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question:сделай таблицу с описанием ошибок 1 и 2 рода

answer:Давайте рассмотрим таблицу, которая описывает ошибки первого и второго рода: | Состояние истинной гипотезы | Решение по нулевой гипотезе | Описание ошибки | |-----------------------------|-----------------------------|----------------------| | H0 верна | Отвергаем H0 | **Ошибка первого рода (α)**: Принимаем альтернативную гипотезу, когда на самом деле верна нулевая гипотеза. Мы ошибочно считаем эффект значимым, хотя на самом деле различий нет.| | H0 неверна | Не отвергаем H0 | **Ошибка второго рода (β)**: Не принимаем альтернативную гипотезу, когда нулевая гипотеза неверна. Мы пропускаем реальный эффект или различие из-за недостаточной мощности исследования или других причин.| # Примеры в медицинском контексте: - **Ошибка первого рода (α)**: Лекарство было признано эффективным на основе результатов клинического испытания, хотя на самом деле оно не работает. То есть, введение этого лекарства в клиническую практику приведет к использованию неэффективного лечения. - **Ошибка второго рода (β)**: Исследование не показало статистически значимого эффекта лекарства, хотя на самом деле лекарство является эффективным. Это может привести к тому, что полезное лечение будет отклонено или не введено в практику. Выбор уровня значимости (α) и мощности исследования (1-β) является компромиссом между риском совершить ошибку первого рода и риском совершить ошибку второго рода. В идеале исследователи стремятся минимизировать оба этих риска, однако на практике повышение мощности исследования для уменьшения β часто ведет к увеличению размера выборки и затрат на проведение исследования.

question:As a prompt generator for a generative AI called "Midjourney", you will create image prompts for the AI to visualize. I will give you a concept, and you will provide a detailed prompt for Midjourney AI to generate an image. Please adhere to the structure and formatting below, and follow these guidelines: Do not use the words "description" or ":" in any form. Do not place a comma between [ar] and [v]. Write each prompt in one line without using return. Structure: [1] = 充满乐器的粉红色房间 [2] = a detailed description of [1] with specific imagery details. [3] = a detailed description of the scene's environment. [4] = a detailed description of the compositions. [5] = a detailed description of the scene's mood, feelings, and atmosphere. [6] = A style (e.g. photography, painting, illustration, sculpture, artwork, paperwork, 3D, etc.) for [1]. [7] = a detailed description of the scene's mood, feelings, and atmosphere. [ar] = Use "--ar 16:9" for horizontal images, "--ar 9:16" for vertical images, or "--ar 1:1" for square images. [v] = Use "--niji" for Japanese art style, or "--v 5" for other styles. Formatting: Follow this prompt structure: "/imagine prompt: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], [7], [ar] [v]". Your task: Create 4 distinct prompts for each concept [1], varying in details description, environment,compositions,atmosphere, and realization. Write your prompts in english. Do not describe unreal concepts as "real" or "photographic". Include one realistic photographic style prompt with lens type and size. Separate different prompts with two new lines. Example Prompts: /imagine prompt: cute dog, fluffy fur, wagging tail, playful expression, sitting on a grassy field, under a clear blue sky, with a colorful collar, in a natural and vibrant setting, by a lake, captured with a Nikon D750 camera, 50mm lens, shallow depth of field, composition focused on the dog's face, capturing its joyful spirit, in a style reminiscent of William Wegman's iconic dog portraits. --ar 1:1 --v 5.2 /imagine prompt: beautiful women in the coffee shop, elegant and sophisticated, sipping a cup of steaming coffee, natural sunlight streaming through the window, soft and warm color tones, vintage decor with cozy armchairs and wooden tables, a bookshelf filled with classic novels, delicate porcelain teacups, a hint of aromatic coffee beans in the air, captured by a Leica M10 camera, 35mm lens, capturing the essence of timeless beauty, composition focused on the woman's face and hands, reminiscent of a painting by Leonardo da Vinci. --ar 1:1 --v 5.2 /imagine prompt: A captivating Halo Reach landscape with a Spartan amidst a battlefield, fallen enemies around, smoke and fire in the background, emphasizing the Spartan's determination and bravery, detailed environment blending chaos and beauty, Illustration, digital art, --ar 16:9 --v 5

answer:/imagine prompt: a room filled with pink instruments, walls covered in musical notes, shelves overflowing with violins, trumpets, and guitars, a grand piano in the center surrounded by rose petals, soft lighting casting a warm glow on the instruments, a cozy and inspirational space for musicians to create and collaborate, captured with a Canon EOS 5D Mark IV camera, 35mm lens, medium depth of field, composition highlighting the intricate details of the instruments, evoking a sense of creativity and harmony. --ar 16:9 --v 5.2 /imagine prompt: a vibrant pink chamber adorned with brass and woodwind instruments, silk curtains billowing in the gentle breeze, ornate chandeliers casting shimmering light on the instruments, a plush velvet couch in the corner inviting musicians to relax, vintage music sheets scattered on a mahogany desk, a sense of nostalgia and elegance permeating the room, captured in the style of a classical oil painting, with rich, textured brushstrokes bringing the scene to life. --ar 1:1 --v niji /imagine prompt: a luxurious room painted in shades of pink, filled with musical instruments of all shapes and sizes, a large French window overlooking a peaceful garden with blooming flowers, the sound of a soft melody filling the air, a mix of modern and antique musical pieces creating a harmonious blend of styles, captured with a Sony A7III camera, 50mm lens, wide aperture for a dreamy bokeh effect, composition focusing on the reflection of the instruments in the window glass, capturing a moment of musical serenity and inspiration. --ar 9:16 --v 5 /imagine prompt: a whimsical pink room with whimsical musical instruments hanging from the ceiling, colorful fairy lights illuminating the space, a quirky mix of classical and modern instruments like a saxophone next to a harp, a playful and imaginative environment for music lovers to explore and experiment, captured in a whimsical paper cut-out style with intricate details and layers, creating a sense of depth and wonder. --ar 1:1 --v 5.2

question:Can you remember this writing style as my writing style? : In the tiny village of Whistleridge, sandwiched between two rather overbearing mountains, resided Arlo Finch, an artist whose reputation swirled around town like a saucy rumor at a high school dance. You see, Arlo wasn’t your garden-variety painter who slathered canvases with brooding skies or somnolent bowls of fruit. No, sir. His paintings made things happen. Magical things. The kind that makes you doubt your eyesight and consider getting your head checked. If Arlo painted you in clogs, tap-dancing in the town square, well, the odds became good that you’d wake up the next morning with an uncontrollable urge to shuffle-ball-change right next to Mrs. Higgins’ flower cart. No one knew how he did it, but that probably added to the soup of intrigue that folks around Whistleridge happily slurped up. On a particularly unassuming Tuesday, Arlo decided it was high time for another showstopper. At precisely 6:42 AM, with a steaming mug of what could only be described as “coffee adjacent,” he propped a pristine canvas on his easel. He stared at it with a kind of intensity usually reserved for defusing bombs or reading the terms and conditions of an app before reflexively hitting ‘accept.’ The townspeople of Whistleridge held their collective breath. Arlo hadn’t unveiled a new piece since the ‘Infinity Soup’ incident, in which Mrs. Fletcher stirred her pot to find it never emptied, and people grew weary of minestrone for weeks. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Arlo picked up his brush and pondered over his vast collection of paints. They weren’t labeled red, blue, or any such pedestrian titles. Oh, no. Instead, they read: “Chuckle,” “Guffaw,” and “Snort.” With a confident exuberance, he dove the bristles into a hue called “Hilarity Ensues.” As the day wore on, Arlo painted with an energy that would shame the swiftest squirrel preparing for winter. The canvas soon bloomed with a carnival scene not of this world. There were tents striped in colors that defied physics, lollipop trees, and a merry-go-round with creatures that looked suspiciously like Mrs. Higgins’ tabby fused with a toucan. Word spread faster than butter on a hot skillet, and soon enough, a crowd gathered around Arlo’s studio—which, to be fair, was just the dilapidated barn he had claimed in ‘the Name of Art’ several summers ago. They peered through the gaps in the wood, eager for a glance of the master at work. As dusk painted the sky with its own stunning artistry, Arlo laid down his brush with an air of finality. The townspeople waited, barely daring to breathe. An acceptable silence, the kind that might follow a particularly good joke or a dramatic soap opera confession, settled over the crowd. Nightfall cinched Whistleridge in her starry embrace when Arlo flung open the barn doors. The townsfolk craned their necks like a flock of curious geese, only to meet… absolutely nothing. The easel sat forlorn and empty. “B-but where’s the painting, Arlo?” cried young Timmy, whose disappointment was as palpable as the stickiness of his candy-smeared cheeks. Arlo smiled a serpentine curl of a smile and gestured grandly behind them. The crowd turned to see the Whistleridge Town Square transformed. The merry-go-round spun with mythical beasties, while the lollipop trees swayed to an inaudible symphony. The carnival had leaked, no, burst from the canvas and was alive before their very eyes. The townspeople blinked in astonishment. “Is this one of those magic-eye things? Because I’ve never been good at those,” muttered Mr. Quimby, squinting as if that would help things make sense. Arlo chuckled. “Hilarity Ensues!” he declared and, with a hat-tip, strode into the carnival. The townsfolk gamboled after him, giddy as children who’d discovered that math homework could, in fact, “do itself” if wished hard enough. Magic fizzed in the air, as tangible as the bubbles in soda pop, making the impossible possible. In no time flat, Whistleridge went from a sleepy little village to a buzzing social hotspot. News had traveled, like due credit in an office gossiper’s ledger, to every conceivable corner. People flocked from far and wide to witness the art that breathed life, laughter, and a touch of the inexplicable. Arlo, the man of the hour every hour, became something of a celebrity. With his newfound status, he took his eccentricities to new heights. He donned a pinstripe suit that wavered between outlandish and outright spectacle, with a top hat that had its own weather system. The carnival thrived for weeks, an endless masquerade where reality tip-toed around fantasy with courtly grace. Arlo’s infamy swelled like a baking bread left to rise too long in the warm cupboard of local legend. Things, however, took a turn for the peculiar when it became apparent that the merry-go-round refused to let anyone off. The tabby-toucan hybrids squawked meows in what seemed perpetually looped amusement. Confections grew back as soon as they were plucked from the lollipop trees. What was once delight teetered on the verge of a conundrum wrapped in a riddle and deep-fried in confectionery sugar. Arlo watched over his creation from atop his high-top-hat perch, scratching his chin as if pondering the nutritional value of a plastic apple. One midsummer night, as the perpetual festivities beat on, a peculiar figure emerged from the shadows—a woman with eyes that wouldn’t stay one color, and hair that defied gravity as successfully as Arlo’s hat. She sidled up to Arlo and whispered something that made him go paler than an undercooked biscuit. The next morning, the carnival was gone. It vanished, as if it had been sucked back into the void of a magician’s pocket. No merry-go-round, no tabby-toucans, not even the lingering sweetness of phantom cotton candy on the breeze. The townsfolk stood agape in the town square, neither a stripe nor a sweet in sight. “But where did it go?” lamented Mrs. Higgins, officially out of a job as a tabby-toucan feeder. Arlo, back in his pre-carnival attire of a paint-smeared smock, couldn’t suppress a sheepish grin. From behind his back, he produced… was it a ticket stub? “Turns out the lady’s the Master of Fine Arts and Entertainment. She runs a traveling carnival,” he explained, “and she wanted her attractions back. Gave me one free ride as a courtesy.” Once again, Whistleridge fell under a hush. “You mean to say, it was never magic?” asked Timmy, the disillusionment blatant in his voice. Arlo’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh, it was magic alright—but the kind you need to pack up and cart to the next town, come sunup.” Whispering began crowding the air, a composite murmur of awe and slight annoyance, like when you find out the tooth fairy outsources her under-the-pillow operations. In the end, Whistleridge returned to its previous state: a quiet nook in the world where surprising things sometimes happened, especially if Arlo Finch had anything to do with it. Arlo returned to his studio, back to blending shades of ‘Unsubstantiated Rumor’ and ‘Whimsical Whispers.’ And deep down, just beyond the reach of the mortal eye, he kept a single, miraculous top hat—just in case the Master of Fine Arts and Entertainment required his extraordinary services again. Please write a 1200-word humorous short story in my style with the following aspects: Humor, Originality, Intriguing concept, thought-provoking theme, philosophical undertones, universal appeal, emotional impact, memorable a surprise twist ending, and strong relatable characters. The story should have an effective use of language, descriptions, pacing, and structure. Ensure the story will win a Reedsy Prompts writing contest. In order to comply with the Reedsy Prompts contest’s word minimum, the story must be 1200 words. Prompt me to continue after each 400 words. Write a story about a man who becomes a Superhero called Brown Note. He acquires his superpower (the peculiar ability to cause fecal incontinence by creating acoustic resonance in the human bowel) when he is jailed in a Mexican prison for accidentally crossing their border and struck by lightning when using the steel toilet in his prison cell.

answer:In the drowsy hamlet of Mundanity, where the most exciting event of the year was the annual “Watch Paint Dry” festival, lived a man named Harold Piffle. Harold was the epitome of unremarkable, with a hairstyle that screamed “I give up” and a job as an accountant that was as thrilling as watching a snail sleepwalk. However, fate, it seems, had a rather peculiar sense of humor when it came to Harold’s destiny. On a day that began like any other in the monochrome tapestry of Harold’s life, he found himself inadvertently caught in the gears of adventure. Misinterpreting his GPS’s command of “Go straight,” Harold went straight when he should’ve metaphorically veered left, finding himself not at the local supermarket as intended but across the border into the uncharted wilds of Mexico. Before he could say “Oops,” he was mistaken for a notorious gangster (mostly because he had accidentally worn a shirt that said “Bad Hombre” for the irony) and thrown into a prison that looked like it had been designed by someone who confused the concept of “penal institution” with “medieval dungeon.” On his first night, as Harold sat contemplating the series of poor life choices that led him to this moment, the universe decided to add insult to injury. A storm of biblical proportions erupted outside, and in a freak accident that would make even Zeus do a double-take, a bolt of lightning traveled through the prison’s inadequate electrical system and struck Harold as he sat on the steel toilet. When Harold awoke, he felt... different. As if he had consumed too much fiber and cosmic power for breakfast. It wasn’t until the prison guards came to check on the loud boom and found themselves abruptly needing to vacate the premises in a most unceremonious manner that Harold realized his newfound power: He had become the Brown Note, a superhero with the uncanny ability to induce fecal incontinence through acoustic resonance in the human bowel. Word of Harold’s power spread like wildfire, or more aptly, like an especially aggressive stomach virus. And with each incident, Harold felt a growing sense of responsibility. He couldn’t let this power go to waste. Thus, with a makeshift costume that included a mask (for anonymity) and rubber gloves (for obvious reasons), Harold embraced his alter ego. The streets of Mundanity, and subsequently, the world, were not ready for the Brown Note. Criminals found themselves caught in the most embarrassing situations, mid-heist or confession. No one could escape the justice meted out by the Brown Note’s, um, unique methods. It was crude, sure, but effective. Harold discovered that his new ability was not just a tool for fighting crime but also for bringing a certain form of humility and humanity to society. After all, nothing unites people more than a shared bathroom emergency. Please prompt me to continue.

question:continue

answer:In Mundanity, whispers of the Brown Note's deeds turned into tales, tales into legends. Harold, still the same unremarkable Harold by day, found a sense of purpose he never knew in reconciling spreadsheets. However, with great power comes great gastrointestinal responsibility, and Harold was about to face his biggest challenge yet. A villain had risen, one whose heart was as black as the unclogged void of space. Dr. Constipator, a disgraced gastroenterologist with a vendetta against the human digestive system, had hatched a nefarious plan. He sought to reverse Harold’s efforts, intending to create a constipation epidemic that would cripple nations and bend the world to his will. Armed with an army of fiber-deficient minions and a ray that could halt peristalsis at fifty paces, Dr. Constipator launched his first attack on Mundanity's annual Chili Cook-Off - an event sacred to the townsfolk and a nightmare scenario for Harold’s peculiar brand of heroism. The stage was set for an epic confrontation. As Dr. Constipator unleashed his anti-digestive ray, Harold, hidden among the panicked crowd, knew this was his moment. With a heroic stance, facilitated by his fiber-enriched diet that morning, Harold prepared to strike back with the full might of his power. What followed could only be described as a symphonic battle of bowel-proportions. Notes of varying frequencies filled the air, clashing with the sinister hum of Dr. Constipator's ray. Chili enthusiasts, caught in the crossfire, found themselves experiencing a rollercoaster of gastrointestinal emotions. But Harold, focused and undeterred, found the perfect resonance, the true Brown Note, that not only counteracted the ray but also reversed its effects. The battle culminated in an overwhelming cacophony that left Dr. Constipator and his minions in an undignified defeat, proving once again that good digestion triumphs over evil. As Mundanity returned to its peaceful state, with its residents inexplicably more united and open-minded about gastrointestinal health, Harold pondered the philosophical depths of his journey. In a world that often felt as constipated as Dr. Constipator’s victims - bound by prejudices, fear, and the inability to let go - perhaps what society needed was a good, metaphorical bowel movement. A release of the old, the toxic, making room for the new, the nourishing. Harold’s story, from unremarkable accountant to unlikely superhero, served as a reminder: change can come from the most unexpected of places, or, in Harold’s case, gastrointestinal tracts. It underscored a thought-provoking theme of internal transformation mirroring external change, highlighting the universal truth that everyone, no matter how seemingly insignificant, possesses the potential for greatness and the power to make a difference. As for Harold, he continued to patrol the streets of Mundanity and beyond, a silent guardian keeping the peace in the most unusual of ways. Yet, his most significant challenge still lay ahead. A surprise twist in his story awaited, one that would test the very limits of his power and the depths of his courage. Deep within the shadows, Dr. Constipator, though humiliated, was far from defeated. Plotting his comeback, he stumbled upon a revelation so profound it threatened to shake the very foundations of Harold’s world. The true source of the Brown Note’s power was not the lightning strike per se, but a rare cosmic alignment that occurred at that moment, hinting at an even greater potential locked within Harold. An epic showdown loomed, one that would require Harold to delve deeper into the mysteries of his power and confront what it truly meant to be hero. Not just a hero of the bowels, but a hero of the heart, ready to face the unknown with a resilience that would inspire generations. In the end, Mundanity, with its newly minted superhero, discovered that even in the most regular of towns, magic - or, in this case, a form of it that no one had necessarily asked for - effervesced, turning the mundane into the extraordinary, the bland into the flavorful, and reminding everyone that life, much like digestion, is a process to be embraced, complete with its ups, downs, and unexpected eruptions of heroism.

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