No, not that kind of degeneracy.
I’m talking about a much more refined and pretension degeneracy.
Now, in quantum physics–and just bear with me for a few seconds–there’s this whole thing about being able to say what quantum state a group of particles1Or, more formally: a system. are in based on the result of some measurement, say, energy, for example.
But what if two different arrangements produced the same measurable energy?
Well, then, if you did your experiment and recorded this particular energy, you would be stuck not knowing which of those two states you were actually looking at.
This is called a degenerate energy level.
If you wanted to distinguish between the two possible states, you would break the degeneracy by doing something that can be thought of as measuring a different property of the system, like the total weight of all the particles.
Apart from breaking the degeneracy, you’re stuck never knowing exactly what arrangement your system is in.
At this point, it’s forgivable if all you’re hearing is “Laht, laht, lah! Physics, physics, physics! #HumbleBrag.”
Fortunately for you, the story of why in the name of ----- I ended up going through life using a synonym for fellatio as my name just so happens to be a pretty darn good analogy for degeneracy.
Now, if you will, take a step back in time with me, and all shall be made clear…
Christmas Day 1980, some undisclosed location in Kansas: during an otherwise routine family holiday gathering, an emergency meeting is called.
Unto them a child was born, and unto them they knew not what the hell to call him.
You see, this days-old youngster certainly had a name. It was just that this particular name was sorta…already taken.
And of course I was the hapless lad in this story, so I might as well stop referring to myself in the third person before we go any farther.
So, there I was, just chillin’ like a villain, as depicted in Figure 1, oblivious to the fact that a major determinant of the arc of my life yet to come was hanging in the balance.
When I was born, “somebody”2Most definitely, unequivocally my dad. got the big idea to name me after his grandfathers, so the story about how I ended up with “Robert James” on my birth certificate is actually pretty run-of-the-mill. Big whoop.
But as I had alluded to, “Robert” was already spoken for–by my great grandfather, obviously–and so if from a physicist’s perspective in which one’s name is perhaps one of the most basic “measurements” of a human, I was clearly born into degeneracy.
If someone in the family starts talking about Robert, well, to whom exactly would they be referring?
One could break the degeneracy by a “secondary measurement,” such as age or size. Clarifying that they were talking about “Grandpa” would make it immediately clear that they were referring to the elder of us. Another option would be to call me “L’il Robert” and their point would be just as easily made.
Alternatively, the use of nicknames can be a reliable degeneracy-breaker, and the good news here is that “Robert” has many variants.
The bad news? My family tree (Fig. 2) is littered with one ----- Robert after another.
First, there’s my namesake, my great grandfather Robert on my dad’s side, who everyone just called “Bob.”
Then there’s my maternal grandfather, Albert Robert, who–by the way–for some reason went by “Pat.” Go figure.
Moving down to the next generation: there’s my dad whose legal name actually is Bobby Jim, I shit thee not. Turns out that he got stuck/blessed with the nicknames of his two grandfathers.
Switching back to my mom’s side is her brother, the One True Robert. That’s just a fancy way of saying that of all the Roberts in the family, Uncle Robert was the only one who didn’t use a nickname as an adult.
And, for good measure, my mom & Uncle Robert had a cousin who was beaugarding the title of “Robby” all to himself.
Now, my dad was aware of all this when he haphazardly slapped a name on my back, and so honestly I don’t know what the hell he was thinking bringing yet another Robert into the mess.
Reviewing the situation: we now have six-fold degeneracy at the Robert name level, and the members of my family in the emergency Christmas meeting were hoping to break that degeneracy with a nickname.
Perhaps it went down something a little like this…
Individual 1: “So, what about Bob?”
Individual 2: “Nope, Grandpa Bob took that one.”
Individual 1: “Dammit. Of course he did.”
Individual 3: “Well, we can’t call him Pat…”
Everyone else: “Why the hell would we call him that?”
Individual 3: “Good question…why do we call Pop-Pop ‘Pat’? That makes no ----- sense.”
Albert Robert “Pat” “Pop-Pop”: “Yeah, why do you call me Pat?”
Everyone else: “NOT NOW, POP-POP!”
Individual 1: “Okay, okay…and I guess it’s obvious that Bobby is off the table as well. Yes, I’m looking at you, Bobby. YOU did this, we’re in this ----- mess because of you. We’re wasting our Christmas because of your utter lack of creativity and imagination. Good lord, we can only hope he doesn’t take after you in that department.”
Individual 4: “Remind me again what was wrong with plain ol’ Robert?”
Individual 3: “Uh, because you kinda took that one, Uncle Robert. Anyways, we can’t do Bobby, but how about this…[with a dramatic flourish] Robby?”
Individual 5: “Sorry, but there’s Cousin Robby…”
Individual 3: “Well, shit…”
Individual 1: “Okay, we got to start thinking outside the box here, folks. How about Bert?”
Bobby Jim “Bobby Jim”: “Sure, let’s name him after my ex-wife’s dad. That won’t be awkward at all.”3I had a rough idea of all the details up until this one. This one I discovered for the first time while researching this story.
Individual 1: “For you and me both. Though I still think he looks like he would make a fine Bert.”
Individual 5: “I’ve got it! So, I think we’ve been going about this all wrong. We’ve been trying to come up with nickname that is supported by some basic logic and would be patently obvious to any new acquaintance why he was called thus.”
Individual 4: “Go on…”
Individual 5: “Instead, we should eschew all logic and give him a name that will wear out anybody who is unfortunate enough to ask him about its backstory. How about Bobby’s initials?”
Individual 3: “Ummm, you mean B.J.?”
Individual 5: “Exactly.”
Individual 1: “No, I really don’t–“
Bobby Jim “Bobby Jim”: “It’s perfect!”
Individual 1: “Hey, I don’t think I like tha–“
Individual 5: “We don’t really care about your opinion, even if it was your womb. Let’s vote on it.”
[The Council–save a vigorously protesting Individual 1–all murmur in agreement or nod in approval.]Individual 6 [whispering to Individual 3]: “You think maybe we should tell Grandma what a Blow Job is exactly before the poor kid gets screwed over?”
Individual 3: “Nah, I wanna see where this goes…”
[Seemingly out of nowhere, the meeting is interrupted by a frantically screaming Time Bandit…]Future Bandit: ” ----- -sucker! ----- -SUCKER! Don’t you all know that’s what a ----- -sucker does?!?”
Individual 2: “The hell you say?”
Future Bandit: “Please, don’t doom me to a lifetime supply of ----- -sucking references! Especially with these lips! Nooooooo! It’s too late! I’m fading already…don’t…let…me…be…a…B.J………..”
[And just like that the Time Bandit is ironically sucked back into the vortex from which he came…]Individual 4: “Was it just me, or did anybody else get the feeling that they were looking at a weird clone of Bobby’s when gazing upon that strange fellow?”
Bobby Jim “Bobby Jim”: “Yeah, it was like looking in a mirror…it must be a sign!”
All except Individual 1: “Hear, hear! Then B.J. he shall be! Merry First Christmas, Kid!”
Individual 5 [underneath her breath as she passes Individuals 3 & 6]: “…and a little ----- -sucker he shall be…”
[Individuals 3 & 6 stare at each other in stunned silence…]The point of the story is I guess we now all know what I would do if I ever built myself a time machine… ----- stopping Hitler–that’s too bougie anyways.
Given the chance, I would go back and stop the degenerates in my family from screwing me over for degenerations to come…so suck on that, Grandma Individual 5.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, Y’all!
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