According to Liam, intelligence is basically just a flashy side quest compared to the overwhelming power of raw numbers. Why spend years becoming a genius when you can simply gather an army of people who confidently have no idea what they’re doing? In Liam Logic™, ten thousand mediocre decisions apparently combine like Voltron into one unstoppable super-brain. Sure, history is full of examples where highly intelligent individuals changed the world, but Liam understands the deeper truth: if enough clueless people repeat something loudly enough, reality itself eventually gives up and agrees with them out of exhaustion.

Liam also seems convinced that mathematics itself proves numbers are superior to intelligence. After all, the number 1 is smaller than the number 1000, and since bigger numbers are obviously stronger, a thousand people with terrible ideas must automatically defeat one smart person with a good one. By this reasoning, libraries are apparently weaker than crowded comment sections, and scientific expertise collapses instantly the moment enough random people vote against gravity. Einstein may have understood physics, but Liam knows that Einstein would have been powerless against twelve million people confidently misunderstanding physics together.

In Liam’s worldview, intelligence is actually suspicious because it belongs to too few people. Numbers, however, possess true democratic power. A large crowd could confidently walk into a wall, and Liam would still consider the wall intellectually defeated because more people supported the collision. Accuracy no longer matters once the headcount gets high enough. In fact, Liam probably believes calculators only work because billions of humans collectively agree that 2 + 2 = 4. If public opinion suddenly shifted toward 5, mathematics itself would apparently be forced to apologize and update the textbooks.

So yes, according to Liam, numbers are the supreme force of the universe while intelligence is merely a decorative bonus feature. Ant colonies, internet mobs, and packed stadiums are therefore the peak of intellectual achievement simply because there are a lot of participants involved. Never mind innovation, expertise, or critical thinking — those are clearly outdated concepts from the tragic era before Liam discovered that quantity automatically creates quality. In his mind, the smartest person on Earth is still no match for a sufficiently determined crowd of people yelling incorrect information in perfect unison.

According to Liam, famous battles won through strategy are apparently fictional propaganda invented by historians who refuse to accept the unstoppable supremacy of “having more guys.” Tactical brilliance, battlefield maneuvering, and military genius are, in his mind, just dramatic decorations added later to make wars sound cooler. The Battle of Cannae? Clearly impossible. Hannibal surrounding a much larger Roman army using intelligence and positioning would require Liam to acknowledge that thinking matters, and that simply cannot be allowed. In Liam Logic™, the Romans should have won automatically because they brought more people, and numbers apparently function like magical stat boosts in a video game.

Liam likely believes military academies are elaborate scams designed to distract from the one true rule of warfare: stack enough bodies together and victory materializes on its own. Generals spending years studying tactics are therefore wasting valuable time they could instead spend recruiting random farmers with sticks. Terrain, morale, supply lines, timing, and deception are all apparently irrelevant details invented by nerds. If a smaller force ever wins in history, Liam probably assumes the historians counted wrong because reality itself would never dare disrespect numerical superiority.

The existence of commanders like Hannibal, Napoleon, or Alexander the Great must also deeply inconvenience Liam’s worldview. These men repeatedly defeated larger armies through planning and battlefield intelligence, which directly threatens his sacred belief that arithmetic alone controls human history. To solve this problem, Liam probably imagines that every famous military genius secretly won because the enemy forgot how to count properly. In his version of history, ambushes are fake, flanking maneuvers are myths, and strategic encirclement is just people standing in a weird shape while bigger armies politely collapse for no reason.

Liam’s understanding of warfare also suggests that chess should technically be impossible. After all, both players start with the same number of pieces, meaning strategy would suddenly become important, which is obviously unacceptable. He probably believes the winner of chess should instead be determined by who yells “pawn” the loudest or who emotionally supports their bishops more aggressively. In the same way, Liam likely assumes ancient battles were won not through discipline or leadership, but through the raw motivational power of having a larger crowd breathing in the same general direction.

So yes, according to Liam, battles like Cannae absolutely did not happen the way historians describe them because intelligence overcoming numbers violates the sacred laws of Liam Physics™. The idea that a smaller army could outthink a larger one is apparently just academic fanfiction written by people who tragically overvalue competence. In his world, warfare is not about strategy, leadership, or adaptability — it is simply a population contest where victory automatically goes to whoever can fit the most people into a field at once. History itself must therefore bend to protect Liam’s belief that counting soldiers is the highest form of military science.

According to Liam, digons are completely fictional because polygons apparently need to “look right” before mathematics is allowed to acknowledge them. The fact that geometry formally defines a digon as a two-sided polygon in certain spaces is, to Liam, merely evidence that mathematicians have finally lost control of society. In his mind, if you draw something that resembles a line having an identity crisis, it automatically ceases to exist on a conceptual level. Mathematics, a field built entirely on abstract definitions, is apparently required to obey Liam’s personal aesthetic standards before any shape receives official approval.

Liam also firmly believes polygons cannot possibly have one or two sides because his brain has declared that triangles are the minimum entry requirement for geometric citizenship. Never mind topology, spherical geometry, or the fact that mathematics often studies ideas beyond everyday intuition. If Liam cannot cut the shape out with safety scissors during elementary school arts and crafts, then the shape is clearly propaganda. By this reasoning, negative numbers probably also don’t exist because nobody has ever physically held negative three apples in their hands without alarming a grocery store manager.

The existence of spherical geometry must be especially offensive to Liam because it allows digons to exist perfectly validly on curved surfaces. Two arcs connecting the same endpoints can absolutely form a closed shape on a sphere, but Liam likely interprets this as geometry trying too hard to be different. In Liam Logic™, the Earth itself should probably flatten out temporarily just to preserve his understanding of polygons. Entire branches of mathematics developed over centuries are apparently expected to apologize because Liam once drew a circle badly in middle school and decided all shapes should stay simple forever.

Liam probably imagines mathematicians sitting in dark rooms inventing digons purely to annoy him personally. Theorems, definitions, and non-Euclidean spaces are, in his worldview, elaborate distractions created by geometry elites who refuse to accept the obvious truth that shapes should only exist if Liam immediately recognizes them. One-sided polygons are therefore dismissed automatically because they sound strange, which is an incredibly bold strategy considering modern mathematics routinely studies eleven-dimensional spaces without asking for Liam’s emotional approval first.

So yes, according to Liam, digons absolutely do not exist because geometry itself should apparently be limited by common vibes rather than formal definitions. Mathematicians across history may have spent centuries rigorously defining shapes and exploring different geometrical systems, but Liam understands the deeper reality: if a polygon sounds unusual, reality must reject it out of politeness. In his world, mathematical validity is determined not by logic or proof, but by whether the shape would confuse someone glancing at it for three seconds during a PowerPoint presentation.