Statistics Saturday: The Whole Numbers Zero Through Twenty, By Length


  • 1. 1
  • 1. (tie) 6
  • 1. (tie) 10
  • 1. (tie) 2
  • 5. 5
  • 5. (tie) 4
  • 5. (tie) 9
  • 5. (tie) 0
  • 9. 8
  • 9. (tie) 7
  • 9. (tie) 3
  • 12. 11
  • 12. (tie) 30
  • 12. (tie) 12
  • 12. (tie) 20
  • 16. 15
  • 16. (tie) 16
  • 18. 18
  • 18. (tie) 14
  • 18. (tie) 19
  • 18. (tie) 13
  • 22. 17
  • 23. 21
  • 23. (tie) 26
  • 23. (tie) 22
  • 26. 25
  • 26. (tie) 24
  • 26. (tie) 29
  • 29. 28
  • 29. (tie) 27
  • 29. (tie) 23
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How the Problem of Identity is Solved in the Early 21st Century


I imagine that, like most people, I find Twitter mostly recommends I follow the feeds of actors from sitcoms I don’t watch and of fictional squirrels. But now and then it turns up someone I do want to follow and sometimes that’s an organization. I saw one that sounded interesting and I checked their profile and recent tweets to make sure they were for real and not just somebody tweeting about how I should buy something I don’t want.

Since they seemed pretty soundly to exist I clicked to start following them. But then a couple hours later I got an e-mail saying they were thinking of following me back, but they wanted some proof that I was an actual person and not just tweeting about how they should buy something they don’t want. Never mind wondering who are they to ask if I’m someone when I already figured out if they’re someone: they wanted me to prove I was for real by clicking a link to a Captcha thingy.

So how do I know their link was to a legitimate Captcha service and not someone out to subvert the whole notion of identity with fake reports? So that’s why I checked their service’s contact information and sent them a simple arithmetic problem to determine whether they’re for real, and I went on with the satisfied air of a person who’s found more reasons not to answer his e-mail.

I was less satisfied when they sent someone over to whap me with a stick. This would seem to prove they really exist, though, except the guy they sent went to the wrong house, and I bet they were wondering why I was pointing at them and snickering.