Yeah. This is more shit about McMegan.
It seems that James Joyner wrote a somewhat passive defense of Our Lady of the Broken TI-84 and in the comments there was some minor quibbling and tut-tutting and a healthy-heapin’ handful of econobonics words like “predictive,” “multi-causal,” “independent predictor,” “differing methodologies,” and “intervening assumptions”, all of which will undoubtedly remind you of the the many reasons why your guest lists for parties are usually fairly light on economists and quite top heavy with strippers.
But just when it starts to get duller than watching Roger Kimball and Ross Douthat put on their hilarious MST3K home-version of My Dinner With Andre, McMegan shows up and gives us a Taste of Things To Come:
Sloppy with data.
Yeah. She wrote that. Megan McArdle wrote that. About someone other than herself.
Megan McArdle who gave us the deathless:
It wasn’t a statistic–it was a hypothetical.
Megan McArdle, who can’t seem to operate a calculator, but no matter, her “point still stands”.
Megan McArdle, who turned $19 billion in additional spending into $105 billion with an airy wave of her hand.
She (Megan McArdle, her) is going to address the “sloppy data” of Elizabeth Warren.
Obviously, this is very exciting.
Part of me admires McMegan’s guts as she pledges to dazzle us all with this incredible leap over the Snake River Canyon of her own sloppiness, secure in the knowledge that she will safely land with her feet on the ground, and all of the naysayers will have to sadly sheath their long knives and be forevermore shamed into silence by her awesome awesomeness.
On the other hand, it really doesn’t matter if she spirals helplessly, Wiley Coyote-style, into the canyon only to land with a barely perceptible thud in a mushroom cloud of dust. At The Atlantic, her wrongness is part of her charm, it drives traffic to the site. She is a five-car pile-up of clown cars laden with circus geeks who bite the heads off of chickens. You can’t look away, and it is all for free on the internet.
Thank you, Al Gore.