Baby Finger

All guitarists struggle with their smallest fretting finger: it just isn’t very strong or agile. You have to work on it. Recently I decided to go all-out on it. I began playing all my familiar licks with only that finger: Day Tripper, Wipe Out, Pretty Woman, I’ll Take You There, Walk This Way, Satisfaction, and more. It was hard. Before I describe the results, a terminological point—what to call that feeble excuse for a finger. In the UK it is called the little finger; in the US the pinkie (ugh). I feel for it; it don’t get no respect. It needs a linguistic makeover. We could call it, unambitiously, the small finger or the edge finger or the runt finger or the refinement finger, but none of these really do the trick. So, I have decided to call it the baby finger; this is affectionate and not dismissive. We all love babies, especially the adults we call baby (as in “Baby, I Love You”). I want you all to join me in re-christening this delightful digit, this neglected prehensile gem, your baby finger. Now, doesn’t that feel better? Anyway, where was I going with fretting with the baby finger? The amazing thing is that, though difficult at first, it trains up remarkably well if you give it a chance; you soon find it confidently knocking out a fast complex lick all by itself. Respect! The baby matures quickly. This really helps with your four-fingered playing because there is no weak link anymore; your whole hand comes alive. Readers know how much I value the hand and the things it can do (tasks, jobs)[1]; well, this proves the point. And there is a final bonus: just by practicing with my baby finger this way I found that I had learned how to play slide guitar! Because the glass tube fits over that finger and requires it to become unusually dexterous. So, guitarist to guitarist, give your baby a chance to shine, to demonstrate its worth. You may come to love it.[2]

[1] Please, no adolescent sniggering at that mild piece of verbal humor. It’s time to grow up.

[2] I have become hyper-aware of that finger, solicitous for its well-being. I gaze at it in wonder. It has joined my other fingers in a happy brotherhood—a band of equals.

A Letter from Concerned Philosophers

Twelve years ago, a slew of philosophy professors was persuaded to sign a letter denouncing me for alleged “retaliation”. I am offering a cash prize for anyone of this crowd to write to me and give me their reasons for so signing. I predict there will be no takers, but I will be delighted to be proved wrong. Note that “I wanted to show that I am a virtuous person” does not earn the prize.

Logic of the Mind

Modern logic employs an apparatus of quantifiers and variables. The variables are assigned a domain consisting of discrete individual objects such as dogs and houses—substances, in traditional terminology. Logical laws are formulated against the backdrop of this conception—an ontological conception. Logic is thus tied to an ontology of substances, in particular material substances. Logical necessity is defined by reference to such an ontology. What else could constitute the domain over which we quantify? We need an ontology to form the domain of quantification. No ontology, no logic. But does this ontology apply to the mind? What domain are we quantifying over? As I have argued elsewhere, there is no substance-accident ontology of the mind, or even event ontology.[1] There is no mental counterpart to the ontology of material objects in space. So, we cannot define logical truth with respect to the mind by reference to such an ontology. That would be fine if logical truth did not apply to the mind, but it does. We can use “all” and “some” about the mind and state logical truths, but there is no domain of quantification of the kind commonly presupposed. The situation is analogous to the logic of stuffs: we can speak of “some milk” and “all coal” and say “no milk is coal”, but it is doubtful that such locutions can be paraphrased by reference to glasses of milk and pieces of coal. A fortioriwe can’t paraphrase quantified statements about consciousness by reference to chunks of consciousness or lumps of experience. For example, you can say “All pain is worse than any pleasure” without supposing that pain and pleasure form a domain of objects: there need not be a value of a variable that ranges over a set of objects. Nor do we have to suppose a well-defined domain of selves or persons to accommodate “I am not you” or “Everyone is someone”. Logic as such is not committed to a specific type of ontology—essentially an ontology of substances. Modern logic was formulated with such an ontology in mind, forgetting that not all logical truths concern such an ontology. It follows that this formulation is inadequate to capture the full range of cases. The syntax and semantics of modern logical symbolism is too narrow to do justice to logic in general. The very idea of a variable comes under suspicion of ontological bias. It is typically explained by reference to ordinary material objects without a thought to other sorts of ontology or the lack thereof.[2] The operative notion of a domain is too restricted. Modern logic does not apply to the logic of mind, as mereological logic does not.

[1] See my “Ontology of Mind”.

[2] Another problem case is truths about fictional objects: such objects don’t exist to form a domain. And this is the very reason that many logicians don’t like quantifying over properties. If all quantification is “objectual”, how do we explain quantifying over non-objectual things?

On Being Cool

The concept is ubiquitous without being properly defined.[1] Yet we all know what it is (well, not all of us). John Lennon was cool, Paul McCartney not so much. Steve McQueen was cool, but not Sylvester Stallone. Brando, Newman, Redford, Jagger, Presley—all cool. For me, it starts with the hair and the clothes; then the voice, the attitude, the stance. But the concept expands out from there and cries out for abstract definition. A marked feature is what we call independence, autonomy, detachment, lack of conformity. Integrity is central. Humor matters. Originality too. Intelligence is indispensable. Accomplishment is required. James Bond is one salient model: handsome, well-dressed, beautifully spoken, imperturbable, perfect taste, can do everything. Plus, the women love him (this is cool 1950s style). Bond doesn’t go around like he owns the place; he doesn’t care whoowns it. The cool customer is all these things, with the perfect footwear of course.

But are these people really that cool? Bond doesn’t even exist. And nor do the actors: they play cool characters. They are not so impressive off-screen (inarticulate, ill-educated, inept). Rock stars are none too brilliant and can’t even hit a tennis ball. So, who is really cool? It is necessary to be widely accomplished, a cut above the herd. Ideally, a person should be adept in the mental, the physical, and the artistic. Like a musician who is also a writer and skier. Or a baseball player who is also a classical pianist. Or a fashion designer with an advanced degree in physics. Best of all a rock star who writes acclaimed philosophy books and pole vaults—as well as wears the right shoes and makes you laugh. Now that would be cool. But there is no such person; actual people tend to be disappointingly limited. No one is an athlete, a musician, and an intellectual—and looks like Paul Newman. So, is it that people are only relatively cool compared to others? Only fantasy figures are truly cool—or gods. Of actual people, who comes closest to the ideally cool individual? Barak Obama comes close, you say. I see your point—he is a pretty cool dude. I have heard Tom Brady suggested. I am sympathetic to Jamie Foxx and Richard Feynman. But no one seems to me to have the requisite range—the missing Bond factor. No one is really cool. Certainly, no one in philosophy is.

Or am I forgetting someone: what about that philosopher who plays drums and guitar and sings, and also does many sports (tennis, table tennis, kayak surfing, knife throwing, skateboarding, trampoline, mountain-biking, etc.)? Also, motorcycling. And I hear he is a cool dresser with a nice collection of sneakers and an excellent sense of humor. I forget his name at the moment, but you know the guy I mean. Didn’t something funny happen to him a few years ago?[2]

[1] I have written about this subject before: see my “Being Cool”.

[2] I have confined myself to cool men here, but if I include women, I have an immediate nominee: Abby Phillip. However, I don’t know enough about her athletic and musical coolness to be definitive.