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Humorous Quotes, verses, limericks, stories




Last modified: 15 April 1998

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There once was an old man from Esser,
Who's knowledge grew lesser and lesser,
It at last grew so small,
He knew nothing at all,
And now he's a College Professor.

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There was a young poet named Dan,
Whose poetry never would scan.
When told this was so,
He said, "Yes, I know.
It's because I try to put every possible syllable into that last line that I can."

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A limerick packs laughs anatomical
Into space that is quite economical.
But the good ones I've seen
So seldom are clean,
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

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Limericks are art forms complex,
Their topics run chiefly to sex.
They usually have virgins,
And masculine urgins,
And other erotic effects.

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Impure Mathematics

Once upon a time (1/z) pretty littly Polly Nomial was strolling across a field of vectors when she came to the edge of a singularly large matrix.

Now Polly was convergent and her mother had made it an absolute condition that she must never enter such an array without her brackets on. Polly, however, had changed her variables that morning and was feeling particularly badly behaved, ignored this condition on the grounds that it was insufficient and made her way in amongst the complex elements.

Rows and columns enveloped her on all sides. Tangents approached her surface. She became tenser and tenser. Quite suddenly, three branches of a hyperbola touched her at a single point. She oscillated violently, lost all sense of direction, and went completely divergent. As she reached a turning point, she tripped over a square root which was protruding from there and plunged headlong down a steep gradient. When she was differentiated once more she found herself, apparently alone, in a non-Euclidean space.

She was being watched, however. That smooth operator, Curly Pi, was lurking inner product. As his eyes devoured her curvilinear coordinates, a singular expression crossed his face. Was she still convergent, he wondered. He decided to integrate improperly at once.

Hearing a vulgar fraction behind her, Polly turned round and saw Curly Pi approaching with his power series extrapolated. She could see at once, by his degenerate conic and his dissipative terms that he was bent on no good.

"Eureka!," she gasped.

"Ho, ho!," he said. "What a symmetric little polynomial you are. I can see you're absolutely bubbling over with secs."

"O sir," she protested, "keep away from me. I haven't got my brackets on."

"Calm yourself, my dear," said our suave operator, "your fears are purely imaginary."

"i, i," she thought. "Perhaps he's homogeneous then?"

"What order are you?," the brute demanded.

"Seventeen," replied Polly.

Curly leered. "I suppose you've never been operated on yet?," he said.

"Of course not," Polly cried indignantly. "I'm absolutely convergent."

"Come, come," said curly. "Let's go off to a decimal place I know and I'll take you to the limit."

"Never!," gasped Polly.

"EXCHLF!," he swore, using the vilest oath he knew. His patience was gone. Coshing her over the coefficient with a log until she was powerless, Curly removed her discontinuities. He stared at her significant places and began smoothing her points of inflection. Poor Polly, all was up. She felt his hand tending to her asymptotic limit. Her convergence would soon be gone forever.

There was no mercy, for Curly was a heavyside operator. He integrated by parts. He integrated by partial fractions. The complex beast even went all the way round and did a contour integration. What an indignity! To be multiply connected on her first integration. Curly went on operating until he was absolutely and completely orthogonal.

When Polly got home that evening, her mother noticed that she had been truncated in several places. But it was too late to differentiate now. As the months went by, Polly increased monotonically. Finally she generated a small but pathological function which left surds all over the place until she was driven to distraction.

The moral of our sad story is this: If you want to keep your expressions convergent, never allow them a single degree of freedom.

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Occasionally as Early as 7, but
SOME DAYS as late as 12 or 1
We CLOSE about 5:30 or 6,
Occasionally about 4 or 5, but
Sometimes as late as 11 or 12
SOME days or afternoons
We aren't here at all, and
Lately I've been here just about all the time
Except when I'm someplace else
But I should be HERE then, too!

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