Proof of Immortality, VI

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- Try a new word. The same "PERCEIVER" would be in both brains.

This is really simple. Let's say I have my buddy Jim sitting next to me. I use my cloning machine to produce a perfect copy of him, molecule for molecule. We'll call the two individuals Jim1 and Jim2.

I whisper a secret in Jim1's ear. Does Jim2 know the secret?
I put a blindfold on Jim1. Can he see, since Jim2's eyes are open?
 
This is really simple. Let's say I have my buddy Jim sitting next to me. I use my cloning machine to produce a perfect copy of him, molecule for molecule. We'll call the two individuals Jim1 and Jim2.

I whisper a secret in Jim1's ear. Does Jim2 know the secret?
I put a blindfold on Jim1. Can he see, since Jim2's eyes are open?

I'm thinking that if Jim2 gets on a spaceship, we've got the makings of an instantaneous interstellar communicator here.

Dave
 
- Anyway, for now, for me, "perceiver" seems like the best word for describing, for pointing out, the "self."
- My claim is that H and ~H are referring to the same experience of "self" -- they just claim different models -- which is what the debate is about, and what the formula addresses.
 
- Anyway, for now, for me, "perceiver" seems like the best word for describing, for pointing out, the "self."

You can call it the "banana" if you want. It's still the same damned concept.

- My claim is that H and ~H are referring to the same experience of "self" -- they just claim different models -- which is what the debate is about, and what the formula addresses.

We've known that since the very beginning of this thread. You're telling us nothing new. Stop going back to square one and move along! Stop defining terms, picking words and axioms, and seeking to agree on the starting conditions of the debate after five years. Get on with your demonstration.
 
- Anyway, for now, for me, "perceiver" seems like the best word for describing, for pointing out, the "self."

- My claim is that H and ~H are referring to the same experience of "self" -- they just claim different models -- which is what the debate is about, and what the formula addresses.


Except that your version of the formula doesn't do that.

You assume the soul/thing/perceiver in both H and ~H.

You cannot figure P(E/H) with any assumptions that aren't in H to start with.

That's what you are doing, and it makes the output of your formula utterly nonsensical.
 
- Anyway, for now, for me, "perceiver" seems like the best word for describing, for pointing out, the "self."
- My claim is that H and ~H are referring to the same experience of "self" -- they just claim different models -- which is what the debate is about, and what the formula addresses.

So they're both referring to a process? Ok, proceed from there.
 
- Anyway, for now, for me, "perceiver" seems like the best word for describing, for pointing out, the "self."

See if you can pile some more ambiguity in that statement. There's a still a glimmer of meaning in it.

You can make up whatever you want for your theory. However, in materialism -- the model you say you're trying to refute -- self-awareness is a property of a functioning brain. There is no need to make up new words to describe that. The words your critics are using work just fine. Kindly adhere to their terminology when talking about their model.

My claim is that H and ~H are referring to the same experience of "self" -- they just claim different models -- which is what the debate is about, and what the formula addresses.

Good. Now here's a list of what's wrong with your argument and how you're misusing the formula. Please, for each of these fatal flaws in your proof, write a few sentences describing how you plan to fix your proof so that it doesn't commit these errors.
 
- Anyway, for now, for me, "perceiver" seems like the best word for describing, for pointing out, the "self."
- My claim is that H and ~H are referring to the same experience of "self" -- they just claim different models -- which is what the debate is about, and what the formula addresses.

So in the formula, H is a model where the "perceiver" cannot be in two places at once, right?
 
So in the formula, H is a model where the "perceiver" cannot be in two places at once, right?

Which, let's not forget, does not include alternative non-materialist hypotheses in which the "perceiver" cannot be in two places at once - or, of course, non-materialist hypotheses in which each "perceiver" has only one finite term of existence at most. The latter would all have to be included in ~H, which is yet another fatal flaw of this approach.

Dave
 
- Anyway, for now, for me, "perceiver" seems like the best word for describing, for pointing out, the "self."
- My claim is that H and ~H are referring to the same experience of "self" -- they just claim different models -- which is what the debate is about, and what the formula addresses.


Just use the word soul. Everyone knows what you mean, and that you are simply begging the question. Desperately casting about for a sciencey sounding word doesn't help your argument.
 
Was that particular brain biology targetted already to that frequency of soul? How does this all work? Is it random? So some souls never have the luck of being tuned into by a brain? Do other souls get picked up multiple times. When someone is reincarnated, is that because the new body's brain is identical to the old body's brain and therefore can tune into the same soul? How is it that the brain is identical but the rest of the body is not?

No, it's worse than that:

- What I really think/suspect is that consciousness exists and is infinitely divisible.
- I think that for all the reasons I've already given. One of those reasons is that there are many more selves now than there used to be. In other words, Napoleon might currently exist in more than one person.

Which explains why I'm seeing my computer out of one eye and a cafe in Paris out of the other. I'm tuned into part of someone else's soul.
 
- Anyway, for now, for me, "perceiver" seems like the best word for describing, for pointing out, the "self."
- My claim is that H and ~H are referring to the same experience of "self" -- they just claim different models -- which is what the debate is about, and what the formula addresses.

No, the debate is about you claiming to be able to prove immortality via Bayesian statistics. Since you have shown that the materialistic model is far more likely than your made up model, you have lost. Badly.
 
No, the debate is about you claiming to be able to prove immortality via Bayesian statistics. Since you have shown that the materialistic model is far more likely than your made up model, you have lost. Badly.

Thing is, it doesn't matter how unlikely H is. ~H is not a single hypothesis, and without the ability to distinguish its constituents jabba is unable to determine their likelihood relative to H, and cannot draw any conclusion.

No matter how jabba handles this his methods and definitions defeat his claims without us having to lift a finger.
 
Thing is, it doesn't matter how unlikely H is. ~H is not a single hypothesis, and without the ability to distinguish its constituents jabba is unable to determine their likelihood relative to H, and cannot draw any conclusion.

No matter how jabba handles this his methods and definitions defeat his claims without us having to lift a finger.

Sure, but now that he's admitted that his H has nothing to do with the scientific model, he's just arguing against his own straw man. At this point (yes, yes, at any point!) any other discussion with him is pointless.
 
Try a new word. The same "PERCEIVER" would be in both brains.

No. You don't get to rename your nonsense again in the same sad, transparent attempt to get us to agree with it.

Stop renaming your nonsense Jabba.

Feels like I've spent my whole life on this discussion.

The far future. A family is sitting in their living room around a roaring fire. The father is in his chair, smoking a pipe and sipping brandy. The mother rocks in her chair, doing needlepoint. Their young son sits on the floor, carefully writing line after line in a notebook, a look of dedicated concentration on his face. The grandfather clock ticks off the seconds in time with the soft squeak of mother's rocking chair and the constant scratch-scratch of the boy's pencil on his notebook.

"Father" the boy says finally "I have finished my homework. I've given 3 examples that counter Jabba's subnetted argument #2,456, and shown my work."

He shows his notebook to his father who smiles. "Very well done son. This is excellent work. Now go wash up before bed." The father stands up, stretching his legs, tousles the boy's hair and walks over to fireplace, brandy in hand.

"Yes father" the boy says and he turns to go to bed.... but stops.

"Father..." he says slowly. "One of my classmates at recess today told me something and... I don't believe him. He said that school used to have topics other than Jabba's Immortality Theorem...."

Instantly the room stops as if even the atom are scared to move. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Mother's rocking chair stops with one last squeak. The needlepoint drops to mother's lap, immediately forgotten as a soft gasp, half fear and half shock escapes her lips. At the fireplace father's face has gone ashen and pale, his eyes locked in a thousand yard stare. The brandy glass, forgotten, slides from his fingers and falls, shattering as it strikes the stone edge of the fireplace.

For a second, a second that lasts far longer than it has any right to, nobody speaks. Nobody moves. The grandfather clocks ticks out a second. The boy is afraid and confused, he's never seen his parents react in such a way.

"Father... did I say something wrong?" the boy manages, forcing the words into the silence.

The father gulps once, his Adam's apple bobbing, and than again. Finally he forces a smile to his lips, a smile that fools no one, and speaks.

"No my son. I had just hoped... well I just hoped I would have a few more years before you asked that question. Come son, sit down. I believe it is time we had a talk."

"No!" The mother's words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. "He is not old enough, he will not understand!"

The husband reaches over and brushes a strand of hair away from his wive's eyes. He looks at her, lovingly. "He has to learn the truth somehow my wife. Best he learn it from us."

The wife says nothing, but nods. She takes her husbands hand and squeezes it. The look into each other's eyes. They share a moment they both need right now.

The father walks over, takes two glasses from his liquor cabinet and pours a full glass and downs it to calm his nerves, than pours half glass of brandy for himself, far more than he would ever drink on a normal night even without the glass he already had, and a second tiny serving. He hands his son the second glass. The boy looks at it.

"Go on. If you're man enough to understand what I'm about to tell you than you deserve your first man's drink. Sit down son we will be up for a while. For it is time I told you about what happened. What life was like... in the before time."

Thing is, it doesn't matter how unlikely H is. ~H is not a single hypothesis, and without the ability to distinguish its constituents jabba is unable to determine their likelihood relative to H, and cannot draw any conclusion.

We really do need to stop entertaining these "equations." There as much nonsense as anything else he's saying and just another form of word games.
 
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The far future. A family is sitting in their living room around a roaring fire. The father is in his chair, smoking a pipe and sipping brandy. The mother rocks in her chair, doing needlepoint. Their young son sits on the floor, carefully writing line after line in a notebook, a look of dedicated concentration on his face. The grandfather clock ticks off the seconds in time with the soft squeak of mother's rocking chair and the constant scratch-scratch of the boy's pencil on his notebook.

"Father" the boy says finally "I have finished my homework. I've given 3 examples that counter Jabba's subnetted argument #2,456, and shown my work."

He shows his notebook to his father who smiles. "Very well done son. This is excellent work. Now go wash up before bed." The father stands up, stretching his legs, tousles the boy's hair and walks over to fireplace, brandy in hand.

"Yes father" the boy says and he turns to go to bed.... but stops.

"Father..." he says slowly. "One of my classmates at recess today told me something and... I don't believe him. He said that school used to have topics other than Jabba's Immortality Theorem...."

Instantly the room stops as if even the atom are scared to move. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Mother's rocking chair stops with one last squeak. The needlepoint drops to mother's lap, immediately forgotten as a soft gasp, half fear and half shock escapes her lips. At the fireplace father's face has gone ashen and pale, his eyes locked in a thousand yard stare. The brandy glass, forgotten, slides from his fingers and falls, shattering as it strikes the stone edge of the fireplace.

For a second, a second that lasts far longer than it has any right to, nobody speaks. Nobody moves. The grandfather clocks ticks out a second. The boy is afraid and confused, he's never seen his parents react in such a way.

"Father... did I say something wrong?" the boy manages, forcing the words into the silence.

The father gulps once, his Adam's apple bobbing, and than again. Finally he forces a smile to his lips, a smile that fools no one, and speaks.

"No my son. I had just hoped... well I just hoped I would have a few more years before you asked that question. Come son, sit down. I believe it is time we had a talk."

"No!" The mother's words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. "He is not old enough, he will not understand!"

The husband reaches over and brushes a strand of hair away from his wive's eyes. He looks at her, lovingly. "He has to learn the truth somehow my wife. Best he learn it from us."

The wife says nothing, but nods. She takes her husbands hand and squeezes it. The look into each other's eyes. They share a moment the both need right now.

The father walks over, takes two glasses from his liquor cabinet and pours a full glass and downs it to calm his nerves, than pours half glass of brandy for himself, far more than he would ever drink on a normal night even without the glass he already had, and a second tiny serving. He hands his son the second glass. The boy looks at it.

"Go on. If you're man enough to understand what I'm about to tell you than you deserve your first man's drink. Sit down son we will be up for a while. For it is time I told you about what happened. What life was like... in the before time."

I love you.
 
The far future. A family is sitting in their living room around a roaring fire. The father is in his chair, smoking a pipe and sipping brandy. The mother rocks in her chair, doing needlepoint. Their young son sits on the floor, carefully writing line after line in a notebook, a look of dedicated concentration on his face. The grandfather clock ticks off the seconds in time with the soft squeak of mother's rocking chair and the constant scratch-scratch of the boy's pencil on his notebook.

"Father" the boy says finally "I have finished my homework. I've given 3 examples that counter Jabba's subnetted argument #2,456, and shown my work."

He shows his notebook to his father who smiles. "Very well done son. This is excellent work. Now go wash up before bed." The father stands up, stretching his legs, tousles the boy's hair and walks over to fireplace, brandy in hand.

"Yes father" the boy says and he turns to go to bed.... but stops.

"Father..." he says slowly. "One of my classmates at recess today told me something and... I don't believe him. He said that school used to have topics other than Jabba's Immortality Theorem...."

Instantly the room stops as if even the atom are scared to move. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Mother's rocking chair stops with one last squeak. The needlepoint drops to mother's lap, immediately forgotten as a soft gasp, half fear and half shock escapes her lips. At the fireplace father's face has gone ashen and pale, his eyes locked in a thousand yard stare. The brandy glass, forgotten, slides from his fingers and falls, shattering as it strikes the stone edge of the fireplace.

For a second, a second that lasts far longer than it has any right to, nobody speaks. Nobody moves. The grandfather clocks ticks out a second. The boy is afraid and confused, he's never seen his parents react in such a way.

"Father... did I say something wrong?" the boy manages, forcing the words into the silence.

The father gulps once, his Adam's apple bobbing, and than again. Finally he forces a smile to his lips, a smile that fools no one, and speaks.

"No my son. I had just hoped... well I just hoped I would have a few more years before you asked that question. Come son, sit down. I believe it is time we had a talk."

"No!" The mother's words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. "He is not old enough, he will not understand!"

The husband reaches over and brushes a strand of hair away from his wive's eyes. He looks at her, lovingly. "He has to learn the truth somehow my wife. Best he learn it from us."

The wife says nothing, but nods. She takes her husbands hand and squeezes it. The look into each other's eyes. They share a moment they both need right now.

The father walks over, takes two glasses from his liquor cabinet and pours a full glass and downs it to calm his nerves, than pours half glass of brandy for himself, far more than he would ever drink on a normal night even without the glass he already had, and a second tiny serving. He hands his son the second glass. The boy looks at it.

"Go on. If you're man enough to understand what I'm about to tell you than you deserve your first man's drink. Sit down son we will be up for a while. For it is time I told you about what happened. What life was like... in the before time."

Bravo!!!
 
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