Reading the Comics, May 7, 2020: Getting to Golf Edition


Last week saw a modest number of mathematically-themed comic strips. Then it threw in a bunch of them all on Thursday. I’m splitting the week partway through that, since it gives me some theme to this collection.

Tim Rickard’s Brewster Rockit for the 3rd of May is a dictionary joke, with Brewster naming each kind of chart and making a quick joke about it. The comic may help people who’ve had trouble remembering the names of different kinds of graphs. I doubt people are likely to confuse a pie chart with a bar chart, admittedly. But I could imagine thinking a ‘line graph’ is what we call a bar chart, especially if the bars are laid out horizontally as in the second panel here.

Brewster giving a presentation: 'For my presentation, I couldn't decide what graphs to use.' [ In front of a bar chart ] 'I did a bar chart to find the most-used graphs.' [ In front of a line graph ] 'This line graph shows the growing popularity of bar graphs.' [ Scatter plot ] 'This scatter plot graph shows a pattern of people who don't understand scatter plot graphs.' [ Pie chart ] 'This one shows which graph most reminds us of food.' Audience member: 'Wasn't your presentation supposed to be on not getting distracted?' [ Brewster looks at his bubble chart ] 'And bubble charts really pop!'
Tim Rickard’s Brewster Rockit for the 3rd of May, 2020. It’s been surprisingly long since I last reviewed this strip here. Essays featuring Brewster Rockit are at this link.

The point of all these graphs is to understand data geometrically. We have fair intuitions about relatives lengths and areas. Bar charts represent relative magnitudes in lengths. Pie charts and bubble charts represent magnitudes in area. We have okay skills in noticing structures in complex shapes. Line graphs and scatter plots use that skill. So these pictures can help us understand some abstraction or something we can’t sense using a sense we do have. It’s not necessarily great; note that I said our intuitions were ‘fair’ and ‘okay’. But we hope to use reason helped by intuition to better understand what we are doing.

Jef Mallett’s Frazz for the 3rd is a resisting-the-story-problem joke. It’s built not just on wondering the point of story problems at all, but of these story problems during the pandemic. (Which Mallett on the 27th of April, would be taking “some liberties” with the real world. It’s a respectable decision.)

And, yes, in the greater scheme of things, any homework or classwork problem is trivial. It’s meant to teach how to calculate things we would like to know. The framing of the story is meant to give us a reason to want to know a thing. But they are practice, and meant to be practice. One practices on something of no consequence, where errors in one’s technique can be corrected without breaking anything.

Students looking at story problems: '... how many more pints will it take to empty Alec's barrel?' '... and Doug waves to Qing four-tenths of the way across, how long is the bridge?' '... 12 per bag and 36 are left on the shelf, how many bags of bagels did Bill Banks buy?' Mrs Olsen, looking over papers: 'Suddenly every story problem answer begins with 'in the greater scheme of things' ... ' Frazz: 'These are interesting times.'
Jef Mallett’s Frazz for the 3rd of May, 2020. Reading the Comics essays with some mention of something in Frazz are gathered at this link.

It happens a round of story problems broke out among my family. My sister’s house has some very large trees. There turns out to be a poorly-organized process for estimating the age of these trees from their circumference. This past week saw a lot of chatter and disagreement about what the ages of these trees might be.

Jason Poland’s Robbie and Bobby for the 4th riffs on the difference between rectangles and trapezoids. It’s also a repeat, featured here just five years ago. Amazing how time slips on like that.

Samson’s Dark Side of the Horse for the 4th is another counting-sheep joke. It features one of those shorthands for large numbers which often makes them more manageable.

Michael Fry’s Committed rerun for the 7th finally gets us to golf. The Lazy Parent tries to pass off watching golf as educational, with working out the distance to the pin as a story problem. Structurally this is just fine, though: a golfer would be interested to know how far the ball has yet to go. All the information needed is given. It’s the question of whether anyone but syndicated cartoonists cares about golf that’s a mystery.

Bill Amend’s FoxTrot Classics for the 7th is another golf and mathematics joke. Jason has taken the homonym of ‘fore’ for ‘four’, and then represented ‘four’ in a needlessly complicated way. Amend does understand how nerd minds work. The strip originally ran the 21st of May, 1998.


That’s enough comics for me for today. I should have the rest of last week’s in a post at this link soon. Thank you.

Reading the Comics, March 6, 2017: Blackboards Edition


I can’t say there’s a compelling theme to the first five mathematically-themed comics of last week. Screens full of mathematics turned up in a couple of them, so I’ll run with that. There were also just enough strips that I’m splitting the week again. It seems fair to me and gives me something to remember Wednesday night that I have to rush to complete.

Jimmy Hatlo’s Little Iodine for the 1st of January, 1956 was rerun on the 5th of March. The setup demands Little Iodine pester her father for help with the “hard homework” and of course it’s arithmetic that gets to play hard work. It’s a word problem in terms of who has how many apples, as you might figure. Don’t worry about Iodine’s boss getting fired; Little Iodine gets her father fired every week. It’s their schtick.

Little Iodine wakes her father early after a night at the lodge. 'You got to help me with my [hard] homework.' 'Ooh! My head! Wha'?' 'The first one is, if John has twice as many apples as Tom and Sue put together ... ' 'Huh? kay! Go on, let's get this over with.' They work through to morning. Iodine's teacher sees her asleep in class and demands she bring 'a note from your parents as to why you sleep in school instead of at home!' She goes to her father's office where her father's boss is saying, 'Well, Tremblechin, wake up! The hobo hotel is three blocks south and PS: DON'T COME BACK!'
Jimmy Hatlo’s Little Iodine for the 1st of January, 1956. I guess class started right back up the 2nd, but it would’ve avoided so much trouble if she’d done her homework sometime during the winter break. That said, I never did.

Dana Simpson’s Phoebe and her Unicorn for the 5th mentions the “most remarkable of unicorn confections”, a sugar dodecahedron. Dodecahedrons have long captured human imaginations, as one of the Platonic Solids. The Platonic Solids are one of the ways we can make a solid-geometry analogue to a regular polygon. Phoebe’s other mentioned shape of cubes is another of the Platonic Solids, but that one’s common enough to encourage no sense of mystery or wonder. The cube’s the only one of the Platonic Solids that will fill space, though, that you can put into stacks that don’t leave gaps between them. Sugar cubes, Wikipedia tells me, have been made only since the 19th century; the Moravian sugar factory director Jakub Kryštof Rad got a patent for cutting block sugar into uniform pieces in 1843. I can’t dispute the fun of “dodecahedron” as a word to say. Many solid-geometric shapes have names that are merely descriptive, but which are rendered with Greek or Latin syllables so as to sound magical.

Bud Grace’s Piranha Club for the 6th started a sequence in which the Future Disgraced Former President needs the most brilliant person in the world, Bud Grace. A word balloon full of mathematics is used as symbol for this genius. I feel compelled to point out Bud Grace was a physics major. But while Grace could as easily have used something from the physics department to show his deep thinking abilities, that would all but certainly have been rendered as equation and graphs, the stuff of mathematics again.

At the White Supremacist House: 'I have the smartest people I could find to help me run this soon-to-be-great-again country, but I'm worried that they're NOT SMART ENOUGH! I want the WORLD'S SMARTEST GENIUS to be my SPECIAL ADVISOR!' Meanwhile, cartoonist Bud Grace thinks of stuff like A = pi*r^2 and a^2 + b^2 = c^2 and tries working out 241 times 365, 'carry the one ... hmmmm ... '
Bud Grace’s Piranha Club for the 6th of March, 2017. 241 times 635 is 153,035 by the way. I wouldn’t work that out in my head if I needed the number. I might work out an estimate of how big it was, in which case I’d do this: 241 is about 250, which is one-quarter of a thousand. One-quarter of 635 is something like 150, which times a thousand is 150,000. If I needed it exactly I’d get a calculator. Unless I just needed something to occupy my mind without having any particular emotional charge.

Scott Meyer’s Basic Instructions rerun for the 6th is aptly titled, “How To Unify Newtonian Physics And Quantum Mechanics”. Meyer’s advice is not bad, really, although generic enough it applies to any attempts to reconcile two different models of a phenomenon. Also there’s not particularly a problem reconciling Newtonian physics with quantum mechanics. It’s general relativity and quantum mechanics that are so hard to reconcile.

Still, Basic Instructions is about how you can do a thing, or learn to do a thing. It’s not about how to allow anything to be done for the first time. And it’s true that, per quantum mechanics, we can’t predict exactly what any one particle will do at any time. We can say what possible things it might do and how relatively probable they are. But big stuff, the stuff for which Newtonian physics is relevant, involve so many particles that the unpredictability becomes too small to notice. We can see this as the Law of Large Numbers. That’s the probability rule that tells us we can’t predict any coin flip, but we know that a million fair tosses of a coin will not turn up 800,000 tails. There’s more to it than that (there’s always more to it), but that’s a starting point.

Michael Fry’s Committed rerun for the 6th features Albert Einstein as the icon of genius. Natural enough. And it reinforces this with the blackboard full of mathematics. I’m not sure if that blackboard note of “E = md3” is supposed to be a reference to the famous Far Side panel of Einstein hearing the maid talk about everything being squared away. I’ll take it as such.

Reading the Comics, January 28, 2017: Chuckle Brothers Edition


The week started out quite busy and I was expecting I’d have to split my essay again. It didn’t turn out that way; Comic Strip Master Command called a big break on mathematically-themed comics from Tuesday on. And then nobody from Comics Kingdom or from Creators.com needed inclusion either. I just have a bunch of GoComics links and a heap of text here. I bet that changes by next week. Still no new Jumble strips.

Brian Boychuk and Ron Boychuk’s The Chuckle Brothers for the 22nd was their first anthropomorphic numerals joke of the week.

Kevin Fagan’s Drabble for the 22nd uses arithmetic as the sort of problem it’s easy to get clearly right or clearly wrong. It’s a more economical use of space than (say) knowing how many moons Saturn’s known to have. (More than we thought there were as long ago as Thursday.) I do like that there’s a decent moral to this on the way to the punch line.

Bill Amend’s FoxTrot for the 22nd has Jason stand up for “torus” as a better name for doughnuts. You know how nerdy people will like putting a complicated word onto an ordinary thing. But there are always complications. A torus ordinarily describes the shape made by rotating a circle around an axis that’s in the plane of the circle. The result is a surface, though, the shell of a doughnut and none of the interior. If we’re being fussy. I don’t know of a particular name for the torus with its interior and suspect that, if pressed, a mathematician would just say “torus” or maybe “doughnut”.

We can talk about toruses in two dimensions; those look just like circles. The doughnut-shell shape is a torus in three dimensions. There’s torus shapes made by rotating spheres, or hyperspheres, in four or more dimensions. I’m not going to draw them. And we can also talk about toruses by the number of holes that go through them. If a normal torus is the shape of a ring-shaped pool toy, a double torus is the shape of a two-seater pool toy, a triple torus something I don’t imagine exists in the real world. A quadruple torus could look, I imagine, like some pool toys Roller Coaster Tycoon allows in its water parks. I’m saying nothing about whether they’re edible.

Brian Boychuk and Ron Boychuk’s The Chuckle Brothers for the 23rd was their second anthropomorphic numerals joke of the week. I suppose sometimes you just get an idea going.

Mikael Wulff and Anders Morgenthaler’s TruthFacts for the 23rd jokes about mathematics skills versus life. The growth is fine enough; after all, most of us are at, or get to, our best at something while we’re training in it or making regular use of it. So the joke peters out into the usual “I never use mathematics in real life” crack, which, eh. I agree it’s what I feel like my mathematics skills have done ever since I got my degree, at any rate.

Teresa Burritt’s Frog Applause for the 24th describes an extreme condition which hasn’t been a problem for me. I’m not an overindulgey type.

Randy Glasbergen’s Glasbergen Cartoons rerun for the 26th is the pie chart joke for this week.

Michael Fry’s Committed rerun for the 28th just riffs on the escalation of hyperbole, and what sure looks like an exponential growth of hyperbolic numbers. There’s a bit of scientific notation in the last panel. The “1 x” part isn’t necessary. It doesn’t change the value of the expression “1 x 1026”. But it might be convenient to use the “1 x” anyway. Scientific notation is about separating the size of the number from the interesting digits that the number has. Often when you compare numbers you’re interested in the size or else you’re interested in the important digits. Get into that habit and it’s not worth making an exception just because the interesting digits turn out to be boring in this case.