I don’t have anything to add, except that I remember the day I learned that being where I was at that exact minute was highly improbable. I mean, I was there, right then, I was 100 percent probable. But if I’d calculated it ahead of time I’d have been as AG says, 0.000312 or something. So I gave up on probability.
Abstruse Goose: Red Letter Date
8 thoughts on “Abstruse Goose: Red Letter Date”
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Categorized in: Abstruse Goose, Curiosities
Tags: probability
AArg! And this from the sister of a statistician! Well, Ann, you will be relieved to know that it is widely accepted among statisticians that few people, even among statisticians, can accurately assess probabilities in day to day life, let alone interpret them. To quote a few famous satisticians, “we are swimming in an ocean of coincidence”, and “the one chance in a million will undoubtedly occur … however surprised we may be that it should occur to US”. At the risk of taking some of the magic and wonder out of life, I would say that coincidences become a whole lot less amazing if the right probability is assessed. For example, AG’s “amazing coincidence” for his .000312 probability gets a whole lot less mysterious once we realize that the probability of it happening at least once during a year is about 1%. Still unlikely, yes, but probably doesn’t quite qualify as “amazing coincidence”. And over, say, a 10 year period, the probability of it happening at least once goes up over 30%. Yes, the chances of it happening on a particular day are very small indeed, but the chances of it happening at all are actually high enough that it isn’t so amazing any more. Now, if AG observes this event, say, 5 times in a year, then, rather than marvel at the coincidence, he should probably go back and reconsider his assumptions when estimating his probability.
I follow your reasoning, as always, because as always you’re extremely clear. The only thing I have to say is, apparently statistics isn’t genetic.
I enjoyed the comments even more than the cartoon. It reminds me a little of my brother the physicist trying to explain magnetism or acoustics to me. Yes, he is clear and I follow along. And the promptly lose any understanding I thought I gained as soon as he leaves the room. Is it a math/science thing, do you think Ann, or a sibling thing?
That’s exactly the phenomenon, Tom. For me, it’s surely a math thing because I’m a poster child for innumeracy. But it could be a sibling thing too: among siblings, knowledge is a closed system. So if my brother knows it, I don’t and don’t need to. Closed-system sibling knowledge is a subject that psychology hasn’t gotten around to yet.
Ann, does psychology’s indifference mean that you coined the term? Because it describes my situation perfectly, and accounts for my two biggest areas of cluelessness: physics and yoga. Surely we’ve hit upon the subject of your next book? You audience would be everyone, minus the singletons. (My goodness, the things they must know…)
um, first a blog post on closed system sibling knowledge. i demand it!