THE Philosopher
Let's contemplate a hypothetical scenario: My brother is an on again, off again drug addict. He maintains a modestly remunerative job that is sufficient to sustain himself and provide for his two children. However, his behavior is often erratic; he's impulsive…
"Ngl, I saw that and hoped to be wrong, so I said nothing."
"Me too."
"Me too."
Forwarded from placeholder
THE Philosopher
Let's contemplate a hypothetical scenario: My brother is an on again, off again drug addict. He maintains a modestly remunerative job that is sufficient to sustain himself and provide for his two children. However, his behavior is often erratic; he's impulsive…
@grok summarize in ten words
placeholder
@grok summarize in ten words
Don't give an unhinged single Mom $1M, you retarded niggers
The magical garden of the gnomes
Someone tag the daily poor
This isn't how it works. They were able to do that stuff because they already had power. Violent protests are a victory celebration, not a way to win. If you try them as the losing team, your guys get Jan 6thed.
Closing out commentary on that incident for now. Those of you who feel similarly, the least we can do is pray that she be helped in handling this as well as possible. That's my final word for now.
Dear reader,
You find yourself in a court of old, where the sovereign’s whim is law, and the machinery of power grinds with the cold precision of a medieval gibbet. You, a lowly subject—perhaps a thief, a heretic, or merely a man who unwisely gazed too long at the king’s prized falcon—have been cast into the dungeon and sentenced to a swift execution. But this ruler, with magnanimity that proves he has the divine right of kings, offers you a reprieve: a game, a riddle, a test of wits that might spare you from the executioner’s blade.
The sovereign presents you with 100 marbles—50 white, 50 black—and two urns. Your task is to distribute these marbles between the urns, adhering to the king’s edicts: First, every marble must find a home. Second, neither urn may stand empty. Third, The urns will be shaken, their contents scrambled like the thoughts of a Jacobin in the face of true order—ensuring a randomized marble selection.
Now, the king’s procedure is as follows, and mark it well, for it is the fulcrum of your survival. He will select an urn at random—each urn has an equal chance of being chosen. From that urn, he will draw a single marble, both urns having been shaken and randomized. If the marble is white, you shall live, perhaps to gaze at the King's beautiful falcon once more. If it is black, you will be torn asunder on the rack before meeting the blade.
A simpleton, or perhaps a man of populist sentiment and intellectual tendency, might propose the obvious: place all 50 white marbles in one urn, all 50 black in the other. The king picks an urn—fifty-fifty—and your survival hinges on his choice. A 50% chance to live, a 50% chance to die. A simple coin toss, a strategy as uninspired as the worst of the English Dissent. But you, dear reader, are no such fool. You are a man of reason, a student of history, a seeker of the truth. You know there is a better way—a way to tilt the odds in your favor.
What, then, is the best way to distribute the marbles? How might you arrange these 100 tokens to maximize your probability of survival? And what, precisely, is that probability? I leave this puzzle to you, my astute reader.
You find yourself in a court of old, where the sovereign’s whim is law, and the machinery of power grinds with the cold precision of a medieval gibbet. You, a lowly subject—perhaps a thief, a heretic, or merely a man who unwisely gazed too long at the king’s prized falcon—have been cast into the dungeon and sentenced to a swift execution. But this ruler, with magnanimity that proves he has the divine right of kings, offers you a reprieve: a game, a riddle, a test of wits that might spare you from the executioner’s blade.
The sovereign presents you with 100 marbles—50 white, 50 black—and two urns. Your task is to distribute these marbles between the urns, adhering to the king’s edicts: First, every marble must find a home. Second, neither urn may stand empty. Third, The urns will be shaken, their contents scrambled like the thoughts of a Jacobin in the face of true order—ensuring a randomized marble selection.
Now, the king’s procedure is as follows, and mark it well, for it is the fulcrum of your survival. He will select an urn at random—each urn has an equal chance of being chosen. From that urn, he will draw a single marble, both urns having been shaken and randomized. If the marble is white, you shall live, perhaps to gaze at the King's beautiful falcon once more. If it is black, you will be torn asunder on the rack before meeting the blade.
A simpleton, or perhaps a man of populist sentiment and intellectual tendency, might propose the obvious: place all 50 white marbles in one urn, all 50 black in the other. The king picks an urn—fifty-fifty—and your survival hinges on his choice. A 50% chance to live, a 50% chance to die. A simple coin toss, a strategy as uninspired as the worst of the English Dissent. But you, dear reader, are no such fool. You are a man of reason, a student of history, a seeker of the truth. You know there is a better way—a way to tilt the odds in your favor.
What, then, is the best way to distribute the marbles? How might you arrange these 100 tokens to maximize your probability of survival? And what, precisely, is that probability? I leave this puzzle to you, my astute reader.
Forwarded from Shorter Poor Posts
THE Philosopher
Dear reader, You find yourself in a court of old, where the sovereign’s whim is law, and the machinery of power grinds with the cold precision of a medieval gibbet. You, a lowly subject—perhaps a thief, a heretic, or merely a man who unwisely gazed too long…
Shorter Poor Posts
Photo
I like how it got the difficult part of the solution right but the basic math part, that you'd think a machine would be great at, wrong.
Forwarded from Longer Poor Posts
THE Philosopher
Dear reader, You find yourself in a court of old, where the sovereign’s whim is law, and the machinery of power grinds with the cold precision of a medieval gibbet. You, a lowly subject—perhaps a thief, a heretic, or merely a man who unwisely gazed too long…
Poor's Lost Marbles.pdf
57.4 KB
Longer Poor Posts
Poor's Lost Marbles.pdf
"Heidegger would likely disapprove of such idle bird watching when confronted with the fundamental question of Being."
I agree.
I agree.