Poignant short story about truth-seeking that I just found. Quote:
"No," interjected an internal voice. "You need to prove that your dad will appear by a direct argument from the length of your nails, one that does not invoke your subsisting in a dream state as an intermediate step."
"Nonsense," retorted another voice. "That we find ourselves in a dream state was never assumed; rather, it follows so straightforwardly from the long-nail counterfactual that the derivation could be done, I think, even in an extremely weak system of inference."
The full thing reads like a flash tour of OB/LW, except it was written in 2001.
Uh, ... I've wondered since about four years before this post was published why women seem so universally offended by any signs that a man would like to have sex with them, with the possible exception of a man they're already very very very much into. Especially considering those signs seem to be redundant, since most of the time a man and a woman meet, he'll want to have sex with her, unless, of course, his sex drive is being satisfied to the point of exhaustion elsewhere.
I've never been able to discuss this rationally with anyone. Women usually imply it should be obvious to everyone why they're offended and there's nothing else to say about it. Besides, everyone knows I'm talking to the woman only because I'd like to have sex with her, which makes the topic, and me, doubly disgusting.
I find it therefore amazing, though still puzzling, to see a woman suggesting that question.
On the other hand, does anyone here actually frequent environments where you can get away with such a long reply, in an ordinary conversation, without the other person interrupting you, walking away, slapping you or anything like that? I find it hard enough to believe among mature adults, let alone a teenage boy talking to a haughty and exceptionally attractive and smart female peer. That's yet another reason for me to deeply envy all of you.
Poignant short story about truth-seeking that I just found. Quote:
The full thing reads like a flash tour of OB/LW, except it was written in 2001.