I’ve landed a consulting gig doing real-time optimal path computations for a gentleman who is planning to tour a graph with several hundred million nodes this evening, so I’m taking tomorrow morning off. To tide you over, I leave you with this literary composition, which can be read multiple times for added enjoyment.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
Eeepps jksaagj effauyp dsajfjkd eepdoos
—Three quarters of an infinite number of monkeys
Do have the best of all possible Christmases.
Sounds like Groucho Marx, “I shot an elephant in my pajamas….”. The gentleman is going to visit several hundred million nodes this evening?
Mark:
The gentleman is going to visit several hundred million nodes this evening?
Don’t tell me you doubt this!!
Will he only be visiting the nice nodes, while skipping the naughty ones?
As with the original Shakespeare, a cloud hangs over this composition’s true authorship. Since 3/4 of infinity is still infinity, I conclude that the true author was, in fact, an infinite number of monkeys. But in that case, we have to wonder why only 3/4 of the lines make any sense, since an infinite number should have reproduced Macbeth perfectly. I surmise that this is just one of the infinite monkey cage’s works, and an inferior one at that. The better works must be hidden somewhere.