An interesting post on Many Worlds vs Multiverse:

http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/cosmicvariance/2011/05/26/are-many-worlds-and-...


-----------------

The last word.


My friend Elisa is a born story teller and they are always prefaced with either 'this is a true story' or 'this is a really true story'.

In the spirit of Elisa, this is a true story.

Late of a night in Geneva, should you happen to be walking the streets, you'll come upon huddled, sobbing shambles of human beings, bottle in hand, tragic tale to tell. They'll stop you and start asking if you have -

Now, if this happens to you, don't just pull back, thinking they are after your hard earned. They are physicists you see, and something has gone terribly, terribly wrong for them.

'What's wrong, mate? Can I help?'

'I just left them together for a few minutes. I - '

I sigh as I break in. If only I had a dollar for every time I've heard this story. 'You didn't, did you? Please don't tell me you left your dog alone with your pet meson.' He nods dumbly. 'What is it with you physicists? Conduct an experiment and even if it works you don't believe it. In a hard bitten cynical way you repeat it a dozen times. But you ask your dog if it's going to be a good dog, it woofs and you believe it. And every one of you says the conditions were different this time. But not so very different, are they? The data is pretty clear isn't it? You understand natural laws? Well this is one of them. DOGS EAT MESONS.'

You walk on, shaking your head. They just never learn. How can they be so trusting?

You turn a corner and there's another one. He's on the bridge, and you think you'd better coax him off that.

'Mate, mate. It can't be that bad, what's wrong?'

'See that number there?'

You squint at it - 'that tiny one up to the right of the other number?'

'Yes, that's the one. It should be 2, not 3. Everything is ruined now.'

'Now be sensible,' I say. 'If that number was important, it wouldn't be in one point font, would it? Look at it. It's tiny. It's squashed in up the top there next to the number in a proper sized font because it doesn't really matter, isn't it?'

He starts crying more and says something about the end of the world. I start saying everything will be okay in the morning, nobody will mind and he says 'No, you don't understand. It really IS the end of the world. The universe. Everything. Because it's a two, it means that we know the exact time everything is going to end and....'

I can't say I followed it all, but after a while I asked if I could take a swig from his bottle and, well. I'm sworn to secrecy, so I can't say exactly when it's all ending, but Paul and Manny, I just wouldn't be putting all that much effort into who's going to be top this week. If I were you I'd come and join us on the bridge. You can have a drink and we think we're going to get a pretty good view from here. -






Earlier.

You can't read, not string two words together. Music makes you weep. You can't write to save yourself, indeed, very literally you can't do that.

So you are in this universe, this one where the things that should give you respite don't. You cannot bear to be in your skin.

You cannot write.

In this particular universe there is a physicist, Mr Rees, who explains to us why there are other universes.

Now, Mr Rees I hope will forgive my addressing his humility when I say so fucking what. And I am saying that, not asking.

Somewhere else there is another universe. It has a booksite called goodreads on it and a girl whose name is gettingenough and she writes a hilarious review of this book. I know because she took it from me. She writes a hilarious review, even the pursed-lips scientists on goodreads can't help voting for it.

Somewhere else there is another universe.

And after initially thinking wow, that's kind of amazing, I've come around to 'so fucking what.' So there is a universe where I died when I was five, as I almost did. Or died when I was fifty as I also almost did. So there is a universe where little miss getting enough is very smugly thinking she's glad she's in that one as well she might. So fucking what?

Even if it is true, what is the point of saying it?

And please don't bother answering this question, because if you think you can answer it, you don't begin to understand what the question is.

Somewhere out there is a universe where no-one ever begged:


Let me become
the shadow
of your shadow,
the shadow of your hand,
the shadow of your dog,

Somewhere out there somebody begs this and is heard.

So what?




-------------------------------

'You haven't reviewed much on goodreads lately, have you?'.

Enquired my number one fan. (Please permit me this poetic license).

Well, no, I wouldn't have, would I? Because I'm reading another %#@~&* physics book.

I have this sinking feeling that I'm not going to be finished it until After The End. I'm going to post my review in the middle of the small crunch or whatever the end is going to be, completely pointless because all my goodreads friends will be star dust most literally.

Shit. ( )

An interesting post on Many Worlds vs Multiverse:

http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/cosmicvariance/2011/05/26/are-many-worlds-and-...


-----------------

The last word.


My friend Elisa is a born story teller and they are always prefaced with either 'this is a true story' or 'this is a really true story'.

In the spirit of Elisa, this is a true story.

Late of a night in Geneva, should you happen to be walking the streets, you'll come upon huddled, sobbing shambles of human beings, bottle in hand, tragic tale to tell. They'll stop you and start asking if you have -

Now, if this happens to you, don't just pull back, thinking they are after your hard earned. They are physicists you see, and something has gone terribly, terribly wrong for them.

'What's wrong, mate? Can I help?'

'I just left them together for a few minutes. I - '

I sigh as I break in. If only I had a dollar for every time I've heard this story. 'You didn't, did you? Please don't tell me you left your dog alone with your pet meson.' He nods dumbly. 'What is it with you physicists? Conduct an experiment and even if it works you don't believe it. In a hard bitten cynical way you repeat it a dozen times. But you ask your dog if it's going to be a good dog, it woofs and you believe it. And every one of you says the conditions were different this time. But not so very different, are they? The data is pretty clear isn't it? You understand natural laws? Well this is one of them. DOGS EAT MESONS.'

You walk on, shaking your head. They just never learn. How can they be so trusting?

You turn a corner and there's another one. He's on the bridge, and you think you'd better coax him off that.

'Mate, mate. It can't be that bad, what's wrong?'

'See that number there?'

You squint at it - 'that tiny one up to the right of the other number?'

'Yes, that's the one. It should be 2, not 3. Everything is ruined now.'

'Now be sensible,' I say. 'If that number was important, it wouldn't be in one point font, would it? Look at it. It's tiny. It's squashed in up the top there next to the number in a proper sized font because it doesn't really matter, isn't it?'

He starts crying more and says something about the end of the world. I start saying everything will be okay in the morning, nobody will mind and he says 'No, you don't understand. It really IS the end of the world. The universe. Everything. Because it's a two, it means that we know the exact time everything is going to end and....'

I can't say I followed it all, but after a while I asked if I could take a swig from his bottle and, well. I'm sworn to secrecy, so I can't say exactly when it's all ending, but Paul and Manny, I just wouldn't be putting all that much effort into who's going to be top this week. If I were you I'd come and join us on the bridge. You can have a drink and we think we're going to get a pretty good view from here. -






Earlier.

You can't read, not string two words together. Music makes you weep. You can't write to save yourself, indeed, very literally you can't do that.

So you are in this universe, this one where the things that should give you respite don't. You cannot bear to be in your skin.

You cannot write.

In this particular universe there is a physicist, Mr Rees, who explains to us why there are other universes.

Now, Mr Rees I hope will forgive my addressing his humility when I say so fucking what. And I am saying that, not asking.

Somewhere else there is another universe. It has a booksite called goodreads on it and a girl whose name is gettingenough and she writes a hilarious review of this book. I know because she took it from me. She writes a hilarious review, even the pursed-lips scientists on goodreads can't help voting for it.

Somewhere else there is another universe.

And after initially thinking wow, that's kind of amazing, I've come around to 'so fucking what.' So there is a universe where I died when I was five, as I almost did. Or died when I was fifty as I also almost did. So there is a universe where little miss getting enough is very smugly thinking she's glad she's in that one as well she might. So fucking what?

Even if it is true, what is the point of saying it?

And please don't bother answering this question, because if you think you can answer it, you don't begin to understand what the question is.

Somewhere out there is a universe where no-one ever begged:


Let me become
the shadow
of your shadow,
the shadow of your hand,
the shadow of your dog,

Somewhere out there somebody begs this and is heard.

So what?




-------------------------------

'You haven't reviewed much on goodreads lately, have you?'.

Enquired my number one fan. (Please permit me this poetic license).

Well, no, I wouldn't have, would I? Because I'm reading another %#@~&* physics book.

I have this sinking feeling that I'm not going to be finished it until After The End. I'm going to post my review in the middle of the small crunch or whatever the end is going to be, completely pointless because all my goodreads friends will be star dust most literally.

Shit. ( )

Really enjoyed this book, though it took me three times to get through it (due to difficulty). ( )