Could racial attitudes have cost Obama at the ballot box in 2012? To answer this question, we first simulated Obama’s vote share given racial attitudes as they were and then after shifting all voters’ racial attitudes toward a hypothetical neutral position (the midpoint of the racial resentment scale). That is, we “replaced” both favorable and unfavorable attitudes with neutral attitudes. When we performed such a simulation in chapter 2, we found that Obama’s approval rating increased by almost 4 points—suggesting that unfavorable attitudes toward blacks were, on the whole, depressing support for Obama.
John Sides and Lynn Vavreck, The Gamble: Choice and Chance in the 2012 Presidential Election (2013)
Uh… did you guys just propose a thought experiment in which everyone in America is the correct amount of racist? And call it a “hypothetical neutral position”?
(Like, I respect political science a lot and this is a decent book. And I get the purpose of this simulation. Yet it seems a reasonable example of how there’s a limit to the utility of models.)
Even though Pete Wentz doesn’t sing Fall Out Boy’s songs and he has the wit of Big Sean and the personality of Drake, for some reason he thinks he should be his band’s lyricist. And he’s right.
- "I’m just a notch in your bedpost, but you’re just a line in a song." (“Sugar We’re Going Down”)
- "You are a getaway car, a rush of blood to the head/But me, I’m just the covers on top of your bed." (“Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends”)
- "I’m the first kid to write of hearts, lies, and friends/And I am sorry, my conscience called in sick again." (“I Slept With Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me”)
- "I can take your problems away with a nod and a wave of my hand/Cause that’s just the kind of boy that I am." (“Thriller”)
- "Crashing not like hips or cars but more like p-p-p-parties." (“This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race”)
- "I don’t know much about classic cars/But I’ve got a lot of friends stuck on classic coke." (“America’s Suitehearts”)
- "Sometimes I wanna quit this all and become an accountant now/But I’m no good at math and besides the dollar is down." (“The Shipped Gold Standard”)
- "It’s kind of funny the way we’re wearing anchors on our shirts/When being anchored aboard just feels like a curse." (“27”)
- "My heart is like a stallion; they love it more when it’s broken." (“Alone Together”)
- "We will teach you how to make boys next door out of assholes." (“Young Volcanoes”)
Previously: Top Ten Kanyest Lyrics in “Last Call”
Why are Australia and New Zealand flags so similar
HOW DARE YOU COMPARE US SHEEPS TO THOSE KANGAROOS
HOW DARE YOU COMPARE US KANGAROOS TO THOSE SHEEP
guys guys i was just talking about
psst…I’m a new zealander and I’m not 100% sure which is my flag
This is a topic of national debate again and again and again!
man, NEITHER of you have the aspect ratio right on that union jack.
Remember the time I fixed this problem?
Any Australian who doesn’t think my version is an improvement can go be British tbh.
In the adult world, no doubt, brute force play no great part in normal times; but nevertheless it haunts that world; many kinds of masculine behaviour spring from a root of possible violence: on every street corner squabbles threaten; usually they flicker out; but for a man to feel in his fists his will to self-affirmation is enough to reassure him of his sovereignty. Against any insult, any attempt to reduce him to the status of object, the male has recourse to his fists, to exposure of himself to blows: he does not let himself be transcended by others, he is himself at the heart of his subjectivity. Violence is the authentic proof of each one’s loyalty to himself, to his passions, to his own will; radically to deny this will is to deny oneself any objective truth, it is to wall oneself up in an abstract subjectivity; anger or revolt that does not get into the muscles remains a figment of the imagination. It is a profound frustration not to be able to register one’s feelings upon the face of the world.
Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex (1949)