No, it's not. You are saying the odds prove impossibility, and your entire argument in support of that claim is that you perceive yourself.
No. I don't require the story to be "impossible" before I reject it. Ridiculously unlikely from where I'm standing is sufficient for rejection. Why would we even be talking about probability if it could get any more certain than that?
Yes. I perceive specific information that rules heavily against the story. For some crazy reason, you think that specific information is invalidated because of where I'm seeing it from. But that's your problem, not mine.
Yes, it does, because you are still relying on your self-perception as if it is something that changes the odds.
No. My perception has made it possible for me to be aware of the existence of something the "Lone Brainger" story all but rules out - the sentient experience I'm currently enjoying. And that is no different from any other information our perception makes it possible to be aware of.
Said awareness does not change the odds. They're stacked plenty high without imaginative alteration. I simply recognize the odds as they apply to the suspicious observation. To know the odds a story has stacked against me is to doubt the story that stacked the odds against me. To doubt a story is not to be a "special snowflake".
Do you think Mt. Ranier's existence possesses the same significance that your brain's existence does?
No. I don't see anything else in the universe that is inconsistent with the story, for much the same reason that I'm not surprised that there are thousands of lottery winners. And even less surprised that I am not among them.
It's just that the one thing that is highly suspicious practically rules the story out.
Analogy: a preacher-man predicts the near-certain end of the world yesterday. Oops. Prediction effectively ruled out, notwithstanding the very dim possibility that he could have been off by a couple of days. Nothing else in the universe rules it out. Just that one glaring inconsistency. I rule it out without bothering to wait a couple of days, even though I know entire planets are being destroyed every day in the universe, and waiting could conceivably yield the predicted result. But I don't give a rat's ass. The thing is, this one is still here. And the preacher-man's story said it almost certainly wouldn't be here today. So, am I making Earth out to be a special snowflake by focusing on it to the exclusion of all other planets? Nah, I don't think so. I think the preacher-man's odds were bogus.
Yes, hypotheses do make predictions whether they intend to or not. It is often the unintended predictions that kill them.
My story concludes by saying that even if we decide the odds are equivalent to the possible combination of atoms in the universe, that it does not preclude your existence, even if we do not grant special status to it.
Here we definitely disagree, and the sole argument you provide is still simply that you perceive yourself.
Yeah, well. That's the only argument I need. I don't need this brain's existence totally precluded to rule out the "Lone Brainger" story. Odds stacked to the power of factorial 80 are more than sufficent.
Nor do I need a "special snowflake" license to use information that has fallen into my lap.
Like that time I saw the dealer's hole card in a blackjack game. I just happened to be in a position to garner that information. It never occurred to me that I'd be a "special snowflake" if I used the information. I just used it. It was kind of too late not to use it. I already knew it. I couldn't force myself to forget I knew it. Anyhow, it wasn't my fault the dealer was a front-loader.
But then the pit boss gave me that "special snowflake" look when I hit the hard 18. He must have thought that was suspicious. The dealer even yelled out "Hard 18 hit!". I guess people don't like it when I use information they've deemed verboten to protect their agendas.
Well, back to the salt mine: I'm not arguing with the fact that improbable brains exist. I'm ruling out the One-Brain-Or-Bust story. There are other possibilities which are undiscussable here. No, you haven't thought of them.
It doesn't get more special snowflake than that.
Yes it does. the "lone Brainger" story gets way more special snowflaky as soon as someone claims that odds stacked to the power of factorial 80 against it don't put a dent in it. Because that story is deemed to be even more special than that, I suppose.
Yes, nonsense, and no, it does not become more factual. You are acting as if you applying it to yourself imbues it with signficance; you have in fact stated so. That is the very embodiment of special snowflake.
Well, I'm not going to sit here all day and argue over whether a plain fact is more or less factual or significant if it applies universally.
I'm just looking at the plain fact and recognizing that, from where I'm standing, I shouldn't be standing anywhere, ever, if the "Lone Brainger" story is true.
And that's another plain fact.
No special snowflakiness is required to recognize a plain fact.
No, as evidence by the sentence he wrote which you left out of your quotation:
"Toontown is talking about particular brain, and the probability of that particular brain is 1 in a gajillion."
He not only saw the distinction, he pointed it out. You keep pretending we are conflating them, but it is a blatant straw man.
Right. See the difference, then proceed to ignore the difference and continue to grant the "Lone Brainger" story special snowflake status.
They didn't; nor did I claim they did. Your brain, under the odds as expressed by Jabba, and accepted for sake of argument here, had horrible chances of existing. What you have proven is precisely that you had horrible odds of existing; you have neither proven nor disproven anything else.
I'm surprised you admit that I've proven this brain had horrible prior odds of existing. But that seems to be the only progress we've made since all this started long ago.
I'm not trying to prove or disprove anything absolutely. That can't be done probabilistically. The fact that you and others keep trying to require that of me frankly looks pretty insecure of you from where I'm standing. It's as if you want to run a race, but you want me to spot you 50 yards.