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quotes/jokes
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lei_armstrong
Q: Two cats are sitting on a roof - which one falls off first?
A: The cat with the smallest mew!
Apparently this joke was told at the Bristol open day (heard it from a friend)!
A: The cat with the smallest mew!
Apparently this joke was told at the Bristol open day (heard it from a friend)!
Yeah it was told, and there was a terrible joke about logs, can't remember it though...
barry_4_england
Yeah it was told, and there was a terrible joke about logs, can't remember it though...
I heard that - I can't remember it precisely, but this was the gist of it:
Noah and all the animals were on his ark, and after the floods stopped, Noah let them all off, and told them as they went "go and populate the Earth". So the animals went.
A few days later, Noah went to visit all the animals to see how they were. The elephants were doing well, as were the cows and had plenty offspring. He then went to visit the snakes, but they hadn't reproduced well at all. After to talking to the snakes for a bit, one of them asked Noah "can you cut us down a tree?". Noah was puzzled by this, but he obliged anyway and cut them down a tree.
A few months on, Noah went back round to see the animals, and they were all doing fine. But when he got to the snakes, he was astounded - there were hundreds of them. Noah asked them "how did you breed so much" and the snakes replied "we're adders; we need logs to multiply".
Also:
How does a mathematician get rid of constipation?
He works it out with a pencil.
darth_vader05
ha, they're they only two i've heard of 
another one that i read in someones blog.
'Three men are in a hot-air balloon. Soon, they find themselves lost
in a canyon somewhere. One of the three men says, "I've got an idea.
We can call for help in this canyon and the echo will carry our voices
far."
So he leans over the basket and yells out, "Helllloooooo! Where are
we?" (They hear the echo several times.)
15 minutes later, they hear this echoing voice: "Helllloooooo! You're
lost!!"
One of the men says, "That must have been a mathematician."
Puzzled, one of the other men asks, "Why do you say that?"
The reply: "For three reasons. (1) he took a long time to answer, (2)
he was absolutely correct, and (3) his answer was absolutely useless."'
another one that i read in someones blog.
'Three men are in a hot-air balloon. Soon, they find themselves lost
in a canyon somewhere. One of the three men says, "I've got an idea.
We can call for help in this canyon and the echo will carry our voices
far."
So he leans over the basket and yells out, "Helllloooooo! Where are
we?" (They hear the echo several times.)
15 minutes later, they hear this echoing voice: "Helllloooooo! You're
lost!!"
One of the men says, "That must have been a mathematician."
Puzzled, one of the other men asks, "Why do you say that?"
The reply: "For three reasons. (1) he took a long time to answer, (2)
he was absolutely correct, and (3) his answer was absolutely useless."'
hahaoh,and I also loved the one with the adders!
This is old and long but really funny.
Once upon a time (1/t) pretty little Polly Nomial was strolling across a field of vectors when she came to the boundary of a singularly large matrix. Now Polly was convergent, and her mother had made it an absolute condition that she must never, ever enter such an array without her brackets on. Polly, however, who had changed her variables that morning and was feeling particularly badly behaved, ignored this condition on the basis that it was insufficient, and made her way in amongst the complex elements.
Rows and columns closed in on her from all sides. Tangents approached her surface, and she became tenser and tenser. Quite suddenly, two branches of a hyperbola touched her at a single point. She oscillated violently, became unstable, lost all sense of directrix, tripped over a square root that was protruding from the erf, and plunged headlong down a steep gradient. She was completely divergent by the time she reached the turning point. When she rounded off once more, she found herself inverted, apparently alone in a non-euclidean space.
She was being watched, however. That smooth operator, Curly Pi, was lurking inner product. As his eyes devoured her curvilinear coordinates, a singular expression crossed his face. He wondered, was she convergent? He decided to integrate improperly at once.
Hearing a common fraction behind her, Polly rotated and saw Curly Pi approaching with his lower series extended. She could see at once his degenerate conic and his dissipative terms, and knew he was irrational. "Arcsinh!" she gasped.
"Hey, what's your sine?" he asked. "What a symmetric set of asymptotes you have!"
"Stay away from me!" she protested. "I haven't got any brackets on!"
"Calm yourself, my dear!" said the smooth operator.. "Your fears are purely imaginary."
"i, i, ..." she thought, "Perhaps he's not normal, but homologous."
"What order are you?" the brute suddenly demanded.
"Seventeen," replied Polly.
Curly leered, "I suppose you've never been operated upon?"
"Of course not. I'm absolutely convergent!" Polly replied quite properly.
"Come on," said Curly: "Let's go to decimal place I know of, and I'll take you to the limit."
"Never!" gasped Polly..
"Abscissa!" he swore a violent oath. Coshing her over the coefficient with a log until she was powerless, Curly removed her discontinuities. He stared at her significant places, and began smoothing her points of inflection. Poor Polly Nomial! The algorithm method was now her only hope. She felt him approaching her asymptotic limit. Her convergence would soon be gone forever. There was no mercy; Curly was a heavy side operator. His radius squared itself and Polly's loci quivered. He integrated by parts. He integrated by partial fractions. After he cofactored, he performed Runge-Kutta on her. He even went all the way around and did a contour integration. Curly went on operating until he satisfied her hypotheses, then he exponentiated and became completely orthogonal.
When Polly got home that night, her mother noticed that she was no longer piecewise continuous, but had been truncated in several places. But it was too late to differentiate now. As the months went by, Polly's denominator increased monotonically. Finally, they took her to L'Hopital and generated a small but pathological function which left surds all over the place and drove Polly to deviation.
The moral of this tale is: "If you want to keep your expressions convergent, never allow them a single degree of freedom."
Now that's what I call getting your Mathematical Pundamentals right.
Once upon a time (1/t) pretty little Polly Nomial was strolling across a field of vectors when she came to the boundary of a singularly large matrix. Now Polly was convergent, and her mother had made it an absolute condition that she must never, ever enter such an array without her brackets on. Polly, however, who had changed her variables that morning and was feeling particularly badly behaved, ignored this condition on the basis that it was insufficient, and made her way in amongst the complex elements.
Rows and columns closed in on her from all sides. Tangents approached her surface, and she became tenser and tenser. Quite suddenly, two branches of a hyperbola touched her at a single point. She oscillated violently, became unstable, lost all sense of directrix, tripped over a square root that was protruding from the erf, and plunged headlong down a steep gradient. She was completely divergent by the time she reached the turning point. When she rounded off once more, she found herself inverted, apparently alone in a non-euclidean space.
She was being watched, however. That smooth operator, Curly Pi, was lurking inner product. As his eyes devoured her curvilinear coordinates, a singular expression crossed his face. He wondered, was she convergent? He decided to integrate improperly at once.
Hearing a common fraction behind her, Polly rotated and saw Curly Pi approaching with his lower series extended. She could see at once his degenerate conic and his dissipative terms, and knew he was irrational. "Arcsinh!" she gasped.
"Hey, what's your sine?" he asked. "What a symmetric set of asymptotes you have!"
"Stay away from me!" she protested. "I haven't got any brackets on!"
"Calm yourself, my dear!" said the smooth operator.. "Your fears are purely imaginary."
"i, i, ..." she thought, "Perhaps he's not normal, but homologous."
"What order are you?" the brute suddenly demanded.
"Seventeen," replied Polly.
Curly leered, "I suppose you've never been operated upon?"
"Of course not. I'm absolutely convergent!" Polly replied quite properly.
"Come on," said Curly: "Let's go to decimal place I know of, and I'll take you to the limit."
"Never!" gasped Polly..
"Abscissa!" he swore a violent oath. Coshing her over the coefficient with a log until she was powerless, Curly removed her discontinuities. He stared at her significant places, and began smoothing her points of inflection. Poor Polly Nomial! The algorithm method was now her only hope. She felt him approaching her asymptotic limit. Her convergence would soon be gone forever. There was no mercy; Curly was a heavy side operator. His radius squared itself and Polly's loci quivered. He integrated by parts. He integrated by partial fractions. After he cofactored, he performed Runge-Kutta on her. He even went all the way around and did a contour integration. Curly went on operating until he satisfied her hypotheses, then he exponentiated and became completely orthogonal.
When Polly got home that night, her mother noticed that she was no longer piecewise continuous, but had been truncated in several places. But it was too late to differentiate now. As the months went by, Polly's denominator increased monotonically. Finally, they took her to L'Hopital and generated a small but pathological function which left surds all over the place and drove Polly to deviation.
The moral of this tale is: "If you want to keep your expressions convergent, never allow them a single degree of freedom."
Now that's what I call getting your Mathematical Pundamentals right.
Not a joke but a quote from one of my lectures which made me laugh:
"This is maths not the real world"
"This is maths not the real world"
Why did the mathematical tree fall over?
It had no real roots [:
It had no real roots [:
There's tonnes of great anecdotes from the history of mathematics which are mostly pretty funny.
When enquiring one day as to the absence of one of his students Dr X was told that he had quit mathematics to become a poet.
To which he replied.
"He was never imaginative enough to be a mathematician."
When enquiring one day as to the absence of one of his students Dr X was told that he had quit mathematics to become a poet.
To which he replied.
"He was never imaginative enough to be a mathematician."
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