single week to spend thirty bucks. If there’s an independent bookstore where you live, go there. It makes a difference. My book was always on the shelf at Frog Hollow, but I’ve never seen a single copy in Chapters. At Frog Hollow, they read my book, they loved my book, they put my book in the hands of hundreds and hundreds of readers. At Chapters, I’m just someone who might spend eight bucks on a roll of wrapping paper.
