Researching modern mainstream textbooks and the associated recommended reading list of approved texts is usually a mind numbing experience that drains my will to live.
It’s an especially strange sensation reading Settled Science because it’s so difficult to concentrate and take seriously when so little of the script makes any sense.
My primary yardstick for measuring the worth of a Settled Science Script is based upon the simple principle that its value [in most cases] is inversely proportional to its mathematical content.
Experience has also taught me that the sooner I encounter mathematics in a Settled Science Script then the sooner I am going to lose the will to live whilst reading the script.
The problem is that mathematics is no substitute for understanding and insight.
Heuristic formulas aren’t theories or explanations.
Heuristic formulas are usually just evasions and subterfuge that mask some bogus Settled Science belief system that is not supported by mechanics, observations or even logic.
The hopeless heuristic formulas that attempt to mask magical forces at a distance are the most egregious in my book.
Therefore, whenever an author resorts to mathematics it frequently demonstrates their complete lack of understanding and insight.
Another factor that influences my will to live is the modern trend for Fact Speak.
Fact Speak is where the author attempts palm-off some old threadbare theory as an established fact without explaining that it is just one [of many] theories that isn’t supported by the observational evidence and their only justification for regurgitating this tawdry tale is that it conforms to their Settled Science belief system.
Fact Speak authors occasionally throw in [as afterthoughts] a cherry picked observation [or two if you are very lucky] to illustrate the Strength of the Science.
Fact Speak authors have to write in this back-to-front fashion because they know if they detailed the observational data first then they couldn’t subsequently draw their claimed conclusions.
Thankfully, I don’t have to learn these Settled Science Scripts by heart [parrot fashion] or chant the correct canticles to please the oracles of Settled Science.
Generally, I find it’s more enjoyable going to the theatre when the cast has leant the script.
But an actor reciting Macbeth is neither Shakespeare nor a King of Scotland.
Similarly, I find it more enjoyable when a teacher understands the script and has leant their lines.
However, I lose the will to live whenever I read an academic author who thinks they are an Oracle of Science because they can chant canticles from the Settled Science Script.
There are times when it’s not enjoyable going to the theatre even when the cast know the script.
Many moons ago I sat through the first half of Troilus and Cressida at the Everyman in Liverpool.
Troilus and Cressida is a tragedy by William Shakespeare, believed to have been written in 1602.
It was described by Frederick S. Boas as one of Shakespeare’s problem plays.
The play ends on a very bleak note with the death of the noble Trojan Hector and destruction of the love between Troilus and Cressida.
Throughout the play, the tone lurches wildly between bawdy comedy and tragic gloom, and readers and theatre-goers have frequently found it difficult to understand how one is meant to respond to the characters.
The cast knew their lines and acted well but I didn’t enjoy the first half.
Everything changed during the interval when the leading man lost the will to act.
Therefore, in true the show must go on fashion, the star of the second half of Troilus and Cressida was some poor sod stumbling about the stage reading his lines directly from the script.
The stand-in was not in costume and wore a large black cloak to hide his embarrassment.
But he held the audience spellbound as he read the script and followed the stage instructions because he couldn’t afford the luxury of looking up to see where we has going on stage.
The breathless audience willed him clear of the scenery whilst secretly calculating the odds of him disappearing headfirst into the orchestra pit as he traversed the stage reading his lines.
Somehow the stand-in avoided disaster and lived on [unscathed] to fight another day.
I don’t know if the same can be said for the leading man.
The Everyman Theatre stands at the north end of Hope Street, Liverpool, Merseyside, England.
It was founded in 1964, in Hope Hall (once a chapel, then a cinema), in an area of Liverpool noted for its bohemian environment and political edge, and quickly built a reputation for ground-breaking work.