Chris Blattman

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Is there such a thing as too much nerd rap?

Not likely.

For the fans of some earlier finds (including The Economist rap or the sight of Berkeley econometricians shooting lasers at rapping robots) I have a new release:

Baby Got Stats

This ain’t your Sir Mix-A-Lot. The ominous opening line:

Oh. My. God. Becky. Look at his log file.

Chorus:

I like good stats and I cannot lie.
You other brothers can’t deny.
When you get some data and you put it in STATA and it spits out a beta of ten,
You get sprang.

Oh data, I wanna get wit’cha
regress and fit’cha…

MP3 courtesy of some rhythmic biostatisticians at Johns Hopkins University.

2 Responses

  1. Dear Professor Blattman

    Occasionally your blog postings are just FABULOUS (and more than compensate for us having to read about Canada). I feel the need to respond with an old but still very relevant piece (not rap but close) that a good friend sent me when he heard the rapping on your blog. Here goes:

    Hiawatha Designs an Experiment

    Hiawatha, mighty hunter,
    He could shoot ten arrows upward,
    Shoot them with such strength and swiftness
    That the last had left the bow-string
    Ere the first to earth descended.
    This was commonly regarded
    As a feat of skill and cunning.
    Several sarcastic spirits
    Pointed out to him, however,
    That it might be much more useful
    If he sometimes hit the target.
    “Why not shoot a little straighter
    And employ a smaller sample?”
    Hiawatha, who at college
    Majored in applied statistics,
    Consequently felt entitled
    To instruct his fellow man
    In any subject whatsoever,
    Waxed exceedingly indignant,
    Talked about the law of errors,
    Talked about truncated normals,
    Talked of loss of information,
    Talked about his lack of bias,
    Pointed out that (in the long run)
    Independent observations,
    Even though they missed the target,
    Had an average point of impact
    Very near the spot he aimed at,
    With the possible exception
    of a set of measure zero.
    “This,” they said, “was rather doubtful;
    Anyway it didn’t matter.
    What resulted in the long run:
    Either he must hit the target
    Much more often than at present,
    Or himself would have to pay for
    All the arrows he had wasted.”
    Hiawatha, in a temper,
    Quoted parts of R. A. Fisher,
    Quoted Yates and quoted Finney,
    Quoted reams of Oscar Kempthorne,
    Quoted Anderson and Bancroft
    (practically in extenso)
    Trying to impress upon them
    That what actually mattered
    Was to estimate the error.
    Several of them admitted:
    “Such a thing might have its uses;
    Still,” they said, “he would do better
    If he shot a little straighter.”
    Hiawatha, to convince them,
    Organized a shooting contest.
    Laid out in the proper manner
    Of designs experimental
    Recommended in the textbooks,
    Mainly used for tasting tea
    (but sometimes used in other cases)
    Used factorial arrangements
    And the theory of Galois,
    Got a nicely balanced layout
    And successfully confounded
    Second order interactions.
    All the other tribal marksmen,
    Ignorant benighted creatures
    Of experimental setups,
    Used their time of preparation
    Putting in a lot of practice
    Merely shooting at the target.
    Thus it happened in the contest
    That their scores were most impressive
    With one solitary exception.
    This, I hate to have to say it,
    Was the score of Hiawatha,
    Who as usual shot his arrows,
    Shot them with great strength and swiftness,
    Managing to be unbiased,
    Not however with a salvo
    Managing to hit the target.
    “There!” they said to Hiawatha,
    “That is what we all expected.”
    Hiawatha, nothing daunted,
    Called for pen and called for paper.
    But analysis of variance
    Finally produced the figures
    Showing beyond all peradventure,
    Everybody else was biased.
    And the variance components
    Did not differ from each other’s,
    Or from Hiawatha’s.
    (This last point it might be mentioned,
    Would have been much more convincing
    If he hadn’t been compelled to
    Estimate his own components
    >From experimental plots on
    Which the values all were missing.)
    Still they couldn’t understand it,
    So they couldn’t raise objections.
    (Which is what so often happens
    with analysis of variance.)
    All the same his fellow tribesmen,
    Ignorant benighted heathens,
    Took away his bow and arrows,
    Said that though my Hiawatha
    Was a brilliant statistician,
    He was useless as a bowman.
    As for variance components
    Several of the more outspoken
    Make primeval observations
    Hurtful of the finer feelings
    Even of the statistician.
    In a corner of the forest
    Sits alone my Hiawatha
    Permanently cogitating
    On the normal law of errors.
    Wondering in idle moments
    If perhaps increased precision
    Might perhaps be sometimes better
    Even at the cost of bias,
    If one could thereby now and then
    Register upon a target.
    Original source:
    Kendall, Maurice (1959). Hiawatha Designs an Experiment. The American
    Statistician 13: 23-24.

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