Darwin

I've read that toenails grow at about half the rate of fingernails. Now I think that's just fine, as toenails are probably twice as hard to reach as fingernails, but what exactly was the evolutionary advantage that led to the natural selection of this particular feature? Was it that toenail biters died off as they well should have? Did the increased time and concentration needed for toenail maintenance increase the likelihood of being jumped by a sabertooth? Did the metatarpal extensions inhibit the ability to wear shoes and therefore get served in stone age restaurants? Maybe, but my money is on the reduced reproduction probability resulting from the avoidance response of prospective partners to those calf-piercing daggers. Yeah, you know who you are, and if you don't, your scarred-shinned spouse way over on the other side of the bed does.

Death and Taxes

I'm certainly not the first to think of this, but I've sure thought this for a very long time: flat tax. Just think of all the bureaucracy, and the expenses associated with it, that would be saved if there was a flat tax. What would happen to all those accountants and lawyers? The accountants could go to collections, and the lawyers could go to the bottom of the sea. As for the flat tax, pick a number, say 10% (a random choice, but I like the relation to tithing), then allow no deductions of any type, not mortgages, not kids, not anything, and allow no exceptions, period. Take it right out of everyone's pay directly. If you want to make a consumption tax instead (national sales tax, for example), that works too.

It irritates me that so many people cheat on their taxes. Some a little, some a lot; I just don't know how many. Is it the majority? It's bad enough that I have to pay for half the free world's "entitlements" with my taxes, but I've recently come to wonder if by being honest I'm not only paying too much to make up for the cheating weasels, but am overpaying by not knowing the byzantine tax code sufficiently. (So go to a CPA? They need you to bring all your records, and getting all your records is the problem.) I just spent many hours trying to reconstruct the cost basis of mutual funds by locating dividends paid out over time years ago (and taxes paid on them) and reinvested. I'm pretty sure I haven't done this competently in the past (as brokers haven't kept computer records for as long as you might think), or at least have done so to my disadvantage, as locating these records is extremely difficult. Brokerages are keeping better records now, and the data bases that can compute cost bases given acquisition and disposal dates and amounts are pretty good but have limitations, yet I'm sure I have been underestimating the cost basis of these investments, and therefore overpaying on capital gains (or not realizing the capital losses) for a long time. And I'm sure there are many examples that, much like every mistake ever made by a retailer, never go in my favor. But you know what? It's only money, and frankly I don't need that much of it (which tends to work out nicely).

Penny wise, pound foolish

Following up on the psychological tactics used by casinos, it is amazing how the "out of sight, out of mind" phenomenon applies to money. Retirement planning, "paper" gains or losses, even credit cards appear to be little more than vague concepts to many people. Yet people will count the pennies if they shine within reach. We'll unit price at the supermarket, wait in line for gas that is a nickel a gallon cheaper, and use coupons and pounce on sales. There's nothing wrong with that, but we're much better at seeing trees than forests. I remember having a yard sale some years ago and having a guy haggle for quarter when he started chuckling, realizing that he had just lost $600 at the casino the night before and now found himself considering whether to buy or not over twenty-five cents (that's more about "winning," I suspect, but we'll take that one up at another time).

I heard a story once about a rich guy that was shopping for shirts and found himself torn between two shirts, priced a few dollars apart, trying to assess "value" in terms of whether the more expensive shirt merited the extra expense. After he made his decision he was curious about his decision process and computed that the time he took trying to decide between the shirts was worth more than the price of the shirts themselves, and from that day on when faced with such a dilemma, he just bought both options as it was cheaper for him to do so.

I don't know whether that tale is apocryphal, but I suspect that most of us will not find it cheaper to buy both rather than spend time deciding. What is clear is that not only is our time worth something, but that we spend a disproportionate amount of time focused on the relatively small, tangible, and immediate rather than the larger, less tangible, more distant issues. While monetary behaviors are the example, the principle really applies to many aspects of our lives, of course. There are lots or reasons for that, but not much reason.

The Color of Money

I don't go to casinos often, for while I enjoy the experience, I do understand the odds, and have had my share of "$200 buffets." Like most, I hope, I take a certain amount that I think I can afford, and will never use a cash machine to try and chase losses. I like to think that I'm about even or maybe a little ahead over the years, but I imagine casinos like people to think that.

Casinos are masters of psychological manipulation. They create loud noises and fanfare to advertise winnings. Hard coins dropping rapidly some distance into the metal basin, machines heralding triumph through kaleidoscopic sight and blaring sound, groups at table games unabashedly celebrating a point made or dealer bust. Defeat is silent and solitary, but victory is proclaimed and shared.

Casinos create "free money" to give incentives and rewards to play, whether it's free play coupons and the like, reduced costs for food, drink, lodging, entertainment, etc., "frequent flier" redeemable rewards for extended play, and many other "bargains" that allow one to believe that they are starting with house money and merchandise, the casinos understand that there aren't a lot of people that go for the shrimp cocktails and leave. These traffic generating incentives do their job well.

Casinos hide time by generally not having easy access to things that would tell you it's late. Rarely are there windows to see that it is night- or the next morning. Clocks are not to be found. In fact, there are scarcely any reminders that an outside world exists, nothing to bring your mind back to your realities and responsibilities.

Relatedly, casinos serve "free" alcohol, though typically you still tip generously for the freebie (and thereby pay most of the labor expense for the server). Of course, there will be more alcohol available at the hundred dollar minimum table than the 5 cent slot machine. While free drinks may aid in taking and keeping you away from your life, it has the much more direct impact of impairing your judgment, perhaps indirectly in adding to the distracting festive atmosphere, likely more directly by making it a little more difficult to calculate or remember the odds of splitting 8s or surrendering when facing a 9. Have another drink and you'll be doubling that 12.

Casinos have very efficient cash handling methods, but there is also psychological manipulation in the substitution of chips for currency, and points for coins. By not seeing the cash, the substituted symbol seems to becomes devalued. You might not tip $5 for that drink, but you might give a red chip. You might not bet $25, but you might bet a green chip. Deviously brilliant.

I am particularly awed by the casino's ability to manipulate the perception of odds. An easy example is slot machines, as when a 97% payout is advertised. A, that may be the expected value of the pull, but not the probability of winning, and B, what about the second pull, in other words, the cumulative effect of those 97%s. But the machines themselves are fascinating, programmed to "just miss" the big ones so that people will believe that the machine is getting close to paying out or is "due," when of course there is an independent random number generator at work. And then there are the "extras" that entice extended play (build up enough points for the bonus spin!) or playing for more coins to be eligible for more prizes or a higher ratio of winnings. Wild card symbols, multiple lines, bonuses, reward points, how can you lose? Machines are going off all around you; you're so close, you're due, you're down another hundred. Losing too slowly? Don't pull the handle, the button is so much faster. And look, there's one for max bet. The tables have another advantage besides presenting bad bets that appear to be fair bets. They get the patrons to try to convince you that they're good bets. The dollar in the slot for Caribbean Stud and its many permutations allows you a sizable bonus if you are dealt a rare hand, and it's only a dollar compared to your $10 hand, so you're a fool not to play they tell you. Look, there's somebody dealt a flush and he wasn't playing the bonus; what an idiot! As it turns out, all of those extra bets are bad, often very bad, bets. But like the lottery, that low investment, high payoff is enticing, but the expected value remains lower than the bet.

One that is very subtle and explained by some as labor efficiency is creating a shortage of supply, as when the number of tables open are just a little too few to allow everyone an immediate seat. This creates a seat shortage one has to wait and hope that a spot opens up soon. After a while, you're practically begging them to take your money. But here's the really sinister part. As the seat shortage increases, so too do the table minimums. So while the casino might technically retain a table or two with the $5 minimum for which you'd like to play, there's no chance of getting on in the next hour, but there are a couple of spots at the $25 tables. Oh look, a spot just opened at the $15 table. You lucky dog.

There's just so much more, and I could go on forever, but it appears that I already have. Bet you've had enough.