Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Economics Against Slavery
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
/r/problemoftheday
Alice randomly chooses x_1 from [0,1], x_2 from [0,2], x_3 from [0,3], ... and x_n from [0,n]. What is the probability that x_1
Here's the answer I've come up with:
The general case is P(n) = (n+1)/(2^n)
Explanation:
A quick simulation shows that P(2) = 3/4 and P(1) obviously equals 1. For each term, it's fairly easy to see that the probability that the next term is *smaller* is the average value of that term (which is just the range divided by 2) over the entire range of the next value.
So the probability that the next term is greater than the last term, after any n number of terms, is (n+1)/(2n)
To get the probability that every consecutive term is larger than the last, we multiply all of these probabilities together to get:
Which simplifies to:
Which gives us our final form:
Friday, February 8, 2013
241543903
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
College Essay
Sunday, September 25, 2011
My Little Pony Poetry
After that we were then told to write poetry over these two subjects. Fun.
This was the result:
With the garbage in the dump there lay,
A small pony with a rainbow mane,
Once a child's hopeful toy,
Now crushed, about to be destroyed,
What fate befell this My Little Pony?
What misfortune made it look so lonely?
Once playfully made to trot and trot,
Day in and day out it now will rot,
Perhaps we should take care someway,
To make tomorrow a more playful day.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
My Little Pony: Character Faces

Let's have a countdown now. Above was favorite face #3.
Favorite face number two: Twilight Sparkle's face after successfully fleeing from the Hydra.
And finally, favorite face number one: Fluttershy's "squee" face.
Fluttershy is best pony! Long live Fluttershy.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Relationship Advice
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Post Unnoticed
Friday, November 26, 2010
Skyline
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Mondays
(Written for my english class as the first chapter of an imaginary book)
Tyler had decided he didn’t like Mondays. Today was a Monday, and he knew he did not like today. It was absolutely frigid, he had not seen the sun all day, and it looked like it was about to rain.
Along with all the problems he was having with the weather, Tyler had to attend school today, and he was definitely not one of the strange people who woke up every weekday morning excited about going to school. He quite detested the idea of public education. The idea that someone bigger than him was forcing him to go to school with the threat of fines and even incarceration, horrible.
The school day had not treated him so badly, though. There had only been one quiz, and he was fairly sure he had done well on it, regardless of how challenging Geometry had seemed that September. His other classes were fairly uninteresting, the ninth grade, he had decided, would not be fun. At least the days would all be Monday he thought to himself, with a sense of irony.
He was on his way home, shivering a little because he had forgotten his jacket, debating whether or not taking the bus would have been a better choice. At least on the bus there would have been someone to talk with, here he was alone with his iPod. Of course, the iPod was okay he thought as he turned up the volume a bit for his favorite song. Some people were just aggravating. Sadly, many of those people rode his bus; many of those people also lived at his house. Perhaps it would have been better if he had taken the bus, it would take a little longer for him to get home that way. The question here was how much of his time was he willing to give up to satisfy someone else’s desire to talk to him. Walking home got him away from all the idiots he met everyday, got him the privacy that nowhere else could bring him.
Neil was a bit taken aback by how strange this job was. He enjoyed the challenge of it, but at the same time had to question Father’s sanity for wanting such a thing. He would carry it out either way, not that he had much control over the situation as it was; along with him was Keith and Jarred, his “muscle” in case anything didn’t go according to plan. Keith alone was large enough to take down the boy, bringing Jarred along was just overkill, they only needed me to drive the car. The plan itself was quite simple, in, bang, and out, nothing to it; the guy wouldn’t know what hit him. The question was, why would Father want him? Probably just another ransom, but the kid didn’t seem like he had that much money, not based on the file he had read.
Oh well, he would get paid either way. The mission could turn in to a complete disaster and he would still get 50% of what he was entitled to should the mission succeed. Father was very understanding in that respect. Failure did sometimes happen, especially in this line of work, and a small punishment would be enough to convince someone they had been in the wrong.
They had began at the target’s school, where they ultimately determined which plan they would go off of. Luckily the target had not taken the bus, which made it much easier on them. The streets running from the school to the target’s house were mostly residential, very empty at this time of day.
Their target was a small Hispanic child, about 15 years old, who would now be walking home, unsupervised, for the next 10 minutes. Neil’s job was to drive, Keith and Jarred’s job was simply to get the target into the trunk, by any means necessary. Easiest thing in the world.
The white car swerved around the corner near the limit the street conditions would allow, leaving a noticeable screeching noise, along with the distinct odor of burnt rubber, and quickly approached its victim. Had Tyler heard anything at all, he still would not have had enough time to react, as the car passed by Jarred harshly opened his door into the boy, knocking him out and leaving him on the ground. Dang, Neil thought, as he worried briefly about the implications this might have for his door.
Keith and Jarred exited the vehicle and quickly bound Tyler’s hands with duct tape, being sure to put a carefully placed strip around his mouth, and tossed him in the trunk. “Hold on,” Tyler said, “let’s not give him too much hope,” and then removed the glow in the dark handle which opened the trunk from the inside. They shut the trunk got back in the car and were gone as quickly as they had arrived. In, bang, and out, just the way Neil liked it.
Tyler awoke with a start was almost immediately aware of two different facts. The first was that he may not have done so well on his math quiz. The second was that his Monday had somehow managed to get a lot worse. He looked around, only to discover that that was pointless, wherever he was, it was pitch black. So, he instead listened around him. Behind him there was somebody playing Queen obnoxiously loudly, and underneath him was some strange, almost distant roaring noise.
Tyler’s head hurt quite a bit, and the tune of “Bohemian Rhapsody” only made things worse for him. He tried to think back to the last thing he remembered. Something about idiots on the bus. Was that what this was? Some cruel prank by those arrogant bastards on the bus who couldn’t leave him alone when he clearly didn’t want to talk to them. He felt that this wasn’t quite right, but at that particular moment didn’t care too much about reasoning, his whole body ached severely and he just wanted to take a nap. The fatigue in his muscles eating away at what little bit of his energy was left after a day of school was leaving him quite exhausted.
Something inside him, however, knew that something was horribly wrong, and it nagged away at him until he listened to it. It’s not that Tyler disagreed with it, he just didn’t care too much. At least, not yet he didn’t. He felt that it must be late and he reached for his pocket, where he kept his phone. He then discovered that his hands were somehow tethered together, and he could not move them. This greatly surprised him and he immediately tried to stand up, simultaneously striking his head on some hard piece of metal and discovering that his feet no longer worked, no doubt tied together as his hands were.
Now, to add to everything else, He had a headache from multiple bangs to the head, there was some idiot playing loud music, he could barely move, and he may have failed his math quiz. Why did this all have to be on a Monday?
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Randall Munroe

Sunday, November 7, 2010
Statistics and Religion
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Fear
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Sorry To Bother You
I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while now so I don’t want you to think that I just walked off and simply got the idea from something I saw or something I met in those few moments on my way to the water fountain that touched me deeply enough to make me do something like this. This act was the result of many hours of heavy contemplation, and I believe that, while it may not be the only path I can take, it is the best.
There are a few things I suppose I will regret. Sadly though, none of them are things I might be able to change. I am sorry that I wasn’t able to do anything to help Max. I wish the odor that had filled my head hadn’t been enough to make me lose Kiowa. I wish I would have told Sally how I felt about her before it was already too late. However, all of that is in the past now; there’s nothing I can do about it. Max and Kiowa are dead and Sally is married. I suppose I should be contented by the fact that she’s happy. Wishing that she’d be happier with me is selfish, but I still wish it were true. Many nights I consider what it would be like if she was right there along side me in my truck, cruising along, just the two of us, not a care in the world. She would be a much better conversationalist than the six cans of beer that occupy the passenger seat on most evenings.
I’m sorry for troubling you with this; I really don’t mean to. I just had to get a few of my thoughts out before it was too late. I don’t want you to think I’m just bellyaching about my life, it’s been a good one. I’ve gone out; I’ve seen the world, seen war, death, friendship. I’ve experienced a multitude of feelings, some of which other people will never get the chance to feel. I’ve felt the sting of loss, more than once in fact. Max, Kiowa, they’re gone, both drowned. Perhaps I should drown myself, have the lives of the three of us meet our own respective fates through the same medium. It would almost suggest some kind of universal causation, wouldn’t it? But, no, that style of irony is beyond me, I’ll keep my death simple, hopefully something that can be carried out, then quickly cleaned up and forgotten.
Now, I’d like for nobody to think that they caused me to do this; there has not been a single person who has led me to believe that this is the path for me to take. I’d like to thank my mother and father, you helped me a lot during these last few months since I got back from the war. Everyone here has been very supportive of me, I just don’t seem to be able to assimilate back in to modern society. War has just inhibited me from easing my fit back in to the mold that normal life presents to us.
I’ve tried to find a way around what I’m about to do, there just isn’t one. I’ve tried to support my parents, or at least get to a point where I can support myself, and worry about repaying my parents for all they’ve done, but I haven’t been able to hold down a job for more than ten weeks since I returned. School is just so pointless and irrelevant to anything that I’ve experienced in my life that I can’t bring myself to accept it as a legitimate means of improving the state of my life.
I don’t imagine my death will be too difficult, human life is so fragile. There are those of us who like to think we’re tough. We’re not though. Death is just such a simple thing, much simpler than life. I imagine I’ll be able to go without too much trouble, Kiowa didn’t seem to have much trouble with it. He just slowly drifted away, sank slowly into the field, drowning in the remnants of humanity. I could have saved him, I know I could’ve. It would have gotten me the Silver Star if I had, But then, where would I be now? The same place, probably. Lingering along my elliptical pathway, constantly moving but not really going anywhere.
I am worried about where I’ll end up when I die. That is, assuming I end up anywhere at all. I was raised to believe that up above me is a loving God that will take me in and shelter me in Heaven. Of course I may also be damned to Hell, in which, considering the nature of my sins, I’ll be placed, standing, in a large field of men and women who have committed similar sins and will, while paralyzed and unable to move, have my arms and other bones broken and mangled. Of course, who’s to say that there even is a God, or that there even is a Hell? Perhaps I’ll die and death will be the simple end of life, nothing further. My being will simply cease to exist and the world will carry on without me, unchanged, not caring about the fact that a single living entity has met its end.
I’ve thought about the issue a lot. Is there a God? Did some higher being place us here to carry out our duties to him like bees to their queen? Even though we know full well that our master will be living long after we’ve fallen. Perhaps the whole idea of religion was created to comfort us, leading us to believe that something does happen to us after we die. Perhaps the human brain isn’t able to handle the feeling of not existing, and so creates scenarios in which we all carry on our meager existences in some way shape or form, even after our bodies begin to decay. Catholicism, Judaism, and the Muslim faith all teach us that we will receive immortality in heaven. The Buddhist faith teaches us that we go through reincarnation until we achieve enlightenment. Hinduism simply teaches us that we are reborn over and over, the universe recycles our souls, transplanting them in to other beings at birth based on how ethically we have lived our previous life. How can we possibly say that one of these is better than the other? With all these arguments, how can we possibly conclude that any one of them is right? Maybe they’re all wrong. Perhaps, after we die, we do simply stop living, and our consciousness ceases to exist.
This meager life I’ve taken up since I returned just seems to me to be the same day lived over and over, with each day being only a slight variation on the last. There’s no one out there who seems to have any form of remote interest in my story, my failure. I sit in my Chevy, drifting along, letting my life drift away with the time. Why prolong the process? The conclusion will be the same, regardless of any feeble amount of effort I put in on my part to change the course of my life, which has become so based on routine that I’ve become trapped in my own loop with no way out. I may as well end it here.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
A Corner of the Cloak essay
Both “A Corner of the Cloak” by Brian Doyle and “The Word” by Pablo Neruda use generally grim imagery and similes, along with several abstract metaphors, to describe how amazing and unique human life can be, and that nobody can fully understand its majestic hypnotic nature.
In “The Word” the author discusses the creation of the spoken word and how the first language, which would have allowed a species to be far more organized than any other, would have sent ripples out into the environment. It uses metaphors such as “words give ... blood to the blood and give life to life” to explain that human life, complemented by language, is a strange yet beautiful occurrence. Because of the accompaniment of language the human race has been able to evolve at a much faster rate than any other species ever has before on this planet.
In “A Corner Of The Cloak” Brian Doyle uses a very unique writing style to describe many of the random events that he has experienced in his life. The author starts off very broad, with a tone that suggests that he is in awe of his subject. However, the subject of his work isn’t quite evident until he starts with “for example,” and begins to tell his story. While he does hint at an ultimate coherence relating to life in the beginning his true intentions are made evident towards the end, after he has told his, incredibly detailed and nearly scientifically analyzed, story. Through his euphemistic phrases, such as “completes the life cycle of,” and gruesome similes, like “peels the squirrel like a banana,” he conveys a very interesting series of events that show that life truly is a “magical machine,” and that, no matter how much time one spends examining it, they can never truly understand this “endless thicket” of life.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Wall
I can't believe the things I see
The path that I have chosen now
Has led me to a wall
And with each passing day I feel a little more like something dear was lost
It rises now before me,
A dark and silent barrier between,
All I am, and all that I would ever want be
It's just a travesty,
Towering, marking off the boundaries my spirit
Would erase
To pass beyond is what I seek
I fear that I may be too weak
And those are few who've seen it
Through to glimpse the other side,
The promised land is waiting like a maiden that is soon to be a bride
The moment is a masterpiece,
The weight of indecision's in the air
It's standing there, the symbol and the sum of all that's me
It's just a travesty,
Towering, blocking out the light and blinding me
I want to see
Gold and diamonds cast a spell,
It's not for me I know it well
The riches that I seek
Are waiting on the other side
There's more that I can measure in the treasure of the love that I can find
And though it's always been with me,
I must tear down the Wall and let it be
All I am, and all that I was ever meant to be, in harmony
Shining true and smiling back at all who wait to cross
There is no loss








