neonico wrote:inkinthewell wrote:neonico wrote:where i come from is intelligence measured by what youve studied ie a university degree...
Well, in the world I live in, a university degree only means you have (probably, hopefully!) a wee bit more specific knowledge of a certain argument than the average person;
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well if the above is true a wee bit more knowedge then you d let yourself be operated in hosital by a person thats hasnt studied
good argument...
As I have to reply extensively to Neo, I thought it was better to do it in a thread of its own.
First of all, intelligence cannot, by any means, be granted to anyone through a piece of paper. I know a man who is in his seventies, and, just after retiring from work, has begun attending university. He'll surely get a degree in the next years, because he's a capable person, but the degree won't make him intelligent. He was intelligent before, is intelligent now, and will be intelligent when he gets the degree. Honestly (taking your point of view literally), to think that, without a degree, his whole life should be considered spent in stupidity makes my blood curdle.
Doctors: let's say you have a problem with your heart. Will you see a podiatrist or a cardiologist? They both have a degree, so, once again taking you literally, that should be enough to give the podiatrist the necessary knowledge to solve your problems. Or would you rather go to the cardiologist? Even though a huge amount of people (you, me and podiatrists included) know what a heart is, where it is and how it works, I reckon we would all prefer hearing the advice of somebody who knows a wee bit more about it than us (the 'wee bit more' thing was, and is, ironic).
I have to point out that I have nothing against whoever holds a degree, but I admit having little respect, if any, for some graduates (does the word 'politicians' ring a bell?).
Hoping all this won't get too serious, here's something I've found that I hope may raise a smile. It's a poem by a 17th century poet called A.B. Normal:
Georgie Porgie was not very bright,
he couldn't have told darkness from light,
but Mother insisted: "Get a degree!
No matter what, even psychology."
So little Georgie had a look round:
naught did he like of all that he found.
'Til, one day, his grand-dad, screaming with pain,
holding his leg, yelled: "Tomorrow will rain!"
In fact, the next day, what a surprise!
a wild storm raged in front of his eyes.
Georgie exclaimed: "Meteorology,
that sure is the thing, and perfect for me.
If I study hard (surely I can),
maybe next year I'll be Weather Man."
And study he did, and got the degree,
was offered a job at the BBC.
Weather forecaster. Boy, was he proud,
but, though he knew well what was a cloud
he hadn't a clue of when it would burst
nor if tomorrow the sun would shine first.
Luckily grandpa came to his aid:
"I'll help you," he said, "don't be afraid,"
and showed him his knee, the whole bony lot.
"This is the most precious thing that I've got.
I've mapped it, look'ee, from side to side,
and foresee the weather nationwide.
It will rain in Surrey if it hurts me here;
a tickle there and snow's bound in Yorkshire.
We'll make a fortune: you on tv,
and me, well, howling on the settee."
The two made a deal, and in a short spell
Georgie was famous through predicting well.
He never missed, 'til one winter day
he foretold dry, the heavens sent spray.
"Well," said the viewers, "one bloomer's all right.
Before we lynch him, let's wait till tonight."
Copiously sweating, Georgie declared:
"The sun's gonna shine right on our head."
When England woke up, it poured far and near,
and that was the end of Georgie's career.
Tattered and torn, he called his grandpa:
"Old fool you! What's the matter with ya?
I'm unemployed 'cause your knee got it wrong:
it predicted sun, it's rained all day long."
"Boy, calm ye down. My knee got it right.
It's hot enough here, even at night.
But, pray, let me ask: dost thou remember
that which I told you back in september?"
"No, but who cares? They nearly killed me
because your knee guided me wrongly."
"Idiot!" growled Pops, and tugged his pyjamas,
"I'm on the beach, in f***ing Bahamas!"
