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Not everyone wants to shave with Occam's Razor.
Even after nearly 700 years, Occam's Razor remains sharp and useful -- but not everybody recognizes its importance.
Occam's Razor is a philosophical precept invented by the 14th century friar, William of Ockham. It states: “Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity.” That's a fancy, 14th century way of saying, “The simplest answer is usually the correct one.”
In 1999, when they found Philip Taylor Kramer, the brilliant engineer and former bassist in Iron Butterfly, at the bottom of southern California's Decker Canyon, he was just a skeleton. The flesh had been stripped from his bones, presumably by rats. Police said that was to be expected; after all, his body had lain undetected in the wilderness area for more than three years.
What was harder to explain was that Kramer's 1993 Ford Aerostar minivan had also been stripped -- of its license plates. They were never found, and that was just one of the strange facts which led many of his friends and family to conclude Kramer hadn't died accidentally.
But was he murdered? We may never know for sure, and your take on Kramer's death will probably be dictated by whether or not you choose to apply Occam's Razor.
When we left Kramer's tragic story last week, the video compression company he co-founded, Total Multimedia (TMM), was floundering and Kramer himself was in massive debt. Kramer had begun to combine his knowledge of data compression with the study of gravity waves. He was inspired by his own father's effort to disprove Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity during the 1960s at Ohio State University. He worked late in his lab, forgoing sleep for sometimes days on end.
Meanwhile, TMM's board of directors had hired a new CEO to improve the company's bottom line. Peter Olson had won accolades as a canny manager at the communications giant, MCI, but once ensconced at TMM, he proved to be a New Age flake, hiring South American shamans to offer business advice and requiring his staff to read James Redfield's spiritualist novel, “The Celestine Prophecy.” Olson's credulity rubbed off on Kramer, who now urged his family to wear only certain colors, and who became convinced O.J. Simpson was the innocent victim of a nefarious conspiracy plot. Kramer was beginning to show the classic signs of extreme paranoia. He was convinced someone was trying to get his research, which he told friends was worth billions.
Finally, on Feb. 12, 1995, he left his home and went to the airport. Records show he stayed there for about 45 minutes, but never met the investor he was there to pick up. Instead, he drove off and began making cell phone calls. He called his old bandmate in Iron Butterfly, Ron Bushy, to say he loved him. He called his wife and told her he had “the biggest surprise” for her. He made 14 other calls, then dialed 911. He told the emergency operator, “I'm going to kill myself. And I want everyone to know O.J. Simpson is innocent. THEY did it.”
That was the last time anyone spoke with Philip Taylor Kramer.
Some folks assumed Kramer must have perfected his faster-than-light formula, and was assassinated for it. Skeptics maintain he was the sad victim of mental illness and suicide. Even with Occam's Razor, those missing license plates make for a closer than normal shave.
Notes is supported by the Gay and Lesbian Fund, promoting heart health in cooperation with the American Heart Association.
Craven Lovelace produces Notes, a daily cultural history of popular music, for KAFM 88.1 Community Radio, kafmradio.org. You can visit cravenlovelace.com for more of his musings on the world of popular culture.
Even after nearly 700 years, Occam's Razor remains sharp and useful -- but not everybody recognizes its importance.
Occam's Razor is a philosophical precept invented by the 14th century friar, William of Ockham. It states: “Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity.” That's a fancy, 14th century way of saying, “The simplest answer is usually the correct one.”
In 1999, when they found Philip Taylor Kramer, the brilliant engineer and former bassist in Iron Butterfly, at the bottom of southern California's Decker Canyon, he was just a skeleton. The flesh had been stripped from his bones, presumably by rats. Police said that was to be expected; after all, his body had lain undetected in the wilderness area for more than three years.
What was harder to explain was that Kramer's 1993 Ford Aerostar minivan had also been stripped -- of its license plates. They were never found, and that was just one of the strange facts which led many of his friends and family to conclude Kramer hadn't died accidentally.
But was he murdered? We may never know for sure, and your take on Kramer's death will probably be dictated by whether or not you choose to apply Occam's Razor.
When we left Kramer's tragic story last week, the video compression company he co-founded, Total Multimedia (TMM), was floundering and Kramer himself was in massive debt. Kramer had begun to combine his knowledge of data compression with the study of gravity waves. He was inspired by his own father's effort to disprove Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity during the 1960s at Ohio State University. He worked late in his lab, forgoing sleep for sometimes days on end.
Meanwhile, TMM's board of directors had hired a new CEO to improve the company's bottom line. Peter Olson had won accolades as a canny manager at the communications giant, MCI, but once ensconced at TMM, he proved to be a New Age flake, hiring South American shamans to offer business advice and requiring his staff to read James Redfield's spiritualist novel, “The Celestine Prophecy.” Olson's credulity rubbed off on Kramer, who now urged his family to wear only certain colors, and who became convinced O.J. Simpson was the innocent victim of a nefarious conspiracy plot. Kramer was beginning to show the classic signs of extreme paranoia. He was convinced someone was trying to get his research, which he told friends was worth billions.
Finally, on Feb. 12, 1995, he left his home and went to the airport. Records show he stayed there for about 45 minutes, but never met the investor he was there to pick up. Instead, he drove off and began making cell phone calls. He called his old bandmate in Iron Butterfly, Ron Bushy, to say he loved him. He called his wife and told her he had “the biggest surprise” for her. He made 14 other calls, then dialed 911. He told the emergency operator, “I'm going to kill myself. And I want everyone to know O.J. Simpson is innocent. THEY did it.”
That was the last time anyone spoke with Philip Taylor Kramer.
Some folks assumed Kramer must have perfected his faster-than-light formula, and was assassinated for it. Skeptics maintain he was the sad victim of mental illness and suicide. Even with Occam's Razor, those missing license plates make for a closer than normal shave.
Notes is supported by the Gay and Lesbian Fund, promoting heart health in cooperation with the American Heart Association.
Craven Lovelace produces Notes, a daily cultural history of popular music, for KAFM 88.1 Community Radio, kafmradio.org. You can visit cravenlovelace.com for more of his musings on the world of popular culture.
