I, a male blogger, am writing about algebra today. Stuff like this always turns out well for everyone involved.
You see, it was reportedly someone of my gender who invented these wonderful numerical contortions. The idea was supposedly to improve data figures at the cost of everyone’s comfort. Because math is cool.
And then, as can be readily observed, folks of my gender started spending their time trying to convince women to stop using these calculations. It makes women less controllable than idiots and non-idiots can be difficult for us to unravel. That also shows how math is cool.
So we support math use because it’s cool and we oppose math use because it’s cool. This fits a prominent definition of numerophobia wherein the object of fear is viewed as contributing to a preternatural intelligence regardless of whether it’s understood or not.
Seriously. That’s a factual definition. For instance, idiots stereotypically avoid math and science because it’s not idiotic. And when they do go for it, they’re still idiots. And no action can break the cycle of numerophobia because everything will be reduced to the lowest common denominator.
And with that in mind, all accusations towards mathematicians insult my intelligence. There’s simply no way to behave towards math that will not get a person identified as an idiot. That’s not fair.
Even though we’re really dumber than pigs.
Because today is Monday, it’s time for some twisted fun. And when it comes to twisted fun, no one beats the ancient Greeks. They had orgies.
So what if these orgies were religious rites? There’s not much difference between those and today’s celebrations.
The ancient Greeks believed that ambrosia was the food of the gods. It was like candy to them. Modern orgies haven’t changed much except Candy is a she, not an it. Cries to at least one god also permeate the modern orgy atmosphere.
The ancient Greeks rode asses. I think no further explanation is necessary on this point.
Orgies did not happen on Mondays in ancient Greece because Monday had not been invented yet. Orgies do not happen on Mondays in modern times because fraternities and sororities expect their members to wear at least a toga at all times. Businesses, on the other hand, prefer to keep employee ethics at a permanently high level because they love moral philosophy; therefore, no orgies on weekdays.
People who were excluded from either form of orgy might literally or figuratively be found singing the blues. Those who weren’t excluded might find themselves nursing bruises that are a lovely shade of blue.
And here’s something else you can sing if you like. It was the inspiration for this post:
Once upon a time, a young Mr. Duck was enamored with a certain Ms. Duck. He’d keep his eyes glued on her and she’d just swim on by, oblivious to his existence.
One fine summer day, Mr. Duck realized that he’d need something really big to grab her attention. And, lo and behold, a gargantuan human clad in a Daffy Duck t-shirt came ambling towards the lake.
Mr Duck, mistaking himself for an owl, wisely deduced that Mr. Human was a fan. Maybe Mr. Human would assist with his procreative efforts. So Mr. Duck flapped and flapped and quacked and quacked and got a lot of attention for himself and his beloved.
Unfortunately for the not-quite-couple, it was duck season, not wabbit season. Fortunately for us, we get a crispy story of culinary love instead of sappy sentimentality.
This summer, find your true love and put it on a plate.
I, a human blogger, am writing about zebras today. Stuff like this always turns out well for everyone involved.
You see, it was reportedly someone of my species who discovered these wonderful animals. God’s idea was supposedly to improve horses’ figures at the cost of their skins. Because humans enjoy fancy rugs.
And then, as can be readily observed, folks of my species started spending their time trying to convince lions to stop eating these animals. But lions are more stubborn than senators and they can be difficult for humans to communicate with. But our attempts show how we’re environmentally enlightened.
So we support zebra use because we’re stylish and we oppose zebra use because we’re ecostylish. This fits a prominent definition of convenience wherein the object of convenience is viewed as benefiting a preconceived desire regardless of what he or she does.
Seriously. That’s a factual definition. For instance, zebras conveniently avoid lions and tigers because it’s not appropriate for such “weak” and “slow” animals. And when they do go for interspecies friendships, they’re still considered “slow” and “soon to be dead,” but in a different way. And no action can break the cycle of convenience because anything will be twisted around to fit.
It’s a convenient cultural construction, not biological reality, that zebras are slower than lions. If we redefine speed to something more inconvenient, zebras and lions can live together in harmony.
And with that in mind, the conservation of zebras insults my intelligence. There’s simply no way to think about a zebra that will not result in the animal getting killed. That’s not fair to the zebras.
Even though they’re probably pretty tasty…
According to The Very Good Book, gods love watermelons.
Watermelons are cool and slushy and refreshing for those who happen to enjoy the taste of watermelon. They’re also quite colorful:
And that leaves just one important question: are you a god or a watermelon?
My long time followers may remember that I enjoy unusual culinary treats. Today I’d like to share the inedible remnants of a favorite exploration:
This is Rambutan. You can see the sizable interior and exterior of the husks as well as the almond-sized pits. I hope that this will serve as an important reminder of several things:
1- If you bite into an unfamiliar fruit without removing the not-so-tasty bits, you probably won’t have an pleasant experience. I bet this stuff makes a mouth full of lemon peel look pleasant.
2- If you would like to keep your teeth, don’t bite willy-nilly into a fruit. Those pits ain’t soft.
3- If someone tells you that they’ve designed a bra or jockstrap based on some unknown tropical fruit, it will probably turn out worse than the ever popular banana hammock. Just say no.
4- Tropical fruit may look expensive, but it’s worse than you think. There’s a reason the grocery store doesn’t clue you in to all of these inedible components. The fruit part of a rambutan probably takes up only half to a third of the weight you’re paying for.