f(x) \doteq
\sum_{n=0}^{\infty} \frac{e^{-2} \, 2^n}{n!}
+ \frac{1}{\sqrt{2 \, \pi}}\int_{-\infty}^{+ \infty} x \, \exp(-y^2/2) \, dy;
\]
then, applying Taylor's theorem and the Newton–Leibniz axiom,
Okay. Breathe.
Let's restate the above in non-pompous terms.
Let $f(x)$ be the following function
\[f(x) = 1 + x\]
then $f(1) = 2$.
All the words between "following" and "function" in the first paragraph mean "smooth," which this function certainly is; $f \in \mathrm{C}^{\infty}$ is the formal way to say all the words in that sentence, so it's redundant.
As for the complicated formula, it uses a series and an integral that each compute to one. Eagle-eyed readers will notice that the first is the Taylor series expansion of $e^2$ times the constant $e^{-2}$ and the second is $x$ times the integral of the p.d.f. for the Normal distribution for $y$, which by definition of a probability has to integrate to 1. Taylor's theorem and Newton–Leibniz axiom are used to get the values for the series and the integral from first principles, as is done in first-year mathematical analysis classes, and which no one would ever use in a practical calculation.
And that's the problem with an increasing number of public intellectuals and technical material.
There are some genuinely complex things out there, and to even understand the problems in some of these complex things one needs serious grounding in the tools of the field. There's no question about that. But there's a lot of deliberate obfuscation of the clear and unnecessary complexification of the simple.
Why? And what can we do about it?
As they’re telling me the conditions of the theorem, I construct something which fits all the conditions. You know, you have a set (one ball)—disjoint (two balls). Then the balls turn colors, grow hairs, or whatever, in my head as they put more conditions on. Finally they state the theorem, which is some dumb thing about the ball which isn’t true for my hairy green ball thing, so I say, “False!”
If it’s true, they get all excited, and I let them go on for a while. Then I point out my counterexample.
“Oh. We forgot to tell you that it’s Class 2 Hausdorff homomorphic.”
“Well, then,” I say, “It’s trivial! It’s trivial!” By that time I know which way it goes, even though I don’t know what Hausdorff homomorphic means.
Excerpt From: Richard Feynman, “Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman: Adventures of a Curious Character.”
This post was inspired by an old paper that starts with $1+1=2$ and ends with a multi-line formula, but I've lost the reference; it might have been in the igNobel prizes collection.