Byung Kyu Park's Personal Website

This is why I follow polls:

Is Daylight Savings Time worth the hassle? Forty-seven percent (47%) of adults say yes. That’s down slightly from early March when this year’s Daylight Savings Times began but is fairly consistent with previous years. Forty percent (40%) say it’s not worth the hassle, and 12% aren’t sure.

I guess this explains why we haven’t repealed the daylight savings time yet, despite all the academic and elitist snobbery about how daylight savings time was for WWII (we won, right?) and how it is unnecessary and it hurts agriculture than helps.

Well, all of that may be true, but the fact is, I suppose, daylight savings time is part of American culture, and at least as the polls stand today, it’s here to stay. Maybe in 10 years the opinions will shift, but that’s then.

This is just amazing:

Most voters trust themselves more than either Congress or President Obama when it comes to the economy, but they have way more confidence in themselves when it comes to the news media.

A new Rasmussen Reports national telephone survey shows that 85% of U.S. voters trust their own judgment more than the average reporter when it comes to the important issues affecting the nation. Only four percent (4%) trust the average reporter more. Eleven percent (11%) aren’t sure.

To me, this says two things: (1) Despite all the slander and misinformation spread by the media, Americans are not stupid—they know when someone is trying to push and nudge them in a direction they don’t want to go, and they resent it; (2) This is how a once respectable profession gets destroyed—through politicization and injection of overt bias in what is supposed to be professional work.

The collapse of mainstream journalism is something scientists should take notice from—it could happen to us. Some scientists think they know better than the John Q. Public. They think that they need “scare” the public into action, “for their own good.” They think they need to misrepresent their own work (you know, tweak a point here, hide some data there, to make, e.g. global warming seem more dire than it actually is, etc. etc.) so that the public will be duped into doing the “right thing”.

They are playing with fire, and its their reputation and credibility that’s going to burn, much as that of journalists has.

At least for the moment, the public trusts scientists in generic terms. Perhaps they take a step back on specific issues such as evolution or global warming, but in general, when a scientist speaks, they listen and trust. This should be more a note of caution than jubilee and abandon, for with great trust comes great responsibility—not to betray that trust.

But will scientists listen to this warning (I’m sure others have said this many times; at least Prof. Muller said a similar version at the colloquium earlier this semester), or will their ego make them hear without listening?

I live a depressing life of a conservative, trapped in a liberal den: college—or, worse yet, UC Berkeley. I am occasionally delighted to find that some of the people closest to me share my conservative ideals and oppose collectivism in all its forms—including communism and the liberal fascism. But, more often, I am distressed that some people I care about are, well, liberals.

It is my hope that some of these people consider themselves liberals not willfully and consciously, but because they haven’t given the matter a good deal of thought—and because many people who had access to their malleable minds—i.e. teachers and professors—were liberals and didn’t have the sense not to corrupt the youth.

In this hope, I write here how I became a conservative. Perhaps some will see the validity of my point, and why, for the good of the greater whole, conservatism is a better philosophy than liberalism.

To be completely frank, I have not seriously considered my political identity until, well, until my junior or senior year in college. But I think a couple experiences in my youth laid the foundation for future decisions and thoughts. The first was a conversation with my youth pastor. It happened so long ago that all I remember now are, well, the conversation took place either when I was a sophomore or a junior in high school, and it took place when he was giving me a ride home from some church event. I don’t even remember why the topic came up, but he described the difference between Democrats and Republicans (and incidentally, why he’s a Republican): Democrats want to fix the society’s every problem with more government programs (and more taxes), and Republicans want to leave it to individuals (as well as their money). I don’t know if this made any sense to me back then, but this description—and it is a true description, I doubt even the hardcore liberal would dispute this characterization—was somehow impressed on my mind.

Then the other thing was the high school (well, it was AP) economics courses. I took both the microeconomics and macroeconomics. The one thing that laid the foundation for my conservative leaning was probably the effect of taxes covered in microeconomics course—how the tax, regardless of how it is levied, will be distributed according to elasticity of demand or supply curve, and how it will always result in dead weight, i.e. lost productivity. The macroeconomics course wasn’t so favorable to conservatives: it bashed Reagan’s supply-side economics and tax cuts as “Reaganomics” and offered very little criticism of Keynesians—not that I understand these topics fully now, given that I had no formal economics education since then.

Well, it looks like it will take rather long to finish this story, so I’ll just close for now with this thought: if you want to decide whether you are a conservative or a liberal, focus on this one issue: taxes. Are you willing to pay higher tax to benefit someone else—someone else that you do not know—or would you rather donate that same money to charity (or not at all)? If you choose the former, you may be a liberal. I would like to convince you that taxes are bad, even when the intentions are good, but, well, each to his own. If you choose the latter, you might be a conservative—please keep an open mind. Watch out for media and academic biases (these are fields that tilt heavily to the left, with notable exceptions like talk radio and some economists), trust your own logic above anything else, and verify all supposed facts with multiple sources.

I have a new resolution for this year: meet the minimum standard for Marine Corps. The criterion listed at about.com seems a bit more lenient than others I have seen before, but, well, it would be a good start to be able to run 3 miles in 28 minutes, do 50 crunches in 2 minutes, and do 3 pull-ups. At the moment, I am at the bottom rung of mediocrity: less than 3 miles in 30 minutes, too tired after 20-some crunches, and I don’t ever remember being able to do a pull-up in my life.

As far as personal development goes, if I could accomplish adequacy here and do my other resolution (um, learn how to use and obtain a gun, probably a handgun), I would have had the best year so far in my life.

Professionally speaking, of course, that’s a different matter, but I’m working on that.

Update: Um, I forgot to mention: I am mainly motivated by this book. I know, it has nothing to do with exercise (and given that it’s published under a pseudonym, I am not sure if I … trust everything in the book), but it was … very inspiring.

It’s not really the pragmatism that I have problem with, it’s what a politician decides to be “pragmatic” about:

Both words in the label “conservative pragmatist” are important. McDonnell is indisputably a conservative — a Reaganite whose social-conservative credentials are impeccable (just ask the Washington Post, which has been crusading against him for these views, expressed pungently in his long-ago graduate-school thesis). But he’s also a wonk who has focused on crafting policy to address the everyday concerns of Virginians.

There isn’t enough in this column to give me a good picture of what Mr. McDonnell believes in a host of issues (i.e. litmus test), but the word “social conservative” gives me a pause.

Given how … alienated they are, I would imagine it would be relatively easy for a demagogue to woo and win the Religious Right, the conservative flavor of statists. They are by no means friends to liberty (at least no more than liberal Democrats are) and I am afraid too many of them use the label “social conservative” to describe themselves.

It seems to me, if a conservative is stooping to a host of statist agenda (such as welfare and government subsidy of higher education), it sounds like it’s not pragmatism; it’s opportunism.

It’s pragmatism to give up hardened, illogical socially conservative positions—especially the ones, at the end of the day, have little to do with individual liberty of persons living in this country. It’s pragmatism to make occasional compromises for the greater good—such as when President Jefferson overstepped his presidential authority in allowing the negotiated terms of Louisiana purchase (more than what the Congress authorized, but still a bargain given how much land we got).

It’s opportunism when you sell liberty for political capital.

Update: Mrs. Palin endorses McDonnell, so he can’t be all that bad …

Update 2: he bothers me on some of the issues, such as the … micromanaging of education, but then, I guess as long as he’s focused on the economy, lowering of taxes, and getting the money out of the bureaucracy, there’s more I can support him on than be suspicious of him.

I broke a cup—a mug—this morning. I was careless and clumsy. The cup got knocked off to the carpet, and as it had been showing some signs of weakness along some lines, it broke apart along those lines.

This wouldn’t be worth a post if it was just any other cup. Or any other object. I break stuff all the time. That’s just what I do.

This cup was special. I had received it as a gift from one of my favorite high school teachers—I was in her ELD class only for first few months, but somehow I stayed in touch and was involved with her classes and department until I graduated—and if I am counting the years right, it had lasted 7 or 8 years of being with me. I brought it with me when I moved into Clark Kerr Campus as a freshman, and I always had it with me somewhere wherever I considered to be “home”.

And now that cup is gone—or at least, broken.

I am at a crossroad, and I am trying to convince myself that I should take this … omen as a sign that I need to cut all my ties to my old high school.

This thought had been with me ever since I graduated from high school. I had such an absolutely horrible senior year—I won’t go into details but let me just say that I felt completely mistreated and unappreciated by the school officials … I even regretted the decision I made as a sophomore not moving to a magnet school when I was given the chance—that I vowed never to let that high school claim me as one of their own.

But as I mulled that over in last 6 years, there was always some ambivalence in my heart. After all, I didn’t hate everyone at that high school. I did like the two teachers with whom I had close contact and who have been great sources of support during hard times. But logically, if I want to ensure that this high school could not claim me as one of their own, I needed to cut my ties with everyone and everything related to this school—and that had to include the two favorite teachers. And although I haven’t kept in touch in years, I have never made a conscious decision to cut my ties and contacts with them. So far.

I think this broken cup represents the decision I need to make. I need to cut my ties to my past, so that I can forget and move past the incident. The lines of contact need to be broken—either deliberately or by accident.

Well, for now, the cup is in four pieces that can be re-assembled with a good glue—it was a clean break with few small pieces falling out. As I ponder over whether to accept the sign of the broken cup and move on, for now, I am leaving it taped up (so it’ll hold no water) on my bookshelf. When I am ready, I will get rid of the shards—or, when I change my mind, I will glue them together.

At least if you accumulated your wealth through moral, legal means:

I had lunch with a close friend yesterday. Though he was raised dirt poor (way below poverty level), he’s worked hard to obtain an education, to build a career, and he now owns a couple of businesses. It was never his aim, but now he finds he’s wealthy. He’s proud of his accomplishments — but he also feels guilty.

“I look at my extended family, and they’re still poor,” my friend told me. “They struggle. And yet I have a nice house a nice car and everything I could possibly want.” A few years ago, my friend purchased an expensive car as a reward to himself for his hard work. He could afford it, but somehow over the past few years, he hasn’t enjoyed it as much as he thought he would. He feels embarrassed to drive it. He worries that his kids will grow up to take for granted those things he views as blessings.

The same sentiment is expressed in Orson Scott Card’s Christmas at Helaman’s House. This is perhaps one moral and character flaw that pious people are much too prone to—probably through a misreading of their scripture (in the parable of a rich man and eye of a needle, the problem wasn’t his wealth; it was his attachment to it)—and it’s a tragedy.

Why do I call it a moral flaw? Well, the blog above refers to what would happen if rich people feel guilty. The fact is, poor people don’t feel guilty—maybe shame, if they have any sense—and in fact, they think they deserve everything that they have. What do you call a society where rich people feel undeserving of what they earned and poor people feel deserving of what they didn’t earn? A welfare state. And given how harmful a welfare state is to individual liberty and general welfare (after all, welfare state has to have high taxes and every tax results in dead weight, i.e. lost productivity), if your sense of morality contributes to creation of such a state, your moral compass needs recalibration.

Poor people perhaps cannot help feeling—in fact, they cannot help themselves from a lot of things—like they deserve what they have but did not earn. That’s … tolerable. That’s why they are poor. But rich people must absolutely not feel guilty when they have broken no law and when they have been generous to others.

is that they consider themselves expert in everything, because they are the undisputed experts in some things.

And apparently Einstein was not immune to this … disease of the mind:

Is it advisable for one who is not an expert on economic and social issues to express views on the subject of socialism? I believe for a number of reasons that it is.

When Einstein speaks on a scientific matter, he deserves all the attention one can pay—although he was occasionally wrong (EPR paradox and existence of blackholes) his genius earned that much respect. But, when he writes on a subject outside physics, then he is as smart as the next guy with 2-digit IQ.

This warning was uttered more than two millennia ago, supposedly by Socrates (see point 10). And it appears Einstein may have been aware of this warning. Then why did he choose to ignore it and so blatantly? Is it human nature to be stupid?

Ars Technica has a useful article on Kindle … secret codes.

I don’t know if I care enough about how my Kindle looks when it’s sleeping (when it’s also usually inside a cover) to change the screensaver to an image of my own. But the other two tricks looked neat. For reference, screenshot is activated by Alt+Shift+G, and minesweeper can be accessed through Alt+Shift+M.

Shane Corsey lays out the case for what some may call “common sense conservatism”:

One of the reasons I am a proud conservative is because it comes closest to the belief of what our Founding Fathers had in mind for this country, and the values of that system give an equal shake to anyone who wishes to come here.

Unlike Mr. Corsey, I believe in God and I believe him to be something more than a mere Watchmaker. But he and I agree on the fundamentals: live and let live. Even the Bible agrees with this: “Ἀπόδοτε οὖν τὰ Καίσαρος Καίσαρι καὶ τὰ τοῦ Θεοῦ τῷ Θεῷ” (and numerous other passages which espouse essentially the same idea: a Christian’s battle is spiritual and personal not worldly and political).

Some say conservatives should find a better name than “conservative”, because, well, in a twist of historical irony, it is the present-day conservatives who represent the classical liberals of the enlightenment era the best—I don’t think the Founding Fathers could even imagine the monstrosities present-day liberals concoct here and abroad daily.

In fact, some liberals exploit this apparent misrepresentation of labels by claiming that “liberal”, in essence, means “someone who advocates for change” and that “conservative”, in essence, means “someone who opposes change”. This is semantically correct, but in a political context, utterly inadequate—and misleading, as it deceives more people to declare themselves as “liberals” than they might have (everyone wants some sort of change in their lives), if they knew the true meaning of “liberal” and “conservative” in political context.

In the end, I like the name “conservative”, so I propose a counter definition, which, I hope, stays semantically correct and politically relevant. I would claim that a “liberal” is someone who either advocates changes for change’s sake or is unafraid of unintended consequences of changes he advocates. A “conservative”, on the other hand, is someone who would oppose new changes until it is proven to him that the change would be beneficial for him—or sufficiently beneficial for others that he cares about that he can accept the loss on his part.

The definition for “conservative” that I propose is also, I think, what some people might call “common sense conservative”. After all, if you gave someone (with common sense) above definitions for “liberal” and “conservative” and asked him to choose one or the other as description of himself, which one would he choose?