Then Update and Pretend

The only thing weird about you
Is your priors—apart from those,
You have to admit you’re normal;

Your life’s been quite predictable.
It does seem a bit like cheating,
Though, doesn’t it? The more you know,

The more you can constrain what’s next,
But at some point, it’s just Laplace
And his super-intelligence

With access to so much data
The future is present as past.
You’re normally distributed,

Given what you know of your past,
But that’s all part of what you know.
What you’ll become might yet get weird.