When presented with multiple options, the "right" choice is the one in which you gain the most reward on average, regardless of outcome. Picking a choice that gives a lower reward on average is incorrect, even if in this specific instance it yielded a higher than average reward.

"Being good at a card game is losing after picking the 51% choice 9 times. And then picking the same the 10th time."

It is understanding the difference between good decisions and good outcomes. The right decision doesn't guarantee a good outcome. And a good outcomes doesn't necessarily come from the right decision.

The goal is to maximize the average outcome, to be the best possible.

Terry Davis' provocative statement, "An idiot admires complexity. A genius admires simplicity," strikes a chord. He argued that unnecessary complexity, especially in academic circles, is often used to impress rather than enlighten. But is that the whole truth?

The discussion is nuanced by the fact that specialized fields inevitably have a certain entry barrier. A layman cannot be expected to understand a scientific paper without background knowledge, just as a non-programmer would get lost in simple documentation. There's a baseline level of complexity that comes with deep expertise.

Still, Davis has a point. There are examples of work deliberately being made more convoluted than necessary. Incentives in the academic world, such as status, funding and prestige, can favor the complex over the clear.
Complexity becomes a superficial way to fake depth.

Consider "The Simpsons": as a child, it's a fun cartoon; as an adult, you notice the many layers of satire and mature jokes. Good communication *can* be multi-dimensional and offer value at different levels, if effort is made.

Academic papers, technical documentation and other similar high-entry topics *could* and *should* be designed to be more accessible and multi-dimensional, even if there is a lack of direct incentive.

The conclusion to me is clear:

Simplicity generally serves us better. While some topics are naturally intricate, the goal should be to strike a balance between communicating the subject in a manner that provides value to the widest possible audience, without compromising quality.

The ability to distill a complex idea into something understandable shouldn't be simplification in a negative sense; rather, it should command respect, as it demonstrates a profound undertanding of the subject at hand.

We're often told stories about how anyone can make it if they just try hard enough. It's a comforting thought, isn't it? But it glosses over the head start some get, the doors opened by knowing the right people, even just being in the right place at the right time. And then there's the hidden catch: strictly playing by the *official* rules often puts you at a distinct disadvantage.

You see it everywhere - the small business owner drowning in paperwork while large corporations exploit complex tax loopholes written just for them. Or the job seeker meticulously following online application steps, competing against someone who bypasses the whole system with a single well-placed phone call. The rules feel less like fair guidelines and more like a complex system intentionally designed with backdoors and fast lanes accessible only to those with the right keys - keys often passed down through wealth, status, or connections. It makes you wonder if agreeing to 'play along' is really a choice, or just accepting your place on a tilted playing field.

I think there exists a gap between ideals and reality. The things we would wish for of a perfect world, compared to the rules and reality that actually govern our lives and constrains us, are very different. In reality the rules aren't always fair or equitable by design - they are set in place to maintain stability for some, at the expense of others.

"The law, in its majestic equality, forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal loaves of bread." - Anatole France

Society's delusion lies in its promise of fairness and justice - words repeated by those who benefit most from maintaining the illusion. We're taught to trust in rules created by those with power, yet what moral authority do these systems truly hold when they consistently serve the interests of their architects?

Perhaps true morality lies not in blindly adhering to artificial constructs of law and order, but in recognizing and prioritizing the shared humanity between us.

Life is but a collection of moments and pieces of knowledge, most of which will disappear with us. Some may get recorded, some may get rediscovered by others, but most will be lost forever.

The original script was a completely different monologue. Rutger Hauer felt the way it was originally written was too long. He said, given that Roy knew his built-in death was a very short time away, it didn't make sense to him that he would be able to sit and talk for very long about life and death, and the things he's seen.

So he decided to came up with something much more concise by re-writing it himself the night before shooting the scene, without Ridley Scott's knowledge. He not only re-wrote the existing lines, but also added the immortal last words

"... like tears in rain. Time to die."

He did his version of the monologue on set, and the tale goes, that people were crying on set at the point of filming. Maybe as a result of the film's hellish shoot being nearly over, maybe because of Hauer's words, maybe a combination of both.

Roy wanted Deckard to remember him. That is the basis of human existence.

By virtually I mean phenomenally. Obviously the brain and body are real, but the self as we understand it is an illusion, it only exists virtually. It only exists as an experience and as a cognitive construct of brains in order for an organism or biological system to model itself in relation to the world surrounding it.

If you get your brain hooked up to certain equipment in a lab, a neuroscientist can tell you you will be making a certain decision before you even know. The brain activity happens before the knowledge of the decision is integrated into the self-model. Dreams, hallucinations, mental imagery & thoughts all exist in an exclusive virtual space, not physically.

They are all a product of certain types of brain activity, and the self as we use and understand it and the "I" as I am using it here is no different. The self is an illusion in the sense that we feel we are an experiencer in addition to the experience, that we are some type of entity riding around in a head and body.

We are characters generated by our brains. Our brains are hardwired to have these egos. No amount of knowledge or awareness of out own virtual nature is going to make it go away. In fact, this knowledge can be a convenient mean for an egotistical person to be an asshole or dismiss other people's pain and hardship, such as Carey is doing here.

Psychedelics can dissolve the ego, but only temporarily. Meditation has been shown to be an effective long term method, but perhabs the solution comes in the form of realizing that nothing is inherently wrong with living as an ego. Afterall, if you didn't have one, you wouldn't be sure whose mouth to put food into.

An imaginary friend is a direct product of the brain. Is an imaginary friend an illusion? Electricity is physical, energy is physical, yet my imaginary friend remains virtual. He, will never be equal to my father, the same way that hallucinated water never will be able to quench my thirst quite like physical water.

On "Discovery" Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel sought to create music that captures childlike wonder and the musical joy of childhood, before ego influences taste.

Built on just two measures from George Duke's "I Love You More" [1979], the track "Digital Love" showcases Daft Punk's masterful sampling technique. Here the brief moment from 0:04 - 0:08 is turned into the foundation of the entire track.

The sample itself begins mid-phrase, creating an endless sense of motion through the unresolved soundwaves from the notes decaying from the measure before. Through EQ manipulation, Daft Punk sculpt the sample through an entire frequency spectrum - stripping away bass frequencies only to dramatically reintroduce them, painting with sound in new, unheard and creative ways.

The track's legendary synth solo, often mistaken for a guitar, reveals the band's innovative spirit. Created through a mix of electronic sequencer and vocoded synthesizer - the band fire a rapid sequence of precisely arranged chord progressions at the listener's ears, elevating the contemporary boundaries of traditional instrumental.

Bangalter explained:

"... It was done with the help of technology, with the help of sequencers. We're interested in making things sound like something other than what they are. There are guitars that sound like synthesizers, and there are synthesizers that sound like guitars. The other goal is to create spontaneity. Even though we're not that good, we played a lot of things ourselves. With the help of technology, you can manufacture skills you don't have ..."

This approach to sound design, to view whatever technology you have at hand as a tool for pushing the creative boundaries, regardless of arbitrary intended purposes, is a universal principle to be inspired by.

Technology should never limit creativity, but rather serve as a springboard for innovation. This philosophy transcends music - it is to be applied to all mediums.