It Just Don’t Add Up

a3I always hated math in school.

It’s just one of those subjects
I can’t get my mind around.

Oh sure,
2 + 2 = 4 is okay , I guess….

But when you start
adding letters like A + B
and getting a number
as an answer-
well,
Mister Man…
— you lost me there.

To me,
A + B = AB .

I know what you’re thinking —math

If that was right,
why wouldn’t 2 + 2
be equal to 22 ?

Hey,
for all I know about math,
it is, somehow.

How the hell should I know?

But, nobody ever accused me
of being a rocket scientist.

Part of the problem
I always had with
math in schooltutor
was that nobody
could explain to me
how a mathematical
process really worked
in practical language
that even a cretin like I
(ok -like ‘me’)
could understand.

I mean,

I just couldn’t understand:
WHY you don’t get PIE
with a Pie chart….

or why “PI”
is so much more of an ‘irrational’a1
than not getting pie with a pie chart…

or why it’s perfectly fine
to have imaginary numbers
in an algebraic equation,
but wrong to have
an imaginary hottie girlfriend
named “Wendy”.

or what difference ‘New Math’
makes over ‘Old Math’,
when I still can’t get the
right answer, anyway.

or why the batch of rubber
I laid in the school parking lot
with my Dad’s 1972 Torinocanteloupes
didn’t count as a “Ford Circle” —

or why any test on “Probability Theory”
always resulted in a 90 percent conjecture
that I was gonna fail it…..

or why the solution
to every “Boolean Function”
proved ‘Evasive’ —
and ended up
making me feel like a Foolean.

or why my Math Teacher a2
grading on a “Bell Curve”
always landed me
somewhere down near the clapper.

Let’s face it —
you could make
ANYTHING beyond complicated
with Mathematics.

Take a simple idea like:
“How do you put algebra
an elephant in a refrigerator?”

And forget the logical stuff
like:

“Why would you WANT
to put an elephant in a refrigerator?”

Because a math whiz
could still give you
a dozen equations for how to do it.a3

Oh–
you just:

” Let ϵ>0
ϵ>0. Then for all such ϵ
ϵ, there exists a δ>0
δ>0 such that
∣ ∣ ∣ elephant2 n ∣ ∣ ∣ <ϵfit
|elephant2n|<ϵ for all n>δ
n>δ . Therefore
lim n→∞ elephant2 n =0.

limn→∞elephant2n=0. “

Or:

“Since 1/2 n <1/n 2
1/2n<1/n2 for n≥5 n≥5 , 
by comparison, we know
that ∑ n≥1 elephant2 n “

Or:

” There exists an affine transformation
F:R 3 →R 3 :p ⃗ ↦Ap ⃗ +
q ⃗ F:R3→R3:p→↦Ap→+q→
that will allow the elephant
to be put into the refrigerator.
Just make sure detA≠0 detA≠0
so you can take the elephant back out,
and detA>0 / detA>0 fall
so you don’t end up with a pulpy mess. “

Ahhh….

So THAT’s how you do it.

It’s now as clear as mud.

I’ll stick to buffalo ….
it’s much simpler.

No wonder
I like history better.

HOY!

moran

 

Hey- Do Something

death As anybody who’s ever
read the Muscleheaded Blog
knows, I’m no philosopher.

It’s not my
place/role/mission/avocation
to break our existence down
into it’s component parts,

and explain each one
of them in a way
that they can bedaffy
clearly understood
and appreciated.

Nope.

And it’s not to
give sage advice
on important matters
of life and love.

Nope.down

Hell,
I wouldn’t take any
of my own advice….

so,
I see no reason
why anybody
else should.tophat

For all I know
this thing of ours
we call life
is nothing but
a colossal circle-jerk
or some kind of
supernal misunderstanding.

What was that question
about the meaning of life?

Ahhh —
well, I dunno,
you might try
the IRS toll free
information line.

And if you call three times
and ask the same question,a2
I bet you’ll get at least
three different answers
from them, too.

That’s not much
of a ideology
upon which to base
constructive suggestions,
I would think.

Nope.

My job is simply
to laugh at it all.

And I spend a good deal
of time and energy iam
trying to fulfill my role
in that respect.

I’m not saying
it’s a tough job or anything —
there’s so much
that is genuinely funny,
either on the baser, gut level,
or on a more existential one.dwig

Life isn’t easy —
— and if you can’t laugh at it,

well–
how much harder
does that make it, then?

I say, laugh…
’cause you can bet
that our cosmic
audience is, already.

I mean, sure —
it’s nice to be able to say
that I’m gonna change this,
or I’m gonna do that different —wakeup

And on a personal level,
that’s perfectly practical,
and commendable.

But outside of that,
we’re all just
being washed slowly
down the universal river
without a paddle —

— no chance to eddy out on this ride.

People, places, and things
are just part of the
scenery sliding past.

So, if you get a chance to laugh
at the occasional squirrel
trying to fuck an oak tree,
my advice is to have at it, man.

Laugh,
I mean —rest

— but if you really
want a crack at that
old oak tree, yourself,
well…

… just watch out for
those damned splinters.

HOY !!!!

munson

Ain’t Nuthing You Can Do About It

Playing “Spin The Bottle”
as a kid should have
taught you some very
valuable lessons about
committing to do things
dictated by luck-

— usually, bad luck

It seems that the choices
that come up at random
are almost always the ones
that you or I would be least
likely to jump into the
clothes closet with,
if we had our druthers….

— even with the N.G.K. rule
absolutely firmly in place.

(Always!)

And yes, damn it,
druthers is a word.

I don’t know where
to tell you to look
that one up, but still……

It’s easy to say:

” Oh no, I’m not doing
any of that, I quit ! ”

But, if you should have the
impudence to commit such
a scandalous outrage–

— one that flies
in the face
of every rule
of the
association of adolescents……

…. you will be permanently
discredited and forthwith
forced to carry around
the worst of the worst
of the potential childhood
earned dis-reputations —

That of a low-down,
yellow-bellied
gold bricker.

Imagine.

So, of course —
you give in to it,
and acquire a memory
that maybe you’re not
all that fond of remembering.

Did you know you can
actually taste the rubber bands
on someone else’s set of
orthodontic braces?

And that it was the girls
to which you were least
attracted–
— that were always
the ones that wanted
to shove their tongues
farthest down your throat?

Oh,
my aching uvula.

It’s all part of that whole
‘coming of age’ rigamarole,
I guess.

Now,
you might be wondering
just brought this topic
to my mind all of a sudden,
just in time for today’s post —

And I gotta be totally
honest with you —shakespeare

I was blowing up a rubber
balloon for a collegues’
birthday party and that
very special flavor/night
came raging back from my
long term memory,
— a good 40 something
years later.

Weird how your
memory works, huh ?

Damn,
I hope she got
those braces off finally.

!!!!! HOY !!!!!

It’s All Junk In The Trunk

b3I’ll let you in on
a little secret if
you’re at all interested…..

Despite appearances,
and no matter how
wonderfully prepared,
organized,
and executed
that this post looks —
(yeah, right)

I was frankly pretty bumfuzzled
about what to blog about today.a3

Originally, I was going to post
about more bad album covers,
having discovered a cache of them
at a local church’s annual
charity garage sale —

But I realized that some
of the other stuff I found
was just as trippy, dippy,
or downright weird,

so I figured it might be
a good time to have one
of those aimless posts
that go absolutely
nowheresville, man.a5

And I totally get you
about the whole
‘Oh, so what’s new’ thing,
I really do.

It’s funny that I still feel like
I gotta explain something
that has become such
a recurring theme…..

Still, it seems to me
that this stuff,
while it is admittedly kinda
a mish-mosh of mélange,
might hold some passing interestz3
to the more kitsch-minded
readers among us.

Knock on wood.

That record carrier’s actually
got a lid and bottom made out of it.

I was actually pretty surprised
more people didn’t glom onto
some of this cool stuff….

Everybody who was there
seemed to be looking for
expensive antiques only
disguised
as junk.

But it was mostly just junk
disguised as junk.b1

Which suited me just fine.
Cause, dammit,
I like junk.

It’s sorta in my blood.

Junk is kinda the ‘mongrel’
of the personal possessions genre.

Like the Müscleheaded Blog
is the mongrel of blogging.

Arrf, aarf.musta

Of course,
getting the stuff home
gave a whole new meaning
to the expression
“Junk In The Trunk” —

Especially considering
I was on my motorcycle.

Still,
when that beautiful
Junk Muse comes a callin’,
I’m right there with
my shield and sword.

Talk about a mixed metaphor.

HOY!

a2