Piano? First one
5Mr. Smith has 4 daughters. Each of his daughters has a brother. How many children does Mr. Smith have?
Your heart
Your heart
A trick question. You probably expect us to give some petty bourgeois answer like 200 tons, but that's not correct. My imagination is as heavy as the universe and as light as a quark. The plane is an aspect of nothingness, it is a feather, a god, it exists in a universe without the Higgs field so the concept of mass in your question is irrelevant. There is no attraction, the plane moves at the speed of light never to return to the same place again because it is a cosmic plane stretching toward infinity. The plane is growing like a gigantic flower with tendrils reaching toward the dark recesses of your soul, it tears apart your dreams and devours your hopes, yet it never gets heavier because what it is eating also weighs nothing. It is the void. It is the beginning. It is the end. It is you and me and everything else on this planet existing as a passing thought, always hungry for something that isn't even real, pure existence that would be a satisfactory explanation, a purpose. It is death. It is the full stop at the end of this messageImagine a plane that weighs 100 tons plus half its weight.
Imagine a plane that weighs 100 tons plus half its weight.
How much does it weigh?
A trick question. You probably expect us to give some petty bourgeois answer like 200 tons, but that's not correct. My imagination is as heavy as the universe and as light as a quark. The plane is an aspect of nothingness, it is a feather, a god, it exists in a universe without the Higgs field so the concept of mass in your question is irrelevant. There is no attraction, the plane moves at the speed of light never to return to the same place again because it is a cosmic plane stretching toward infinity. The plane is growing like a gigantic flower with tendrils reaching toward the dark recesses of your soul, it tears apart your dreams and devours your hopes, yet it never gets heavier because what it is eating also weighs nothing. It is the void. It is the beginning. It is the end. It is you and me and everything else on this planet existing as a passing thought, always hungry for something that isn't even real, pure existence that would be a satisfactory explanation, a purpose. It is death. It is the full stop at the end of this message.
100 tons.
Your word.
Confused. Can you explain?