I will! If that fails, he can always count on his other 142 parents.
Heads up, I'm bringing him to practice on Saturday.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Treat Simba well. :D
Saturday, April 24, 2010
4697944
There's a number, at least one of them, that has been mentioned the same number of times in history as its value. For example, the number "2348968" has only been written or mentioned in that sequence 2348968 times. The nature of these rare numbers, unfortunately, prevents us from ever truly discovering them.
Let's put this into a scenario; Professor Jean-Paul is a famous mathematician. No lie. He invents a time machine for the sole purpose of discovering the kind of magical number. Obviously, simply discovering time travel won't get him that Nobel Prize. So he records every number in in history and discovers that the number of times that "2348968"has been used is equal to 2348968. But silly Jean-Paul, the dense mathematician that he happens to be, forgets to include all of the times that he recorded the number. So, instead of finding a magical number, 2348968 has been used 4697936 times, or 2(234896).
Even the explanation of my number theory is setting "2348968" further away from it's magical properties. Now the total number of times that "2348968" has been mentioned is at 4697944.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Illusion of Control
Hey kiddos.
I was considering a topic that was mentioned earlier in this blog. See, this is a big deal that deserves much more attention than a mere paragraph. This is a big deal that deserves two paragraphs.
My dad once told me that nobody does anything without a reason. I tried to prove otherwise by spastically flailing my arms and cavorting around. Then, and not a second too late, I realized that my reason for doing so was simply to prove my father's statement wrong. Still, throughout the rest of my childhood I would occasionally break out into tiny little fits of spontaneous movement to get a snap at that statement.
Why, exactly, is it impossible for people to do things without a reason? I know why.
People are able to make decisions, but the outcome of the decision-making process doesn't depend on will. According to a medical magazine article that I've read, it's been proven. Let me elaborate on that; You don't choose to eat a dead sandwich because you want to. You choose to eat the dead sandwich because you're hungry. You might want to eat the sandwich because it tastes good, but you never choose to eat the sandwich because you want to eat the sandwich.
Therefore, you really don't have much control over the choices that you make. It might seem like you do, but no matter what you want to choose (which would usually agree to your decision anyways, giving you to illusion of control), you'll still make the same choice. So if we don't have control over our decisions, why even try? Beats me.
Decisions are merely reactions, so why are reactions different from different people? Sure, heredity has something to do with it, but if decision-making is eliminated, what else is there that shapes us as individuals? Experience? This is best saved, however, for a different discussion at a different time.
I was considering a topic that was mentioned earlier in this blog. See, this is a big deal that deserves much more attention than a mere paragraph. This is a big deal that deserves two paragraphs.
My dad once told me that nobody does anything without a reason. I tried to prove otherwise by spastically flailing my arms and cavorting around. Then, and not a second too late, I realized that my reason for doing so was simply to prove my father's statement wrong. Still, throughout the rest of my childhood I would occasionally break out into tiny little fits of spontaneous movement to get a snap at that statement.
Why, exactly, is it impossible for people to do things without a reason? I know why.
People are able to make decisions, but the outcome of the decision-making process doesn't depend on will. According to a medical magazine article that I've read, it's been proven. Let me elaborate on that; You don't choose to eat a dead sandwich because you want to. You choose to eat the dead sandwich because you're hungry. You might want to eat the sandwich because it tastes good, but you never choose to eat the sandwich because you want to eat the sandwich.
Therefore, you really don't have much control over the choices that you make. It might seem like you do, but no matter what you want to choose (which would usually agree to your decision anyways, giving you to illusion of control), you'll still make the same choice. So if we don't have control over our decisions, why even try? Beats me.
Decisions are merely reactions, so why are reactions different from different people? Sure, heredity has something to do with it, but if decision-making is eliminated, what else is there that shapes us as individuals? Experience? This is best saved, however, for a different discussion at a different time.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Love Juice and Thinking Caps
"No, Justin Beiber, you're not in love with that girl. You're twelve."- God.
Okay, I understand that he's my age, though awkwardly prepubescent. And I have to give him credit for his success; I'm sure that it fuels an intensely burning envy in the pit of my generation. And he's a cootie infestation and whatnot. But of all things, God, who is to say that twelve-year-olds can't love?
Okay, someone needs to smite me for standing up for Beiber, but this isn't about him at all. This is about the fidgety topic of prepubescent love. And I'm not talking about the Loofah Girl, you wacky locals.
I once had a friendly debate over this very topic with Emma. She was, as most are, doubtful that tween love was the real deal. When put into scientific terms, love is just a chemical released by the brain that makes you feel, for the lack of a better term, happy. It's a proven fact. After some thought, it can be safely assumed that love solely exists as a means for a couple to stay together long enough to raise a kid. Of course, that's in the terms of cold and unbiased science.
So are all 12-year-olds incapable of releasing a little love juice from their thinking caps? It sounds so much easier to grasp when I say it like that.
Because, as we teens all understand, love is a pretty hurly-burly word to be throwing around.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
We Are All Fat Children
People are like flavors. Flavors of ice cream that are being consumed by fat children, who each are flavors of their own and are likewise being consumed by other fat children, creating an infinite loop of ice cream inhaling, obese-stricken kids. This is the universe as we know it today.
Today I've decided that everything decays over a period of time. This might seem obvious to you, my delicious reader, but I now understand that nothing lasts forever.
On a personal level, my goal in life was always to make a mark on the face of humanity, to be remembered for something that I had done. Alas, we're all subject to death.
Everyone, I mean, in regards to the upcoming 2012. Run straight home, lock your doors, and await the end of time itself. Haven't you watched the movie?
Humanity, regardless of your beliefs in the legitimacy of the aztec calendar-gods, can't outlive Father Time. Once there's nobody to appreciate my future success, then who is going to appreciate my future success? Nobody. And material data-storing would decompose, just like in Discovery Channel's "Life After People", and then we'll be at a loss. Whatever are we going to do?
We could always preserve data in the depths of space, but that's too boring. A flamboyant race of sentient beings as us would surely preserve our legacies through the beauty of emitted light. Light travels infinitely, and, assuming that the universe is infinite and that we don't hit anything, it will ensure the preservation of our essence.
But how do we create such a bright light? The only fuel that could supply such an intense light is the world itself. It's only logical, then, that we should set the world on fire. To preserve ourselves, of course.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
The Question Paradox
One day, where a large international conference of the world’s smartest philosophers was taking place, an angel appeared and said, “I’m here as a messenger from God. You may ask me one and only one question and I will reply truthfully. What would you like to know?”
The assortment of philosophers huddled together to discuss what question that they wanted to know the answer to.
Feeling clever and sure of himself, one philosopher proposed the first question: “What would be the best question for us to ask, and what is the answer to that question?” However this would count as two questions and couldn’t be asked.
The next question proposed was, “What would be the answer to the best question to ask?” That would at least give them an answer, but it was declined because the answer could have been something like, “yes” or “thirty”.
Finally, one question was approved by the group: “What is the ordered pair whose first member is the question that would be the best one for us to ask you, and whose second member is the answer to that question?” The philosophers reasoned that this was the safest and most clever question to ask the angel.
When asked this question, the angel replied, “It is the ordered pair whose first member is the question you just asked me, and whose second member is this answer I am giving you.”
The question that was asked was obviously the wrong thing to ask, but why? The philosophers had devised a nearly-foolproof question for the angel, but after reading this submission from http://www.mendhak.com/118-a-list-of-paradoxes.aspx, I came to realize that the philosophers had devised the most foolproof question. And that was the problem, it was too perfect. In fact, it was the best question they could ask, which is the question that they were asking for. How clever.
The assortment of philosophers huddled together to discuss what question that they wanted to know the answer to.
Feeling clever and sure of himself, one philosopher proposed the first question: “What would be the best question for us to ask, and what is the answer to that question?” However this would count as two questions and couldn’t be asked.
The next question proposed was, “What would be the answer to the best question to ask?” That would at least give them an answer, but it was declined because the answer could have been something like, “yes” or “thirty”.
Finally, one question was approved by the group: “What is the ordered pair whose first member is the question that would be the best one for us to ask you, and whose second member is the answer to that question?” The philosophers reasoned that this was the safest and most clever question to ask the angel.
When asked this question, the angel replied, “It is the ordered pair whose first member is the question you just asked me, and whose second member is this answer I am giving you.”
The question that was asked was obviously the wrong thing to ask, but why? The philosophers had devised a nearly-foolproof question for the angel, but after reading this submission from http://www.mendhak.com/118-a-list-of-paradoxes.aspx, I came to realize that the philosophers had devised the most foolproof question. And that was the problem, it was too perfect. In fact, it was the best question they could ask, which is the question that they were asking for. How clever.
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