Good Reason

It's okay to be wrong. It's not okay to stay wrong.

Category: computing (page 4 of 6)

North Am dialects reprezzent!

Did you learn to speak English in North America? Your input is required for the North American English Dialect Survey.

It’s easy — you just use your computer’s microphone to record yourself saying various words. They also ask where you went to high school, and where you live now.

They’re going to love me. I still sound like a dang ‘Merkun, but living in Australia for so long has changed my accent in one respect: I have broken free of the cot/caught merger. I say ‘cot’ like I’m British, but my ‘caught’ sounds like Noo Yawk. It might puzzle them for a bit, but they’ll probably understand once they see my current postcode.

Mobile phones and cancer

A study shows that mobile phone towers do not cause cancer. Good to know.

British scientists who conducted the largest study yet into cell phone masts and childhood cancers say that living close to a mast does not increase the risk of a pregnant woman’s baby developing cancer.

In a study looking at almost 7,000 children and patterns of early childhood cancers across Britain, the researchers found that those who developed cancer before the age of five were no more likely to have been born close to a mast than their peers.

And in this article, Bernard Leikind explains why mobile phones themselves cannot cause cancer.

One watt (the amount of energy emitted from mobile phones) is much smaller than many other natural energy flows that no one suspects might cause cancer. In my Skeptic paper, I show that the average energy production in my body as I go about my life is about 100 Watts. I also show that while I jog on my local gym’s treadmill for half an hour, I produce 1100 or 1200 Watts. This energy, produced in my leg muscles, travels throughout my body including my brain, and I sweat a lot. My body’s temperature does not change much. No one believes that my frequent treadmill sessions cause cancer. If the cell phone’s less than 1 Watt causes cancers, then why doesn’t my exercise session’s more than 1000 Watts cause cancer?

Perhaps if people hear this enough times, they will start to believe it. We live in hope.

Sunday blasphemy: Get your patriarchal blessing online!

If you never got your patriarchal blessing — maybe you’re ex-Mormon now and it’s too late — well, now you can get it online.

Please note that the validity of the inspired pronouncements in your blessing depend for their self-fulfilment on numerous complex and interacting variables including:
• Your tribal ancestry/heritage;
• Free agency;
• Your adherence to the solemn admonitions within your blessing;
• The changing mind of God;
• Supervening circumstances;
• Your astrological birth/star sign;
• Ongoing evolutionary changes in church doctrine;
Etc.

For the uninitiated, Mormons have a belief that when a certain old man lays his clammy hands on your head and goes into a kind of trance, a supernatural being gives him information about the rest of your life. He says a bunch of vague stock phrases which get typed up and presented to you. It’s called a patriarchal blessing, and you’re meant to consider it as your own personal scripture.

But really, the patriarchal blessing is the Mormon equivalent of a psychic reading. All sincere, I’m sure, but like other psychics, the ‘patriarch’ gleans info about you, and then outputs something that sounds spiritual. People accept the hits, and reinterpret the misses.

The problem comes when people believe this nonsense, and try to guide their lives by bogus oracles. One friend of mine was convinced that she was going to die young because of some vague pronouncement in her PB. (I’m pleased to say she’s still alive and healthy.) The actual phrase in question was rather innocuous, but when you convince someone that random drivel from a stranger is divine revelation, you can’t blame them for being bad interpreters.

I think the site gives an excellent imitation of the writing style that Mormon patriarchs always seem to come up with. About the only thing missing is the bit where they tell you that you’re from the tribe of Ephraim. Well, if you’re Caucasian.

Sarcasm detector

Certain pragmatic jobs in language seem so human that we feel like computers could never begin to approach them. Recognising sarcasm is one of these. How could you get a computer to recognise that a speaker is intending the opposite of what their words are saying, particularly if it’s very subtle?

Well, a paper presented at AAAI last week gives details of a project in sarcasm detection. And they didn’t even use tone of voice as a feature — they just used the text from reviews at Amazon.com.

Of course, words aren’t enough when you’re recognising sarcasm. We also need real-world knowledge, and an idea of what words to expect in a situation. Let’s say the dentist tells Fred he needs a root canal, and Fred says, “Great.” We know it’s sarcasm because we know that root canals aren’t very fun, and Fred isn’t likely to look forward to it.

We can’t tell that to computers (although some have tried), but we can use other information. For this project, they used the number of stars in the Amazon review. If it was a poor review (one to three stars), the appearance of words like ‘great’ are likely to be used sarcastically, especially if the word “can’t” appears first.

This is what I love about Computational Linguistics. We can get a start on even the hardest problems with a well-crafted experiment. The meaning is already there in the words we use. All we need is that little bit of extra information to tell the system that something extra is happening.

Remembering Martin Gardner

Last week saw the passing of Martin Gardner, a mathematician, skeptic, and puzzle master.

I first became aware of his work when I was just a wee lad, probably about nine. I ran across an article he wrote about ‘Hexapawn’, a game he invented. Hexapawn uses only six pawns, on a 3 x 3 board, like so.

You can move like a pawn in chess: straight ahead, or diagonal to capture. You win either by getting to the last rank, by capturing all the other player’s pieces, or blocking the other player so they can’t move.

The article showed diagrams of all the possible moves in the game, in the form of pictures like this one.

You were meant to print these out, paste the pictures onto matchboxes, and put coloured beads in the matchboxes. When you’d done this, what you had was a kind of computer. You’d make your move, look at the board, choose the matchbox that matched the current state of the board, shake up the matchbox, and the colour bead you pulled out was the move the computer would make. If that move made the computer lose, you would remove that bead so the computer couldn’t make that move anymore.

Eventually, once all the losing moves were pruned out of the system, you’d have an unbeatable Hexapawn machine. This was my introduction to machine learning and AI. What an eye-opener! I realised that unthinking boxes (or computer chips, or what have you) could learn things without people explicitly teaching them.

(Here’s an implementation of Hexapawn as a PDF.)

Later, I found a book called “Mathematical Puzzles of Sam Loyd“, which Gardner edited. I spent hours poring over Loyd’s puzzles, and Gardner’s explanations. Later I picked up Gardner’s “My Best Mathematical and Logic Puzzles“.

Gardner was a skeptic, but he believed in a god. Here’s a bit from an interview with Michael Shermer in 1997.

Skeptic: Inevitably skepticism leads to asking the God question. You call yourself a fideist.

Gardner: I call myself a philosophical theist, or sometimes a fideist, who believes something on the basis of emotional reasons rather than intellectual reasons.

Skeptic: This will surely strike readers as something of a paradox for a man who is so skeptical about so many things.

Gardner: People think that if you don’t believe Uri Geller can bend spoons then you must be an atheist. But I think these are two different things. I call myself a philosophical theist in the tradition of Kant, Charles Peirce, William James, and especially Miguel Unamuno, one of my favorite philosophers. As a fideist I don’t think there are any arguments that prove the existence of God or the immortality of the soul. Even more than that, I agree with Unamuno that the atheists have the better arguments. So it is a case of quixotic emotional belief that is really against the evidence and against the odds. The classic essay in defense of fideism is William James’ The Will to Believe. James’ argument, in essence, is that if you have strong emotional reasons for a metaphysical belief, and it is not strongly contradicted by science or logical reasons, then you have a right to make a leap of faith if it provides sufficient satisfaction.

It makes the atheists furious when you take this position because they can no more argue with you than they can argue over whether you like the taste of beer or not. To me it is entirely an emotional thing.

This is strange to me, but it’s not the first time I’ve seen a good reasoner suspend critical thinking in favour of supernaturalism. And emotional reasoning is a terrible rationale — it’s like saying ‘I’m going to believe it if it makes me feel satisfied.’ Oh, well, good for you. This is epistemological hedonism.

And it gets the reasoning backward. Gardner argued that you could believe what you liked if it wasn’t strongly contradicted by evidence, but we’ve already seen that when someone’s in the grip of a belief, no evidence is ever strong enough. Science works the opposite way: you believe something when there’s evidence to support it.

On the other hand, Gardner sounds like someone who’s done the reading (unlike me) and knows his way around the philosophy. He’s aware that his position is reaching out into the unknown, and even though he chooses to believe, he knows that he doesn’t know.

Martin Gardner must have been a fascinating guy, exerting an influence on mathematics, skepticism, and philosophy. I’m glad I’ve had the chance to benefit from his work.

New look

Hang in there. I’m just ironing out the inevitable kinks.

So what do you think? Doesn’t it look more airy and spacious? It makes the old place seem so tight and constrained.

It might take some getting used to, but I think I’m going to like the new Good Reason layout.

Atheist YouTube party

For this week’s UWA Atheist and Agnostic Society meeting, it was Atheist YouTube Party! With me as programmer. I really enjoyed the chance to share some of my faves. Here they are, as a YouTube playlist. Prepare to be offended and/or enlightened; the choice is, as always, entirely up to you.

NOTE: I think there might be a bug in the YouTube embedded playlist feature. The embedded playlist below skips the first video, which in this case was Tim Minchin’s “The Pope Song”. If you want to see it first, you can either click here to go to my blog post of a few days ago, or click here to find a working playlist on a different page.

Since I didn’t have a rock-solid net connection in the lecture room, I decided to take the precaution of downloading the videos as mp4’s using KeepVid, and then making a playlist in VLC. It made things go much more smoothly.

Does this mean god doesn’t come with Flash?

I think the iPad looks cool, but I wouldn’t exactly say it’s proof of God.

On the other hand, who am I to argue with an expert?

Sure, we were as surprised as you are! But trust us, everyone who tested the sleek gadget saw the same version of God. I guess you’d call it an epiphany or something. There is a God. Don’t worry. When you get one, you’ll understand.

For this reason alone, we give the iPad four out of five stars. Yes, this next generation device has a highly responsive user interface and a gorgeous display screen. But, no one is really sure how to live, or if there’s even a reason for living any more. We look forward to seeing if Apple addresses this bug in later versions.

I’m not sure about her conclusions, but I was rather surprised to learn that Hinduism is Bluetooth ready.

iPad jokes ‘no longer funny’

In what is believed to be the quickest turnaround in humour history, jokes about the name of the Apple iPad became ‘no longer funny’ minutes after being conceived.

The previous record was held by the Liam Lynch song “My United States of Whatever”.

“We’ve never seen a joke age this quickly, ” says Frank Overton of the Comedy Institute, a humour think-tank. “It’s probably because of the juvenile nature of the joke, combined with the fact that, well, there’s only one joke you can make. iTampon. How many times can you say ‘iTampon’?”

The joke will be added to the list of no longer funny things, including jokes about the vibrate function on mobile phones, quoting Monty Python sketches in their entirety, and potentially risqué variations on the word “Pokémon”.

Speech synthesis for accents

If you have a moment, get over to CereProc. They do speech synthesis, and you can try out their voices: British, American, and Scottish. You can even buy them if you’re keen — they work on Mac and Windows.

I’m having a play now. I’m rather fond of Kirsty, whose Scottish accent is a little more broad. The accents are good on numbers: try “twenty thirty forty fifty”. Not so good on disambiguating various senses of words, as in “I knew that that was the right answer.” But great on Belle and Sebastian lyrics, e.g. “I was allergic to so much dairy.”

Now when can we expect the Australian accent?

Older posts Newer posts

© 2024 Good Reason

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑