Stephen Bond, "Objects of Fandom":

...my theory is that for something to attract fans, it must have an aspect of truly monumental badness about it.

Raiders of the Lost Ark is a robust potboiler, tongue-in-cheek, very competently done. I think it's enjoyable, but even among those who don't, it's hard to see the film attracting actual derision. Boredom or irritation, probably, but nothing more. Star Wars, on the other hand.... From one perspective, it's an entertaining space opera, but from a slightly different perspective, an imperceptible twist of the glass, it's laughably awful. Utterly ridiculously bad. And it's this very badness that makes so many people take up arms in its defence.

...It's impossible to imagine a fan of Animal Farm, the Well-Tempered Clavier, or the theory of gravity. Such works can defend themselves. But badness, especially badness of an obvious, monumental variety, inspires devotion. The quality of the work, in the face of such glaring shortcomings, becomes a matter of faith -- and faith is a much stronger bond than mere appreciation. It drives fans together, gives them strength against those who sneer... And so the fan groups of Tolkien, Star Trek, Spider-man, Japanese kiddie-cartoons etc. develop an almost cult-like character.

"Uh oh," I said to myself on first reading this, "Is this why my fans are more intense than Robin Hanson's fans?  And if I write a rationality book, should I actually give in to temptation and self-indulgence and write in Twelve Virtues style, just so that it has something attackable for fans to defend?"

But the second time I turned my thoughts toward this question, I performed that oft-neglected operation, asking:  "I read it on the Internet, but is it actually true?"  Just because it's unpleasant doesn't mean it's true.  And just because it provides a bit of cynicism that would give me rationality-credit to acknowledge, doesn't mean it becomes true just so I can earn the rationality-credit.

Most propositional knowledge (knowledge of facts) is pretty easy to come by (at least in principle).  There is only one capital of Venezuela, and if you wish to learn the capital of Venezuela, Wikipedia will cooperatively inform you that it is Caracas.  For propositional knowledge that Wikipedia knoweth not, there is the scientific method.  Procedural knowledge - the knowledge of how to do something - is a different animal entirely.  This is true not only with regard to the question of whether Wikipedia will be helpful, but also in the brain architecture at work: anterograde amnesiacs can often pick up new procedural skills while remaining unable to learn new propositional information.

One complication in learning new procedures is that there are usually dozens, if not hundreds, of ways to do something.  Little details - the sorts of things that sink into the subconscious with practice but are crucial to know for a beginner - are frequently omitted in casual descriptions.  Often, it can be very difficult to break into a new procedurally-oriented field of knowledge because so much background information is required.  While there may be acknowledged masters of the procedure, it is rarely the case that their methods are ideal for every situation and potential user, because the success of a procedure depends on a vast array of circumstantial factors.

I propose below a general strategy for acquiring new procedural knowledge.  First, saturate by getting a diverse set of instructions from different sources.  Then, distill by identifying what all or most of them have in common.  Finally, improvise within the remaining search space to find something that works reliably for you and your circumstances.

The strategy is not fully general: I expect it would only work properly for procedures that are widely attempted and shared; that you can afford to try multiple times; that have at least partially independent steps so you can mix and match; and that are in fields you have at least a passing familiarity with.  The sort of procedural knowledge that I seek with the most regularity is how to make new kinds of food, so I will illustrate my strategy with a description of how I used it to learn to make meringues.  If you find cookies a dreadfully boring subject of discourse, you may not wish to read the rest of this post.

Suppose I told you about a certain country, somewhere in the world, in which some of the cities have degenerated into gang rule.  Some such cities are ruled by a single gang leader, others have degenerated into almost complete lawlessness.  You would probably conclude that the cities I was talking about were located inside what we call a "failed state".

So what does the existence of North Korea say about this Earth?

No, it's not a perfect analogy.  But the thought does sometimes occur to me, to wonder if the camel has two humps.  If there are failed Earths and successful Earths, in the great macroscopic superposition popularly known as "many worlds" - and we're not one of the successful.  I think of this as the "failed Earth" hypothesis.

Of course the camel could also have three or more humps, and it's quite easy to imagine Earths that are failing much worse than this, epic failed Earths ruled by the high-tech heirs of Genghis Khan or the Catholic Church.  Oh yes, it could definitely be worse...

...and the "failed state" analogy is hardly perfect; "failed state" usually refers to failure to integrate into the global economy, but a failed Earth is not failing to integrate into anything larger...

...but the question does sometimes haunt me, as to whether in the alternative Everett branches of Earth, we could identify a distinct cluster of "successful" Earths, and we're not in it.  It may not matter much in the end; the ultimate test of a planet's existence probably comes down to Friendly AI, and Friendly AI may come down to nine people in a basement doing math.  I keep my hopes up, and think of this as a "failing Earth" rather than a "failed Earth".

But it's a thought that comes to mind, now and then.  Reading about the ongoing Market Complexity Collapse and wondering if this Earth failed to solve one of the basic functions of global economics, in the same way that Rome, in its later days, failed to solve the problem of orderly transition of power between Caesars.