there’s this metaphor where a monkey types on a keyboard forever, and because it’s typing forever, eventually it types out the complete works of shakespeare. these works are created, not by the monkey’s intelligence, but by pure chance.
when i think of infinity, within that infinity are all of our lives, not created by intelligent design, but rather arising by chance and by virtue of infinity including everything. how would you reconcile intelligence with pure infinity? must intelligence not exclude lesser designs in favour of greater designs?
