Calendar interoperability is underappreciated. I use iCloud for home, Google for the University and Office365 for work, all from a single app, which also handles invites and scheduling. Other people can see my various calendars in their own software, seamlessly. We should make everything a calendar.
My list for the year, ordered by similarity. All are physical prints already on the bookshelf, just waiting to be snubbed for whatever else catches my attention.
Here are the wishlists for 2022 and 2023, and the respective outcomes.
Luke Burgis on prolific Substack writers:
At some level, the pure volume of writing—especially if you’re halfway decent at it—is perceived by some people as actual knowledge, even if you’re not saying anything at all, or even if you’re making ridiculous arguments riddled with fallacies.
Every once in a while, some 6,000 word word salad will land in my inbox from a figure like Freddie deBoer or Matty Yglesias or Richard Hanania—and I stay subscribed, just so I know what’s going on (maybe I shouldn’t)—and I think, “Lord, have mercy. Who has time to respond to all of these things? Or who would actually want to make themselves that miserable? I sure don’t!” And then I get back to work.
Feeling the same, I unsubscribed from most newsletters long ago.
Writing and editing are distinct skills. As I gaze into a stream of text that someone else wrote and several more people edited, as I try to make sense of the reds and the greens and the teals of Word’s tracked changes stacked on top of the red squiggles and the double underlines, as the nested comments flow one after another until my (aging!?) M1 MacBook Air begins to stutter, I realize that, at heart, I am a writer.
Happy New Year!
Finished reading: Debt by David Graeber 📚, dropped about a third of the way through. For a book supposedly about the history of debt it had too much speculation and too many baseless claims. Looking back, The Dawn of Everything had similar tendencies, but his co-author David Wengrow seems to have been a moderating influence. Bullshit Jobs was also a tedious read, so as good of an essayist Graeber was, the talent didn’t translate to books.
Finished reading: A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken 📚, a book about love, death and grief so earnest that any half-assed paragraph from me would not be fair. The title is justified.
At the beginning of the year, I set out to read 23 books. Mission accomplished? As expected, my favorite of the year was not on that wish list.
Here are all 23, ordered by some semblance of category.
Not too bad, considering we had a flooded basement and our second move in three years, with some writing wedged in between. And here is last year’s list.
I look forward to removing other people’s requests from Apple Music recommendations. Maybe the 2024 Top 10 list will reflect my actual (poor) taste. Until then:
And here is last year’s list.
Only six movies that came out this year made it to my watch list:
I did not see Killers of the Flower Moon yet, but I hope to do so soon. I did watch a bunch of older movies, some of which were quite good, but naming them all here would not mean much (and you can always go to the movies tag). Let me instead list the movies I rewatched this year, in the order in which they came out:
Every year I time myself that I should watch more movies, and every year television wins out. May 2024 be the same.
I am not a fan of “wellness” visits, those yearly exams that your insurance insists you should do even if you don’t have any medical problems. Evidence from randomized controlled trials suggests they don’t make any difference to people’s health, but they (obviously) contribute to the primary care physicians’ workload.
Having said that, I recently reached a nice round number of years, so it was time to get my cholesterol checked and finally get a flu shot. I enjoyed the banter, but I could also see how and why there may be no health benefit. If annual exams are good for anything, it is to find chronic asymptomatic conditions that have long-term consequences — high blood pressure, high cholesterol and high glucose are the big ones at my age. Testing for them has the highest yield in a generally low-yield visit, so whoever is seeing you should get at least those three right.
After this morning I suspect most places are not doing it right. The person checking my blood pressure did not care at all about the correct technique: whether I still had my sleeves on when they placed the cuff, whether my feet were on the ground or hanging over the raised exam table, whether my legs were crossed, or whether I was talking while measurement was being taken. Worse yet, no one asked or cared whether I had anything to eat or drink before getting my blood drawn for the labs. I could have downed a sugar-and-cream-laden coffee with a Boston cream chaser minutes before the visit and no one would have known. This is the complete opposite of Serbia, where they drill into you at an early age that you must have nothing to eat or drink — water excepted — before getting your blood drawn for anything; which is an extreme of its own kind but one that at least doesn’t result in lab results that you can’t interpret.
At best the loose approach to testing leads to more labs having to be drawn if and when something comes back out of range and the doctor wonders why. At worst it leads to misdiagnosis (“Your cholesterol is through the roof, you’d better be on a statin!”) or missed diagnosis (“Your cholesterol is a bit too high but you ate before the labs were drawn so it’s probably just from the food.”) — neither is good.
Even when properly done, I don’t think the annual exams are worth it. There are plenty of reasons to see the physician for other things, and sneaking in a blood pressure check and some labs on top of those is easy enough without overburdening the system. For those fortunate enough to be without ailments, a visit every 5–10 years to make sure all the screenings are up to date sounds about right. The paradigm of treating your body as a car to be taken to the shop for scheduled maintenance is wrong: our bodies aren’t intelligently designed mechanisms with replaceable parts that wear out at a predictable rate, and we can’t be taken apart and put back together at a whim. The trend of renaming the annual exam to something else recognizes this reality.
The replacement term, wellness visit, is not much better. In theory it should make the doctor (or nurse practitioner) enhance the lives of people they are seeing by taking a more holistic approach: “You are not a patient, you are a person.” In practice, it turns doctors into box-checkers: are you suicidal (yes/no), do you drink alcohol (yes/no), do you use illicit drugs (yes/no). It takes time away from things doctors were trained for — to treat disease that can be treated, provide council about the diseases that can’t, and know the difference between the two — and makes them do things that are as important, maybe more so, but not in their area of expertise.
The problem isn’t unique to medicine. It’s good to have the police around to deal with murder and theft, not so much when there is a domestic dispute or an acute psychotic episode, now (holistically?) called “a mental health crisis”. They used to be matters for the extended family or neighbors to deal with, not an outside force. Wherever the two were lost, public and private services picked up some of the responsibilities; the doctors seem to have gotten the role of the friendly ear, listening to the issues that used to be mulled over a cup of tea, or — sure, I’ll go there — in the bowling alley. This is a job they were not trained to do and for which they receive no compensation, so in that sense it is fair: the (American) society got what it paid for.