Hotter Than Hot

More than ever we live in a world of extremes. Perhaps most notable is our political landscape, where the far left and far right set the agenda and define the terms. But it goes beyond the stands that are taken on various issues to how those stands are manifested. Policies become mortal threats, debates become shouting matches, and opponents become enemies. And it seems as though we only have ourselves to blame for the polarization. While we may say we want to meet in the middle, research says we don't: a study recently published in Scientific American show a tendency for people to not only prefer what the ancient Greeks called homophily, or a love of the similar, but also acrophily, a love of extremes.

Outside of politics and social issues, that love of pushing the envelope has also meant that things that used to be considered extreme are now considered mainstream. Extreme sports used to include scuba diving and rock climbing. Now unless you do them in a cave or without a rope they are for the masses. As evidenced by the Met gala and what you see walking down the street, clothing and fashion knows no bounds. And it's the same for all things involving food. Whether it's unusual ingredients or cutting-edge preparations, what once would have raised an eyebrow is now mass market: liquid nitrogen ice cream is now available at the mall.

In the natural world as well, the extremes are becoming more common. Studies have shown that climate change has made extreme weather events more likely or more severe. These include wildfires and flooding, as well as storms and all sorts of atmospheric disturbances. Thunderstorms, hurricanes and typhoons occur with increasing strength, and there are events for which new names have had to be created. There's the bomb cyclone, an intense winter storm where the pressure drops quickly and precipitously. There's the polar vortex, where artic air rushes into more southern climes, resulting in record breaking cold. And there are atmospheric lakes (large intense rainstorms), firenados (flaming columns of rotating fire that erupt during wildfires) and even flash droughts (the rapid onset or intensification of a drought that develops over the course of a month or less).

The latest new moniker comes from the National Weather Service and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and it's related to temperature extremes. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, heat is by far the number one weather cause of death in the United States, responsible for 1200 fatalities last year. Until just recently the severity of that heat was represented by a four-step color scale that indicated the magnitude of the risk. At the low end, pale green meant it was just comfy, with little to no risk. Onward to yellow for minor risk, mainly to those that were old, sick or pregnant, continuing upward to orange, which cautioned those who are sensitive to higher temperatures. The top was the proverbial red alert, reserved for when a day falls within the top 5% hottest in a particular location for a particular date. 

But that wasn't enough anymore. As heat waves increase in intensity and length, red just didn't cut it anymore. And so the four-step scale has been increased to five, with magenta being on beyond the end. That label is reserved for the most extreme of conditions, those characterized by rare and/or long-duration extreme heat that persists with little to no overnight relief. Unlike other weather phenomena that you can see, heat is invisible, and so this designation will tell you without looking out the window that you are in dangerous territory. Or in Spinal Tap terms, a Magenta Heat Wave goes to eleven. 

My buddy JP Patrick wrote and recorded a song a few years ago, a blues-tinged rocker that talks about just how melancholy one could get. "You ask how far my blues will go / You think that I can staunch that flow/ I'm sliding through the darkest hues of blues I know / I'm one step shy, shy of indigo / Said I'm one step to the left of Indigo." JP was hoping for a recording contract, but maybe he might have better luck applying his metaphor to weather as opposed to emotions. Maybe instead of selling the lyrics to Buddy Guy or Gary Clark Jr. he should try the CDC. After all, global warming aside, it can get pretty cold out there.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford prefers heat to cold. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

CORRECTION

In last week’s column "Officially Yours," I referenced the political situation in Arizona with a "hard right Republican legislature and a Democrat governor." One reader rightly pointed out that the proper name of the party is "Democratic." Democrat is a noun referring to a member of the party, while Democratic is its given name. Sloppy writing and editing (both are blamable on me) led to the mistake, which is actually a partisan slap used by Republicans dating back to Tom Dewey in 1940, and subsequently by Joe McCarthy and others. That was not the intent, just a simple error on my part. 

Purely on a grammatical note, if members of the Republican Party are Republicans, one might think that members of the Democratic Party are Democratics as opposed to Democrats, but that’s the English language for you.  After all, it was George Carlin who noted we park on driveways and drive on parkways, so what are you gonna do?  

If I gave offence to any, my apologies: it has been corrected in the archives. 

Officially Yours

If you live in Arizona there is no shortage of issues that might divide you from your neighbor. Much of that stems from the political climate in general, amplified by the specific situation on the ground, namely a hard right Republican legislature and a Democratic governor. Examples are plenty. A gun law passed late last year permits a child under the age of 18 to legally possess firearms on private property that is owned or leased by their parent without that parent's permission. Another law being advanced is aimed at undocumented immigrants, allowing people to legally kill someone accused of trespassing on their property. And it was just this week that an 1864 law that banned most abortions was overturned after repeated tries and defecting legislators. 

All of that means that there are few things you can chat about at a neighborhood barbeque that won't result in a shouting match. Indeed, perhaps the only things residents can agree on is the extensive list of official state totems that are emblematic of its resources, spirit and attitudes. Arizonans of all political persuasions, genders, races and creeds can unite over their Official Neckwear (the bola tie), Official Amphibian (Arizona  tree frog) and Official Metal (copper). And now the Official Mineral (wulfenite) has a new sibling. Governor Katie Hobbs signed HB2477, a bill that declares that Pluto is now Arizona's Official Planet.

Lead sponsor Rep. Justin Wilmeth (R-Phoenix) was the point person in the effort. He notes that the case for this particular celestial body being enshrined in state lore (alongside Official Reptile the Ridge-nosed rattlesnake and Official Firearm the Colt Single Action Army Revolver) runs through Flagstaff. It was there at the Lowell Observatory that astronomer Clyde Tombaugh was looking for the so called "Planet X" by comparing photographic plates of the sky. Using a device called a blink comparator, he flicked between two images of a single spot taken on different nights. He noticed a shift, an effect that would only come from an orbiting body. With that he was able to confirm the existence of Pluto on February 18, 1930, making it the only planet discovered in these here United States. And it gave a boost to a state that could now boast the largest canyon and the furthest orbiter. 

However, in this case the term "planet" carried an asterisk. While it was originally called that, in 2006 following years of debate the International Astronomical Union determined it didn't meet the criteria for planethood. They said that for an object to be considered as such it must a) orbit the Sun, b) be massive enough to have become spherical under the force of its own gravity, and c) be the dominant gravitational player in its neighborhood. While it cleared the first two hurdles, Pluto is a relative weakling in pulling stuff into it. As such, the IAU created a new designation and reclassified it as a "dwarf planet," simultaneously allowing it save some heavenly face and dissing earth-bound Grand Canyon Staters.

Representative Wilmeth says that HB2477 helps to right that wrong. "This is not just about designating a state symbol; it's about recognizing Arizona's pivotal role in advancing astronomical knowledge. The discovery of Pluto at the Lowell Observatory is a testament to our state's scientific legacy, and by designating Pluto as our state planet, we honor the curiosity and dedication of those who have expanded our cosmic horizons." And as to that heavenly demotion? "It might matter to some that are going to get picky or persnickety about stuff," he said.

While bills like this are generally non-controversial, there is the smallest hint of dispute. While passage of this kind of legislation is usually an occasion for silly and effusive praise, Governor Hobbs signed the bill "without comment." Likewise, State Senator Sally Ann Gonzales (D-Tucson), one of five senators who voted against the measure, said she did so because "Scientifically, they took it out of being a planet," and that they should consider scientific information, "something that we as a Legislature, as a body, sometimes omit."

ut put that aside, and look at the big picture. As azcentral.com put it, "Arizona's planet will demonstrate personality and state pride, similar to Wisconsin's waltz and Washington's oyster." And now those living in the state can be proud of more than just their Official Fossil (petrified wood), Official Dinosaur (sonorasaurus) and Official Gemstone (turquoise). Top that, New Mexico.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has an Official Residence and an Official Column. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Are You Human?

My sign is vital, my hands are cold

And I'm on my knees looking for the answer

Are we human or are we dancer?

That chorus from the song "Human" by The Killers front man Brandon Flowers was based on a quote from gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson: "We're raising a generation of dancers, afraid to take one step out of line." And Thompson would know. If there was anyone who was not a dancer, who not just stepped out of line but leapt, it was him. Indeed, he is perhaps the epitome of that most human of hallmarks: not to follow directions, but rather the compulsion to flaunt them. On the one hand we're taught from an early age to imitate and replicate what our parents and teachers do. On the other we're taught to follow our heart and our mind, which can lead us away from the crowd. In both situations you can get rewarded and punished, dammed if you do and dammed if you don't.

As we enter the AI era it's easy to see how, in the first instance, technology can best us flesh and blood beings. Computers are way better than we are at following orders, at putting one block on top of another, endlessly and forever. Add to that the massive power and scale that comes with access to an essentially infinite source of information and energy, and the race is quickly over. The technology will write for us, solve problems for us, see patterns we can't see and come up with paths we might never have discovered. If what we want is a tireless soldier, this is one of the best.

The flip side, however, is that creativity is not something computers do well. They can replicate, not originate. Sure, they can copy and blend disparate parts to make a new item, but they do it by certain rules and strictures. Our impetuousness to not do what is expected is not something easily coded into an app or a program. It was Picasso that decided that the nose could go there, in spite of all the guidance, history, evidence and common sense that said it went here. As the state-of-the-artificial-intelligence-art keeps getting better, perhaps nonconformity and impulsiveness may turn out to be the "tell" that helps us to differentiate between all it can do and an actual person. 

You see that in the evolution of how we differentiate flesh and blood from silicon and data. The first iterations were the various challenges that popped up when you tried to access your bank account or shop for groceries or book a doctor's appointment. Developed in 1997, those tests were called CAPTCHA, an acronym for "Completely Automated Public Turing Test To Tell Computers and Humans Apart." Pick out all the cats, or write out the squiggly letters, or click on the images that look like turkeys. The thinking was that only people could discern those distinctions, and that would be the hill on which computers would fail.

But the machines kept getting smarter. A study by Google suggested that modern artificial intelligence technology could solve even the most distorted of texts with 99.8% accuracy, and numbers in images with 90% accuracy. And so the quizzes have moved away from those pattern matching benchmarks to what looks to be a simpler approach, the "Click here if you're not a robot" prompt. It's not about the click, however. What you don't see is that once you do that, the system starts to record what you do and how you do it. How you scroll, how you hover, how fast you type or click. That reveals a pattern which is scored for human imperfection and indecision vs. machine efficiency.  Paradoxically, the more you wobble the higher you rank as likely a person, as faking indecision is hard. It's what makes you you and not a robot.

Work is underway to come up with other ways of differentiating between that which moves bits vs. those that bite. One approach is to create a so called "honeypot" form to fill in, where some of the fields are hidden on screen, but the code creating them is still there. As such, a human completing the form would skip over them, while a machine would complete everything, giving away its true nature. Again, the idea is to key in on the inefficiencies and shortcomings that being human is all about, thereby allowing the perfect machines to reveal themselves.

The old standard for judging how smart computers were was the previously referenced Turing test. If a blind panel of observers couldn't tell if they were talking to a human or a machine, the test was passed. Now it turns out that the real test of whether artificial intelligence can imitate a human may not be how smart it is, but if it can pretend to be as dumb as a person. By that metric, I could pass for an android.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford is studying to be seen as a human. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.