A problem by G. Galperin, from the May-June 1995 issue of Quantum:
A raft and a motorboat depart simultaneously from Point A on a riverbank and begin drifting and speeding downstream, respectively, toward Point B. At the same moment, a second motorboat, of the same type as the first, sets out from Point B heading upstream. When the first motorboat reaches B, will the floating raft be closer to Point A or to the second motorboat?
George Orwell’s six rules of writing, from “Politics and the English Language,” 1946:
But “one could keep all of them and still write bad English.”
English novelist Winifred Ashton had a disastrous gift for inadvertent double entendre. From Cole Lesley’s biography of Noël Coward:
The first I can remember was when poor Gladys was made by Noël to explain to Winifred that she simply could not say in her latest novel, ‘He stretched out and grasped the other’s gnarled, stumpy tool.’ The Bloomers poured innocently from her like an ever-rolling stream: ‘Olwen’s got crabs!’ she cried as you arrived for dinner, or ‘We’re having roast cock tonight!’ At the Old Vic, in the crowded foyer, she argued in ringing tones, ‘But Joyce, it’s well known that Shakespeare sucked Bacon dry.’ It was Joyce too who anxiously inquired after some goldfish last seen in a pool in the blazing sun and was reassured, ‘Oh, they’re all right now! They’ve got a vast erection covered with everlasting pea!’ ‘Oh the pleasure of waking up to see a row of tits outside your window,’ she said to Binkie during a weekend at Knott’s Fosse. Schoolgirl slang sometimes came into it, for she was in fact the original from whom Noël created Madame Arcati: ‘Do you remember the night we all had Dick on toast?’ she inquired in front of the Governor of Jamaica and Lady Foot. Then there was her ghost story : ‘Night after night for weeks she tried to make him come …’
“Why could she not have used the word ‘materialise’?” wrote Lesley, who was Coward’s secretary. “But then if she had we should never have had the fun.” See Shocking!
One other oddity concerning π: If you add up the first three sextads in the decimal expansion, you get 1588419:
141592 + 653589 + 793238 = 1588419
That’s a little prophecy: If you now skip ahead 15 places you arrive at the string 88419:
3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693 …
“We have got to learn to think scientifically, not only about inanimate things, but about ourselves and one another. It is possible to do this.” — J.B.S. Haldane
“Nothing has such power to broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly all that comes under thy observation in life.” — Marcus Aurelius
This graph has 5 edges, and we’ve managed to label its vertices in a remarkable way: Each vertex bears some integer from 0 to 5, no two receive the same integer, and each edge is now uniquely identified by the absolute difference between its endpoints, such that this magnitude lies between 1 and 5 inclusive. Such a labeling is called graceful.
In 2008 Donald E. Knuth made a graph representing the contiguous 48 states and the District of Columbia in which each pair of states are connected if they’re joined by at least one drivable road. It turns out that this graph can be labeled gracefully.
And, amazingly, in 2020 T. Rokicki discovered that if you undertake an imaginary journey on Knuth’s map, starting in California and going up the Pacific coast and then along the Canadian border, you’ll visit successive vertices labeled 31, 41, 59, 26, 53, 58, 97, 93, 23, 84, 62, 64, 33, 83, and 27. These are the first 30 decimal digits of π!
Knuth called this a “graceful miracle.”
‘The letters in this curious alphabet are all wood, chiefly twisted roots of the blue gum, and have not been altered in any way from their original growth; three girls collected them in their daily walks or rides for a period of six months, and the specimens were found in various places; frequently one was carried home on horseback for many miles. All are about two feet high. The “B” was the last found, and when the young ladies had almost despaired of ever getting one it was found in a heap of driftwood caught against a tree in the river.’ — Miss Cave, Vergemont, Clontreagh, Co. Dublin
— Strand, December 1902
ergophobia
n. an aversion to work
isolato
n. a person who is physically or spiritually isolated from their times or society
hebetate
v. to make dull or obtuse
suspiration
n. a long, deep sigh
Drawn from the last line of a 1951 poem by Pierre Béarn, the French phrase métro, boulot, dodo describes the monotony of workday life: Métro refers to a subway commute, boulot is an informal word for work, and dodo is baby talk for sleep.
Anna Kaloustian wrote in the Yale Herald, “No English expression manages to quite grasp its prosaic implication, its banality.”
When two or more buses are scheduled at regular intervals on the same route, planners may expect that each will make the same progress, pausing at each stop for the same interval (1). But if Bus B is delayed by traffic congestion (2), it incurs a penalty: Because it arrives late to the next stop, it will pick up some passengers who’d planned to take Bus C (3). Accommodating these passengers delays Bus B even longer, putting it even further behind schedule. Meanwhile, Bus C begins to make unusually good progress (4), as it now arrives at each stop to find a smaller crowd than expected.
As the workload piles up on the foremost bus and the one behind it catches up, eventually the result (5) is that the two buses run in a platoon, arriving together at each stop. Sometimes Bus C even overtakes Bus B.
What to do? Planners can set minimum and maximum amounts of time to be spent at each stop, and buses might even be told to skip certain stops during crowded runs. Passengers might be encouraged to wait for a following bus, with the inducement that it’s less crowded. Northern Arizona University improved its service by abandoning the idea of a schedule altogether and delaying buses at certain stops in order to maintain even spacing. One thing that doesn’t work: adding vehicles to the route — which might, at first blush, have seemed the obvious solution.
(Via Robert A. Carman, “Mathematical Misteaks,” Mathematics Teacher 64:2 [February 1971], 109-115.)
