The Monty Hall Problem

 “It’s easier to fool people than convince them they’ve been fooled.” – tenuously attributed to Mark Twain

Anchor bias: the tendency in decision-making and related cognitive processes to unduly emphasize information obtained at a certain point in time over any newly-discovered information. This bias tends to take the form of sticking with an initial position, and is likely informed by avoiding the mental effort and presumed risk of changing one’s position from that which is currently held.

Or something like that.

Note, much of the background information for today’s column was derived from a Wikipedia article on the subject. You could read that, but this dispatch is way funner!

The Monty Hall Problem was first posed in American Statistician by one Steve Selvin in 1975, and later in a 1990 magazine column by Dr. Marilyn vos Savant, great-granddaughter of the famed idiot Cletus Savant. JK about that last part, but she is descended from noted 19^th and early 20^th century physicist Ernst Mach. Side note – you’ve really made it in science if your name is used in lowercase, i.e., a unit of measure is named after you. In this case, mach is the ratio of an object’s speed relative the speed of sound.

Marilyn vos Savant was, among other things, a rather brainy columnist in Parade Magazine.  Those of us with a degree of superannuation will remember the roto gravure magazines and ad flyers that accompanied the colored Sunday comics in the rainforest-killing newspapers of yesteryear. Parade Magazine was one such, and in it, vos Savant wrote “Ask Marilyn,” an intriguing Q&A column on brainy topics.

On September 9, 1990, vos Savant posed her most controversial column, on the Monty Hall Problem. It’s not the problem itself that’s controversial; it’s based on the (at the time) popular game show Let’s Make a Deal, a show with which most of her readers would be familiar, with only 3 or 4 VHF TV channels to choose from, and even worse pickings on UHF. The controversial part was the solution, and the rigorous and often contentious debate that followed.

First, let’s lay out the problem. The game show contestant is presented with three closed doors: A, B, and C. The contestant is informed that behind one door is A NEW CAR! Behind the others are goats.

A few assumptions are in order at this point:

1) The doors all look alike, are the same size, etc., i.e., not a garage door and two goat pen gates.

2) The car is not a Rivian and is therefore preferable to a goat.

3) The contestant is sufficiently urbane as to prefer the car over a goat.

4) The goats remain quiet and do not emit any telling odors.

And some game rules to remove any bias or other chicanery:

1) The a priori selection of which door conceals the car is assigned at random with a uniform probability distribution, i.e., it’s completely unbiased.

2) The assignment of door to car or goat does not change throughout the game, although the goats may discreetly trade places with each other.

3) Which door conceals which prize I s known to the host.

4) …and is not known to the contestant.

So much for the setup, now the game:

The contestant chooses a door, hoping it conceals a car. Monty Hall does not immediately open the door. Instead, he opens another door, revealing a goat. Remember, Monty knows where the goats and the car are. At this point, Monty offers the contestant the opportunity to change his or her initial choice to the other closed door.

The contestant then opts to stick with the original door choice or switch. Monty then dramatically opens the other doors to reveal the contestant's fate, car or goat, euphoria or despair, that's show biz! And speaking of show biz, I have no idea whether or not any contestant actually kept the goat. I know I would, and my next stop would be a halal butcher, but that’s beside the point.

So... what’s the problem?

The problem is, should the contestant stick with the initial choice, or, when given the opportunity, choose the other unopened door? Answer: switch!

vos Savant explained why in her famous column, and the controversy was that most of her readers, including some real brainiacs, didn’t believe it. That’s because, although we encounter hands-on applications of it on a daily, if not hourly basis, most people are not comfortable thinking consciously in probability space. But if today’s discussion goes well, you will be, at least more so than you are now.

I’m sure you can appreciate that the initial choice has a 1/3 probability of being correct. Therefore, the car has a 2/3 probability of being behind one of the unchosen doors. Then Monty supplies more information by revealing which of the unchosen doors conceals a goat. Maybe both unchosen doors conceal goats, or maybe just one did; in any case the contestant now sees one of the “wrong” choices.

So, of what value is this information? Note that information was added about the non-chosen doors, not the chosen one. The chosen door still has a 1/3 probability of being correct, but the new information assigns the 2/3 probability all to the unchosen but still closed door. 1/3 odds of winning by staying with the initial choice, 2/3 by switching. Therefore, switch!

Get it?

No? Consider this: instead of three doors, the contestant has 1000 from which to choose. Let’s say for simplicity that he or she picks door #1, and we can all agree that the odds of winning the car are 1/1000. The odds of the car being behind one of the unchosen doors is 999/1000, i.e., a near-certainty. Next, Monty opens up 998 doors revealing goats (the studio must be getting rather redolent by this time, and probably a bit noisy as well) – remaining closed are door #1 and door #637. Now, you and the contestant can see, of all the bad choices available earlier, only one (of the two closed doors) remains, and he or she would be exceedingly lucky not to have made one initially.

vos Savant’s column generated over 10,000 letters (that’s how people flamed before the internet), with only 8% of the respondents agreeing with her. Note, this does not mean that only 8% of readers agreed; probably more did, but would be less inspired to lick a stamp to make their case. The debate raged on for many months, in and out of the “Ask Marilyn” column, among academics and laypeople alike, accompanied with much acrimony and a side order of sexism. Numerous proofs and explanations failed to move the needle, and the controversy was ultimately resolved by schoolteachers across the US volunteering their class time to conduct simulations with their students (crowdsourcing before crowdsourcing was cool), empirically proving the point. In the end, only 70% (up from the initial 35%) of academics agreed with her. Not stated was what kind of academics – there may have been some Harvard faculty in the pool.

For today's little statistics and probability lesson, we'll let Clint Eastwood have the final word.

Upstairs Virginia

Hello and Happy New Year!

For an intellectually broadening experience, I’d like to share a private dispatch, with identifying info and specific location names obfuscated, otherwise as-is. What follows is an after-action report (AAR) for a Summits on the Air (SOTA) activation, which doubled as a Parks on the Air (POTA) activation, as requested by a good friend, to whom I will henceforth refer as BAC*, and with whom I normally do SOTA and POTA activations. BAC was unable to join me for these activations due to family obligations and he requested an AAR, as he was planning to activate the same summits/park the following weekend.

*…which stands for bitch-a$$ cracker, long story J

OK Bruck, what the Sam Hill are you talking about and why?

You’ve probably correctly deduced that “on the air” refers to radio communications, and in this case, ham radio. “Summits” are mountain peaks; SOTA is a program for tracking and logging (and collegially competing with) ham radio contacts from mountaintops. The program (or should I say programme) started out in England, hence the usage of “summits” for mountains. “Activation” means going up a designated mountain (there are scores of them within a day trip of Bruck’s and BAC’s home stations) and attempting to make radio contacts; a successful activation requires contacts with four or more unique stations.

POTA is essentially the same thing, but with state and national parks rather than mountain peaks, and one needs ten contacts for a successful activation. SOTA summits often reside in said parks, in which case SOTA activations can also be logged for POTA, providing that at least 10 contacts are made.

On 9 December, 2023, I activated Whistler and Smoke Bluff, in central Virginia for SOTA. These peaks are both within the Zinc Hill Wildlife Management Area (WMA), which is a designated POTA park, therefore I was able to combine the SOTA contacts for a POTA activation.

And just to forestall any misguided assumptions, Lucille is the Black F150 of Bruck (BFOB). Another illuminating note which will come in handy at the end – my photographer Ansel (not his real name) occasionally accompanies BAC and me on activation trips. On one such occasion, while BAC and I were activating a peak on a popular hiking trail, Ansel was chatting with a couple of young high school or college-age women. Henceforth we bestowed upon him the honorary callsign K4DOM, the suffix of which abbreviates dirty old man.

A couple of nomenclature notes for you: QSO means radio conversation, and S-S means summit-to-summit contact, i.e., contact with an operator doing SOTA on a different peak.

On to the next question: why?

Just thought I’d share some cultural insights into corners of the world that few people are aware of but exist all around us. And now, without further ado:

AAR for today's activations:

BLUF

Successful activations on Whistler and Smoke Bluff + made sufficient contacts for Zinc Hill WMA POTA activation. Did all SOTA activations on 2m FM and two POTA contacts on 10m SSB, one in Venezuela. Several S-S QSOs as there were a few other groups on the hills, mostly people we know.

DISCUSSION

The drive down and back were pretty long. I recommend that if/when we do it next year, we also tie in one or two other local summits to make it worth it. Or perhaps make it part of a camping trip. I worked the 10m contest a bit on the way down – made new friends in England, France, and Spain.

Riddell Rd. was NP for Lucille and would be manageable for any respectable 4wd vehicle, all the way to the top of Smoke Bluff. Most of it could be done in a regular SUV or perhaps a Subaru Forester, but I wouldn't take a normal car on it. Wouldn't be a problem for a mountain bike, aside from the effort. The road gets dicier as you approach Smoke Bluff, but still nothing like the Tuscarora Trail.

There's a yellow gate at the entrance to the WMA, prior to which either side of the road is private property. It was open of course. It's abt 3 miles from the highway (620). Then it's about another half mile to the point on the road adjacent to Whistler. GPS coords are in the file I sent you the other day; pls advise if you need me to resend.

Although the road appears to be in the activation zone, it's actually a fair bit below the ridge, so that estimation may be incorrect. Anyway we (Ansel tagged along and took most of the photos) climbed up to the top. The climb is all bushwhacking, first thru a laurel thicket, then clambering up a layer of scree. Fairly challenging but not quite as bad as Pyramid. As with Pyramid, there may be a better way – we just walked up and down the road a bit looking for what appeared to be the least unclimbable section.

At the summit, there’s plenty of relatively flat space. There are trees but they’re not very tall. Pix of scree and summit are attached. BTW I reduced all the pix but can send you the full res versions if you’re interested.

Got a few contacts on the way up the hill with the V8 as SOTA was pretty active today. When we got situated, I started with the RS 2m mobile attached to the hanging j-pole. That worked fine, got a few more contacts with it, but then it started to rain (wx forecast LIED). So I didn’t bother setting for HF and just packed up.

We then got back to Lucille and proceeded to Smoke Bluff. Easy enough to find – there’s a fork in the road shortly before it; the right side takes you toward the summit. Then there’s a closed green gate, at which point a left turn takes you up to the top. Overall it’s about 2 more miles from Whistler. GPS coords for the fork are in the file I sent you.

Smoke Bluff is pretty broad and flat, with no trees in the middle. There are some around the perimeter, but they’d be a little inconvenient to get at. Pix attached. There are some handy seats – foundations from the old fire tower. I just did 2m FM with the V8 and floppy antenna as it was still raining. While Ansel finished his sandwich in Lucille, I worked the 10m contest a bit and made 2 more contacts, one in Arizona and one in Venezuela.

…and it’s a darned good thing I did! I failed to “do the math” earlier – I figured, 7 contacts at Whistler and 6 at Smoke Bluff, why, that easily exceeds the 10 required for POTA. Except I neglected to consider that most of the latter activation were dupes of the first, so they only added up to 8 uniques. I activated the park by the skin of my teeth.

I won’t be running 10m mobile for a while. On the way down the hill, my antenna mount snapped. Antenna and feedline are fine but I have to fab up a new mount. And next time remember to remove the whip when I’m bouncing and jouncing on the 4wd roads. And dangit, the Ace hardware that replaced Rice does not carry 1/8” Al stock, and my supply is depleted.

Just north of the WMA we stopped at the Riddell Fire Tower. It’s open to the public to climb (at your own risk, it disclaims). So of course we did. Highly recommended. Pix attached.

CONCLUSION

A good set of activations, and a fine day in upstairs Virginia, somewhat dampened by the wx. We should definitely add these two to our annual rotation, but make them part of a larger combo as I mentioned above.

AFTERWORD

One of the SOTA pals asked if I was doing a solo trip this time and I said no, I had a muggle with me. Ansel found this humorous and countered, “I’m your emotional support muggle.” Perhaps that’s a better sobriquet than “dirty old man.”

Time Travel

 You may be excused for not knowing the name Jim Weatherly. He was an SEC champion quarterback for the University of Mississippi in the early ‘60s, and went on to a successful career as a singer/songwriter in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, his style was pop-country crossover, which during the ‘60s and ‘70s was dominated by the easy-listening Tyrannosaurus Rex Glen Campbell. Everyone else in that genre during that era operated under Campbell’s massive shadow.

Okay, you might not remember Glen Campbell either but I bet your mother or grandmother, or maybe great aunt, had a crush on him at one point. Look up some of his work on the youtube or spend some time in an elevator or a dentist’s waiting room and I predict you’ll find something you recognize.

Now I’m sure you’ve heard of Lee Majors, star of the wildly successful and penultimately corny TV series “Six Million Dollar Man.” (Yes, I know the meaning of the word penultimate, which is second ultimate; TV viewers from that era would have to vigorously agree that “Hee Haw” carried the standard for ultimate corniness.)

Don’t remember any of that stuff? Not to worry, hang on, we’re about to do a little time traveling, so you’ll get to see it firsthand. But first some background – it all comes together!

Although he didn’t make it into the NFL, Weatherly didn’t completely let go of his sporting interests. He played in an amateur flag football league in LA, and happened to be on the same team as the Six Million Dollar Man. Seems like an unfair advantage, LOL. Anyway, at one point in the late ‘60s, Weatherly called Majors on the phone (landline, one per household, no caller ID y’all), and Farrah Fawcett answered. Nothing too extraordinary here – Fawcett and Majors were dating at the time and would later marry.

Just a little reminder of who Farrah Fawcett is. She was, among her other contributions to the humanities, the numero uno Charlie’s Angel in the original series.

During the brief conversation preceding Fawcett’s summoning Majors to the phone, she made the offhand comment that she was packing her luggage to take a midnight plane to Houston, to visit family. DING DING DING went the bell in Weatherly’s creative brain. There’s a good song title in that! Later that evening he plied his trade and spun out the story, lyrics, and melody for “Midnight Plane to Houston,” which remain largely intact in the song we know today as “Midnight Train to Georgia,” popularized by Gladys Knight and the Pips.

Through music marketing contortions I couldn’t hope to unravel, the song ended up in the hands of the producer for soul/gospel singer Cissy Houston, mother of Whitney Houston, and, incidentally, aunt to Dionne Warwick but not related to Tina Turner. Houston purportedly recorded three versions, experimenting with different levels of R&B vs. pop-country, went with the slightly more R&B version, changing the title and lyrics to train/Georgia, and reversing the genders.

Weatherly’s publisher later pitched the song to Gladys Knight and the Pips, who picked it up and in 1973 transformed it further to its full R&B version, and with it, achieved their first #1 hit on the charts and their first gold record (1M sales).

Let’s go multimedia now – since I’m sure you’re reading this on your computer or electronic tether, fire up youtube and dig up the song. There are many covers (including a particularly strained one by Garth Brooks), so do find a Gladys Knight version, and try to attach an original/non-remastered version. Otherwise, our little plan won’t work. Also, you’ll probably need some decent headphones or earbuds as we need the full audio spectrum.

“Midnight Train to Georgia,” a popular song from the early ‘70s as we’ve noted, is as much a symbol - a milepost if you will - in history of that era, musically, and culturally. A big turning point for Gladys Knight and the Pips to be sure, but part of the larger convergence of soul/R&B into mainstream pop music, against the backdrop of the growing pains of racial integration (yes, Karen, that’s what they called it back then) in the US. Listeners who were familiar with the original song in its time would have to have souls made of dry ice to not feel the bittersweet nostalgic sentiment it evokes.

The song itself tells a two-part story. The first is of a man who, in a not-totally defined way, fails to make it big in Tinseltown, presumably in the entertainment field. He fails, and decides to sell out and move back home to his simpler, presumably rural, life in Georgia. The second is that of his girlfriend, or maybe wife, who is a successful star, and who is well accustomed to the lifestyle and very much at home in LA. The tension between these two courses is resolved quickly with the latter’s decision to follow her man back to rural Georgia, to a life we can assume she knows nothing about, is not her home, and holds none of the glamour and prestige to which she’s accustomed. It’s a touching story of how a woman’s love for her man trumps material wealth and advantage, how she’ll leave everything behind just to continue to be with the one she loves. Note, in the original version, it was a man who was leaving his success and fame behind to follow his woman back home, so it works both ways.

Do you have it queued up? Alright, let’s have a listen.

Feel the vibe? Feel the story? Okay, now, concentrate on the bass line. This is why you needed to find the original recording and wear some decent headphones. Follow it if you can; let it go straight into your brain. This isn’t nostalgia anymore; it’s time travel. We are now in the year 1973. OPEC, Viet Nam, Watergate, reverberations from urban racial riots, oh, and Hee Haw and the Six Million Dollar Man. It’s all here.

Okay, we’re now 50 years in the past, but that was just to get you out of the starting blocks – we’re about to go back another 3000 years to a by-no-means simpler place in time, Moab and Judah during the time of the Judges, approx. 1200-1100 BC. Here we find a strikingly similar story with many obvious parallels. In fact, I would surmise that, based on his historical and cultural background, Weatherly was familiar with it.

I encourage you to read the book or Ruth, chapter 1, to familiarize or remind yourself of the details; in case this is new to you, I bet you’ve heard part of it a few times if you’ve been to Christian or Jewish weddings.

To recap, Naomi, along with her husband and two sons, all Judahites, are living in Moab. Her sons marry Moabite women, and cruel misfortune strikes, specifically with the death of Naomi’s husband and both sons, and generally with a famine in Moab.

Naomi and her daughters in law are now bereft and desperate. Naomi decides to return to Judah where she hopes to find some sustenance, and advises her DILs Ruth and Orpah (not Oprah, sorry no free cars today) to return to Moab and find new husbands. Ruth 1 chronicles the interchange; ultimately Orpah returns to her people in Moab but Ruth steadfastly clings to Naomi, expressing her complete devotion to the latter:

“And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God:

Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.”

Ruth 1:16-17, KJV

That’s the part you may recognize from weddings – the expression of complete and lifelong devotion which, although it’s between two widows, a DIL and a MIL, translates well to husband-wife. And, since it’s between two women as it does so, there are no dominant or subservient gender roles indicated, so as with the 70s R&B counterpart story, it works both ways.

Let’s remove the VR headsets now and as we return to the 21^st century, ask the all-important question, “Bruck, what did you have for lunch?” Savory pork and mushroom soup, masterfully prepared by the inestimably magnificent wife of Bruck (IMWOB).

Oh wait, the all-important question is, “What’s Love Got to Do With It?”

Lifelong and complete devotion to another is a high ideal, but it’s not confined to fictitious love songs or ancient Bible stories. It’s a necessary component of a long and healthy relationship. Note also the time dimension – it’s not just a one-and-done trip to Judah or Georgia; it’s till death do us part (Well okay, we don’t know what happened after Brad and Jennifer got to Georgia). There a magnitude dimension as well – leaving LA for Georgia, or Moab for Judah doesn’t happen every day, but acts of devotion do. Presumably Ruth gleaned and provided for her MIL daily, and the IMWOB prepares fantastic soup and other exquisite meals pretty frequently, and I umm… keep the cars running!

Unfortunately, the Fawcett-Majors marriage didn’t stand the test of time, although by Hollywood standards, it did pretty well at 9 years. Many others among the aforementioned characters parted from their spouses for reasons other than death as well. The widow Ruth, on the other hand, did much better on that front – she went on to marry Boaz, and together they begat the grandfather of King David. This intricate story is spelled out in the remaining chapters of the book of Ruth.

But the real all-important question is: Where are you in the story?

And you can thank me for Midnight Train to Georgia rattling around in your head for the next week and a half!

Rhymes with Organ

The Exquisite Mrs. Bruck (EMB) and I spent this year’s President’s Day weekend not buying a discounted mattress. We also did not avail ourselves of the occasion to order siding or replacement windows, nor did we exploit any other blowout, extravaganza, blockbuster, or holiday madness. Instead, we did the next best thing to honor our greatest president George Washington, and other presidents  whose birthdays landed in mid- to late-February, including Abraham Lincoln, by taking a self-guided North Carolina BBQ tour.

“Self-guided” is the operative term here, as in next time we’ll know what we’re doing. The first thing we discovered was that President’s Day weekend is not the ideal weekend to cruise BBQ joints in NC, as everything is closed that Monday. We also discovered that the conventional western weekend (Sat-Sun) is not the best timing. Either due to observance of the traditional Christian sabbath, or to maximize the ability to enjoy professional football, everything’s closed on Sunday in northern NC. The Muslim weekend (Fri-Sat) would have afforded more opportunity to enjoy BBQ, or for that matter, would any other sequence of days not including Sunday or a national holiday. Nonetheless, we did manage to hit a variety of southern cooking establishments, and a surprisingly comprehensive pork dispensary, which I’ll describe in excessive detail anon, but first I’ll cover a few of your basic questions.

1) Why do a BBQ tour?

A few years ago, the EMB and I read an impressive volume on the subject of southern BBQ and the diverse and geographically disperse purveyors thereof. It wasn’t impressive enough for me to remember its title or author, but it was impressive nonetheless. We decided at the time that we needed to experience it firsthand, by embarking on a tour of smoky establishments. Life got complicated for a while, but we finally got around to it this year.

2) Why NC BBQ?

Because NC is a lot closer to VA than Kansas City, Memphis, OK, Austin, etc., plus, we dig the NC style(s). Flip side, why not tour VA BBQ joints? Well, we’ve already done our share of that. Results: none of the chain BBQ restaurants are noteworthy, and some of the independent places are pretty good. However, I would say their pretty-goodness is proportional to how well they duplicate the NC style. The VA style, if you could call it that, is basically just a variety of sauces that smother the meat flavor.

3) When did you figure out that Jussie Smollett was lying?

Within half a second of reading the first paragraph of the first article I read on the subject. How long before you figured it out?

4) How did you plan your trip?

 

The BBQ volume we read indicated that Lexington BBQ in Lexington, NC was particularly good and fairly established, so we made that the “destination,” and planned the rest of the trip around it. Since our time was limited, we hit one other well-reputed BBQ place, Wilber’s in Goldsboro, prior to which we did some pork shopping at Nahunta Pork Center in Pikeville. We were planning on a 2^nd day, but, as mentioned above, that would have been Sunday and everything was closed.

5) Why is pig appendix sausage called Tom Thumb?

No idea, but I agree that it’s not particularly appetizing.

The pic to the right is sliced Tom Thumb frying in a pan according to its traditional preparation method.

OK, enough with the fake interview questions.

A parallel quest to sampling real NC BBQ was finding real country ham. Country ham is probably not the ham you’re used to – it’sdry/salt-cured and aged on the bone, as opposed to the conventional sweet/wet-cured variety that you likely had last Easter. It’s actually difficult to find real country ham, but our friend CBA (not his real name) pointed us to Nahunta in Pikesville (https://www.nahuntapork.com/), which is near his parents’ home town. We had to get up a little early, as we noted that Nahunta closed at 3:00 pm on Saturday, and was closed Sunday.

Check out Nahunta’s website, and specifically, take a look at its offerings. We bought some:

-          Country ham (a variety of cuts, not the whole leg)

-          Country ham end slices (somewhat richer flavor)

-          Country ham trimmings (good for seasoning beans or collards)

-          Cracklings (next best thing to original sin)

-          A Tom Thumb (had to. Just had to)

-          Souse (vinegar-based head cheese)

-          Liver pudding

-          About 16’ of semi-dry sausage (yes, feet)

We did not buy:

-          Spleen

-          Brown skins

-          Fresh pig head

We also picked up an order for our friend CBA, a subset of the above minus the exotic items.

Not too far from Pikesville is Wilber’s BBQ, or rather, was. Wilber’s closed recently, making us among their last customers, historically speaking. It had been in business since 1962 and went out of business about two weeks ago. We had lunch there after shopping at Nahunta. It was definitely old-school, and offered a wide variety and generous portions for low prices. I had deep fried liver while the EMB had chopped BBQ. Both were quite nice, but alas, none of us is getting any more of it any time soon. I hope they can work something out to get back in business, because I seriously doubt their creditors know how to run a BBQ restaurant.

Wilber’s BBQ was of the eastern NC variety, which is “whole hog” and has a vinegar-based sauce with a little hot pepper thrown in. Lexington BBQ, on the other hand, where we dined that evening, has more of a western NC style, which is pork shoulder (front thigh, y’all) with a vinegar/ketchup-based sauce, also somewhat spicy.

Lexington is a couple hours’ drive west of Goldsboro, which passed uneventfully. Coincidentally, the illustrious Mr. Smollett was being indicted for a number of infractions including lying to investigators. The preceding weeks had seen an outpouring of sympathy from his compatriots in politcs and media while those of us not completely drawn in by the post-truth culture watched knowingly as his story unraveled.

Mr. Smollett’s legal process has apparently concluded at this time with the dropping of state charges, the dual justice system being alive and well in Chicago, and the media outlets and personalities that supported him have moved on, understandably unwilling to discuss it any further. But what doesn’t get much play is the fact that Mr. Smollett, in contriving a fake hate crime against himself, perpetrated one against the very people he was accusing, namely supporters of President Trump, and in at least one version of his story, white people. He was also perfectly happy to let two innocent people take the rap for his fake attack, up to the point of learning that the police’s “persons of interest” were in fact the Nigerian brothers he had hired. In other words, Mr. Smollett attempted to smear Trump supporters as homophobic, racist, and violent, in accordance with the caricature created and perpetuated by the conventional media, entertainment and editorial establishments, and strident political partisans.

Notwithstanding the laughably preposterous fantasy that white Trump supporters in a ritzy section of Chicago would even exist, let alone attack a gay, black actor as an expression of their support for the President in the middle of the coldest night of the year, the places we visited in NC were what I would call actual “Trump Country” – rural, working class, racially diverse, no apparent outward political affiliations, friendly, helpful, outgoing, you get the picture. Even with our somewhat diluted northern accents, we encountered nothing but genuine southern hospitality.

Exhibit A: Great customer service and a free BBQ sandwich at Nahunta.

Exhibit B: Great food and customer service at Wilber’s and Lexington BBQ.

Exhibit C: The waitress at Cagney’s Kitchen in Lexington, where we had breakfast on Sunday morning (with Joel Osteen on the TV, LOL), informed that they had no peanut butter when I asked. Over my protestations, she had her husband run out and get some for me! She got a good tip.

So I’m thinking, how could Mr. Smollett get it so wrong? Answer: intersectionality. Being a wealthy, politically-connected, youngish,  gay black Hollywood actor living in an upscale section of a large American city, he’s probably never personally encountered a Trump supporter. And, due to same intersectionality, he probably believes in the violent, racist, ignorant, craven media caricature of Trump supporters. When you consider the narrow little bubble he lives in, his actions almost make sense.

With the state charges dropped, Smollett’s legal troubles may or may not be over. The FBI is considering charges based on the powder-laced hate letter he mailed himself, and the City of Chicago is considering a lawsuit to recover wasted police resources. Personally, I don’t expect much to come of these, dual justice system and all. But if I were the judge, I’d give him 5 years’ probation, to be spent in Davidson County, NC, where he would be required to:

• Live there full time,
• Get a job (outside of the entertainment field),
• Attend church,
• Participate in civic/community activities, and
• Stay out of social and any other form of media.

And oh yes, I almost forgot, formally apologize to all Trump supporters and the Chicago Police.

A Pasty Caught Fire in a Cornish Tin Mine – You’ll Never Guess What Happened Next!

OK, I’ll tell you. According to legend, the fire spread to the support timbers and caused a collapse. I’m not sure what transpired thereafter, but mining disaster stories rarely end well. A mining story with a happier ending brings you today’s dispatch, how to make the Finnish Pasty.

The Finnish Pasty is a regional specialty of northern Michigan and the surrounding environs, derived from the traditional Cornish pasty, which was imported by miners who emigrated from Cornwall to the Upper Peninsula during the 18^th and 19^th centuries. The art and skill of homemade pasty fabrication have been passed through generations of American Finns, with recipes honed and optimized over time, but never departing too far from the original.

Not all American Finnish families participate in the passing of this cultural tradition, but your faithful editor is happy to hail from one that does. Normally, conventional gender roles and all that, cooking traditions pass through the maternal/female line of a family. Not so here – the otherwise excellent but questionably Finnish sister of Bruck (OEBQFSOB), who is incidentally one of the more prominent ribs chefs in the family, has declined to carry the pasties standard, therefore it must be borne by yours truly.

As this is a proper technical dispatch, I must make a couple of points about scope and nomenclature.

1) The singular form of “pasties” is “pasty,” not “pastie.” This, and its pronunciation, distinguish it from the tassels attached to the mammary organs of burlesque dancers: the “a” in “pasty” is short.

2) Pasties are not part of European Finnish cuisine. This is strictly a tradition of American Finns.

3) The Finnish pasty is composed of an outer pastry filled with beef, pork, potatoes, onions, carrots, rutabaga (yellow turnip), butter, salt, and pepper. The traditional Cornish pasty does not contain carrots, and is seasoned with parsley. There may be other variations that I’m not aware of. There are some construction differences as well, but that’s outside the scope of today’s dispatch. And to clarify things for the pasties tourist, here are some things that do not appear in a proper Finnish Pasty:

• ·         Chicken or other meats
• ·         Hamburger or other ground meat and filling
• ·         Gravy
• ·         Peas or other vegetables
• ·         Tuna
• ·         Other seasonings
• ·         Pretty much anything not listed above.

Now I’m fully cognizant of the loose tolerances that have been placed on the definition of pasties over the years, particularly by restaurants specializing in same, and I’m also aware that quibbling over esoteric details does not get you invited to the after-party party, therefore instead of taking up arms in the matter, I would encourage pasty purists to simply deal with the matter by forming air quotes in their heads when someone purports a non-conventional pasty, and keep the eye rolling as discreet as possible.

For my faithful readers not currently engaged in the debate, I would say this: if a nuclear physicist apprises you of the contents of reactor fuel, you wouldn’t debate it, right? You wouldn’t think, well, can’t we save a few bucks by substituting copper for uranium, would you? All I’m asking is that you afford the same respect to the Finnish Pasty chef.

Here’s the recipe from the archives of the Ancestors of Bruck:

 

 Well, obviously not directly from said archives - we put it into a doc file. If you are over 40, you may need to blow this up: right-click on the image, select "view image," and hit ctrl-plus or command-plus as needed.

If this were all there was to it, we could stop here, but critical aspects of the all-important technique are not specified. There are three main steps: pastry dough, filling, construction, and cooking (okay, that’s four steps, just seeing if you’re paying attention).

If you’re still reading by now, I figure there’s some chance you’re thinking about trying to make some yourself, so let’s discuss timing. Working backwards from meal time, pasties take about an hour to cook. Prior to that, they take an hour to assemble (budget more for your maiden voyage); and preceding that, it takes about an hour to cut up the meat and vegetables. The pastry dough is best made the day before – it should sit in the refrigerator at least four hours but ideally overnight, and then it needs to come to room temperature. If you’re making the pastry dough and the pasties the same day, budget about an hour to make it. It’s best to cut the meat while it’s partially frozen, so it should also freeze overnight, then thaw about a half hour to an hour prior to cutting.

Step 1) The Pastry Dough

Note about ingredients: “oleo” is also known as “margarine.” Fleischmann’s margarine is recommended, if your grocer carries it. In addition to the ingredients, you’ll need a pastry cutter, a large bowl, measuring cups and spoons, other utensils, and nine raisins (nuts, candies, or shots of tequila may be substituted for raisins).

Measure out nine level cups of flour into the bowl, eating one raisin after each, to help you keep count. Add the salt and mix evenly.

 

Next, cut in the shortening and margarine, in approximately tablespoon-sized chunks. Agitate with a mixing spoon, but not too thoroughly – stop when the granularity looks to be about 1/2” to 1/4” on the average, and no tangible amounts of shortening remain. Be sure to scoop from the bottom up, so as to mix in all the dry flour.

Meanwhile, prepare about two cups of ice water. To complete the dough, form a depression in the flour/shortening mixture, add a few tablespoons of cold water, and mix it in until a portion of the flour/shortening turns into firm dough and push it to the side. Repeat until all the flour/shortening is converted to dough, which will consume about two cups of ice water. Make the dough a little drier than your instincts would advise – it will cure in the refrigerator.

Form the dough into a ball as shown, wrap it in a few layers of waxed paper, pressing out as much air as possible, and put it into the refrigerator. Overnight works best, but at least four hours are required.

Step 2) The Filling

At this point, you should take your dough out of the fridge, to let it come to room temperature by the time you’re ready to use it.

Note, the actual number of individual items shown may differ from the recipe shown above – onions and potatoes don’t come in standard sizes. This is where the judgment of the inestimable mother of Bruck (IMOB), with her experience making thousands of pasties comes into play. In my more limited experience on the order of dozens, I’ve always ended up with extra filling. The important part is the ratio of components, and we’ll talk about how best to use the leftovers later.

Peel the carrot, onions, and potatoes, and cut the rutabaga into quarters. Retain and peel one quarter of the rutabaga. Notwithstanding all that talk about starving children in India, the IMOB discards the rest. I have a favorable alternative that I’ll share later. Cut all ingredients into 1/4” to 3/8” cubes and mix. This includes the meat. As noted above, it helps to freeze the meat and then allow it to partially thaw before cutting. I also recommend an electric knife if you’ve got one (and if you don’t, they’re only about $20 on Amazon).

Step 3) Construction

You’ll need a rolling pin, a rolling sheet, small bowls of flour and salt, and a shaker of pepper. You’re going to be placing the constructed pasties on cookie sheets for baking, so line two full-size cookie sheets with aluminum foil.

Cut your dough into approximately 12 equal pieces. Take one piece out, form it into a ball, and roll it into a squarish circle (or circlish square), about 1/8” thick. Be sure to lubricate the rolling board and rolling pin with plenty of flour, and roll from the center of the ball outward.

Place one cup of filling on the bottom half of the circle (not all the way to the edge), then sprinkle it with 1/4 teaspoon of salt and a couple shakes of pepper, and top it with a 1/4” pat of butter or margarine.

Carefully fold the upper half of the pastry over the mound of filling and press its edge into the bottom edge. Remove any bits of filling that find their way between the edges. Trim off any edges exceeding 1”. Crimp the edges by gently squeezing approx. 1” sections and twisting (to this day I can’t make crimps like mom’s, so I’ll show you one of hers). If there are any gaps or splits, you can roll out a small piece of pastry to patch them – make sure there are no openings in the edge or they will leak while cooking. Poke three 1” slits in the top of the pasty, about 3/4” apart.

Very carefully, put the pasty on a cookie sheet. It’s best to cup it in both hands, then slowly roll it off of the board from one hand into the other, and place it onto the cookie sheet. Arrangement: ideally, you will want to put six pasties on a sheet, four in parallel on one side and two in the remaining space of the other side, and not touching each other. If circumstance preclude this, or if you end up with more than 12 (this is not always an exact science), put the extras on a third cookie sheet and cook them separately.

Step 4) Cooking

Preheat the oven to 375F. Your oven racks should be in the middle two positions. Put one sheet on each rack, close the door, and lower the temperature to 350F. Bake for a half hour, then swap the sheets’ positions (upper to lower, lower to upper) and bake for another half hour.

Serve and enjoy! A popular side dish with pasties is “chow chow,” aka mustard pickle. Beverage pairings are the same as for red meat, which for most American Finns means beer. I tend to deviate from tradition by eating mine with ketchup, which never fails to elicit a sidelong glance from the IMOB.

Final Advisories

1) What to do with extra filling: make a pasty pie.

2) Rather than discard 3/4 of a perfectly good rutabaga: make mashed potatoes/rutabaga, with about equal parts of each.

3) The pastry doesn’t like humidity, which is why winter pasties tend to turn out better.

4) Commercial pastry: you can save a lot of time and effort by using it, but there are a few downsides:

- It doesn’t taste as good.

- It’s expensive.

- You’ll feel cheap and tawdry, having compromised your principles in the name of expediency.

5) Pasties are not health food. If you attempt to make them “lite,” by recklessly using leaner/less fattening ingredients, I can’t be responsible for the results. Full disclosure: the Finnish great-grandmother of Bruck who spoke no English (FGGMOBWSNE) used lard for shortening.

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