Occasionally, upon witnessing some great athletic performance, hearing some beautiful music, or viewing some astounding work of art, I think to myself, “wouldn’t it be great to have some discernible talent?”
Of course pure, raw talent is exceptionally rare. For the most part, any remarkable performance is the culmination of an immense amount of work. Malcolm Gladwell popularized the the 10,000 Hour Rule, the idea that greatness (in performing arts, computer programming, or whatever) requires 10,000 of practice.
But 10,000 hours of practice is not simply 10,000 hours of practice. It is also 10,000 of not doing something else. Every hour in the gym, the library, or the studio is an hour not spent with family, or relaxing, or anything else. The sacrifices made to achieve greatness are more than the 10,000 hours of practice, they are also the 10,000 not not practicing. We can see the hours of training, but what we can’t see may be more important in the long run.
Beer of the week: Green – The brewers at Tree House Brewing Company must have put in their 10,000 hours because Tree House is one of the hottest names in beer. Green is one of their many renowned IPAs. Green is cloudy, practically muddy, and pours with a big, rocky head. The aroma is hop-forward with some tropical fruit notes. The beer is smooth and creamy with hints of citrus and pineapple and a lingering taste of orange. Green is an excellent IPA.
Reading of the week: First Sorrow by Franz Kafka – I almost wrote that this very short story is about a trapeze artist, but I am never sure what Kafka stories are really about. The main character of the story is a trapeze artist who “never came down from his trapeze by night or day . . . from a desire to perfect his skill.” That’s one way to rack up 10,000 hours quickly.
Question for the week: Can greatness coexist with balance? Or must the great (in any field) have some off-setting deficiency, such as in family life?
A popular trend in American brewing is packaging beer in 19.2 ounce cans, known as stovepipes. Naturally, the first time that I saw that size, I was somewhat perplexed. And no intuitive explanation for the 19.2 figure presented itself to me.
Of course, the internet had the answer for me: 19.2 American fluid ounces is (approximately) equal to one imperial pint. Because an imperial pint is about one-fifth larger than an American pint, stovepipe cans are popular at sporting events, concerts, and the like, where patrons are keen to minimize time in the beer line.
When I learned that stovepipe cans are actually imperial pints, I had two distinct revelations. First, a scene from George Orwell’s 1984 suddenly made sense to me. Second, Australian drinking habits began to seem (slightly) reasonable.
First, in 1984, there is a scene at a bar in which an old man is perturbed that beer only comes in liter or half-liter glasses. He repeatedly orders a pint, only to be told that the barman–raised after the adoption of the metric system–has never heard of pints, quarts, or gallons. The old man complains that “a ‘alf litre ain’t enough. It don’t satisfy. And a ‘ole litre’s too much. It starts my bladder running. Let alone the price.” This struck me as odd when I read it long ago. To me, half of a liter has always been more than a pint, not less. In America, a liter is just a bit over two pints. But a liter is somewhat less than two imperial pints; each imperial pint is 0.57 liters or thereabouts. So the old man seems to have a legitimate complaint about his beers being more than two imperial ounces smaller than they used to be.
Second, when I was staying in Australia, I found that bar patrons generally did not buy draft beer by the pint. Rather, they drank rounds of smaller beers. The explanation offered to me was that a pint is a just a bit too large a unit. Being familiar only with American pints, I found this odd. Now that I know the Australian pint is about 19.2 American fluid ounces, the explanation for the smaller beers seems more plausible. (Of course, the people I drank with never had just one round, so ordering smaller beers generally smacked of inefficiency.)
My bemusement on this point was multiplied by the puzzling names for the variously sized smaller beer glasses; Australian glass sizes make Orwell’s Newspeak seem comparably reasonable. All of the sizes are officially in milliliters, but are clearly intended to approximate imperial ounce units (for example, beers of about 7, 10, or 15 fluid ounces are common.) But nobody calls the glasses by their actual (metric) or approximate (imperial) volumes. Rather, Australians employ names such as schooner, pot, or middy. And these names also vary from place to place, making it extra hard to know how much beer one may receive at any given bar across the land. For example, a South Australian in Brisbane may be pleasantly surprised when he orders a schooner, and gets 1.5 times as much beer as he expected. And virtually any traveller to Adelaide would be distressed to order a pint and receive only 15 imperial fluid ounces–five fluid ounces less than an imperial pint and some 1.5 American fluid ounces less than an American pint. Anybody planning on visiting Australian public houses should consult Wikipedia’s helpful chart on the subject.
Finally, although not in the nature of a realization, I wonder why the brewers stopped at 19.2 ounces and didn’t push right up to twenty. The 19.2 figure seems somewhat affected when compared to 20. Twenty is such a fine, round number. And 20 ounce beers are already popular at bars and taprooms across the United States, many of which offer 20 ounce pours.
A 19.2 ounce can of beer in America is appreciably more than a half liter and significantly short of a liter. It is also the same as a pint in Australia (with the exception of Adelaide.) It is equal to two pots of beer (in Brisbane or Melbourne) and is larger than a schooner by one-third. And finally, it is (to nobody’s great surprise) 3.2 ounces more than an American pint, and .8 ounces shy of a 20 ounce draft.
Beer of the week: Dragons Milk – This popular bourbon-barrel-aged stout comes from New Holland Brewing Company in a bomber bottle, a popular size for craft beer bottles. At 22 fl. oz., bombers are a fair bit more voluminous than stovepipe cans. But it’s not just size that counts. Dragon’s Milk is 11% alcohol by volume, and the alcohol is clearly noticeable in the taste and aroma. There are also notes of coffee and caramel. Dragon’s Milk is extremely smooth. The whole experience is like a not-too-sweet malted milkshake. It is so rich and boozy that I wouldn’t recommend having much more than one 22 oz. bomber (or a couple American pints or a brace of schooners or a half liter or a few pots…) in one sitting.
Reading of the week: An Essay towards a Real Character and a Philosophical Language by John Wilkins – The principle purpose of this essay is to propose a universal second language. However, this excerpt discusses the related notion of a universal and rational system of measurement. Although he suggests specific existing units, Wilkins greatly modifies the units so that they are all tenths of the next largest units. He also suggests, but does not press, the notion that we should abandon decimals for octals, because an octal number system is particularly well suited to the mathematical process of bipartition.
Question for the week: What is the best size for a beer?
This is the fiftieth post in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. (Volume L contains the introduction, reader’s guide, and general index, and will therefore be addressed out of order in the final post of the series.) Volume LI: Lectures
Consider a town with a plot of land dedicated to grazing sheep. Every townsperson has free access to the land, and may graze as many sheep as he has. As ideal as this may sound, the town soon runs into a problem; the grass, it turns out, is a finite resource. The townspeople each realize that they individually reap the benefit of grazing their sheep on the public land, while the cost of doing so (in the form of depleted grass) is borne by everybody. This leads to overgrazing, if only because someone will conclude that overgrazing is inevitable, so he might as well beat his neighbors to it. In the end, the common resource that could have been advantageous to everyone is ruined.
This problem is known as the tragedy of the commons, and is familiar to most people. Because people see what the want to see, it has been used to justify policies ranging from privatizing natural resources, to nationalizing them.
One possible “solution” results in another problem: the tragedy of the anticommons. Suppose the townspeople, worried about overgrazing, change the rules for using the commons. Now, any use of the commons requires unanimous approval from the townspeople. They soon find that some people favor changing the commons from sheep pasture to cattle. Others prefer that the land be used for goats. The town vegans form a bloc to oppose all animal husbandry on the commons. Because there are so many stakeholders, it becomes a practical impossibly to negotiate any use for the commons. Rather than the land being overused, it is now underused because no consensus can be reached.
The Gordon Lightfoot song The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald is an example of the tragedy of the anticommons. When a television producer approached Lightfoot about using the song in an episode of his show, Lightfoot only agreed on the condition that the producer also get the approval of all of the families of the victims of the shipwreck. The producer quickly realized that the transaction costs associated with tracking down and negotiating with 29 families would be prohibitive. Because too many people had a say in the conditions under which the song would be used, the producer wrote a similar song, and The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald did not get used at all.
Beer of the week: Edmund Fitzgerald Porter – This brew from Great Lakes Brewing Co. is anything but a wreck. The aroma is similar to Guinness, but the flavor and mouthfeel are both more substantial. The beer is a little bitter, a little sweet, and a lot delicious.
Reading of the week: Law and Liberty by Roscoe Pound – The lectures included in the Harvard Classics set are almost entirely by then-contemporary Harvard professors. Roscoe Pound was a professor of jurisprudence at the time, but went on to become dean of Harvard Law. As a prominent educator and as a thinker who deeply engaged with the history and philosophy of the law, Pound would arguably have a case for inclusion if the Harvard Classics were to be updated today. This essay discusses the history of law and personal liberty in a way that may be helpful for understanding the conflicting individual and social interests at stake in the case of the commons.
Question for the week: Would a best solution to the problem of the commons include some sort of payment to those townspeople who do not have sheep and, therefore, do not use the commons? Or would would payments to non-shepherds amount to an undesirable incentive to not raise sheep?
This is the forty-seventh in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XLVII: Elizabethan Drama 2
“Let the wine be plentiful as beer, and beer as water. Hang those penny-pinching fathers that cram wealth in innocent lamb-skins.” Thus Simon Eyre, the mayor of London, opens the feast at the end of Thomas Dekker’s The Shoemaker’s Holiday. But very few coffers are deep enough to long sustain such a prodigious flow of libations, and the play is somewhat ambiguous on the virtue of thrift.
Earlier in the play, before Eyre was mayor, he promised his workmen a dozen cans of beer. But when he placed the order, he slyly told the errand boy to purchase only two. When the delivery came up ten cans short of the promised dozen, Eyre feigned surprise, but was clearly glad to get twelve cans’ worth of good cheer from his workers for the price of two.
At the beginning of the play, another character relates how his nephew wasted a veritable fortune, reveling his way across Europe:
A verier unthrift lives not in the world,
Than is my cousin; for I’ll tell you what:
’Tis now almost a year since he requested
To travel countries for experience.
I furnished him with coins, bills of exchange,
Letters of credit, men to wait on him,
Solicited my friends in Italy
Well to respect him. But to see the end:
Scant had he journey’d through half Germany,
But all his coin was spent, his men cast off,
His bills embezzl’d, and my jolly coz,
Asham’d to show his bankrupt presence here,
Became a shoemaker in Wittenberg,
Of course, the time spent as a shoemaker ends up serving the young man very well, but one can hardly argue that carousing to the point of bankruptcy is sound policy.
If The Shoemaker’s Holiday has a lesson regarding thrift, it seems to be that one should be willing to spend money for the sake of enjoyment, particularly the enjoyment of others, but not to live beyond one’s means. Lacy was wrong to waste so much of his uncle’s money in Europe, and Eyre was arguably justified in buying his men less than the dozen beers he promised. But once Eyre’s fortune was made, he quite laudably spent a great deal of it on feasting the shoemakers.
So let the beer be as plentiful as water… so long as you can cover the bar tab.
Beer of the week: Broegel Bock Beer – One way to stretch the beer budget is to buy “store-brand” beer. Aldi grocery stores sell a few beers that appear to be “knock-offs” of better known (and slightly more expensive) beers: Kinroo Blue (Blue Moon), Independence Harbor (Sam Adams), Cerveza Monterey (Corona). Based on the label of Broegel Bock, I assumed that this was simply Aldi’s version of Shiner Bock. The packaging is extremely similar. However, I was pleasantly surprised. Broegel is brewed by Brouwerij Martens NV, a prominent white-label brewery in Belgium. The beer is dark amber with a tan head of very large bubbles. The aroma is of bread and caramel. The flavor matches the smell, with sourdough notes to go with the sweet dark malt. This is a much better beer than Shiner Bock.
Reading of the week: The Shoemaker’s Holiday by Thomas Dekker – To be a minute late to this play would mean missing some very important plot points. The opening conversation establishes the forbidden relationship that drives the action of the play.
Question for the week: The balance between quantity and quality is difficult to establish. Is an $18 six-pack really twice as good as a $9 six-pack?
This is the thirty-eighth in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XXXVIII: Harvey, Jenner, Lister, Pasteur
The label on this week’s beer (pictured below with a pretty sweet lava lamp) makes the same claim as innumerable other German beers. In case you do not read German, bottle says that this beer is brewed in accordance with the Reinheitsgebot, the Bavarian “Beer Purity Law.” I have railed against that law in the past, but there are a few things that I would like to set straight.
For some background, the original Bavarian Reinheitsgebot was enacted in 1516. In short, the law regulated the ingredients allowed in beer. Under the Reinheitsgebot, beer could be made only with water, malted barley, and hops. Ostensibly, the law was intended to protect consumers from beer made with inferior ingredients. In practice, it stifled the innovative use of other sources of fermentable sugars, such as wheat or rye, as well as herbs or spices that could be used as an alternative to hops. It also proved to be an effective barrier to the importation of foreign beers that might include such ingredients.
When I discussed the Reinheitsgebot before, I claimed that the Reinheitsgebot was enacted as part of a scheme of protection for the local bakers’ guild. By reducing the demand for wheat and rye, the law reduced prices for those grains, much to the advantage of the bakers. However, I have also heard that the Duke of Munich owned virtually all of the hops farms in Bavaria. As if monopoly status was not enough, the duke used the law to force brewers to buy from him rather than use other herbs or spices to bitter their beer. Either way, the Reinheitsgebot is economic protectionism disguised as consumer protection. Whether it was for the benefit of the baker’s guild or the hops growing monopoly, it was certainly at the expense of everybody else. This sort of economic law was called “legal plunder” by French economist Frédéric Bastiat.
Additionally, I have asserted that the law is now only a marketing ploy. However, a version of the law does still exist on the books in Germany. It only applies to domestic beer production though, so non-conforming imports are now allowed into the country. Its value other than as a marketing ploy is totally unclear to me, especially at a time when innovative brewers around the world are experimenting with new styles and ingredients.
Finally, astute readers will have noticed that yeast is not listed as an acceptable ingredient. Back in 1516, yeast was still centuries from being discovered. It was not until Louis Pasteur’s scientific experiments in the middle of the 19th century that we learned that alcoholic fermentation is the product of living yeast cells. Consequently, the modern version of the law lists yeast as a valid ingredient, as well as ground hops and hops extract. Obviously, yeast has always been used in beer making, even if the brewers did not actually know what it was. Hops extract, however is anything but traditional.
I still think that the Reinhietsgebot was a bad law when it was passed and that the current version is no better. I am glad that my own beer choice is not limited by that law.
Beer of the week: Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier Märzen – This dark brown rauchbier – German for smoked beer – comes from Bramberg, Germany. The name refers to the fact that the malt is smoked in a kiln over burning beechwood. It pours with plenty of tan head. The aroma is primarily of smoke, as is the flavor. For all the smoke, it is not overbearing. Especially as it warms, Schlenkerla shoes itself to be a very well-balanced brew.
Reading of the week: The Physiological Theory Of Fermentation by Louis Pasteur – For thousands of years before Pasteur’s discoveries, humans have used yeast for brewing and baking. In this excerpt, he describes in part how brewers unknowingly created the ideal conditions for yeast growth and fermentation.
Question for the week: Is yeast really an “ingredient” in beer? Usually, it is added to the wort, where it multiplies and ferments the sugars, and then it is filtered out. That makes it seem more like a process than an ingredient.
This is the tenth in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume X: Wealth of Nations
A popular measure of the quality of an individual judge or an entire court system is the speed with which cases are disposed. Where accused criminals must wait in jail for extended periods before their cases are tried, or where civil litigants cannot get finality on their claims in a timely manner, there is a problem. In the words of William Penn, “to delay Justice is Injustice.” And “delays have been more injurious than direct Injustice.”
Adam Smith, in his Wealth of Nations, even recommended a system whereby judges would be paid only at the conclusion of each case. “By not being paid to the judges till the process was determined, [the judges’ fees] might be some incitement to the diligence of the court in examining and deciding it.”
But there is more to an efficient judiciary than disposition rate. At the extreme, a judge could summarily convict every accused without taking the time to consider the evidence. That would be a very timely method, but not a just one.
To be sure, courts should be accessible and efficient and speedy in their distribution of justice. But to judge a court entirely, or even primarily, on its disposition rate is to miss the mark. Some cases require a long, deliberate consideration. Other cases benefit from the parties having ample time to develop their theories and evidence, and to explore a negotiated resolution. Justice delayed is justice denied, but justice rushed is no justice either.
Beer of the week: Home Grown American Lager – This is a tasty brew from Victory Brewing Company in Pennsylvania. It is brewed with six varieties of hops, and they impart plenty of juicy flavor. This pours pale and cloudy lager is quite nice.
Reading of the week: Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith – Wealth of Nations is best known as a glowing recommendation of free markets. But this excerpt discusses a couple of services that, Smith argues, must be provided by the sovereign rather than the market: national defense and courts of justice.
Question of the week: Smith goes on to point out that when attorneys are paid by the page for their legal writing, they tend to “have contrived to multiply words beyond all necessity, to the corruption of the law language.” What is the best method for determining attorney’s fees?
A reader recently asked me what price she should be willing to pay for cheap beer by the case. When buying beer at the liquor store (or “beer distributor” if I happen to be in Pennsylvania) I expect “sub-premium” beers (such as Hamm’s, PBR, Miller High Life, Keystone, etc.) to be about $15.00 per 30 before tax. When buying slightly better beers, I regard it as a good deal if I can get beers at under $1.00 each. And, of course, one must be willing to pay more for better beers.
But it bears repeating that value is not intrinsic. So I repeat, in the words of Ludwig von Mises: “Value is not intrinsic, it is not in things. It is within us; it is the way in which man reacts to the conditions of his environment.” We may attempt to assign value to something, but those values mean nothing without human action. Either we buy at a given price or we do not. If we say “Pabst is not worth $25.00 per 30” but then still make that purchase, we are clearly mistaken. It is only the act of the sale that tells us anything concrete about value.
What’s more, values change relative to each other based on each individual’s hierarchy of wants. “If a man is faced with the alternative of giving up either one unit of his supply of a or one unit of his supply of b, he does not compare the total value of his total stock of a with the total value of his stock of b. He compares the marginal values both of a and of b. Although he may value the total supply of a higher than the total supply of b, the marginal value of b may be higher than the marginal value of a.” This helps shed light on the classic question of why gold is more prized than water, even though water is essential for human survival while gold is not. The answer lies in the fact that under most circumstances, the marginal value of a unit of water is less than the marginal value of a unit of gold. This is because water is generally plentiful enough to supply our basic needs. But it is equally true that in the severest drought, one would not part with a unit of water for any amount of gold; the marginal value of each has changed with the circumstances.
Beer of the week: Casablanca Premium Lager – Among the many conditions that factor into valuing beer is location. In Morocco one may expect to pay slightly more for a beer than one might expect given the prevailing exchange rates. The marginal value of the stock of beer is somewhat higher for its relative scarcity. (That is not to say that it is hard to get beer in Morocco; it is just a smaller market.) Casablanca, Morocco is one of the largest economic centers of Africa. It is also the source of this aptly named beer. Casablanca lager is clear and pale, with a very faint and dry aroma. It is a very standard micro, but plenty refreshing.
Reading of the week: Human Action by Ludwig von Mises – Later in this, his chef d’oeuvre, Mises writes: “The moralists’ and sermonizers’ critique of profits misses the point. It is not the fault of the entrepreneurs that the consumers–the people, the common man–prefer liquor to Bibles and detective stories to serious books, and that governments prefer guns to butter. The entrepreneur does not make greater profits in selling “bad” things than in selling “good” things. His profits are the greater the better he succeeds in providing the consumers with those things they ask for most intensely.”
Question for the week: Do the common people truly prefer liquor to Bibles and detective stories to serious books? Is it not simply true that the marginal value of a second Bible is quite low compared to the marginal value of a second drink?