Clothes make the man

My idea that you can signal to yourself seems to have some echo in the real world: “People who were given a lab coat and told it belonged to a doctor were found to pay closer attention to what they were doing than people who were given the same coat and told it belonged to a painter. The researchers’ findings suggested that just as we wear clothes, our clothes wear us, changing the way we think, feel and behave.”

Read the article: https://www.ft.com/content/97fc83ba-85c7-11e8-a29d-73e3d454535d

Meanwhile, I have been active on instagram with skincare as piedbeautyx. What am I signalling to myself? Control? Routine? Adulthood itself? Who knows, but I am enjoying it.

Signalling arbitrage

When you see a person of your chosen sex leading an old lady across the road, they seem more attractive.

Why?

Because they are kind and therefore will be kind to you (and your offspring)?

Nah, no guarantee of that.

It’s because they have the extra resources to be so nice – and you could always do with some resources.

It’s the social equivalent of a Porsche, so it’s sexy – and funnily enough tryhards don’t bother mimicking it cause they don’t get the appeal.

Moral of the story: I am slowly turning into a pick up artist be nice to old ladies.

Gilgamesh

“What you seek you shall never find. 
For when the Gods made man, 
They kept immortality to themselves.
Fill your belly.
Day and night make merry.
Let Days be full of joy.
Love the child who holds your hand.
Let your wife delight in your embrace.
For these alone are the concerns of man.”

Why do they make us study Hamlet, with his thousand natural shocks, rather than the very reasonable Gilgamesh?

The above is excellent advice for most people I know.

 

Another utopia gone wrong

In 1972, animal behaviorist John Calhoun built a mouse paradise with beautiful buildings and limitless food. He introduced eight mice to the population. Two years later, the mice had created their own apocalypse. Here’s why.

Universe 25 was a giant box designed to be a rodent utopia. The trouble was, this utopia did not have a benevolent creator. John B. Calhoun had designed quite a few mouse environments before he got to the 25th one, and didn’t expect to be watching a happy story. Divided into “main squares” and then subdivided into levels, with ramps going up to “apartments,” the place looked great, and was always kept stocked with food, but its inhabitants were doomed from the get-go.

Universe 25 started out with eight mice, four males and four females. By day 560, the mouse population reached 2,200, and then steadily declined back down to unrecoverable extinction. At the peak population, most mice spent every living second in the company of hundreds of other mice. They gathered in the main squares, waiting to be fed and occasionally attacking each other. Few females carried pregnancies to term, and the ones that did seemed to simply forget about their babies. They’d move half their litter away from danger and forget the rest. Sometimes they’d drop and abandon a baby while they were carrying it.

The few secluded spaces housed a population Calhoun called, “the beautiful ones.” Generally guarded by one male, the females—- and few males — inside the space didn’t breed or fight or do anything but eat and groom and sleep. When the population started declining the beautiful ones were spared from violence and death, but had completely lost touch with social behaviors, including having sex or caring for their young.

Source and Wiki

This blew my mind.

On another note, I spent a week away in Croatia and Bosnia of all places. I highly recommend it.