Are you sure you want to quit before finishing my story?
After I formatted my PC, installed Windows 7 (best decision I’ve ever made) and reinstalled Prince of Persia: Sands of Time (losing all my progress), I’m back on track with the game.
Although I’ve only completed 25% of the game, it’s the best game I’ve ever played.
The quote I chose is probably the most stupid one I could choose. It’s what the Prince tells you when you want to quit the game, but silly as it sounds, it made me think of tens of ways to use it in real life.
Like I could’ve told my ex girlfriend just that… “Hey… Don’t leave me… Are you sure you want to quit before finishing my story?”, although I could’ve changed “my” for “our”: after all, relationships are something you share and not something that’s exclusive to one of the parts.
Lately I’ve been thinking that it’s while facing everyday decisions that we put who we want to be to test. You define and redefine who you are with your every move.
Just some random Facebook wisdom I put out every once in a while.
Speaking of which, you can add me on Facebook over here.
by Michael Shermer – Scientific American
I found this interesting read earlier this morning almost by chance on the RichardDawkins.net Twitter feed… I just finished reading it and although it doesn’t give the complete explanation about this so-called Agenticity it made me think different about certain ideas we have about some behaviors of beliefs.
Souls, spirits, ghosts, gods, demons, angels, aliens, intelligent designers, government conspirators, and all manner of invisible agents with power and intention are believed to haunt our world and control our lives. Why?
The answer has two parts, starting with the concept of “patternicity,” which I defined in my December 2008 column as the human tendency to find meaningful patterns in meaningless noise. Consider the face on Mars, the Virgin Mary on a grilled cheese sandwich, satanic messages in rock music. Of course, some patterns are real. Finding predictive patterns
in changing weather, fruiting trees, migrating prey animals and hungry predators was central to the survival of Paleolithic hominids.
The problem is that we did not evolve a baloney-detection device in our brains to discriminate between true and false patterns. So we make two types of errors: a type I error, or false positive, is believing a pattern is real when it is not; a type II error, or false negative, is not believing a pattern is real when it is. If you believe that the rustle in the grass is a dangerous predator when it is just the wind (a type I error), you are more likely to survive than if you believe that the rustle in the grass is just the wind when it is a dangerous predator (a type II error). Because the cost of making a type I error is less than the cost of making a type II error and because there is no time for careful deliberation between patternicities in the split-second world of predator-prey interactions, natural selection would have favored those animals most likely to assume that all patterns are real.
[ Seen on RichardDawkins.net ]
If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china teapot revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful telescopes. But if I were to go on to say that, since my assertion cannot be disproved, it is an intolerable presumption on the part of human reason to doubt it, I should rightly be thought to be talking nonsense. If, however, the existence of such a teapot were affirmed in ancient books, taught as the sacred truth every Sunday, and instilled into the minds of children at school, hesitation to believe in its existence would become a mark of eccentricity and entitle the doubter to the attentions of the psychiatrist in an enlightened age or of the Inquisitor in an earlier time.
Bertrand Russell (1997). “Is There a God?”. in John Slater & Peter Köllner. The collected papers of Bertrand Russell. 11. Routledge. pp. 542–548. ISBN 978-0-415-09409-2.