Colored perceptions
Friday, September 26th, 2008Here’s a fun test of your ability to differentiate hues along the color spectrum.
I took this test and, as I was happily humming my way along, dragging tiles to their seemingly appropriate place along the spectrum, I kept congratulating myself on my fine sense of color: It was clear to me where each tile belonged, which had me wondering if I’d get a perfect score or, if not, just how close to perfect my score would be.
My score was 50. Right smack in the middle of respondents.
Then I was invited to see how I stacked up against others of my gender and age. Now, surely, I would excel.
A 50 again. Right smack in the middle of men my age who had taken the test.
This makes me wonder if sometimes other people don’t see things precisely the way I do. Which begins to answer the question, “Who are these people who voted for Bush — twice?”
And, more importantly, how do I get every other person to see things the way I do? Because I’m telling you, I lined up all those tiles perfectly.





Fifteen years after his death, Frank Zappa is undergoing a renaissance. Son Dweezil and band are touring the nation as
Forty-three years ago this month, a friend of mine got his first writing credit. It was in a comic-book, and it was the weirdest (and possibly best) comic book ever: a sophisticated absurdist comic called “Herbie.” Herbie was a fat little boy who was viewed as worthless by his father, but who was capable of seemingly anything, including flight, magic, communicating with animals, traveling in time, serving as lady’s man to Cleopatra, and dryly solving the world’s problems while slowly sucking a lollipop. Given the theme and the audience it spoke to, I’m surprised this comic was ever canceled.