Birthday Paradox

2021.12.05 13:32 Equivalent-Quit-4399 Birthday Paradox

I am trying to solve the birthday paradox in Java, and went to run trials such as that when N is 23, the percentage of having a duplicate birthday is 50%. I have the program done but it only prints out one line that says, "N value is 366 and the percentage is 0.994535519125683."
How do I get it to simply stop when N is 23 and display the correct percentage?

import java.util.HashSet; import java.util.Random; public class birthdayProblem { public static void main(String[] args) { //repeat trial for increasing values of N starting at 2 int n = 2; int success = 0; while (n <= 365) { //implement an empty set and add N many birthdays between 1 and 365 for (int i = 0; i <= 365; i++) { Random birthdays = new Random(); HashSet hash = new HashSet<>(); for (i = 1; i <= 365; i++) { //determines if set has duplicates, repeats if does, and adds elements to set while (hash.size() != 10) { hash.add(1 + birthdays.nextInt(365)); success++; n++; } } } } double average = (double) success / n; System.out.println("N value is " + n + " and the percentage is " + average); } } 
submitted by Equivalent-Quit-4399 to AskProgramming [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Quiet_Society963 I found erobbs actual brother

I found erobbs actual brother submitted by Quiet_Society963 to Emoney [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Yoghurt-Objective Does instant cash out not work on Sunday’s? I normally get my money within minutes but haven’t got it yet and it’s been almost 2 hours. Thanks!

submitted by Yoghurt-Objective to grubhubdrivers [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 MichaelMHughes1980 Full Body Workout

Full Body Workout submitted by MichaelMHughes1980 to ShortsFitness [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Top_Classic_631 Faster move in clad's moveset?

View Poll
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2021.12.05 13:32 GreenBoi_2020 I tried to recreate Raina in Cyberpunk 2077...

submitted by GreenBoi_2020 to OctoprismOfficial [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Neither-Relation3488 4 Levels Ahead Top Lane Kingdom || Best Tahm Kench EU

4 Levels Ahead Top Lane Kingdom || Best Tahm Kench EU submitted by Neither-Relation3488 to Tahmkenchmains [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 xNaaboo Help please

Can anyone help me please. My 2 year old cat had a small cut on her head but it’s now progressed quickly into a red lump. Today I’ve noticed 2 smaller wounds on the other side of her head. Will she need antibiotics? They appear to just pop up, her behaviour hasn’t changed and she is eating and drinking fine. Any help is appreciated.
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2021.12.05 13:32 Roc543465 Roundworld Hex

Roundworld Hex submitted by Roc543465 to discworld [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Wise__Canary I may be wrinklier, but at least I'm not dead

I sat outside with direct sunlight on my face for 45 minutes today. I only had on spf 15 that was over 2 hours old and I don't care! Nothing works for my depression this time of year quite like beaming sunlight directly into my face. It brought me back to life. Seriously guys, for two days I've struggled to do anything and now I feel alive again.
I know it's sad that this is a thing for me to even be mentioning, but I spend so much of my time hiding my face from the sun and thinking about sun damage. It's made be realize how fucked up my mind has gotten around these things. I'm sure some of you can relate.
submitted by Wise__Canary to SCAcirclejerk [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 OceansCarraway Why The Dog Bites--CW: sex, drug abuse, eating disorders.

Content Warning: graphic descriptions of sexual encounters, eating disorders, and drug abuse.
Suggested listening music:
It is night now. Of course you are awake. You have to work. To work? No, it is different. Not right now. You’re not at work at this moment. It’s the weekend. And are off shift? Are you? Yes. You are., you are. The lights that flicker in the window, they are not of the big old office-apartments that the white collar wageslaves sweated their minds out in. They are just the warning lights of the tops of buildings, put up cheekily in the face of the Glass Cages’ no fly zone. You saw no other signs of activity, the lights were all off, the city asleep.
But you remember when it wasn’t. When it never slept, by the end, when it couldn’t sleep, hopped up on coke and stay awake pills, chased by the money it owed, and the promise of the money it wanted to make, running shitcoin scams and designing powerpoints. You were a cleaner then, doing stairwells, restrooms, or whatever else, a second job off of your day job selling cupcakes to rich twats, shithead influencers, or the kids who didn’t know yet how bad it was. Then you got off work, took off your clown makeup, and then put on some black slacks and shitty jeans, taking a ride on a shitty bus or an e-bike to wherever you had to meet tonight’s crew.
Your co-workers were a rotating bunch, changed by the app and by the people joining the company or quitting when they were used up. You’d come and gone yourself, taking breaks, handling the stress as best you can, chasing the pittance of wages and tips that you needed to survive and make rent. Your roommates shat on you, you shat on them, and, well, it made sense--this thing was shit all the way down. It’s hot out tonight, but there will be air conditioning in the building, your one saving grace, and the food that you saved from going into work’s dumpster to barter with the others. That should keep you going.
Obviously, you don’t get to go in the front, but you and the entire team go in the back. Some shitheads are doing drugs by the backdoor, and you ignore them--they’re shooting up, so they have money for the good stuff. They’re finishing their pregaming with something you could never afford, and maybe a bottle of Hack, something that you wish you had on you right now. All you’ve got a bottle of is bleach. You and your co-workers could all really go for a bottle, although you wouldn’t mind drinking either the bleach or the alcohol…
The first floor is not too bad. Chairs are tossed around, you have to scrub some junk out of the upholstery, but it’s alright. There was a drunken set of snacks here. One of the gang to scrub puke, dried partially into the carpet. It was clearly watery and stank in a way that human vomit shouldn’t, but at least there were no signs of food in it. Mercifully, the mess seems to have been spread around the dining room, and the first floor bathroom is mostly intact. You mop the floor, clean the sinks, help one of your coworkers replace toilet paper, give the ceilings a once-over in case something was stuck to it, document the area with photos on the app and on your phone independently, and then move on to the second. You have a bad feeling about this. When the first floor is clean, there will be hell to pay on the floors on up.
This is a fourteen story building.
The second floor is’s just that everything is knocked over. Like, everything. Potted plants were smashed, water slipped, mud slung around, and someone drew genitals on a wall using the mud. Most of the furniture looks like it was flipped over two or three times. Mercifully, there were no holes in the wall, and none of the glass panes were broken, but it’s a nasty ass mess. By now its’ about 2200, and you’re a bit settled in for the night. Since there’s nothing to mop, you start on the sinks, but your coworkers need water to clean up the mess, so you get wet. It leaks into your cheap shoes, and you make squelching noises as you walk. Someone laughs at you, so you call them gay. You get away with it because both of you know the person that they’ve been dating for two years, and they’re definitely gay.
By the end, one of the big dudes is sweating. What the fuck, he says? Why were they flipping furniture like it was tires? Someone puts two and two together. That vomit contained drug-laced pre-workout supplement, which explained why it smelled so bad...these people must have been some kind of influencers for sure. Steeling yourself, you go inspect the bathroom. A horrifying smell wafts out, and the sinks are kind of dirty on top of it. Slowly, you open the bathroom doors, going through the stalls one by one--until you find the toilet that is the culprit. It’s gross. Not legendary, but it’s gross. One of your co-workers has come in and is cleaning the sinks, artfully sticking you with the toilet. They bring you an extra bottle of bleach, and some paper towels to hold around your nose. You ask them what the fuck, man? They reply that their glasses are going, and they can’t afford to drop them into a toilet because they can’t afford new ones.
You understand. Son of a bitch, you say, but there isn’t much you can do, because without their glasses, they’re fucked. No job for them. You work on the toilet. God., better not to think about the bastard, because you’d get loud about it, and then the programs that the cleaning app has installed on your phone would hear, and you’d be out of the another job, or at least off the platform again, which you don’t need, because you need this extra money, it’s food, and bills are high, bills are always so fucking high, you keep working and working and holy shit, it’s insane, you want to marry this girl but you can’t-
You finish the toilet on autopilot. The program is watching for how much bleach you’re using, but you’re smart, you keep your phone pointed in the right place, and it can’t tell how many supplies you’re using--if you use too much, it charges your pay. But your co-workers finessed more than enough cleaning supplies, you’ve got tricks for days, and these motherfuckers making the code can’t figure out what you do if your phone is so old the mic is half broken. You’ve got more than enough to do the job, filched and saved over time, kept in your sling of extra stuff. You thought you were so slick in high school, selling gum and snackstixx, but you’re at a whole different level now.
You gotta be, to keep going.
And you’re going up. Third floor. This one may be the worst. You’re not sure what’s in the other parts of the building, but you do know that there’s a party of some kind going on, probably of more assholes. One of your guys comes back from ahead, with news. Party itself is on the seventh to ninth floors. Thirteen to fourteen are off limits, janitors and roof pack stuff. You need to do floors three, four, five, six, ten, eleven, and twelve. You will do them, you have to. It’s all about the money. Fucking assholes.
Floor three is trashed, but in the ordinary way. The furniture being flipped was predictable, the mess on the table easily handled, the glasses thrown where you’d want it to end up. Some swept, some mopped, some vacuumed--one poor fucker had to vacuum what looked like an abominable curry spice mix off of the wall with a miniature backpack vac. You nearly cut yourself twice, but your gloves, grey-taped together, held up just well enough. If the glass had got through, then you’d be in trouble. As it is, you need to finesse some extra tape off the supply cart later. Someone pipes up: we’ve seen the pregame, the food, and moving up, we’re probably gonna see the sex and drugs. You groan. Fucking kids. How do they even have time to be horny? You’re so tired. How the hell are they having sex?
With a groan, you go to do the bathrooms next. Glasses guy is already busting out trash bags. It’s toilets for you again. Toilets are the worst, especially after the food--many of the kids are purging to keep their weight down and their figures up. No one talks about it, because no one really cares, it’s just something that everyone has to do. Already, you can smell the acrid scent of vomit, some of it mixed up with worse and god knows what. Don’t think about it, you think. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it-sniff the bleach a little. You like the smell of bleach sometimes. It means cleaning, cutting through the crap, and it brings you back enough so you don’t puke inside your paper mask.
Some of the toilets flush. Two do not. The flushing helps, and you get spattered by the backsplash from some. God. That’s disgusting. Cleaning them takes a little bit of time, and you have to get under the lids, on the tops and backs--a thorough job. You’re being timed to make sure you do a job, and there are random inspections of your work. You are almost ready to mop the floor, but you have two toilets to unclog, and if they spill, then you lose all of your work. Start from zero.
Carefully, you begin plunging away. It’s mostly a mix of toilet papers and--ew. Don’t think about that. Do NOT think about that. Please. Please go down. Please. Something churns, breaks up, and begins to go down. Slowly. Ever so slowly. You watch it disappear, eyes locked on the mass. Mother of god. It’s sickening. You feel like someone threw an entire child down there, but that’d be less bad.
Your kids are gonna have to deal with this one day. All of this...of this...dammit, why did you get pregnant? Why didn’t you get an abortion? No one deserves that. The first toilet is done. On to the next. This one’s bigger. It’s worse. It’s...full of food coloring? What the fucking hell is this?? It reeks of alcohol and mixer and-
Oh my god. They were drinking out of it.
Fucking legends, someone mutters.
Ok, but what the fuck is clogging it?
You poke the bottom with a plunger. Something gurgles up.
They purposefully jammed the bottom of the toilet with cocktail mixers. Some of the mixture slops onto your shoes. You want to cry. You keep poking, and more and more of the fruits begin to come to the top, floating out like an obscene balloon of the stuff. It eventually, slowly, torturously, begins to recede, but by the time it goes, your shoes have begun to soak through the bottom. It takes a few minutes to clean the soles off, and then a few minutes more to mop the floor, and then you are done. Done, and going to the next floor.
Someone proposes a meal break. Green about the gills, you give them the middle finger and start moving upstairs to the fourth floor.
The toilets downstairs save from having to deal with the orgy upstairs. It’s not the most messy, but what mess there’d take the toilets. Besides, the soles of your shoes are still a little dirty, and you’d track crap onto the carpet, crap that they couldn’t clean up. And so you go to the bathrooms, clean the makeup off the sinks and mirrors, give the toilets a once-over--they’re foreign to you, practically untouched compared to downstairs, and even the trash bins are not full like downstairs--
You feel a sharp, stabbing pain in your lower arm. What the FUCK--
A needle has punctured the trash bag and has stabbed you in the arm. One of the influencers must have been mainlining something right before they start fucking, and now it’s in you, and you don’t know if it was tainted, or what it was, oh my god, what--
Your composure, pushed by the punchbowl toilet, melts. You scream for help, once, twice, and then someone is pushing open the door, staring at you. What the fuck, they say? What’s going on? You show them the needle. They almost yell for someone else--and then stop. They make a few small signs to you. This is a crude sign language, meant for workers when there is too much noise, or bots listening in. Fake happy, they say. They’re going to ask for help. You struggle not to sob. The management app can detect changes in tone, mood, motivation, understand some slang, check how you’re feeling, and if you’re injured on the job, a bot lawyer can get rid of you right quick so the company doesn’t get hurt. The yell--your phone might have heard.
Soon enough, help arrives, a long-haired coworker who is known for being high most of the time. You tell him what happened--you don’t know, you hope it’s nothing, you were being safe. He looks over the needle, nods once. Hallucinogen, with a lot of jump and go in it. You should be ok. You should be. You might feel a bit weird later. You pack your phone under a bunch of towels so it can’t hear--what if it was contaminated? You can’t afford a test, or to get sick...what if it was?
He looks at it. Thinks. Maybe he can get it tested. Maybe. He takes the needle and stuffs it in a plastic bag. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. Son of a bitch! You can’t get sick! You can’t afford it! It’s so bad. So bad. What the hell.
What the hell.
The other co-workers finished cleaning up the floor. It was gross. Very gross. Someone is going to be running washers very, very hot tonight. Getting all of that stuff out of there...thank god your shoes were duty. Thank god. Thank god. It was so disgusting. Everyone used gloves. God if they hadn’t finessed their gloves they’d have been touching that nasty, sticky stuff directly. You go and find yourself a band-aid. It’s not enough. The wound is slow to stop bleeding, dark red blood seeping out, eventually staunching. Someone reconnoiters the fifth and sixth floor.
The fifth is shit, they report back grimly. Shit. They threw trash everywhere. Not nearly as bad as what you dealt with. Sixth floor is full of their equipment and active staff for the party, they’re keeping it clean and will make the app shut up. You nod once, slumping against a wall. Hey, they say. We’ve done a bit of shit. Scrubbed that orgy up. Let’s eat our dinner. You and the others agree. Out comes a variety of things--cupcakes from you, a pound of pre-frozen curry from someone else, cheap bread, unidentified vegetables, water bottles, some stuff from a mutual aid group. It’s nice. You relax, enjoy your food a bit, try to push the gnawing anxiety out of your mind. It lingers. Not all of you eat at once--the app can tell if you’re eating or slacking. Some run ahead to take out trash. They get lucky. All of it gets in bags. By the time that you are done, they have the floor clean. All you do is go upstairs and right some furniture. The climb up past the next few floors is long. You hear the music playing. The stairs stretch on and on.
Are you alright?
Yeah, I’m fine, these stairs are just expanding like assholes.
Buddy, you’re not going up them.
Wait? What?
Buddy, that needle has you tripping balls.
Haha, fuck. You black out. The music penetrates your skull. You can see through the walls. You can hear radio waves. You clean a bunch of stairs. Carry trash bags. Wipe window sills. Your phone is taken away and muted, just to make sure that it’s not snitching on you for being high. Your co-workers worry, their hearts in their throats, another thought pestering their minds. The music is everywhere. You can see the beautiful people, smell their spoor, track them, hide from them, avoid them. They made all this mess. Took all this money. They don’t care.
You could kill them if you wanted. It’d be easy. It’d be easy. Easy. Easy
-hey! Easy! Easy!
Reality flips back.
You ok? You look like you want to kill someone.
There wasn’t enough hallucinogen to last for long. You begin to come back. You feel reality flip to you more and more rapidly, the space-outs growing shorter and shorter, your body aching more and more. Finally, you sit down. You’re exhausted. You cleaned everything.
Wait. The stairs-fuck-
One of your co-workers pushes you down.
‘Rest, dumbass.’
‘Look, just tie off these trashbags.’
You do. It helps. You’ve sweated right through your clothes. But the work is done. The work...oh, god. You are so tired. You can go home. You much money did you have? The app beeps. 32.39. That’s it. It’s not your worst night’s take--you remember making 26.82 for more rooms and worse messes...but it’s not more. It’ll be dinner, dinner for…
You remember how much food they wasted downstairs. That toilet bowl full of alcohol…your arm hurts where the needle stuck you.
Your grip tightens around a bottle of bleach, crushing it in your hands.
submitted by OceansCarraway to createthisworld [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 ang3licity should i still show demonstrated interest after submitting an app?

i already showed a lot of interest i think including personally emailing aos n meeting with them for informational sessions but does it make a difference if i stop after my app has already been submitted?
submitted by ang3licity to ApplyingToCollege [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Mcnst Apple strikes back, taking Russia’s market regulator to court

Apple strikes back, taking Russia’s market regulator to court submitted by Mcnst to technology [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 UnluckyChemist2162 PLEASE leave an honest review of your company on Glassdoor. It helps others avoid working abusive jobs!

Every year in December, tens of millions of people look for a new job, and the only place that has even a shred of truthful information about what working for a specific company will be like is Glassdoor. The unfortunate truth is that most people who are unsatisfied with their job, manager, or company won't post a review on any website. They'll simply leave their job completely disgusted by what they experienced, and never say a word of it.
This also means that all the people that apply for an interview or accept an offer for that company have no idea what they are even signing up for. I personally have been broadsided by a brand new job had a company that had few if any reviews, only to find out it was a terrible experience, and upon connecting with the person who worked there previously on LinkedIn, discovering that they had an awful experience and simply never spoke of it!
By posting a TRUTHFUL review on Glassdoor, you're helping thousands of people see the truth, and helping them live a much better life I hate the idea of working for soulless companies with a burning passion, but the inevitable truth is that most people believe they have no choice. They will end up working somewhere, and if we work together, we can ensure that awful managers and companies get to ruin as few lives as possible. Let's pay it forward, and help millions of people searching for their next job be able to decide confidently with factual information, rather than the absurd fantasies that recruiters fill their minds with.
If you work at a company that is drastically better than any you have ever worked at, treats you well, and is at least tolerable, pays well, acts like they care.... PLEASE WRITE A REVIEW. Help people avoid scumbag companies so worst case scenario, they can work somewhere where they are not going to be mentally and financially abused!
P.S.: THIS ALSO INCLUDES POSTING YOUR SALARY INFORMATION! LET PEOPLE KNOW WHAT THEY ARE WORTH! submitted by UnluckyChemist2162 to antiwork [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 THEEBLKSTR Can't go wrong when starting with this....

submitted by THEEBLKSTR to vegetarianketo [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 maria12332 Did I mess it up with her?

My ex and I broke up due to religious differences and I cheated on her the second time we got back together because I honestly did not see potential in our relationship anymore. I apologised to her and contacted her again. I told her that I love her very much, she is the only woman I have ever really loved but the religious thing is in between us. I said we are good friends and when she converted to Judaism (I am Jewish), we can talk again. She is converting at the moment but it takes too much time. I cant cherry pick anymore since I am already 31 and I have obligations in my community. I am modern orthodox and I told her she should only convert for herself and not for me because I felt that she had a lot of pressure in my community and felt out of place. She did not like the people and part of my friends. I told her if we grew up in the same culture I would be with her instantly and marry her but the culture and religion seems to be in between us. She tried to convince me that we can overcome these obstacles and I gave in. We messaged back and forth, we were on the phone a few times and I told her that I wanted to see her again. Now this evening were were texting and she asked me a question to a different topic which I wanted to answer in the morning, then afterwards she sent me this message:
"Hey, I think we should stop being in contact. I can sense you are not ready to overcome the obstacles we had and invest in what it needs to make it work this time. I want a real commitment and not something in between. Please be with a Jewish woman and forget about me. Thanks for understanding".
What does she mean by it? Now she blocked me literally on everything. We were only in contact for 2 weeks and I wanted to take it slowly and she also said she wants to take it slowly and not rush into anything.
submitted by maria12332 to Advice [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Ok-Debate8785 Telegram leak

Telegram leak submitted by Ok-Debate8785 to bitsiou_leaks [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Fredosantana202 Deposited Loom from Coinbase to KuCoin

Deposited$10000 worth of Loom network coin from Coinbase pro to KuCoin everything in etherscan says success but the token never went into KuCoin account, address was correct there were two options for wallet address in KuCoin Erc-20 and BEP-20 I choose erc I sent a help ticket with transaction info 2 days ago still nothing from KuCoin Am I out on this 10k or is there hope
submitted by Fredosantana202 to kucoin [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Magenta-Bunny Trying to explain parosmia is hell

Describing the taste and smell is hard because it's just indescribable. People say "oh it tastes/smells good to me" and it's frustrating because they don't understand that, of course the ingredients haven't changed and it tastes alright to them, but not to me with parosmia. I've had it for about just over 3 months now, a few months after having covid. But it's also annoying when people say "I've had covid" when they took no test so they probably just had a flu.
submitted by Magenta-Bunny to Parosmia [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 Ok_Date77 Uncle Shin sketch :D

Uncle Shin sketch :D submitted by Ok_Date77 to Kingdom [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 thatbaseballguy22 Handcuff Lottery - Week 13 (2021)

Welcome to the Handcuff Lottery!

In Yahoo! and (and Sleeper I believe) leagues you are able to drop players after they play their game, so long as they are on your bench. The goal here is to pick up the most enticing handcuffs for each set of games (Thursday / Sun-Early / Sun-Late / Sun-Night / Monday) and drop them if nothing happens to their corresponding starter to pick up the next lotto pick for the next set of games.

For the lottery schedule, please refer to this link.

Because of some of these responses, I will add some caveats:

- If you are in a shallow league (10 or <), you are probably better off holding whatever players are on your bench (unless you need a thrill).

- I am not endorsing the strategy - but simply making a resource available to those who are using the strategy.

- The information regarding starters / handcuffs is pulled from Sporting News. There may be situations where the handcuff is the passing down back. I understand that this is happening but pulling this information from the Sporting News removes my subjectivity. I'm no expert, just a guy that compiles this info into a nice spreadsheet.

- These are lottery tickets, and at the end of the day, the strategy probably won't work. But it might.

If anyone has any suggestions for any information or stats to add to the sheet, please feel free to let me know. Best of luck!
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2021.12.05 13:32 soda-hero Take your clothes off.

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2021.12.05 13:32 chaboyvish F*ck

F*ck submitted by chaboyvish to bengals [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 PrestiSchmesti Is Titanfall 2 fucked again?

Im sorry for the titel but, I wanted to ask if it only germany or titanfall 2 again. Me and many other on the Frankfurt Datacenter get kicked and have randomly high pings again. It just the same as the time it had been ddosed. So I wanted to ask if anyone else has any problems?
submitted by PrestiSchmesti to titanfall [link] [comments]

2021.12.05 13:32 DagothUrWasInnocent If you're interested in trying this game out in VR, this might help. 10 tips to improve your experience.

If you're interested in trying this game out in VR, this might help. 10 tips to improve your experience. submitted by DagothUrWasInnocent to Morrowind [link] [comments]