#lets make a deal

You’ve been invited to participate in The Monty Hall Show, where you can win a fabulous new car that’s behind one of three doors. Behind the other two, however, are goats. You pick a door, and Monty opens one of the other doors to reveal a goat.  He then asks you: “Would you like to keep your door, or switch to the other closed door?” Assuming you want the car – a safe assumption – what should you do?

This question, called the Monty Hall problem, is a classic from probability theory. Surprisingly, it does improve your chances of winning if you switch doors! Most people have a gut feeling that it doesn’t matter, but when you chose the original door, you had a one in three chance of getting the car. Now, you have a one in two choice, meaning, if you switch, you’ve got a 50% chance, rather than 33%.

Now that we’ve answered that question, let’s ask the real one: Why does Monty want to get rid of this car so badly? Perhaps it just didn’t get his goat.

(Image credit to flickr,Auto Credit,andBundoora Park.)

The boys had begged and pleased their other halves into being allowed to attend the convention, but both of them were denied. “Those things are just an excuse for you dumbasses to wander around perving at those poor scantily clad models wearing next to nothing!” was the unanimous response they’d got.

“No way! “ the boys protested, “They enjoy showing off their bodies - they LOVE the attention!”

And so a dubious deal was struck - phone calls were made and outfits were sourced, and for the entireweekend, morning noon at night on the convention floor, in the bars or anywhere outside their hotel room thiswas the only costume they’d been packed… 

Soon, these embarrassed buddies are going to learn the hard way just what kind of attention a convention crowd brings with it…

“Submit” He whispered to his struggling opponent.

“NEVER!” the boy croaked out as he writhed against the firm choke hold he was pinned under.

“Maybe not now,” his challenger soothingly cooed in his ear, so soft that only he could hear it, as the crowed jeered and the referee counted down the time, “but soon you will, and definitely tonight, as we agreed beforehand…don’t you remember?”

He remembered all too well, and how he now regretted that boastful wager he’d agreed to before the match… but a deal is a deal and as the seconds ticked down he knew the chances of escaping that fate grew ever more unlikely…

“I think you are getting a stiffyabout the prospect, my little embarrassed boy…” His grip held firm, there was no escape.

“NO!” He knew it was hopeless, but he had to fight to the end, had to prove to himself as much as anyone that he didn’t secretly want this outcome all along.

“SUBMIT. Like we agreed…”

“FUCK YOU!”

“AS AGREED…”

“I… I will SUBMIT to you… Master…”