17 January, 2012

De schoonheid van wiskunde (of het maffe ervan).

Te vinden onder: Bizar en straf — Tags: — @ 17:46

Verliest u, net als ik, soms de schoonheid van onze wiskunde uit het oog? Dan is het goed om onderstaande bewerkingen eens nauwkeurig te bekijken.
Of hoe maf wiskunde soms kan zijn:

1 x 8 + 1 = 9
12 x 8 + 2 = 98
123 x 8 + 3 = 987
1234 x 8 + 4 = 9876
12345 x 8 + 5 = 98765
123456 x 8 + 6 = 987654
1234567 x 8 + 7 = 9876543
12345678 x 8 + 8 = 98765432
123456789 x 8 + 9 = 987654321

1 x 9 + 2 = 11
12 x 9 + 3 = 111
123 x 9 + 4 = 1111
1234 x 9 + 5 = 11111
12345 x 9 + 6 = 111111
123456 x 9 + 7 = 1111111
1234567 x 9 + 8 = 11111111
12345678 x 9 + 9 = 111111111
123456789 x 9 +10= 1111111111

9 x 9 + 7 = 88
98 x 9 + 6 = 888
987 x 9 + 5 = 8888
9876 x 9 + 4 = 88888
98765 x 9 + 3 = 888888
987654 x 9 + 2 = 8888888
9876543 x 9 + 1 = 88888888
98765432 x 9 + 0 = 888888888

1 x 1 = 1
11 x 11 = 121
111 x 111 = 12321
1111 x 1111 = 1234321
11111 x 11111 = 123454321
111111 x 111111 = 12345654321
1111111 x 1111111 = 1234567654321
11111111 x 11111111 = 123456787654321
111111111 x 111111111=12345678987654321

Crazy, echt :)

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19 May, 2011

Reizen door de tijd maakt me gek.

Te vinden onder: Bizar en straf — Tags: , , — @ 2:54

Mag ik even met uw brein rammelen?
Stel dat tijdreizen werkelijkheid wordt en dat je terug kunt gaan naar eenders welk tijdsgewricht je wil. Dan zou onderstaand verhaal van Robert A Heinlein serieuze realiteit kunnen worden.
Probeer het niet te begrijpen, of probeer dat wel zo u wilt, maar dat het een serieuze fucked-up-erover paradox is, dat is zeker.
Geniet, ik kreeg er koppijn van :)

A baby girl is mysteriously dropped off at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945. “Jane” grows up lonely and dejected, not knowing who her parents are, until one day in 1963 she is strangely attracted to a drifter. She falls in love with him, but just when things are looking up for Jane a series of disasters strikes: First, she becomes pregnant by the drifter, who then disappears. Second, during the complicated delivery doctors discover that Jane has both sets of sex organs, and to save her life, they most surgically convert “her” to a “him”. Finally, a mysterious stranger kidnaps her baby from the delivery room.

Reeling from these disasters, rejected from society, scorned by fate, “he” becomes a drunkard and a drifter. Not only has Jane lost her parents and her lover, but he has lost his only child as well. Years later, in 1970, he stumbles into a lonely bar, called Pop’s Place, and spills out his pathetic story to an elderly bartender. The sympathetic bartender offers the drifter the chance to avenge the stranger who left her pregnant and abandoned, on the condition that he join the “time traveller corps”. Both of them enter a time machine and the bartender drops the drifter off in 1963. The drifter is strangely attracted to a young orphan girl, who subsequently becomes pregnant.

The bartender then goes forward 9 months, kidnaps the baby girl from the hospital, and drops the baby off in an orphanage back in 1945. Then the bartender drops off the thoroughly confused drifter in 1985, to enlist in the time traveller corps. The drifter eventually gets his life together and becomes respected and elderly member of the time traveller corps, and then disguises himself as a bartender and has his most difficult mission: a date with destiny, meeting a certain drifter at Pop’s Place in 1970.

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12 December, 2010

Een ei. Het is allemaal een ei.

Te vinden onder: Bizar en straf,godsdients — Tags: , — @ 9:01

Ik heb onderstaande gevonden op http://mendel.soup.io en ik was er best ondersteboven van.
Jullie zijn mij!

You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.

Dus als ge uzelve/mij tegenkomt, aarzelt dan niet om mij/uzelve er eentje te trakteren he ;)

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9 December, 2010

Fuck you Mobistar II

Te vinden onder: Bizar en straf,Pfft — Tags: , — @ 21:46

Toeval of niet?
Zonet kreeg ik telefoon van een bureau dat in naam van Mobistar een tevredenheidsenquete houdt. Omdat ik een technisch dossier had (heb?) openliggen bij Mobistar, wou de man aan de andere kant van de lijn weten of ik tevreden was over de afhandeling van dat dossier. Straf! Wel, neen dus! Of ik Mobistar zou aanraden bij vrienden en familie? Hell No! Of ik ondertussen al geholpen ben? Wat dacht je, geholpen worden door Mobistar??
Dat laatste is niet meer nodig. Dankzij de link van Litrik in de comments op de vorige post heb ik mijn Hero geflashed naar Android 2.2.1.
Fuck you Mobistar.

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30 May, 2010

Olielek in de Golf van Mexico – déja vu!

Te vinden onder: Bizar en straf,Tragisch — Tags: , , , — @ 23:12

Hoe vaak moet een klein kind zijn pollekes tegen een hete stoof leggen om te leren dat het dat in het vervolg beter zou laten?
Wat er nu gebeurt in de Golf van Mexico, is al eerder gebeurd. (in 1979) Rachel Maddow vertelt u er in het filmpje hieronder meer over. Helaas is haar relaas niet echt hoopgevend.
Blijkbaar, in tegenstelling tot dat klein kind van daarstraks, zijn oliebaronnen erg dom.

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14 February, 2010

Winter? Sneeuw? Och komaan…

Te vinden onder: Bizar en straf,Filmkes — Tags: , , — @ 17:53

Dat het ener strengste winters der laatste jaren is, staat buiten kijf. Dat we wat winters betreft niet veel meer gewoon zijn, wordt hiermede bewezen. Een paar centimeter sneeuw en we weten niet meer waaraan of waaraf.
Nee dan was het vroeger wel anders, getuige de winter van 1942:

Ah, waar is den tijd toch gebleven? Zoudt ge nu die snotneuzen uit de school nog zien meehelpen sneeuwruimen? Hahahaha! *bulderlach-kuch* Tegenwoordig ruimt er zelfs niemand nog sneeuw voor de eigen deur. Tenminste hier in de stad toch niet.

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18 January, 2010

2010 het jaar der deblogging?

Te vinden onder: Bizar en straf,Toogpraat — Tags: , — @ 8:23

Wat drijft deze weblog nog? Geen idee. Niks nog, denk ik. Hetgeen ik te melden heb twit ik. (hips) Da’s zo gemakkelijk. ‘t Vraagt geen tijd. ‘t Vraagt geen nadenken. ‘t Vraagt geen *moeite*.
Bloggen vraagt *moeite*. Als ge het goed wilt doen tenminste.
Waar is den tijd dat er nog geen 140-char limiet bestond?

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