Rorschach, again

I think that I have written this before.
A single point of data, given weight
That’s well beyond its usage, to abate
The critics who would even out the score
In saying that the data point is wrong,
Misunderstood, -construed, or what you will,
Is so abused it makes me very ill.
Conclusions need a very heavy throng
Of numbers, and comparisons, the lot
Of which requires days of heavy thought.
It’s easy, though, to help the fight along
By claiming you’ve a gust, when but a frail
And tattered sheet is all you have to sail.