Imagine for a moment that you’re taking in a talk by Sir Roger Penrose wherein he explains the basics of calculus. Surely such an accomplished and demonstrably brilliant mathematical physicist is qualified to lecture on the nature of something which, to him, must be analogous to lazily picking his nose?
But wait, a challenger appears! A dirty, stinking individual, left had firmly ensconced in their filthy tracksuit pants, staggers forward from the crowd.
“YOU ARE AN IDIOT, PENROSE.” it squeals at the top of it’s lungs, rancid breath turning the once crisp air into a turgid lump.
It pauses as it’s last two neurones line each other up across the cavernous expanse of it’s intracranial space, scream a battle cry and charge at each other. The resulting pop – faintly audible to the assembled crowd – provides the impetus for a tirade of words which, if a guess were to be hazarded, outline why the be-tracksuited stranger is smarter and better at mathematical analysis than Sir Penrose.
Now, having imagined all this, go ahead and take a look at this screenshot:
Even if you’ve only nodded at reality once as you passed him in the street, you’ll read the above and immediately think something along the lines of: “Crikey, what a mouth-breathing, window-licking tosspot.” Sadly, there are people out there that not only scramble to catch every rancid, brown droplet of wisdom that falls from this idiots mouth, they actively seek out the puddles of muck formed by her dribbling and roll in them.