Redisintermediation exemplar: John Cope’s Toasted Dried Sweet Corn

When we lived in Hanover, PA a few years ago, we started buy­ing boxes of a Lan­caster del­i­cacy: John Cope’s Toasted Dried Sweet Corn.

It’s good, and dif­fi­cult to repli­cate. No other corn­meal or bready prepa­ra­tions are sub­sti­tutes. There are no doubt a num­ber of deli­cious recipes pos­si­ble, but the one that is printed at the top of the box (or bag, these days) is still best, just as using Jiffy Mix for corn muffins is bet­ter than the super­nu­mer­ary sug­ges­tions of waf­fles or even johnnycakes.

Also, in re John Cope’s effort: it’s cheap.

Buy it from the man­u­fac­turer, or their dis­trib­u­tor, in 12-​​bag cases, and includ­ing ship­ping it’s less than $3.50 per box.

Zingerman’s Deli, here in lovely Ann Arbor, charges more than $11 for a sin­gle 7.5 oz tin. Because it’s arti­sanal, no doubt. Or maybe the tin is worth the effort, since it’s made by hand by Russ­ian Amish peo­ple specif­i­cally for Zingerman’s, and flown here sus­tain­ably or some­thing. Because that would be a $7 metal tin, I guess.

Plus ship­ping, if you don’t live in lovely Ann Arbor.

And if you search for it at Ama­zon, you can pay a mere 100% markup. Plus ship­ping and han­dling. Or for some kind of odd bulk repack­ag­ing I’ve never seen before, slightly less.

Let’s just sit our­selves down a minute, in these days of local com­mu­ni­tar­ian sen­ti­ments and eco­nomic cri­sis and belt-​​tightening and thought­ful econ­omy and direct com­pen­sa­tion of artists and crafts­peo­ple for their intel­li­gent work and sus­tain­able trans­porta­tion and stuff… and think about those alternatives.

Less than $3.50 per unit, net, for twelve you could share among friends. Said money sent direct to the man­u­fac­turer, I assume. At least closer to them than any alter­na­tive in the sup­ply chain.

Or $8 or more for retail pric­ing of the same vol­ume. In a metal bin, if you’re really fancy.

I note, by way of a fuck­ing point: It is not ille­gal, to date, for pur­chasers to enter into infor­mal agree­ments with one another to col­lab­o­ra­tively seek bar­gains by shar­ing infor­ma­tional or prac­ti­cal costs.

I’m going to spend Decem­ber think­ing about that, OK? The whole damned Black Fri­day of a month.

And my mind may wan­der from dried sweet corn to beer, or other foods, or books, or mag­a­zine sub­scrip­tions, or toys, or DVD rentals, or copy-​​editing one another’s writ­ing, or con­sult­ing refer­rals, or news­pa­per arti­cle writ­ing, or pho­tog­ra­phy, or design, or gar­den­ing, or build­ing houses and com­mu­ni­ties. It might make a bit of sense for me to look at car­toon­ish John Cope, with his stereo­typ­i­cal bushy beard, and think a minute.

Just one minute. Espe­cially if I’m tempted to play at Black-​​bumper sus­tain­abil­ity, and con­spic­u­ously con­sume arti­sanal foods with­out think­ing about the sup­ply chain that got them to me.

Don’t present a single solution to a complex problem. Just don’t.

Google Maps must have pur­chased a new suite of road infor­ma­tion recently. Or maybe they algo­rith­mi­cally tried to “improve” the dataset they had. Used to be it knew local geog­ra­phy pretty well; now, not so much.

When ask­ing for direc­tions from our farm (on Walsh Road, Web­ster Town­ship) to the Dairy Queen in Ham­burg Town­ship, the dri­ving (not walk­ing!) algo­rithm sug­gests we stay on north­bound Scully. If you saw it from a dis­tance, the satel­lite image would lead you to believe that, yes.

Google Maps algorithm FAIL

Except that many years’ fierce argu­ment at the county bor­der has left a nasty but potent gate block­ing the road, which will per­sist into the fore­see­able future.

Google Maps algorithm FAIL (closeup)

If you were to drive up the rough, mainly untended Scully Road on a snowy day, try­ing to get (say) to a hos­pi­tal in Pinck­ney or some­thing, the least that would hap­pen is you’d waste a half-​​hour try­ing to back out of the last few hun­dred yards with­out end­ing up in a ditch… once you arrived at the impass­able gate at the bor­der, and well after you had tres­passed on a pri­vate road at the end.

The De Lorme Michi­gan Atlas & Gazetteer, a nice old printed book I keep in my car, and which is so obso­lete that it shows lit­tle red lines for roads of all sizes and char­ac­ters, man­ages to catch the gap.

Now every dataset con­tains errors or miss­ing infor­ma­tion. But every time that dataset is used to make a sin­gle, sum­mary state­ment, based on a sin­gle model? Bad­ness can hap­pen in unex­pected ways. In fact, I am obliged to be cur­mud­geonly about it because of my pro­fes­sional expe­ri­ence in these mat­ters: it is always wrong to present a sin­gle answer for any multi-​​objective or highly con­strained decision-​​making prob­lem. Big, fat period.

I can’t com­plain, in all hon­esty, about advice given by a black box operations-​​research algo­rithm that on inspec­tion I knew was incor­rect. You get what you pay for. But I can com­plain about a cul­ti­vat­ing a mis­lead­ing user expe­ri­ence in a ubiq­ui­tous data-​​driven deci­sion sup­port sys­tem that presents only one solu­tion at a time to the decision-​​maker. Hell, every iPhone in the world has one of these on it; they’re all wrong, too.

No, I don’t think I am feel­ing lucky, Google. And you didn’t even ask.

I want to see a sheaf of routes. The lit­tle “adjust the route and recal­cu­late a new one using my mile­stones” han­dles Google intro­duced a few years back are a beau­ti­ful thing, a cun­ning arti­fact and a use­ful tool! And of course, the stan­dard “avoid­ing high­way” or “fastest” tog­gles let me reach in and fid­dle with the search method. But only indirectly.

I want the objec­tives right there, not com­bined. I want not just to sur­face the meter (to use a phrase Dan Cooney’s taught me), but sur­face all of them. I want choices cou­pled to clearly dif­fer­en­tiable sup­port­ing arguments.

Like the basic Google Search results them­selves: ten routes at a time, ranked some­how. Or not even ranked, but handed to me as a Pareto-​​equivalent set of alter­na­tives, some faster, some bumpier, some with big­ger roads, some with more gas sta­tions, some more scenic. Heck, maybe I just want to know there are at least ten ways to go back and forth, so I can stage a race, or not get bored on my com­mute, or defend against unwanted SUV inva­sion by a for­eign county or something.

At least some­times. Stop assum­ing I’m feel­ing lucky.

Next time, we can bitch about the mis­lead­ing user expe­ri­ence and illu­sory author­ity cre­ated by the fuckin’ weather fore­cast for­mat. Every­body com­plains about the weather fore­cast, but nobody does any­thing about it.

Lather, rinse, repeat.