Futility Closet - 195-A Case of Musical Plagiarism
Episode Date: April 9, 2018When the English concert pianist Joyce Hatto died in 2006, she was remembered as a national treasure for the brilliant playing on her later recordings. But then doubts arose as to whether the perform...ances were really hers. In this week's episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll review a surprising case of musical plagiarism, which touched off a scandal in the polite world of classical music. We'll also spot foxes in London and puzzle over a welcome illness. Intro: In 1964 a British meteorologist found an abandoned whaleboat on the most remote island in the world. Scores of dogs have jumped to their deaths from the bridge approaching Scotland's Overtoun House. Sources for our feature on Joyce Hatto: Richard Dyer, "After Recording 119 CDs, A Hidden Jewel Comes to Light," Boston Globe, Aug. 21, 2005. Richard Dyer, "Joyce Hatto, At 77; Pianist Was Prolific Recording Artist," Boston Globe, July 4, 2006. Jeremy Nicholas, "Joyce Hatto," Guardian, July 10, 2006. "Joyce Hatto," Telegraph, July 28, 2006. David Denton, "The Remarkable Story of Joyce Hatto, Part 2: An Overview Discography," Fanfare 30:2 (September 2006), 65-67. Ates Orga, "Joyce Hatto," Independent, Aug. 13, 2006. "Masterpieces or Fakes? The Joyce Hatto Scandal," Gramophone, Feb. 15, 2007. Alan Riding, "A Pianist's Recordings Draw Praise, But Were They All Hers?", New York Times, Feb. 17, 2007. Martin Beckford, "Pianist's Virtuosity Is Called Into Question," Telegraph, Feb. 17, 2007. Martin Beckford, "My Wife's Virtuoso Recordings Are Genuine," Telegraph, Feb. 20, 2007. Mike Musgrove, "Too Perfect Harmony: How Technology Fostered, and Detected, a Pianist's Alleged Plagiarism," Washington Post, Feb. 22, 2007. David Weininger, "Alleged Hatto Plagiarism Shakes Music World," Boston Globe, Feb. 23, 2007. Claudia Joseph and Adam Luck, "Revenge of the Phantom Pianist," Mail on Sunday, Feb. 25, 2007. Denis Dutton, "Shoot the Piano Player," New York Times, Feb. 26, 2007. Alan Riding, "Pianist's Widower Admits Fraud in Recordings Issued as His Wife's," New York Times, Feb. 27, 2007. Martin Beckford, "Yes, I Did Pass Off Piano CDs as Wife's Work, Says Widower," Telegraph, Feb. 27, 2007. Geoff Edgers, "Cherished Music Wasn't Hers," Boston Globe, Feb. 27, 2007. William Weir, "The Ivories Snow Job: Pianist Joyce Hatto's Recordings Found To Be Fakes," McClatchy-Tribune Business News, Feb. 28, 2007. "Joyce Hatto Recordings Queried," International Piano, March 1, 2007, 6. Pierre Ruhe, "Classical Notes: Our Nature Makes Fraud a Given," Atlanta Journal-Constitution, March 4, 2007. Ann McFerran, "Yes, I Lied About Joyce. Now I'll Face the Music," Sunday Times, March 4, 2007. Howard Reich, "Reviewers Not to Blame for Hatto Fraud," McClatchy-Tribune News Service, March 7, 2007. Esther Bintliff, "Grand Theft Piano," Newsweek 149:21 (May 28, 2007), 60. Mark Singer, "Fantasia for Piano," New Yorker, Sept. 17, 2007. Mark Singer, "Joyce Hatto: Notes on a Scandal," Telegraph, Nov. 10, 2007. Kenneth Walton, "How Simple Tinkering With Tempo Took in the Top Critics," Scotsman, July 29, 2009. Christopher Webber, "Hatto, Joyce Hilda," Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Jan. 7, 2010. Eric Drott, "Fraudulence and the Gift Economy of Music," Journal of Music Theory 54:1 (Spring 2010), 61-74. Ewan Foskett, "Exclusive: Husband of Pianist in Recording Scandal Speaks to The Crow," Royston Crow, March 1, 2012. Frances Hubbard, "The Piano Genius Who Never Was," Daily Mail, April 4, 2012. Joyce Hatto Identifications and Scandal lists the identities of the artists whose work was stolen. Listener mail: China Miéville, "'Oh, London, You Drama Queen,'" New York Times Magazine, March 1, 2012. Murray Wardrop, "Fox Takes Tube Station Escalator," Telegraph, Dec. 8, 2009. "Project: Control of Pigeon Population," Effective Bird Control (accessed April 7, 2018). "Deep Learning, Blockchain, CRISPR, and Neural Networks, Explained with Food," Super Deluxe, Aug. 5, 2017. Jacob Brogan, "Out of the Loop," Slate, Aug. 9, 2017. "Try These Neural Network-Generated Recipes at Your Own Risk," AI Weirdness, Aug. 6, 2017. "Tech Talk," Futility Closet, March 13, 2018. "Candy Heart Messages Written by a Neural Network," AI Weirdness, Feb. 9, 2018. This week's lateral thinking puzzle was contributed by listener Carsten Hamann, who sent this corroborating link (warning -- this spoils the puzzle). You can listen using the player above, download this episode directly, or subscribe on iTunes or Google Play Music or via the RSS feed at http://feedpress.me/futilitycloset. Please consider becoming a patron of Futility Closet -- on our Patreon page you can pledge any amount per episode, and we've set up some rewards to help thank you for your support. You can also make a one-time donation on the Support Us page of the Futility Closet website. Many thanks to Doug Ross for the music in this episode. If you have any questions or comments you can reach us at podcast@futilitycloset.com. Thanks for listening!
Transcript
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Welcome to the Futility Closet podcast, forgotten stories from the pages of history.
Visit us online to sample more than 10,000 quirky curiosities from a misplaced whale
boat to a dog-killing bridge.
This is episode 195.
I'm Greg Ross.
And I'm Sharon Ross. When the English concert pianist
Joyce Haddo died in 2006, she was remembered as a national treasure for the brilliant playing on
her later recordings. But then doubts arose as to whether the performances were really hers.
In today's show, we'll review a surprising case of musical plagiarism, which touched off a scandal in the polite world of
classical music. We'll also spot foxes in London and puzzle over a welcome illness.
Joyce Haddo was born in 1928 and grew up in a family that loved music. She said that the only
time she saw her father weep was when Rachmaninoff died in 1943. She became a devoted student of the piano and spent countless hours studying and
practicing. In fact, during the Blitz in World War II, she said, we lived near a munitions factory
that was often a target. When the warden sounded the signal, I would crawl under the piano to hide.
She made her debut as a concert pianist in London in the early 1950s and began to play throughout
Britain. In 1951, she met the concert promoter William Barrington Co concert pianist in London in the early 1950s and began to play throughout Britain.
In 1951, she met the concert promoter William Barrington Coop, known as Barry in the industry.
He became her agent, and in 1956, the two of them were married.
All this seemed promising enough.
She gave recitals throughout Britain and Europe, notably visiting Poland in 1958,
and in the 1970s, she made many appearances playing popular concertos with the London Symphony and other orchestras. And she was also active as a teacher, both privately and at schools. And because her
husband operated several record labels, she began to make recordings with him in England, Germany,
and France. Her playing was competent, but never spectacular, and in 1976, after some
unflattering reviews, she withdrew to Hertfordshire with Barry and stopped performing in public.
She could still teach and record, since Barry ran his concert artist label out of a studio near their home.
But in 1992, she was diagnosed with inoperable ovarian cancer, and she passed out of the public
eye for 10 years. In 2002, though, she began to make a stunning re-emergence. Her husband's record
label began to release recordings she had made with him, showing masterly technique, a huge
breadth of styles, and an almost unprecedented depth of insight. She played Liszt, Bach, all the Mozart and Beethoven
sonatas, Schubert, Schumann, Chopin, Prokofiev, and on and on, including many of the most difficult
piano pieces ever written. They released more than 100 CDs in all, making Hadda one of the
most prolific classical recording artists of her time. And though she had recorded these discs in
her 60s and 70s,
and while suffering from cancer, they were astonishingly good. Word started in internet
forums and passed on to record review magazines and websites. One critic said discovering her
music was like finding the holy grail. The CDs were notoriously hard to get, but fans sought
them out eagerly. By 2005, Richard Dyer of the Boston Globe was calling Joyce Haddow the greatest
living pianist that almost no one has ever heard of.
She kept working through the acclaim right up to the end of her life.
It was said she recorded Beethoven's Sonata No. 26, Les Jeux Jus, from a wheelchair in her final days.
James Invern, the editor of classical music magazine Gramophone, wrote,
By the time she died in June 2006, Joyce Haddo was not only a sudden widespread success, she was a cause celeb.
To love Haddo recordings was to be in the know, a true piano aficionado who didn't need the hype
of a major label's marketing spend to recognize a great thing when they heard it. Her obituaries
praised her as a national treasure. The Guardian called her one of the greatest pianists Britain
has ever produced. In the Boston Globe, Richard Dyer quoted the American pianist Ivan Davis,
I will go out on a limb and say that Joyce Haddo seems to me as completely satisfying a pianist as
anyone in the history of recorded music. I dare anyone to listen to any of the 80 Scarlatti
sonatas she left us and not think this is the most perfect playing possible. That reputation
seemed secure until a few months after her death when a curious thing happened. In Mount Vernon,
New York, a financial analyst named Brian Ventura got Hato's recording of Liszt's Transcendental Etudes and put
the disc into his computer, and iTunes tried to identify it by consulting an online database of
four million CDs. It identified the disc not as a recording by Joyce Hato, but as one by Laszlo Simon,
a little-known Hungarian pianist who had recorded the Transcendental Etudes in 1987.
Ventura looked up online samples of Simon's recordings and found them to be remarkably
similar to Hato's. He wrote to Jed Disler, a composer and music critic who had praised Hato's
recordings, and Disler found that 10 of the 12 tracks on that CD showed remarkable similarities
to Simon's performances, the same tempi, accents, dynamics, and balances. He contacted some other
editors and critics, and James Invern engaged Andrew Rose, a former sound engineer for the BBC, to study the tracks.
Rose said he knew the result before even listening. He could tell just by looking at the waveforms.
He wrote,
No pianist who's ever lived could replicate a performance to anything like the degree of accuracy heard here.
It's simply not humanly possible, whatever the degree of Ms. Haddo's claimed
virtuosity. He found that in 10 of Joyce Haddo's list etudes, the sound waves were identical with
those of Laszlo Simon. Distler said, what really made me smell a rat was the 10th etude. The C
above middle C, I remember, was out of tune in both the Haddo and the Simon recordings.
More duplicates came to light. A CD of two Rachmaninoff concertos, matched one by Yefim Bronfman, released on Sony in 1992.
Haddo's recording of Brahms' Second Piano Concerto was credited to the National Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra
under a conductor named René Kohler,
but the track matches a well-known recording by Vladimir Ashkenazi and the Vienna Philharmonic under Bernard Heiting.
Rose said he could see that someone had tried to disguise the origins of the borrowed tracks,
sometimes by changing the speeds.
Invern wrote,
One pianist even told Rose that one of the doctored recordings is played at a speed that no human hands could manage.
Within a week, plagiarized sources had been identified for 20 of Joyce Haddo's CDs.
As her star fell, the classical world began to recall some oddities that had come to light even before her death. In May 2005, one musicologist had noticed that in one recording she'd misread a chord in exactly the same way that Carlo Grante had done in a 1993 recording,
but no one had pursued that at the time. During her concert career, Haddow had received mixed
notices. In October 1953, a Times critic had written,
Joyce Haddow grappled doggedly with
too hasty tempi in Mozart's D minor piano concerto and was impeded from conveying significant feelings
toward the work, especially in quick figuration. A gramophone reviewer wrote in August 1961,
one wonders whether her technique is really on top of the difficulties of this music.
She shows a musical sense of give and take with the orchestra, but it remains a small,
rather pallid performance. She'd been away from the public for 13 years before she supposedly began
recording these brilliant CDs, and by then she was in her 60s and 70s and suffering from ovarian
cancer. If she hadn't been a virtuoso in the concert hall, how would she become one on disc,
and how could she have produced such a wide variety of excellent recordings?
To add to the doubts, it was hard to confirm the identities of the orchestras, conductors,
and venues that Berry had listed on the recordings. They bore names that no one
recognized and seemed oddly mismatched. For example, she was said to have recorded the
second Brahms piano concerto with an orchestra in a church that would have been too small to
accommodate it. In the face of all these questions, the critic Jeremy Nicholas pushed back. He invited
anyone who has any evidence whatsoever of fraud, deception, or similar activity related to Ms.
Haddo and her record company to come forward,
with the proviso that such evidence must stand up in a court of law.
No one did, and Radio New Zealand even rebroadcast an hour-long program of glowing praise for the CDs,
including a recording of an April 2006 telephone interview in which Hato never contradicted the interviewer's assumption that she was the sole pianist on the recordings.
And some of her fans hated to believe the recordings were fraudulent. Brian Ventura,
the financial analyst who had noticed the first oddity in iTunes, said,
If she was the one that was copying, part of me didn't want it to come out. The whole Joyce Haddo story seems so terrific, you just wanted it to be true. I didn't want to bring down the story.
But the tide continued to turn against her. In the New York Times, the philosopher of art
Dennis Dutton reported that Haddo's entire
output after 1989 appeared to have been stolen from the CDs of other pianists.
Andrew Rose said,
We have yet to investigate a Haddo recording that has not proved to be a hoax.
Invern told the Telegraph,
It's just the most amazing scandal in the polite world of classical music.
Its ramifications are potentially huge, as one would think there are a lot of recording
companies involved, and they're notoriously picky about copyright issues. There have been similar
things in art and theater, but it's the first scandal of this kind in classical music.
Since Joyce Hadda was dead, the spotlight fell on William Barrington Coop, Barry, her husband,
who ran the record company that had released all these recordings. At first, he said he was
puzzled by the whole affair. He said, She was the sole pianist on those recordings.
I was there at all the important sessions.
I was the engineer on the jobs, and I take full responsibility for everything released on my label, Concert Artist.
Twelve months ago, she wasn't very well known.
If it was all a fake, why would I put my wife's name on it?
I would have put someone else, some Russian name, and we would have sold ten times as many.
James Invern, the editor of Gramophone, said,
We stand by our evidence.
We're not accusing anyone.
We're just stating that these recordings are identical to others.
If anyone can provide an explanation, we'd be happy to listen.
Barry's position wasn't helped when the Daily Mail discovered that in 1966 he'd been imprisoned for tax fraud.
He'd been importing radios from Hong Kong and selling them without paying the purchase tax.
The judge in that case had told Barry and four co-defendants,
These were blatant and impertinent frauds carried out, in my opinion, rather clumsily,
but such was your conceit that you thought yourself smart enough to get away with it.
Barry had spent eight months in prison.
As the pressure increased, Barry finally admitted some doctoring in a letter to Robert von Bar, who was the head of the Swedish record label that had originally issued some of the recordings that had been plagiarized.
Barry admitted that he'd taken parts of recordings by other artists
and released them under Joyce's name on his own label, sometimes speeding them up or slowing them down.
He said that as Haddo's health grew worse late in life, she refused to take her medicine,
and her recordings had been marred by whimpers of pain.
He had taken to masking those by splicing in short sections of other recordings,
and over time, these spliced sections got longer and longer.
He told reporters,
I was never trying to steal someone else's work. I took performances that fitted tonally and
changed them, but I didn't change Joyce's performances on the CDs. It was all about
getting things to sound right. What I've done is completely wrong, but I didn't go in for
a wholehearted piracy. It wasn't a question of putting other people's performances out,
but covering little involuntary noises. She had so much pain.
He said that the CDs hadn't made much money and that he'd done it all out of love for his wife. She'd been denied the success she deserved, first by the critics and then by her
illness. He said, I did it just to keep my wife going and to give her something to live for.
She died feeling that it hadn't all been in vain. She was a very talented musician and piano was her
life. But some observers thought perhaps the motive was
more cynical. They thought that perhaps Haddo had resented the British musical establishment for
failing to recognize her talents and had joined with her husband in this bid to deceive them.
Barry refused to help identify the recordings he'd borrowed from because he said the more he
revealed, the more people would hound him. He said, whatever I do, it won't be enough.
When asked whether all the CDs bearing Joyce's name included at least some of her work,
he immediately said yes. When asked if her performances made up the majority of all the
recordings, he paused for a long time and said, I can't say. Asked whether he would do all this
again, he said, yes, I would do it again because it made Joyce so happy, but this time I wouldn't
publish the CDs. It's not clear how complicit Joyce Haddo herself was in any of this. Barry
had told von Bar,
My wife was completely unaware that I did this.
But most critics seemed to doubt that.
As the performer, if she had listened back to the finished recordings,
she would certainly have recognized the doctoring.
The British critic Jeremy Nicholas once received a letter from her that read,
By the way, I've reworked the Godovsky.
You know me.
I was never satisfied.
Invern said,
That means she had to have listened back.
And if she listened, then she knew.
It's like your handwriting.
Beyond this, as I mentioned, some of the recordings had listed orchestras and conductors that don't appear to exist.
If Haddo was innocent, she would have realized that she had no memory of making those recordings.
Robert von Bar, the head of the Swedish record label that had recorded Laszlo Simon,
said that he had given a lot of thought to suing Berry for damages, but decided against it.
He said, Given the circumstances surrounding Ms. Haddo's sickness and fate, there may be deeply felt, if misguided, personal reasons
for it. Asked whether he thought the police or the British phonographic industry might take legal
action, Barry said, ask them. I've given up worrying about anything. He said, I don't consider I've
hurt anybody. A lot of attention has been drawn to forgotten artists. In that, he was actually
right. Von Bar said he'd urged Laszlo Simon to take advantage of the publicity that the scandal had brought him.
He said he's gotten more PR than he would get in five lifetimes.
This is the time for him to go out and get those concerts.
But Michael Spring, sales manager of Hyperion Records, some of whose recordings had been plagiarized, said,
I feel we should do something, although it will cost a lot of money to bring him to court.
We need to get to the bottom of it and get a list of all the recordings he's pirated.
In the end, the Hertfordshire police said they wouldn't take any action unless a complaint were made by the copyright holder of
one of the original recordings. Barry was investigated by the industry and made to apologize,
but he was never prosecuted. He died in 2014, disgraced but not formally punished. And he left
a strange legacy. Undeniably, he'd proven that he had an excellent ear for music. He was able to
recognize great performances by little-known musicians and assemble them into a fake repertoire that dazzled music connoisseurs around the world.
James Invern, the editor of Gramophone, said his magazine wasn't embarrassed to have been
duped initially by Hato's recordings. He said they're still great performances.
But some observers point out that this shows how unfairly stature is apportioned in the classical
music world, where critics identify a few stars, but most musicians have to labor in obscurity,
even though, as the Hato hoax showed, many of them are widely praised when they're given an audience.
In the New York Times, Dennis Dutton wrote,
The greatest lesson for all of us ought to be that there are more fine young pianists out there than
most of us realize. Backhanded credit to Joyce Hato for having introduced us to some fine new
talent. Finally, this is also a story about technology. Modern technology enabled Berry
to perpetrate these frauds himself, almost single-handed,
but it also gave Brian Ventura and Andrew Rose the tools they needed to expose him.
So it remains to be seen whether frauds like this become easier or harder to pull off in the future.
James Inver in the editor of Gramophone said,
What strikes me is that this sort of piracy was made possible by technology
and later advances in technology uncovered it.
You may use technology to try and hoodwink people, but you never know when it's going to come back and bite you.
Nick Moffitt wrote in about my last update on Larry, the UK's official chief mouser,
and my curiosity about what the other category would be that the pest controllers had been called in for at 10 Downing Street.
Good evening, podcasters and podcat.
I just listened to the mail segment from episode 191 and noted with interest the updates about the Downing Street official Mouser.
Much levity was made of this august official when David Cameron resigned in 2016.
During the short interim period between Cameron and the current Prime Minister,
Theresa May, someone reasoned that this briefly made Larry the senior official in residence at
number 10. You had a mild chuckle at the listing of the pest classified as other, and I may have
a likely candidate for that. Urban fox. When I moved to London in 2006, foxes were an absolute
rarity in London. China Mieville famously noted
in 2012 that, it used to be startling to see a fox in London, impossible not to feel that the city
had slipped into a fable. Now you spot them on any late night jog. In 2011, one of these agents of
animal chaos infiltrated the Shard at 32 London Bridge, the city's unfinished tallest building,
and climbed a thousand feet above the streets to live on builders' scraps.
And Nick notes that in 2009, foxes were still so rare in London
that to see one in the underground was newsworthy,
and he sent an article from The Telegraph entitled,
Fox Takes Tube Station Escalator.
An urban fox stunned London Underground passengers
by calmly taking an
escalator to navigate a tube station. I guess I don't know much about foxes.
Are they that inquisitive or adventurous? I guess I don't know that much about foxes either,
and you don't picture them in an urban setting, or at least I don't picture them in an urban
setting. That's interesting. Nick continued, these days urban foxes in London are no longer
nervous around humans and will slink across the pavement in front of you with the arrogance of a cat.
I often have to ring my bell a few times to shoo them out of my path when cycling home late at night.
The harsh LED headlamp and general racket of my badly oiled bicycle don't seem to bother them one bit.
I've lived in London for almost a dozen years and witnessed this transition with the same amazement as longer-term Londoners.
At first, as Mieville noted, these creatures seemed like visitors from England's wooded past,
but these days they're filling a scavenger's niche not entirely unlike raccoons did during my childhood in Seattle, Washington.
There are particular nuisance around rubbish collection days, as they can get into all sorts of bins.
Fortunately, they're not as good at opening the things as raccoons or bears are, and the arms race hasn't extended beyond simple latches on the
bins for compostable waste. I wonder what's changed. I guess maybe they still don't know
that. I mean, how is it that you say this niche has opened up? Yeah, I guess so. And maybe they're
just adaptable like raccoons, you know, and ended up living in urban areas where they didn't used to just because they adapted to them.
Yeah.
So somehow some fox decided it was a good thing and others followed.
I don't know.
Maybe their wooded areas are diminishing, you know.
That's a good idea.
Nick also said, on a related note, pigeons became a problem in London when the deadly smog stopped killing them,
and the populace had enough food to leave crumbs everywhere.
A lot of solutions were tried to keep pigeons off of monuments such as Lord Nelson's statue at Trafalgar Square,
but recently they came up with the most elegant solution, falconry.
I used to work at an office building in Westminster,
and occasionally I'd eat lunch out in one of the small neighborhood parks there. On a few occasions, I'd see a falconer sending a raptor up to the does indeed use hawks and falcons
for what it calls bird pest control. I bet that's really effective. I guess it would be. And as he
says, you don't actually even need to kill the pigeons, right? They just, they see the predators
and leave the area. Also, hawks also eat rodents. And so I was thinking that if Larry doesn't get
his act together and start living up to his chief mouser title a little better, he could end up being replaced by a bird.
And just think of what that might do to his feline self-esteem.
Simone Hilliard wrote in about the software-generated recipes from episode 190.
Dear PodSquad, the listener mail on the podcast today reminded me of a video I saw explaining different complex tech concepts with food.
It had a segment explaining neural networks with a recipe generator.
The recipe produced, which was actually made by the creators of the video, was pretty disgusting and weird.
And the recipe Simone is referring to was created by a neural network that was trained by Janelle Shane using
over 30,000 recipes. But apparently, 30,000 recipes was not nearly enough for the algorithm
to understand what sorts of things constitute ingredients, as the list of ingredients included
items such as desserts and seafood, as well as some items that don't even exist, such as shredded Cool Whip, California Home Jazzin',
Warm or Whole Mim, One My Other, and One Wather Haves. Some of those aren't even English words
as far as I could tell. And the only directions given for this wonderful recipe in the video were
the cream soupy stops and cools, pour mixture over top of
pile, garnish. I like the little garnish at the end. In an article in Slate, Shane explains that
in traditional programming, a human programmer gives the computer rules about data. But in
machine learning, like in neural networks, the computer is given a large data set and tries to deduce the rules for itself. On her blog, Shane says, given a set of data, a neural network will learn the
patterns that let it imitate the original data, although its imitation is sometimes imperfect.
And it seems that those imperfections are actually what Shane really loves about playing with neural
networks and their outputs. Some good examples of those imperfections
can be seen in the ingredients
in some of the other recipes
that have been generated by her neural network,
such as one one-inch,
a quarter cup along with,
one up,
12-ounce kettle,
one can fried pale fruit to cover that drain, and my favorite, five cups lumps thinly
sliced. Because you wouldn't want to thickly slice your lumps. That'll ruin the whole thing.
The directions included in the recipes also tended to be pretty nonsensical, such as,
watch the end of the fillets to the heat and set in a bowl and heat at this
low for five minutes until softened. Spoon the one day, one, one half hours. Take an and, inverting
it and turn the center. To serve cooking time. It is been rib so tro. While the serving is
alternatively rich, we'll puree in the McQuinnelly preparing gravy.
They should seal.
That was like the last step.
They should seal.
We should build a robot to follow that recipe and see what we get.
Shane has trained her neural networks to generate a number of things, such as knock-knock jokes,
pickup lines, heavy metal band names, and names of paint colors.
And Greg actually had a post on his blog recently about kitten names that were generated by
one of Shane's neural networks.
Some of my favorite kitten names are Ruber, Snorp, Snoxboops, Cylon, Snowpie, Licky Cat,
Mr. Gruffles, Corco, and Muppin.
I actually quite like Mr. Gruffles.
It sort of depends on the cat's personality.
Yes.
But that could be perfectly fine.
Actually, my favorite was Mr. Winkles.
So maybe we could get a pair of them and name them Mr. Winkles and Mr. Gruffles.
That might go together really well.
One of Shane's other experiments that I really liked was her training the algorithm on candy
hearts, which are also called conversation hearts.
And these are little candies that are made for Valentine's Day that have short messages printed on them, such as
love you or be mine. Some of the computer generated suggestions for these candy hearts
were actually kind of cute, such as love bot, my bear and love bun. Some made a little less sense,
such as oog love, I honker, tweet up bat, and whirly oot.
And some made me wonder if I was just missing the message,
such as all hover, stank love, you are bag.
And this one was very interesting.
Love 2,000 hogs, yay.
There's got to be a story behind that one.
There are some situations where that'd be perfectly appropriate.
And on her blog, Shane notes that given the prevalence of four-letter words in the original
Candy Heart data set, the neural network, maybe unsurprisingly, produced some messages that were
not so family-friendly. She declined to list those on her blog, but will send them to you
on request if you would
like. So thanks so much to everyone who writes in to us. If you have anything that you'd like
to send to us podcasters or podcat here on the pod squad, you can send that to podcast
at futilitycloset.com. It's Greg's turn to try to solve a lateral thinking puzzle i'm going to give him an odd
situation and he has to try to figure out what's going on asking only yes or no questions
this puzzle comes from karsten hammond with some minor rewording a man begins vomiting and feeling
unwell and is quite pleased why minor rewording. I wonder where that started.
Say it again.
A man begins vomiting.
And feeling unwell and is quite pleased.
Okay, so he intended to begin vomiting.
What a strange puzzle.
You would say that he's pleased because this is happening?
He's pleased that this is happening.
So he wanted to feel nauseated?
Would you say that?
I don't know that I would say it quite like that.
Is he like eating something poisonous or dangerous and is trying to purge it?
No.
Is he an actor?
No.
Begins vomiting. Is this true?
Yes.
Do we need to know the man's identity?
You probably won't know his specific identity. His occupation? Yes. Do we need to know the man's identity? You probably won't know his specific identity.
His occupation?
Yes.
Is he an actor?
No.
Why would you...
Would you say he induced his own vomiting?
He did something to cause this to happen?
He did something to cause this to happen.
Is he a doctor?
Yes.
He's a doctor.
Yes.
And he induced vomiting in himself.
Is he just trying to come up with a technique that makes people vomit?
No.
And he's pleased with himself because he succeeded?
That's a perfectly valid solution.
Yes, but I'm sure lots of people have come up with techniques to make people vomit.
It's not that hard to do, I guess.
Okay, so he's a doctor.
Are there other people involved?
There is somebody else involved, but for the purposes of this puzzle, you don't need to know about them.
He's just solo vomiting.
As far as you need to know.
Is there more, is there like backstory, like he ate something in particular?
He did eat something in particular.
And I need to figure that out.
That might be challenging to figure out what it was that he ate in particular.
Is it poisonous?
Is there his own safety involved?
Is he pleased because he's protecting his own safety? No. Okay, but he has eaten something in the recent past
that he's now vomiting. What a weird puzzle. That's not quite right, the way you've said it.
Okay, is the thing that he ate recently causing him to vomit? I would say yes.
thing that he ate recently causing him to vomit?
I would say yes.
Starts to vomit and feels unwell.
And is quite pleased.
Would you say this is a scientific discovery?
Yes.
So he's discovered that eating whatever this is causes nausea.
Would you say that?
That's not quite right.
Because it sounds like that's exactly what he ate.
That's very vaguely right, but not quite right.
Not like, oh, I've discovered that if you eat purple mushrooms, you get nauseated.
Like, it's not like that.
Because it sounds exactly like that.
All right.
Okay.
So he ate something, though, and it nauseated him.
You'd say that.
It caused him to be unwell.'s not he didn't specifically have to vomit he would have been pleased if he had just gotten
fairly sick right right right and you said that's a discovery of some kind it is he didn't know that
he was testing some theory in he was swallowing this whatever it was yes he thought hey i wonder
if i swallow this if i'll feel unwell. He actually had the hypothesis that he would,
and that's why he's pleased, because it was borne out.
All right.
So what was he trying to discover or prove?
Well, unless I have to figure out exactly what it was he ate.
The food is irrelevant.
He's trying to prove something else, though.
A principle.
Sort of.
Do we need to know his surroundings?
Like, is this in space or underwater or something?
No, no.
So he was trying to prove, he had the idea that if he swallowed a certain substance.
Yes.
In certain conditions.
Not really certain conditions. So just that he swallowed
something, it would make him feel unwell? Yes, that it would cause him to be unwell.
So that was his hypothesis. He did that. He found that it was true, and so he was pleased.
Yes. I'm not sure what I'm not getting, except for the actual identity of the thing that he
swallowed. Right. He was trying to prove something about a particular illness.
Ah. Not about the food. He was trying to prove something about a particular illness. Ah.
Not about the food. He was trying to prove something about an illness.
Okay.
An illness? Is this like allergy?
No.
Like a gastrointestinal?
Yes.
Illness?
Yes. It was about ulcers. He was trying to prove something about ulcers.
Okay. So you swallow a certain substance or item.
Yeah.
If you have ulcers, okay.
Did the thing that he swallowed cause him to get ulcers?
Yes.
And that's what he was testing?
And that's what he was proving.
He was proving something.
So when he vomited and fell down, well, that showed him that he developed the ulcers as he expected he might. As he'd hoped he would.
As he'd hoped he would, As he'd hoped he would.
Yeah.
And that was a breakthrough.
And so he could warn other people, don't swallow this thing because it'll give you ulcers.
What was he trying to prove about ulcers?
Do you know?
Can you guess?
I think that's all going to come down to what it was that he swallowed.
Yeah.
it was that he swallowed.
Yeah.
Unless it's just a bare fact that ulcers are caused by diet or can be.
No, it's not diet.
It was immaterial what the food was,
but there was something in the food.
Something that wasn't itself food?
Correct.
That caused like physical trauma to his stomach lining?
I don't think you'd say that, no.
He was trying to prove something novel about the cause of ulcers.
Well, that they would be potentially caused by this substance, whatever it was.
So the idea is that he can go out and warn other people, hey, don't swallow this thing, whatever it is, because it can cause ulcers.
Yeah, I'll tell you.
He was able to prove that ulcers are caused by bacteria, which nobody would
believe at the time.
Oh, wow.
Karsten says, the man in question is Dr. Barry Marshall, an Australian physician who, along
with pathologist colleague Robin Warren, accredited with discovering the patho-ideology of peptic
ulcers.
In the early 1980s, the pair discovered that an unusual corkscrew-shaped bacteria was commonly
found in
the gastric lining of peptic ulcer patients. At the time, it was generally thought that no
bacteria could survive in the acidic stomach environment. Doctors Marshall and Warren became
convinced that this bacterium, now called Helicobacter pylori or H. pylori, had a causal
role in the development of peptic ulcers, gastric ulcers, and certain types of gastritis.
And Karsten quotes from a discover magazine article
that says unable to make his case in studies with lab mice because h pylori affects only primates
and prohibited from experimenting on people marshall grew desperate finally he ran an
experiment on the only human patient he could ethically recruit himself he took some h pylori
from the gut of an ailing patient stirred it into into a broth, and drank it. I know.
As the days passed, he developed gastritis, the precursor to an ulcer.
He started vomiting, his breath began to stink, and he felt sick and exhausted.
Back in the lab, he biopsied his own gut, culturing H. pylori, and proving unequivocally
that bacteria were the underlying causes of ulcers.
And so in recognition of their discovery, Marshall and Warren were awarded the Nobel Prize
in Medicine. Because that's a really important thing to know. It is a really important thing
to know. When was this again? The 1980s. So that's fairly recent. Yeah, I kind of remember
it was a big deal when it came out because people had a very different idea about what the underlying
cause of ulcers was. And apparently they just couldn't convince anybody of their theory.
So that's why he was very pleased when he started vomiting.
It's like, hey, look, I gave myself an ulcer.
Good for him.
So thanks so much to Carson for that puzzle in which people did get sick, but no one died.
Yay.
He's maybe saving people from dying.
That's right.
And if anyone else has a puzzle for us to try, you can send it to us at podcast at futilitycloset.com.
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