I don’t know if this is a joke—I have a poor sense of humour—but you do know Omega predicts your actual behaviour, right? As in, all things taken into account, what you will actually do.
I am being somewhat … absurd, and on purpose, at that. But I have enough arrogance lying around in my brain to believe that I can trick the super-intelligence.
Sorry—I’m always inclined to take people on the internet literally. I used to mess with my friends using the same kind of ow-my-brain Prisoner’s-dilemma somersaults, and still I couldn’t recognise a joke.
That’s alright. My humor, in real life, is based entirely on the fact that only I know I’m joking at the time, and the other person won’t realize it until three days later, when they spontaneously start laughing for no reason they can safely explain. Is that asinine? Yes. Is it hilarious? Hell, yes. So I apologize. I’ll try not to do that.
Not especially, unfortunately. There is something to be said for appearing that you don’t give a @#%! whether other people get your humor in real time but it works best if you care a whole lot about making your humor funny to your audience at the time and then just act like you don’t care about the response you get. Even if people get your joke three days later you still typically end up slightly worse off for the failed transaction.
Ah. Wrong referent. It’s hilarious for me, and it may, at some point, be hilarious for them. But it’s mostly funny for me. That would be why I took time to mention that it was also, in fact, asinine.
Because the million is already there, along with the thousand. Why not get all of it?
The million isn’t there, because Omega’s simulation was of you confronting Omega, not of you sitting in a comfy chair.
You aren’t doublethinking hard enough, then.
I don’t know if this is a joke—I have a poor sense of humour—but you do know Omega predicts your actual behaviour, right? As in, all things taken into account, what you will actually do.
I am being somewhat … absurd, and on purpose, at that. But I have enough arrogance lying around in my brain to believe that I can trick the super-intelligence.
Sorry—I’m always inclined to take people on the internet literally. I used to mess with my friends using the same kind of ow-my-brain Prisoner’s-dilemma somersaults, and still I couldn’t recognise a joke.
That’s alright. My humor, in real life, is based entirely on the fact that only I know I’m joking at the time, and the other person won’t realize it until three days later, when they spontaneously start laughing for no reason they can safely explain. Is that asinine? Yes. Is it hilarious? Hell, yes. So I apologize. I’ll try not to do that.
Not especially, unfortunately. There is something to be said for appearing that you don’t give a @#%! whether other people get your humor in real time but it works best if you care a whole lot about making your humor funny to your audience at the time and then just act like you don’t care about the response you get. Even if people get your joke three days later you still typically end up slightly worse off for the failed transaction.
Ah. Wrong referent. It’s hilarious for me, and it may, at some point, be hilarious for them. But it’s mostly funny for me. That would be why I took time to mention that it was also, in fact, asinine.
Because I’d end up with only a thousand, as opposed to a million. And I want the million.