I’m not perfect...

...and my good friend “D” pointed that out to me. In his words:

Anywho, I just needed to question your math about your genes. Your 75%
as an approximation is actually more a maximum average than than an
approximation. The 25% in your sisters baby and the 50% in your baby
will definitely have overlap some, so I would say with half overlapping
the approximate % of your genes that will be passed out is 62.5% with a
range of 50% (you share no genes with your sister) to 100% if your
sister and you have identical DNA and you both happen to pass on the
exact opposite half.

Clearly: I am an idiot. I’ll add that if my sister has a 2^nd child, that child will add, assuming half of those genes overlap with the first baby and we share 50% of our genes, just 6.5% additional genes to the next generation’s gene pool. Clearly, we’re not getting a full 100% of my genes into the next generation without A) some luck (good or bad depending on your perspective or B) if I just continue to live forever. I’m working on option B.

Inspired by my good buddy Dustin’s infant blog (here), I’ve decided today to reveal one of my ‘guilty pleasures.’ This isn’t actually very easy for me, because I am not really guilty about much that I do intentionally. Sure, I feel guilty about things like screwing up a project or chewing loudly, but I generally don’t feel guilty about the stuff that I’m actively doing.

I won’t let that stop me though.

Imagine a stage in front of a dark, nearly lightless audience. A few lights cast a weak glow upon a heavy red curtain. Without further ado I walk to the middle of the stage and pull a thick, yellow rope that didn’t appear to be there before. The curtain slowly rises up, the contents of the stage shrouded in darkness. Suddenly the stage lights brighten to reveal:

Nothing.

Or wait.

What is that?

What is that?

What is that?

What. Is. That?

Oh.

It’s a copy of Johnny Cash’s greatest hits.

With a snicker an audience member jumps to his feet and shouts “AHA!!!”

It’s K. K. (a friend from Indiana)

“That music is more than ten years old!”

(The audience gasps. On-stage my head drops. With a sigh I nod my head.)

I have a long-standing policy whereby I do not listen to music that is more than ten years old. This is because I don’t want to become one of those guys who thinks all the best music was the music made during my childhood/teenage/college years. The truth is that great music is always being produced and focusing on Bob Dylan or the Stones or Zepplin or U2 or *gasp* Nirvana only allows you to miss out on the great new stuff that comes along. This is especially true for someone like me, who no longer spends much time listening to music at all.

This isn’t really about staying cool, although some people seem to see it that way. This is more about keeping my mind flexible. I believe (and I think if you don’t believe this you are by definition a pessimist) that people are getting better. I think the best thinkers, the best artists, the best writers, the best chefs, are all building on the work of their predecessors to create new and better...uh...creations. I think that emphasizing the past ignores those who are driving new creativity.
So listening to Johnny Cash (who is dead) is bad. Listening to Johnny Cash’s old stuff, is much worse. I could at least be listening to Johnny as he aged and created great new works under the guidance of new producers.

But no. I’ve listened to this Johnny Cash album at least a hundred times in the past two months.

So there it is! I hope you all enjoy my devious guilty pleasure.

And for those of you expecting something more: Hello! I don’t like reality TV! That’s not a hidden pleasure, I just have to leave the room.