This trend was not a marker of intelligence: The researchers looked at each student’s ACT score (1) and found that among students with the same ACT score, the more attractive ones did significantly better in class.
They also found that male professors were more likely than female professors to give higher grades to pretty women.
Here’s the kicker: When these same students took online courses, the deviation disappeared completely.
Most professors are men. If you don’t believe me, just nip over to Linkedin and do a quick search. You’ll discover that most of them are. This doesn’t mean that women aren’t intelligent, humans are human after all. What it does mean is that humans – men and women – are partial when it comes to the truth. They want their version of the truth and that’s an end of the matter.
The Difference Between Chicken In London And Budapest.
It was a long time ago, when a friend from uni was a little boy and was sent to stay with his grandparents in Hungary. This would be in the sixties, when the eastern part of the capital, Budapest, was still semi-rural. Laszlo – Les to his friends who couldn’t pronounce his name – wondered what the brown fluffy birds were that ran about the streets. He was told that they were chickens. Baffled at this, he asked why they didn’t have plastic wrappers.
A bomb is something that explodes, and has one clear objective: destruction of those who disagree with you. As such, it has no positive virtues. Destruction is not something that is positive in human society; in all cases where destruction exists in our lives, it exists as a challenge to us to first understand it and then transform it into something that is genuinely positive. Useful.
In this respect, the bomb represents the total failure of human compassion. There are those who say that war is merely an extention of diplomacy. The reality is that war is where diplomacy has failed. Humans are at their best communicative and understanding, bombs destroy the weak and the strong alike, irrespective of whether they are diplomats, butchers or babies. The human mind is able to discern such things, adjust itself in order to speak at the level of each person we meet that we might be better understood. A bomb does none of this.
Today, they are symbolized by the skyscraper. A polished and very expensive skyscraper at that. If you are allowed inside the massive and opulent atrium on the ground floor, the richness of the fittings will dazzle. The bank appears to be an august and important institution in a country’s economy; enormous institutions that are fantastically wealthy. Hugely expensive buildings that lie in the most expensive parts of town.
Travis is telling Jane about their life together, and doing so as though he were looking at them. Eventually Jane plucks up the courage to speak with him, to tell him that she’s pregnant.
For a man like Travis, her pregnancy brought him down to earth, it showed him that she did love him. He found work, and worked hard; he stopped drinking his problems now forgotten. All goes well, or as well as any birth will, and they have a son who they call Hunter.
Travis and Hunter arrive in Houston, Texas. Anne had told Travis about how Jane had opened a bank account for Hunter and put money in it every month on the fifth. At the time of telling, it would be the second or third. This meant a decision had to be taken, and Travis took it. That’s when he and Hunter arrived at the roadside eatery to phone Anne.
On the morning of the fifth, Travis and Hunter have staked out the bank. Hunter at one end, Travis in the car at the other. Neither of them is cut out for surveillance work. Waiting is bad enough; surveillance means being alert whilst waiting: the tedium is doubled. Travis gets bored and starts looking elsewhere with his binoculars. Hunter falls asleep.
By luck or by chance – more likely a way to shorten the plot – Hunter wakes to see his mum in a little red motorcar.
The standing joke in the movie is that Travis’ father met his wife in Paris. He waits as all do because most will think that this is Paris, the capital of France. Well, of course, the joke is that this was Paris, Texas. I’ve used that myself in my own snipe at the American way of life (1).
Wim Wenders is German, after all, and can see the Americans in a clearer light than the Americans themselves. It’s how cultures interact. Well, it does unless you’re an American in which case other cultures are usually avoided. My own experience of this in mid 80s Germany, in the ‘American Sector’ was of meeting American army soldiers who had stopped at a fuel station to ask directions. In English, of course. Directions, what is more, that were clearly marked on the motorway signs. To suggest that they hadn’t a clue is unkind.
It has been a very long time since I’ve seen this film; it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the last time I saw it was in a cinema in 1984 or 85. The film starts with a barren desert landscape and continues in that vein. Albeit now the barrenness is in the life of the main character, Travis Henderson, played by Harry Dean Santon with an eerie assurance. The atmosphere is drawn out by the guitar chords of Ry Cooder that at times are almost disturbing.
A friend of mine is volunteering in Britain, and whilst it is taxing what with the weather and other very British events, it is rewarding. Having volunteered on no few occasions in Britain, and enjoyed the experience, it seemed to me a great idea to do it here in Holland.