OK, that’s three weeks in a row in which all my mathematically-themed comic strips are from Gocomics. Maybe I should commission some generic Reading The Comics art from the cartoonists and artists I know. It could make things more exciting on a visually dull week like this.
Mark Anderson’s Andertoons got its entry on the 25th. We draw the name “exponents” from the example of Michael Stifel, a 16th-century German theologian/mathematician. He’d described them as exponents in his influential 1544 book Arithmetica Integra. But I don’t know why he picked the name “exponent” rather than some other word.
Nate Fakes’s Break of Day for the 25th is the anthropomorphic numerals gag for this week.
Dave Blazek’s Loose Parts for the 25th is not quite the anthropomorphic shapes joke for this week. The word “isosceles” does trace back to Greek, of course. The first part comes from “isos”, meaning equal; you see the same root in terms like “isobar” and “isometric view”. The “sceles” part comes from “skelos”, meaning leg. Say what you will about an isosceles triangle, and you may as they’ve got poor hearing, but they do have two legs with the same length. If you want to say an equilateral triangle, which has three legs the same length, is an isosceles triangle you can do that. You’ll be right. But you will look like you’re trying a little too hard to make a point, the way you do if you point to a square and start off by calling it a rhombus.
Donna A Lewis’s Reply All Lite for the 25th tries doing a joke about doing mathematics by hand being a sign of old age. If we’re talking about arithmetic … I could go along with that, grudgingly. Calculator applications are so reliable and so quick that it’s hard to justify doing arithmetic by hand unless it’s a very simple problem. If you have fun doing that, good.
But if we’re doing real mathematics, the working out of a model and the implications of that, or working out calculus or group theory or graph theory or the like? There are surely some people who can do all this work in their heads and I am impressed by that. But much of real mathematics is working out implications of ideas, and that’s done so very well by hand. I haven’t found a way of typing in strings of expressions which makes it easier for me to think about the mathematics rather than the formatting. And I would believe in a note-taking program that was as sensitive and precise as pen on paper. I haven’t seen one yet, though. (I have small handwriting, and the applications I’ve tried turn all my writing into tiny, disconnected dots and scribbles.)
Ralph Hagen’s The Barn for the 27th is superficially about Olbers’s Paradox. If there’s an infinitely large, infinitely old universe, then how can the night sky by dark? The light of all those stars should come together to make night even more brilliantly blazing than the daytime sun. This is a legitimate calculus problem. The reasoning is sound. The light of a star trillions upon trillions of light-years away may be impossibly faint. But there are so many stars that would be that far away that they would be, on average, about as bright as the sun is. Integral calculus tells us what happens when we have infinitely large numbers of impossibly tiny things added together. In the case of stars, infinitely many impossibly faint stars would come together to an infinitely bright night sky. That night is dark tells us: the universe can’t be infinitely large and infinitely old. There must be limits to how far away anything can be.
The Barn reappears in my attention on the 28th, with a subverted word problem joke.