Reading the Comics, May 8, 2019: Strips With Art I Like Edition


Of course I like all the comics. … Well, that’s not literally true; but I have at least some affection for nearly all of the syndicated comics. This essay I bring up some strips, partly, because I just like them. This is my content hole. If you want a blog not filled with comic strips, go start your own and don’t put these things on it.

Mark Anderson’s Andertoons for the 5th is the Mark Anderson’s Andertoons for the week. Also a bit of a comment on the ability of collective action to change things. Wavehead is … well, he’s just wrong about making the number four plus the number four equal to the number seven. Not based on the numbers we mean by the words “four” and “seven”, and based on the operation we mean by “plus” and the relationship we mean by “equals”. The meaning of those things is set by, ultimately, axioms and deductive reasoning and the laws of deductive reasoning and there’s no changing the results.

Wavehead, to another student: 'If I say 4 + 4 = 7 it's wrong. If you say 4 + 4 = 7 it's wrong. But if the entire first grade says 4 + 4 = 7, well, now she has to take us seriously.
Mark Anderson’s Andertoons for the 5th of May, 2019. Essays mentioning Andertoons are at this link and also at nearly every Reading the Comics post, it feels like.

But. The thing we’re referring to when we say “seven”? Or when we write the symbol “7”? That is convention. That is a thing we’ve agreed on as a reference for this concept. And that we can change, if we decide we want to. We’ve done this. Look at a thousand-year-old manuscript and the symbol that looks like ‘4’ may represent the number we call five. And the names of numbers are just common words. They’re subject to change the way every other common word is. Which is, admittedly, not very subject. It would be almost as much bother to change the word ‘four’ as it would be to change the word ‘mom’. But that’s not impossible. Just difficult.

Viivi: 'Oh, sorry! Oh, pain!' Wagner: 'Stop worrying. 85% of fears never come through.' Viivi: 'That means 15% do! It's worse than I thought.'
Juba’s Viivi and Wagner for the 5th of May, 2019. I don’t often have chances to talk about Viivi and Wagner but when I do, it’s here.

Juba’s Viivi and Wagner for the 5th is a bit of a percentage joke. The characters also come to conclude that a thing either happens or it does not; there’s no indefinite states. This principle, the “excluded middle”, is often relied upon for deductive logic, and fairly so. It gets less clear that this can be depended on for predictions of the future, or fears for the future. And real-world things come in degrees that a mathematical concept might not. Like, your fear of the home catching fire comes true if the building burns down. But it’s also come true if a quickly-extinguished frying pan fire leaves the wall scorched, embarrassing but harmless. Anyway, relaxing someone else’s anxiety takes more than a quick declaration of statistics. Show sympathy.

Dogs in school. The dog teacher is pointing to '1 + 1' on the blackboard. A dog student whispers to the other, 'Sometimes I feel so stupid.'
Harry Bliss and Steve Martin’s Bliss for the 6th of May, 2019. Yes, by the way, it’s the Steve Martin you know and love from Looney Tunes: Back In Action and from the 1996 Sergeant Bilko movie. Anyway I haven’t had chance to write about this strip before but this and future appearances of Bliss should be here.

Harry Bliss and Steve Martin’s Bliss for the 6th is a cute little classroom strip, with arithmetic appearing as the sort of topic that students feel overwhelmed and baffled by. It could be anything, but mathematics uses the illustration space efficiently. The strip may properly be too marginal to include, but I like Bliss’s art style and want more people to see it.

Spud: 'It's official, Wallace. My socks are *too* tight. And I know it'll take at least three minutes to run home and change. Yet I can see the bus is only two stops away.' Wallace: 'I can stall for a good thirty seconds.' Spud: 'My life is a sadistic math problem.'
Will Henry’s Wallace the Brave for the 7th of May, 2019. This is one of the comic strips I’m most excited about, the last several years. Wallace the Brave appears in essays at this link.

Will Henry’s Wallace the Brave for the 7th puts up what Spud calls a sadistic math problem. And, well, it is a story problem happening in their real life. You could probably turn this into an actual exam problem without great difficulty.

Ruthie, holding up a triangle: 'What's this shape?' James: 'A square!' Ruthie: 'I already *told* you what it is, James! You're just acting dumb to hurt my feelings! Stop it! N-n-now (sob) what does this look like to you? (Sniff)?' James: 'A cryangle!'
Rick Detorie’s One Big Happy for the 8th of May, 2019. There are two strings of One Big Happy available for daily reading. Appearances by the current or the several-years-old GoComics prints of One Big Happy should be at this link.

Rick Detorie’s One Big Happy for the 8th is a bit of wordplay built around geometry, as Ruthie plays teacher. She’s a bit dramatic, but she always has been.


I’ll read some more comics for later in this week. That essay, and all similar comic strip talk, should appear at this link. Thank you.

Reading the Comics, September 22, 2018: Last Chance Edition


I plan tomorrow to have another of my Mathematics A To Z posts. This weekend I’ll publish this month’s Playful Mathematics Blog Carnival. So if you’ve seen any web site, blog, video, podcast, or other reference that had something that delighted and taught you something, this is your last chance to let me know, and let my audience know about it. Please leave a comment if you know about anything I ought to see. Thank you.

Mark Tatulli’s Lio for the 20th is a numerals and a wordplay joke. It is not hard to make numerals tattooed on a person an alarming thing. But when done with (I trust) the person’s consent, and done whimsically like this, it’s more a slightly odd bit of play.

(Lio walks past a man who's got many different renderings of the numeral '2' on his arms. He comes up to a storefront: 'Tattwos'.)
Mark Tatulli’s Lio for the 20th of September, 2018. It … seems a little out of the usual run of Lio‘s sense of humor, but then I don’t know where else Tatulli could have used the joke.

Tony Cochrane’s Agnes for the 21st is ultimately a strip about motivating someone to learn arithmetic. Agnes’s reasoning is sound, though. If the only reason to learn this unpleasant chore is because your job may need it, why not look at another job? We wouldn’t try to convince someone who didn’t want to learn French that they’ll need it for their job as … a tour guide in Quebec? There’s plenty of work that doesn’t need that. I suspect kids don’t buy “this is good for your future job” as a reason. Even if it were, general education should not be job training either.

Teacher: 'Agnes, please finish the third division problem.' Agnes: 'I don't think so. I'm going to be a diesel mechanic.' Teacher: 'Do you even know what that is?' Agnes: 'No, but I found a brochure in Grandma's sock drawer, and the people in it looked rapturous about work.' Teacher: 'Diesel mechanics need to know division.' Agnes: 'Fine, I'll go with one of the others. How about a mortician?'
Tony Cochrane’s Agnes for the 21st of September, 2018. Agnes doesn’t pursue being a mortician, at least this time, and instead tries out keeping a journal.

Juba’s Viivi and Wagner for the 21st gives Wagner a short-lived ambition to be a wandering mathematician. The abacus serves as badge of office. There are times and places that his ambition wouldn’t be completely absurd. Before the advent of electric and electronic computing, people who could calculate were worth hiring for their arithmetic. In 18th Century London there was a culture of “penny universities”, people with academic training making a living by giving lectures and courses to whatever members of the public cared to come to their talk, often in coffee-houses or barns.

Wagner: 'I decided to be a wandering mathematician. I already bought an abacus. I'll earn my living by performing simple additions and subtractions.' Viivi : 'You'll probably starve to death.' Wagner: 'I don't do probability calculus.'
Juba’s Viivi and Wagner for the 21st of September, 2018. This puts me in mind of a Peanuts where Sally Brown wondered about what if their father lost their job. What could she do to help the family earn its living? She suggested: she could make her bed.

Mathematicians learn that there used to be public spectacles, mathematicians challenging one another to do problems, with real cash or jobs on the line. They learn this because one such challenge figures in to the story of Gerolamo Cardano and Niccolò Fontana, known as Tartaglia. It’s about how we learned formulas to solve some kinds of polynomials. You may sense uncertainty in my claim there. It’s because it turns out it’s hard to find clear records of this sort of challenge outside the Cardano-Tartaglia match. That isn’t to say these things weren’t common. It’s just that I’ve been slowly learning to be careful about my claims.

(I’m aided here by a startling pair of episodes of The History of Philosophy Without Any Gaps podcast. This pair — “Trivial Pursuits: Fourteenth Century Logic” and “Sara Uckleman on Obligations” — describe a fascinating logic game that sounds like it would still be a great party game, for which there’s numerous commentaries and rule sets and descriptions of how to play. But no records of people actually ever playing it, or talking about games they had played, or complaining about being cheated out of a win or stuff like that. It’s a strong reminder to look closely at what your evidence does support.)

Father: 'Son, I know you pretended to be sick today so you could skip school.' Kid: 'But I didn't!' Father: 'Shhh. It's OK. Don't tell Mom, but I got tickets to a luchador show this afternoon.' Kid: 'Oh boy!' [ LATER ... ] Luchador: 'Raaa! I'm the masked Karl Weierstrass and I'm WRESTLING with how to rigorously define the limit of a function!' Kid: 'Nooooooooooooo!'
Zach Weinersmith’s Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal for the 22nd of September, 2018. So do you think the father is really into the luchador show in the last panel or is he just going along with this while his kid comes to hate promises of fun?

Zach Weinersmith’s Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal for the 22nd is the comforting return of Zach Weinersmith to these essays. And yes, it’s horrible parenting to promise something fun and have it turn out to be a mathematics lecture, but that’s part of the joke.

Karl Weierstrass was a real person, and a great mathematician best known for giving us a good, rigorous idea of what a limit is. We need limits because, besides their being nice things to have, calculus depends on them. At least, calculus depends on thinking about calculations on infinitely many things. Or on things infinitesimally small. Trying to do this works pretty well, much of the time. But you can also start calculating like this and get nonsense. How to tell whether your particular calculation works out or is nonsense?

Weierstrass worked out a good, rigorous idea for what we mean by a limit. It mostly tracks with what we’d intuitively expect. And it avoids all the dangerous spots we’ve noticed so far. Particularly, it doesn’t require us to ever look at anything that’s infinitely vast, or infinitesimally small. Anything we calculate on is done with regular arithmetic, that we’re quite confident in. But it lets us draw conclusions about the infinitely numerous or tiny. It’s brilliant work. When it’s presented to someone in the start of calculus, it leaves them completely baffled but they can maybe follow along with the rules. When it’s presented to mathematics majors in real analysis, it leaves them largely baffled but they can maybe follow along with the reasons. Somewhere around grad school I got comfortable with it, even excited. Weierstrass’s sort of definition turns up all over the place in real and in functional analysis. So at the least you get very comfortable with it.

So it is part of Weinersmith’s joke that this is way above that kid’s class level. As a joke, that fails for me. The luchador might as well be talking complete nonsense and the kid would realize that right away. There’s not the threat that this is something he ought to be able to understand. But it will probably always be funny to imagine mathematician wrestlers. Can count on that. I didn’t mean that as a joke, but you’ll notice I’m letting it stand.


And with that, you know what I figure to post on Sunday. It and my other Reading the Comics posts should be at this tag. Other appearances of Lio should be at this link. The mentions of Agnes should be at this link. Essays with some mention of Viivi and Wagner will be at this link, although it’s a new tag, so who knows how long it’ll take for the next to appear? And other essays with Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal will be at this link when there’s any to mention.