Mathematics student who upon completion of his degree was ripped from the university’s caring bosom and cast into the ghastly cold world of employment

  • 5 Posts
Joined 2Y ago
Cake day: Feb 02, 2021


I think socialism should enforce a culture of education where to “go back to school” is no longer considered an insult. It should become mainstream and even expected that adults re-attend classes to gain a new perspective on the subject, and also to be offered second chances to improve their grades and their opportunities with respect to work. Other than reducing illiteracy in every subject and improving the general level of education, it will reinforce the belief among minors that there are reasons beyond school to attend class and to try and understand the matters that are taught. This will also address the Montessori criticism of the classical school system, namely that it places undue pressure on students and that they cannot learn at their own pace; and it will alleviate the need of current curricula to be repetitive.

I mean it’s green but it still wouldn’t make sense to designate specific “nuclear” areas, because you can place a nuclear power plant practically anywhere short of a desert

btw China has [quadrupled]( its green energy production since 2008

Sadly, I think this is going to alienate liberals as well. They always have cultural opinions that would have been revolutionary fifty years ago, but trans rights are revolutionary now.

As we all know, the only thing that can end a cycle of aggression is more aggression

When your MtG game has two Blue players

The USA is like one of these lorries that keeps making the same obnoxious sound whenever it goes in reverse

Free-market economists are a very peculiar phenomenon that is entirely unique to the field of economics. Imagine there was an asteroid threatening to kill nearly as much people as the consequences of capitalism, and you had an entire school of physicists just sitting back and telling us that doing anything about it would be worse than just waiting for it to drop

Newsflash, if your goal is to efficiently earn lots of money in Japan, you’d better become a hobo before joining the fucking anime industry. Even in the essential sectors of the Japanese economy, it is hard to find people worn so excruciatingly to the bone and getting so shamelessly little in return for it as animators. There is no economic incentive in this industry except to leave

If people called your ancestors “The Terror of _”, then it might be time reevaluating your family business

Ah yes the Congo cobalt mines, a classical example juxtaposing the evilness of the Chinese communists with the humanitarian charity of enlightened, peace-loving Westerners like Leopold II

This is clearly a two-way carpet, you need to observe basic traffic rules

@HaSchtoshitpostingGoes hard

Stalin of the House of Dzhugashvily, the First of His Name, the Undefeated, King of the Rus, the Cossacks, and the Soviet Men, Ruler of Moscow, Khan of the Great Kazakh Steppe, Protector of the Union, Regnant of the Fourteen Republics, Breaker of Sieges, and Father of Bears

Thinking your system is more susceptible to external attacks than internal problems is the modus operandi of old grannies struggling with their Windows 2000

I know you probably mean online videogames, but now I’m stuck with this picture of FIDE sending an arbiter to my house to lock my chessboard in a safe

“mmmh me horny for teacher”

Is it any wonder companies try to sell you a new phone every two months if people do shit like this?

I am aware that people may call my musical taste old-fashioned, but I still can’t think of any marching band which would invest in a device that generates a “Clash Royale sound effect” in order to perform this anthem

They believe they are rational and yet advocate history’s most chaotic and hot-headed way to organise production?

Cool, then you will enjoy having your name cleared in a tribunal by your tenants

I have recently discovered green tea for myself; not the garbage they sell you in teabags, but the good stuff you brew from whole tea leaves. I tend to feel relaxed after drinking it, and it has replaced coffee where I don’t need actually an energy boost, making caffeine from coffee or black tea intake a viable option for tactical and strategical alertness.

He put his own nutsack in a vice and semaphored “PAIN” to alert the world, 1966

Are you sure this isn’t because looking through the fascist lens inherently requires less sophistication?

I like to think about other ideologies in terms of what technical informatics understands as “hardening”, that is the minimisation of your attack surface, or the union of your vulnerabilities. If you administer a computer or a network, you must stay informed about viruses, worms, and other threats, which exploits they use to attack you, and how to protect yourself against them.

Likewise, as a communist, it is your duty to understand ideologies such as liberalism or fascism to the point where you can see the world through their eyes, in order to understand how they try to get at you on a subconscious level, how minds infected by them work, and what sorts of arguments they might hit you with (A) as some person on the street and (B) when they find out you’re a communist (As you will find, these are completely different, beware especially with fascists!).

Doing this is not only necessary if you are in a position where you have to debate other ideologies it is inevitable if you want to stay a communist. Although Marxist-Leninist theory may not be vulnerable on a logical level, (A) finding the defence against arguments in practice is not always trivial, (B) you often won’t see in advance when, where and by which means idealogues attempts to target you, and ( C) both cold (broad absorption through media) and hot (anticommunists targeting you specifically) techniques of manipulation don’t even try to appeal to logic in the first place.

That’s not snow, it’s paperwork

I don’t think this couple has ever been anywhere or done anything in Germany

He’s like an archaeologist who found the Amber Room in his backyard and then calculated how many hookers this could buy him

You don’t sell good fences if your main business is lockpicking

Can politics please stop being about why this or that rando wasn’t invited to some clown fiesta

I look to The Economist to absorb stupid and dangerous ideas about Keynesianism, there’s already the Daily Mail for when I need someone to insult and incite hate crimes against foreigners

Actually no, was there anything important behind that or did they just observe Ukrainian parliamentary etiquette as a show of support?

The Oscar’s are the cinematic equivalent of the Nobel Peace Prize. It is very rare that someone deserving gets them, they are fundamentally an occasion for the liberal bourgeoisie to celebrate itself

Navigator James (TW: Thalassophobia)
Navigator James has never thought about becoming a navigator. After all, why should he be? True, his late father was a captain at sea and he has been on ships before as a little kid. But he has never worked there, he doesn't know anyone there, and he doesn't live anywhere near the ocean. His house belongs to a big trading post at the edge of the desert, and on a clear day after one of the rare rainfalls he can make out a small wadi from the top of the clock tower, the only natural body of water within two days on horseback. James has a good life there. He is a foreigner, but you would not know from his Arabic; he has grown into the community for many years since he was a young adult, and his mind was keen enough that he was elected to become the new Imam a few years ago. On Friday, the local mosque is the place to be, because there is no one better than him to regale the people about the wonders of the big world and the beauties of the cosmos. In his house, he lives around a giant labyrinth of books, scrolls, folders, globes, charts, models, instruments, and handwritten notes in many languages, having arrived there for all sorts of reasons, carried by all sorts of traders from all sorts of countries, documents about astronomy, optics, mathematics, chemistry, medicine, physics, the many cultures of the world with their religions, laws, and customs, and illustrated encyclopaedias about all the animals and the plants that grow on the earth. And then, alone on the far right of the lowest shelf, lies the most important book which he ever read, the book because of which he is here. A stark contrast to the rest of the bright, sunlit library, a giant and heavy tome with a dark blue cover, measuring thousands of pages of fineprint, in English. This book, a compendium translating hundreds of professors and other experts, each one a luminary in their own field, is only here because his father imparted it on him as his last gift before his final journey. If a visitor found and opened it, they would read the title in big, elaborate letters: OCEAN. James wakes up from an English voice telling him that it is noon. He wears a purple robe of silk and lies on a big red velvet bag, surrounded by soft white globes of the Earth and the sky, a big atlas, and a round piece of coal. The walls of his chamber are covered with expensive carpets with floral patterns in brown, yellow, and green, and warm orange light emanates from four hemispherical lamps embedded into the top portion of each wall. Two tall, muscular Englishmen come through a hidden door in the wall, constrain him, and force-feed him mashed potatoes through a funnel. Later, one clears the funnel and cutlery from the room, the other unties him again and explains him the circumstances he is in. James' face becomes pale. He barely succeeds in swallowing back his own vomit, for which an orange bucket would have been on standby. It appears that the crown has given great thought to the design of his room specifically. When he is alone in this chamber, neither sharp, hard, nor long objects can be in here, and no part of the interior is allowed to be blue. His chamber even has a floor made of lead and exists suspended within a spherical container to which it is connected by springs; this mechanism was specifically developed to counterbalance all the possible vibrations, turns, and lurches that happen on the outside. Navigator James is here to chart the course of the "Hope", a research vessel exploring the vast, untouched regions of the Pacific. The problem is that James is afraid of the sea. Since his father's final departure, he has been feverishly imbibing every page, every last line of the dark blue parting gift. For him, a strange fascination emanated from the ocean, as if he was being called by something. But once it dawned on him that his father was away for a time beyond any ration of food and drinking water and that he could impossibly return, he started to recognise this fascination as morbid and possibly lethal. He was haunted by nightmares of being alone at sea and drowning in a storm, of sinking all the way to the bottom of the sea, over two thousand times as deep as his own height, nothing but dark blue and black surrounding him to all sides. Every morning he woke up in cold sweat as his dream ended in him being swallowed or dismembered by deep-sea creatures which appeared increasingly enormous, hideous, and grotesque in his imagination. This is why he took it upon himself to travel the entire way from Gibraltar through all of Europe, over the Caucasus, and through Persia and Egypt, down to the Southern rim of the Sahara desert, the driest inhabited place that he knew of, and the furthest removed from any coast, any lake, any river. As he lived and taught there, he became famous among the merchants passing by as a great scholar of the Islamic sciences, and they slowly spread their recollections about him being the preeminent authority specifically on astronomy, mathematics, and meteorology, who had ventured further into all the sciences related to navigation than anyone else. Because they relayed his correspondence to other experts, word of him arrived in London, where it was decided that he was to be forcibly anaesthesised and kidnapped in the dead of night to work aboard the "Hope". Because James never had a military or civilian post in England, even Paul and Luke, his personal handlers and the only people he ever sees in his chamber, outrank him. They, too, need to follow strict procedures: As soon as James is to be visited for any reason, he is to be restrained so that he cannot escape or commit suicide. They are there to provide him documents detailing the position of every instrument on the bridge and every asterism in the sky, wait for him to perform the calculations with his piece of coal, chart the course on the maps, and then bring them to the captain. They also relay to him the captain's questions of a deeper, more general nature. Other people on board, too, are interested in James' thoughts on all sorts of matters. But in the eyes of James, these two fulfill a far more important function: They are his one point of human contact, they sit by him nearly all the time and listen with open ears while he teaches them what he used to teach the merchants and townspeople in his khutbah every week; much more than the non-blue furnishing of the non-rocking chamber they are there for him to dispel the nightmare of being suspended over the eternal night of the blue depths, alone. Meanwhile, Paul and Luke tell him of their much different experience with the ocean. On all their voyages, they have been surrounded by sailors and fishermen. They both enjoy the work outside, the songs, the booze, the breeze, the deep bonds of friendship one makes stuck on a boat. They may not be allowed to distract themselves outside for this job, but at least they aren't stuck on the continent, with the strange continental societies which they have never understood nor wanted to. One day, the positions and questions stop coming. They look outside and see that unbeknownst to them, the ship has been hit and scattered by a monster wave, and the suspended chamber mechanism was the only construction sturdy enough to survive the wall of water. Before even the realisation of losing the rest of the shadowy, anonymous crew can hit them, Luke and Paul jump out to swim and dive outside the vessel, while James gets a good view of the clearing sky and, far less pleasing to him, the endless dark expanding below the construction. Overcome with pure fear, he retreats into the chamber, followed by Luke and Paul who do their best to console him. Days and nights pass as they drift through the empty expanse of the Pacific ocean. During that time, James forms his first association to the sea other than dread. The happiness of his two friends swimming out there, the freedom of leaving his stuffy chamber after weeks, even the excitement of the look down below that, even while it terrified him, also exhilarated him and at the very least made him someone that has seen it in person; a first step outside into a fresh new world! On the next morning, they notice that the outer shell must have hit something solid, perhaps land. The three hug each other full of joy and emerge out of the hatch, where a giant squid awaits to quickly grab them with its arms and pulls them underwater into the endless black void.

Freedom of the press means the editor can take the day off

Are these supposed to be signs? It looks like they are presenting their pimped laptops

There should be an option to buy a legal title next to your name for the same money that an SUV costs instead, for those people who just want to show off their status. Like “John Doe, e.q.m.” (emptor quadrigae maximae)

No amount of MrBeasts can ever solve institutional issues, especially lack of access to healthcare

Try 0

Autodidactic Learning
It is now over a year since I have sadly had to depart from my university upon obtaining my master's degree in mathematics. I have since obtained a job as a programming contractor, however classical mathematics done with pen and paper is still the love of my life. Luckily enough, I still live within two hours of my old campus, and I was able to obtain an external library card, which is my ticket to look into all the topics I missed out on for want of time (not all mathematical). If anyone among you has a similar experience, I would like you to share your techniques, too. Be advised that my way might not be very efficient nor lend itself to people who still need to study for exams or have deadlines, because I am no longer under these pressures. **Scouting.** The closer a field is to my interests, the more books I already know to be suitable or unsuitable for me to learn from. For me, the most important criterion for a maths or theoretical physics book is to have numerous exercises on many different levels of difficulty and abstraction. I also prefer the books that use familiar notations to my lectures, and those that are written in my native language. Least importantly, a little pet peeve of mine is that I don't like it when books are set in Times New Roman because I find the font hideous and I honestly can't bear to look at it for long periods of time. **Frequency.** Due to my day job, I am usually unable to clear more than an hour each day to sit down and study. I tend to use this hour to either read through a chapter and fill in the blanks between the formulae and draw pictures, or to attempt to do the exercises when I am done with the required reading for them. If an exercise seems boring and not what I wanted to learn from the book, I still tend to look up the solution rather than not considering it at all. **Intensity.** Because I am no longer under the pressure of cramming and deadlines, I might take longer or sometimes lack the motivation to learn a topic, but I also have the liberty to take a minute and ask questions about it for which there was no time during my student years. Unless there is an elephant in the room requiring more urgent attention, I always tend to go through three things to look for: Examples and applications, characteristics of the generic case and the singular cases, and analogies in the language of other fields. **Surroundings.** I tend to learn at my desk for when I need to write or take notes, and from my bed when I don't, although I reckon that the latter is a bad habit. Although during my earlier time at uni I used to learn with classical or Latin music or even commentary, I now tend to find it too distracting and prefer silence for learning. For obvious reasons I learn alone now, but I have always found it more fun and also easier to have a study buddy.

Turns out being a foreign agent in China doesn’t make you James Bond tracking down Francisco Scaramanga, it means pretending to be a communications engineer to snatch 5G intel and then getting a visit on a suspicion from the police at midnight asking you what the sine of 2pi/3 is, and you can’t answer because you failed trig classes as a kid despite your 7th grade maths teacher telling you to prepare for this very specific edge case

And if it was fair
Imagine a lineup of 8 billion runners, all of identical stature and clothing, with no discerning features at all but just a natural number from 1 to 8000000000 on their sports uniforms. All of them are in high spirits, aiming to compete at the very top. On this track, everyone is equal. No tricks, no traps, this is everything everyone of them ever wanted. Running is their life. An electronic signal heralds the beginning of the race. Everyone runs in a straight file, protected from mutual interference by smooth, clean concrete bollards. The race is set at high noon of March 21 and the track runs along the equator, such that the sun is casting exactly perpendicular shadows from a perfectly blue sky; the air is fresh and of excessively neutral taste, Copland's ecstatic *Fanfare for the Common Man* plays from a tape, and everyone enjoys the new, pristine, pedantically flat track. The one-kilometre mark passes in a flash, those for 2, 3, and 4 kilometres are also quickly within reach. Upon the fifteenth kilometre, some of the runners begin to wonder: How long is this track? We can't see the end just yet. Maybe it ends on the beach! The kilometres pass. The bollards seem to finish off in the distance, but the end must still be hidden behind the curvature of the earth, and the race goes on. At 20 km, pressing matters begin to take over their minds. The first of them choose to empty their drinking bottle to relieve themselves in it. By the way, they think, where do I get a new one? I mean there has be a booth *somewhere,* right? But the race goes on. At 30 km, some of the runners begin feeling proud of how smart they are, realising this must be a marathon and rationing their water for the final stretch. The first runner collapses, but no one sees him because of the bollards. The race goes on. At 42 km, the length of a marathon, many runners have broken down and silence lies over the track. Those who hear the silence but cannot see its cause now know that something is wrong. They scream for help, but no one comes because everyone is participating in the event. The race goes on. Way beyond in the distance, at the 600 km mark, the last participant collapses. He, too, is dead. The race goes on.