They take a theory that is supposed to be about updating one's beliefs in the face of new evidence, and they use it as an excuse to never change what they think.
banned for obnoxious not-pology
I'm trying to think of a polite way to say "in short, no" and "the linked tweet having "effectivealtruism" in it twice should have been a clue", because I'm not that mean, but I probably need more coffee too.
Tuesday. Found a cigarette butt in my Solo cup. Couldn't have been more overwhelmed with the existentialness of it all. Perfect generation moment, absolutely hilarisad. Uwu! Got two tickets to Cancel Me Harder, You Motherfucking Bitch. Playing at the best basement in the whole D-Square, can you believe it? Called up some completely wonderful numbers, but couldn't find anybody to go with except Roger. Wouldn't be seen dead with him after that business with Mike, but what can you do?
Wednesday. Cancel Me Harder, You Motherfucking Bitch was the definitive worst. Laugh riot from end to end! Couldn't have had a better time, even if Roger does still post to X when he should know that Nostr is the future.
Thursday. Found another cigarette butt in last night's Solo cup. Truth bomb time: what gives, yo? Rode the subway, thought hard about how everyone's face is just a mask for their true self. Thinking I need to upgrade my avi. It's completely the season for pixel art! Gotta ask Kevin about the best prompts, so I don't get something absolutely dreadful.
Friday. Oopsies! Turns out I've been leaving the cig butts in my own Solo cups! I couldn't be more embarrassed, but ChatGPT says that the benzos can't cause memory loss.
Saturday. Rode the subway to CVS. Bought myself an absolutely dismal new eyeliner, took a selfie with The Bell Curve. Hashtag totes not sponsored, hashtag unfiltered!
Sunday. Oopsies! Those cig butts? Turns out I've been leaving them in my own Solo cups! I couldn't be more completely mortified. I really came in a fluffer that time, but what can you do?
The ceilings are so high, pre-war or something like that, and in the lobby there’s a mirror that makes me feel like we’re at Versailles.
"His voice is warm and husky, like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel ... or something."
I kind of wish that she and I could meet. I'd stare deep into her eyes, take her hand in mine, drop my voice into the register that Grandpa Stacey used in his decades of hosting radio, and intone, "Your brain is where insight goes to die."
Levy is rarely boring.
[citation needed]
It's like he heard the phrase "flesh-eating bacteria" and decided they would be more scarier if they had tiny knives and forks.
Quoth Yud:
I'm sort of skeptical that you could write something that works as science communication for a general audience, though lord knows I'm not necessarily succeeding either.
All the faux modesty of Tommy Tallarico saying "my mother is very proud".
The key valid ideas to be communicated are [made-up sci-fi bullshit about nanobots]
Likewise, Arthur Chu recently tweeted that he’s “unhappy about [my] continued existence”–i.e., on a straightforward reading, that he wants me to die.
The tweet was a reply to Aaronson saying (in part),
Far be it from me to psychoanalyze him, as he constantly does to me, but Chu's unremitting viciousness doesn't strike me as coming from a place of any great happiness with his life. So I say: may even Mr. Chu find whatever he's looking for.
To which Chu replied,
I am unhappy about many things, including the continued existence, wealth and social status afforded to men like you, and the cheesy sentimentality is not reciprocated
I.e., on a straightforward reading, he was talking about "existence" in the sense of lifestyle, not life. (The OED gives "sheltered existence" as an example of this meaning, which I find apt.)
I've more than once been tempted to write Everything the Sequences Get Wrong about Quantum Mechanics, but the challenge is doing so in a way that doesn't just amount to teaching a whole course in quantum mechanics. The short-short version is that it's lazy, superficial takes on top of cult shit — Yud trying to convince the reader that the physics profession is broken and his way is superior.
You might think that this review of Yud's glowfic is an occasion for a "read a second book" response:
But actually, the word intelligent is being used here in a specialized sense to mean "insufferable".
Ah, the book that isn't actually about kink, but rather an abusive relationship disguised as kink — which would be a great premise for an erotic thriller, except that the author wasn't sufficiently self-aware to know that's what she was writing.