A Story About Bees

When I was eight years old, the gully across the street was my kingdom. It was a wild, adventurous realm, perfect for an ADHD-fueled boy with a knack for turning curiosity into calamity. My friend and I spent countless hours there, digging, exploring, and occasionally getting into trouble. But one day, the gully fought back—and it fought back hard.

We were deep in our mission, excavating softened, rotted wood at the bottom of the gully. The wood had this odd reddish hue, and whether it was actually redwood or just nature’s way of being weird, I’ll never know. The buzzing of a few bees added an annoying background soundtrack to our adventure, but we were determined to press on.

Then came the obstacle: a skinny little tree, stubbornly planted right in the middle of our excavation site. It was like the universe’s middle finger to our progress. We hacked, we tugged, we argued with it, but it wouldn’t budge. Finally, I took matters into my own hands—or rather, both hands—and grabbed it with all the determination an eight-year-old could muster. I yanked with everything I had.

CRACK!

The tree surrendered… and so did my sense of safety. In an instant, I was covered, head to toe, in wasps. Turns out, I hadn’t just annoyed a tree—I had just evicted an entire wasp colony. The buzzing that had been a minor annoyance was now an angry symphony of winged vengeance.

Adrenaline kicked in, and I bolted. I ran screaming up the steep gully, across the street, and up the stairs to my house, a living blur of flailing limbs and stinging fury. My mom heard the commotion and opened the door, greeted by the unforgettable sight of her son in full wasp attack mode.

She screamed. I screamed. The wasps probably screamed in their own waspy way. It was a chaotic masterpiece.

Without missing a beat, my mother transformed into a combat medic. She herded me into the washroom, clothes flying off as she worked to rid me of the still-clinging attackers. Soon, I was sitting in a bath, covered in red, angry stings, my dignity left somewhere in the gully.

And that, my friends, is how I learned two valuable lessons: 1) never underestimate a skinny tree, and 2) sometimes the gully wins.

Report Your Actual Data

This example underscores a crucial principle in data collection and analysis: report your data as you actually find it, without smoothing or 'fudging.'

The graph shown is a mock-up, but it's based on a real experience. Years ago, my company was contracted to collect, characterize, and analyze customer financial data for a client in the financial services sector. Understanding customer demographics is essential for financial services, especially when identifying where most assets reside. In this case, the financial power was concentrated among baby boomers, with a peak around the birth year of 1955.

When we plotted the collected data, we noticed a sharp spike at 1955 that seemed anomalous. Nevertheless, I adhere to a policy of “playing it as it lies” — reporting findings as they appear, without embellishment. We presented the graph as it was, odd as it looked.

Before finalizing the report, we investigated the anomaly and discovered the cause: data entry staff, when uncertain of a birth year, were instructed to enter '55' in the two-digit year field. By reporting this faithfully, we provided our client with important actionable insights:

1. Their data collection process had gaps, including missing or erroneous entries.
2. By estimating the excess in the spike, we could approximate an error rate.
3. Our honest reporting demonstrated the integrity of our analysis.

For those trained to collect, analyze, and report data correctly, this may seem obvious. However, the practice of reporting raw, unaltered data has declined in recent decades, and, in many cases, raw data is no longer accessible. Reporting faithfully remains essential for transparency and trustworthiness in analysis.

Western Missiles in Russia

NATO on Notice: The Nuclear Threshold

Russia has consistently outlined thresholds for nuclear weapons use, though its rhetoric has softened over the years. Recent events, however, suggest that firing Western-supplied missiles into Russian territory crosses a significant line. This could provoke a nuclear "warning shot," assuming Russia's nuclear arsenal is functional (a possible but unconfirmed variable), or it could lead to a dangerous standoff reminiscent of a high-stakes game of "nuclear chicken."

As I discussed in my September 2024 post (NATO-Russia: Enough Already), the possibility of nuclear weapons being used was not hypothetical—it was a looming threat as tensions escalated. Now, those risks have become even more palpable.

Speculation includes the possibility of Russia detonating a nuclear device over water as a demonstration of resolve without immediate mass casualties. This scenario aligns with their long-standing strategy to maintain nuclear credibility while avoiding full-scale war.

NATO’s strategy of incremental involvement—often termed "creeping commitment"—has culminated in a scenario where Russia faces three bleak options: escalate to nuclear weapons, endure progressive military attrition, or capitulate to a NATO-backed Ukraine. Each choice risks severe consequences.

If Russia resorts to using a nuclear weapon beyond a demonstrative act, it could trigger direct U.S. retaliation, escalating into the nightmare of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD). Even a limited exchange risks spiraling into uncontrollable devastation. What would Russia gain from launching a single nuke at the U.S., knowing the response would likely obliterate them? The MAD doctrine suggests both sides are primed to retaliate in a way that leaves no winner.

The situation reflects a failure of diplomacy and leadership. If rational decision-making were truly at the forefront, we would not be approaching this brink. The hope remains that saner heads prevail, but the current trajectory makes that hope increasingly tenuous.