The Numbers Game

Today I read this on one of my favorite web sites, www.onebag.com:

"The concerns that many have about terrorist aviation threats are, quite simply, irrational. If terrorists successfully hijacked and crashed one of America's regular commercial flights every single week, the chance of your being on a crashed plane at some time over the course of your life would be approximately 1 in 135,000. But your lifetime chance of being killed by lightning is about 1 in 35,000. So you are almost four times more likely to die due to a lightning strike than a commercial plane crash, even given the ridiculous scenario of weekly hijack occurrences. The real danger — the one that you could reasonably be concerned about — is the drive to the airport: your lifetime chance of dying in a motor accident (based on 2003 figures) is about 1 in 83, a couple of thousand times more likely than even the greatly exaggerated hijacking scenario imagined above!"

A friend of mine, Ozzie Jurock (www.jurock.com) is fond of saying that life is a numbers game. I'm convinced that he's right. The problem is that emotions overrule numbers. We're much more afraid of the terrorist than the lighting bolt, because terrorists are scary and lightening is, well, remote.

It's the same with child abductions; the chance of someone snatching your kid is infinitesimal, compared with the chance of him or her choking to death on a chunk of broccoli. But nobody fears broccoli. Except for my nephew Zach.

But the numbers game can work for you as well. Invest in cash-flowing real estate, and the numbers say you'll end up with a real asset, protected against inflation, that will eventually produce lifelong income for you. Nothing is for sure - your investment might burn down the day your insurance expires. But probably, it won't.

And the numbers can work well for you in any number of other ways... how many can you think of?

The Game Show Problem

Recently I spent an evening on the porch of a dilapidated cabin in the Ontario wilderness with a couple of the best friends a guy could have. The three of us spent a day Bass fishing and an evening arguing about something called the Game Show Problem, also known as the Monte Hall Problem.

In a nutshell, the problem is presented as follows: You are the guest on a game show. The host presents three doors and tells you that behind one of the doors is a new car. Behind the other two doors are goats. You are asked to select a door, and you do. Your odds of a new car: 33.33333%.

Suppose you select door #1. The host then flips open door #3, revealing a goat, and asks you if you wish to change your selection to door #2. Should you switch?

We debated, argued, scoffed and yelled. At one point a wrestling match erupted that ended with a first aid kit. Deadlocked, we decided to call for help; another boyhood friend who became an Economics professor. The fact that he happened to be the best man at a wedding that evenging didn't prevent him from sneaking off to a bathroom stall to explain it all to his brothers. I never would have thought Econ profs had it in them.

You can look the problem up yourself - apparently it has befuddled mathematicians for a long time. The basic answer is that you should always switch your selection because it increases your odds. Why? Because the game show host isn't acting randomly. He MUST select a goat for the game to continue. That changes the odds.

Put it this way: If there were a million doors, and you had the same option to pick one, your odds would be a ridiculous 1,000,000 to 1 of picking correctly. Suppose the game show host now begins opening doors; 999,998 of them, all with goats behind them. A that point, with one unopened door left, he asks you whether you wish to switch. You'd be a complete idiot not to. If you still don't get it, visit Zombo.com and then come back later.

It made me think: How often do we make a choice and then hold on to that choice because we are emotionally attached to 'being right' instead of evaluating the cold, hard numbers?

How often do I more want to 'be right' than to know what the truth of a situation is?

And which is more important to living life well?

Life Is A Destination

Gimme a break. Heck, everyone knows; life is a journey, not a destination. Try find a book on the shelf at your local bookstore about life being a destination.

I sometimes wonder if the idea of life as a journey is a trendy pop-psychology anomaly. I mean, did people a hundred years ago think about life as a journey? Those pioneers who sought to conquer the West for the King of England. Who sought to defeat the American rebels for his Majesty. I wonder if their personal journals were full of references to life being a journey, or whether they were focused on a particular purpose.

Sixty years ago, Canada had a purpose; a destination. Our purpose was to defeat Nazism in Europe, and we did a damn fine job of it. During those decades, nobody wrote books about life being a journey. Because nobody would have bought them. The journey to that destination was hell. Life was about things like D-Day and V-Day. Destinations. Points of arrival. The day Hitler died. The day the Japanese surrendered. Those dates were our purpose, our goal as a country.

Question: What is the purpose of Canada today? Would any of us even know how to answer that?

Is it a stretch to say that all of Western culture has no sense of purpose? Our media, our intellectual and political elites, our artists seem consumed with a sense of self-loathing and old world Catholic style guilt. Western Civilization - Canada in particular - has no destination. The loudest voices now tell us that the goal of our civilization should be to abandon our civilization.

Question number two: When (inevitably?) pitted against cultures that have purpose, like the Chinese or Muslim nations, who do you think will prevail? The strong horse, or the weak horse?

Is it any wonder that a culture with no purpose would embrace the 'journey'? I wonder if we'll ever see the pendulum swing back. Whether our lives, our culture will ever again become destination based or embrace a purpose.

They call the people who lived during WWII "The Greatest Generation". Perhaps it's because for them life wasn't about a journey.

And does it make a difference whether your life is about a purpose or a destination?

Let Them Have The Last Word

Here's what I think: Our lives are shaped and directed by axioms.

A line in a movie or in a book, spoken by a character we identify with, takes purchase in your mind. A friend or colleague says something poignant, and like a pebble in your mouth, impossible to ignore, the words begin to flavor your every experience in the days that follow. As time passes, the axiom either becomes 'truth' to you, or falls out of favor as life experiences invalidate it.

My Supervisor when I worked for the Border Patrol took me aside when I first started, looked me in the eye and said "Always let them have the last word. You take the last action." That axiom helped me immensely during my days on the border. I could be polite and civil, knowing that being cursed out didn't matter when I was the one turning the key in a cell door.

As I have tested that axiom in my life, I've learned that the last action doesn't even have to occur chronologically. Nor does it actually have to be the very last action - it just has to be the last determining factor in events in my mind.

As a landlord, I was threatened and cursed by some of the people who occupied apartments I managed. I would walk away smiling, knowing that just prior I had taken a photograph of an infraction, or was going home to write it up. I let them feel good about having the last word, knowing that my action would tilt the deck in my favor during an eviction hearing.

I once lived next to a truly sociopathic neighbor. He delighted in swearing loudly at passerby, threatening people with gardening implements, and otherwise staggering drunkenly around the street intimidating everyone who crossed his path. As the months passed, police cars frequented his domicile on a weekly then daily basis. Neighbors grew tired and afraid and moved away as the police failed to address the situation.

My strategy was simple: Never say a word, but never let him stare me down. The last action often boiled down to me being the last to avert my gaze. He was a coward and a bully, and we both knew it.

Eventually the cops got tired of having to be called out so often and he was arrested and charged with numerous offenses. The last I saw of him was in a courtroom, where me and my neighbors appeared to testify against him. His hateful words didn't amount to jack when stacked against last actions.

Threatened? Stand tall, say nothing. Stare them down.

Road raging idiot? A fight avoided by deliberate action is a fight won honorably.

Boss or co-worker belittling you or your idea? Go home, write down your thoughts. Find another way to implement your idea. Pray for that person. Show kindness to them in a creative way.

Insulted? Walk away smiling. Go home and hug your wife. Living well is the best revenge.

Because in the game of life, action always trumps words.

Hearos

I recently finished reading one of the classics of 21st century Western literature, The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand.If you're thinking of checking it out, be forewarned; its a long read, but proportionally rewarding.

In one scene, two of the main characters are having a conversation on sailboat. Gail Wynand, a newspaper publisher, and Howard Rourke, an architect, are discussing the nature of wealth. Wynand makes an interesting observation; he argues that the main burden of poverty is forced proximity to other people.

According to Wynand, the poorer people are, the more herd-like their living conditions become. Not being able to escape the smell of their neighbor's sweat or the cursing of their disputes, individuals are forcefully absorbed into the emotions and madness of crowds. This forced lack of privacy eventually saturates the individual, stifling originality, unique thoughts and personal goals.

Wealth, according to Wynand, permits the development of individuality because the wealthy are able to choose to insulate or remove themselves from the herd.

I think he's on to something.

The ultra wealthy buy acreages, country homes, private jets, tinted limos and bodyguards. The moderately wealthy do the same, albeit without the bodyguards. A comparison: The serenity of a tinted Ford Explorer, or the serenity of a subway.

The middle class goes camping in order to get away from the crowds (usually unsuccessfully). They buy 4x4 trucks simply to affirm (announce?) that they are capable of getting away from it all. They sculpt hedges and spend thousands on custom windows and blinds to insulate themselves from the sights and sounds of their neighbors. The lower class doesn't have the luxury; they live with the screaming drunks in the apartment next door.

And it isn't just about the aggravation. Its about the stifling of individuality when people are forced to accommodate to the moods, values and agenda of the herd.

The more you think about it, the more disturbing the whole notion becomes - unless you're wealthy enough to own a cottage on the lake and spend your summers in splendid isolation. The proliferation of iPods and Portable Video Players may just be a symptom of poverty; individuals vainly attempting to carve out private space in their lives.

I stumbled onto something a while back while vacationing at a pretty little hotel on the water in Kelowna. After a few days I found myself getting increasingly irritated at the incessant chaos of poolside living; screaming nephews, shrieking pre-teens and thumping bass from passing Civics. Even my regular escape (the happy volunteer Starbucks runner) wasn't providing much relief.

One afternoon I wandered across the street to the Dollar Emporium. In air conditioned comfort surrounded by Bud Lite beer coasters and inflatable pool toys, my eyes fell on a rack of earplugs with a sign proclaiming "Hearos - The Best Privacy A Dollar Can Buy."

Talk about truth in advertising. I've used earplugs before, but nothing like these. Ultra-squishy material quickly filled my ear canals with sound-stopping goop and ushered me into an entirely new world. Hearos installed, I was completely relaxed, virtually alone at poolside with a novel and a Venti Americano.

I can't help but think I may have actually discovered true wealth at the dollar store.

The ability to remove oneself from the sounds of the herd at will is, to me, akin to first class on Cathay Pacific. I know. I've tried Hearos and I've flown 1st class on Cathay.

A combination of the two - now that would be wealth.