It is, perhaps, at the nexus where science and philosophy (and to some extent, even faith) intertwine in an infinitely deep and complex consanguinity that the greatest questions of our selves, our world, and our universe are asked. From the discovery of fire, to the determination of a round earth, to the development of quantum mechanics, our species is in a constant state of discovery and simultaneous flux of knowledge — learning and unlearning, unearthing new truths whilst debunking those theories previously uniformly perceived as whole scientific and/or sacrosanct/moral truth.

One could argue that the path to discovery takes root in acknowledging our own cerebral fallibility, and possessing a humble approach to theoretical findings (specifically, those deemed empirical). “The problem of induction” is the question of whether inductive reasoning leads to knowledge, challenging, thusly, all empirical claims made in everyday life or through the scientific method.

The problem of induction itself hearkens to the theory of knowledge, or “epistemology” — simply put, what is knowledge, how do we acquire it, and how much do we possess? Does knowledge simply exist as a subset to “truth” and “belief” — existing therein where the two intersect — or is it something deeper, beyond our own comprehension?

One such undeniable truism exists: simply explaining how things occur (the cornerstone of scientific discovery) is still different from explaining why things occur. People have been asking “What is the meaning of life?” for ages; we can understand how our bodies work, but not why we are here. So, too, can we theorize and understand quite exactly how fire burns, how glaciers carve mountains, even how our very universe came to be…but not why.

Such a complex and, perhaps, unanswerable set of questions lends itself to both the very best and worst (or at least, exploitative) minds the world has to offer: religion has its creationists, new-agers have their What tнe #$*! Dө ωΣ (k)πow!?, Hollywood has its Ben Stein, and the scientific community has its Allan Sandage. But consider those doubters of empirical “wisdom” such as Carl Sagan and Albert Einstein; dreamers such as Thomas Pynchon and Jules Verne (with a nearly prophetic imagination); minds such as Max Planck, Niels Bohr, Werner Heisenberg, and Hugh Everett, whose “Many-worlds interpretation” hypothesized that “while the multiverse is deterministic, we perceive non-deterministic behavior governed by probabilities, because we can observe only the universe — i.e. the consistent state contribution to the mentioned superposition — we inhabit.”

So, perhaps it is — in actuality — where sophisticated, erudite academe and childlike fascination with the mysteries of the universe intersect where the boldest questions are asked, and the grandest discoveries are made. At best, we will have to be satisfied with the conclusions we devise on our own (0r at least our own interpretations of the theories, empirical or otherwise, that others decipher for us), and at worst, we will continue to be baffled by the barrage of enigmatic conundrums pitched our way by the space and time we inhabit.

In the grand footsteps of those possessing the intellectual fortitude to call into question the empiricism of the claims made by trailblazing vanguards who’ve preceded them, the only clowns scarier than Fat Mike — The Insane Clown Posse — have written a song that will make you question your system of beliefs, and open your eyes to the beauty and, yes — the magic — of the world around you. I suggest you take their words to heart, for indeed, fuckin’ magnets…how do they work?

Saturday Night Live threw some questions of their own into the mix: