Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Consistently Outperforming the Market

r/K selection theory and eugenics rear their flattering masks again. You know it's right, because every pick they've sent me has been right for the past seventeen weeks running.

Take a group of 100 lazy turds and assign them to picking something: horse races, homecoming queens, large-cap stocks...whatever. At the end of twenty races/proms/quarters, there might not be one asshole who's always right, so do better next time. Following the principle that if you want to get something done right, do it yourself: make an XY graph of football matches or bond funds and assign your 100 lazy turds--no, no, that's outdated...fire all the lazy turds, come up with 97 fictitious personas, hire three of your cousin's nephew's in-laws, and assign all 100 of those people to carefully staggered sections of the total possible contenders in the different horse races et cetera. At the end of the period, not only is some asshole always right, a majority of assholes are always above-average.

All the old scams are on the internet, and amazingly, they still work. Maybe college was all about putting off adulthood and not education? Or about living vicariously through your children's tinderized dorms? In the "stolen luxury goods available ridiculously cheap" scam, you have the inside man putting up real money to motivate buyers, and to sell timeshares, you have the attractive couple in their fifties (and in aloha shirts) who are there to buy their second since they had so much fun with their first. We know all that, we can read all about that on Wikipedia, but somehow, Mestizox Beale and Jewlo Yiannopocock are putting out the purportedly bestselling book pushing the purportedly racist alt-right agenda.

All they want us to do is to destroy the Ottomans for them yet again. They do it every so often and we're so gullible we keep trying to kick the football. I know I can't stop you now anymore than I could last time, but what else am I going to type about?

Playing God isn't a bad idea because we're afraid of science; it's a bad idea because we're not godlike. We possess the faculty to slightly adapt our forebears' technology into a better computer chip, but not the faculty to predict which chip will be the best in the future. In Philip K. Dick's future, Deckard stops his flying car to make payphone calls to the office. Even more outrageously erroneous, major institutions gave a damn about stopping androids, which was off the mark well before 1968.

How many fecal petits millionnaires out there are wondering why they can't pick as well as--oh, who's the current Iacocca? something-something snackbar?--and how many are in enough on the game to not get down on themselves and enjoy their fewer Forbes mentions as mere Manhattan managing directors? How many believe that they themselves personally actually do make sub-par choices, and ascribe the difference in outcome to some Calvinist super-will that mapped out the course beforehand?

Okay, so we want all of our kids to be disease-free, damn good looking, either athletic-ly muscular or slender-ly hourglassed. So their cells vigorously resist current diseases, which is great, but future diseases turn out to not be diseases, but pre-emptive adaptations to diseases we don't understand yet, so only the ugly non-mutated survive. In 25,000 BC, given gene-labs, we would've created the biggest, hairiest, most fanged cave-dudes ever, and been pleased that our eugenically perfect children were successfully hunting mammoth by hand, not having to resort to wussy spears. Certain early peoples might've bred a sub-race of catamites that would be with us today, and 1980s scientists might've adjusted the hair genome to produce the perfect hairdo naturally. Pick your poison--do you know which of (what you would consider) our best accomplishments today derived out of mutations that would've once been considered detrimental? How about bookishness, reluctance to fight to the death over a social slight, or an unnatural interest in adding and subtracting abstract figures? Once the Dry Age hits, all of our 6'4" Ken Dolls will die, outlasted by the 5'0" children of the poor, whose ugly hunchedness gave them the erratic metabolisms and caloric humps they needed to survive. Actually, second thought--better exterminate all of the non-evolved ahead of time, so that once our Actions As Collective God kill us all, no one can later prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the un-treated would've fared any better.

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