Dogs, hens, corn, seed and vine cuttings ... but no woman?!

"In From the Earth to the Moon and a Trip Round It, Verne was concerned chiefly with the mechanical problem of the journey. ... For the fate of the men themselves we care nothing. They are so sexless that though they take dogs, hens, corn, seed and vine cuttings to colonise the moon, it never occurred to them that women also might be helpful." - Norman Nicholson, H.G. Wells.

It's not that I'm a fan boy of Wells or that I particularly like Darwinian stuff. On the other hand, come on ... without Darwinian ideas on "Sexual Selection", we will have something like Verne's From the Earth to the Moon... I mean, no matter how much you like queer theories or bromance or homosexuality, you can never reproduce with a man trying to "penetrate" another. Either these writers are so into scientific romance that they forgot about the more mainstream romance, the one featuring a boy and a girl, or that they simply forgot about the existence of the other sex (how patriarchal!). Yeah, I agree that science is cool, but hey, we still need to make love so that we can populate a colony, and Darwin will definitely agree to that.

Preschooler maths?

So basically this is what happens within a pre-school kid’s mind within five to ten minutes after looking at this lump of numbers…

 

[*spoiler alert*]

 

To solve this, we will have to first look into what a preschooler will know about Math.

 

First of all, considering that this lump of equations is genuinely meant for preschool kids, there shouldn’t be constituted of any complicated mathematical formulations (as in nothing post-preschool). Meaning, there shouldn’t be any fractions, ratios, remainder theorem, any change in the numeral system (as in switching from decimal to binary or unary) or any of that sort. As such, there should only be the most fundamental mathematical manipulations involved, namely addition, subtraction, and perhaps multiplication and division, though the latter two might be too advanced for preschoolers. Simply put, finger counting.

 

When considered in this manner, it appears the mathematical processes should be able to be performed with simple decimal counting with two hands (10 fingers) since the right hand side of the equations ranges from 0 to a maximum of 6, which is within the range of 10. If that is the case, then it can be seen that a simple sum of counting (or addition) is performed within each equations when calculated from the left hand side of the equation to the right hand side. Let’s bear that in mind for the time being.

 

If this is a simple mathematical process of counting, then the question becomes a lot simpler. The counting of what? Apparently, each digit of the 4-digit number on the left hand side of each equation represents a certain value that is counted on the right hand side of that equation, and this value is uniform throughout all the equations. If that is the case, then from 0 to 9 (10 numbers in total), what are the values of each number? For that, let’s first look into the sets of 4-digits with one unified digit number (as in numbers of 0000, 1111 and so on).

 

0000 = 4

1111 = 0

2222 = 0

3333 = 0

5555 = 0

6666 = 4

7777 = 0

9999 = 4

 

From this, it appears that for numbers 1, 2, 3, 5 and 7, the digit value is 0, and for 0, 6 and 9, the digit value is 1 (since the digit is repeated 4 times, the right hand side result should be divided by 4). This can be verified from other equations, such as 7111 = 0 (since 7 and 1 has 0 value each), 2172 = 0 (1, 2 and 7 has 0 value each), 7662 = 2 (2 and 7 has 0 value each, and 6 has the value of 1), and so on. With that, we can determine the value of 1, 2 and 5 in the set of digits (2581) that we are asked to count for (we can no longer call it a “number” because it doesn’t function as one, and the arrangement of the digits no longer matters). However, there still remains a problem. What about 8?

 

Apparently, the digits 4 and 8 are not among the set of uniform digits that is exemplified in the above. But of course, there are number sets of digits that contain the digit 8 on the left hand side. Let’s look at them.

 

8809 = 6

8193 = 3

8096 = 5

6855 = 3

9881 = 5

 

Assuming that the value of 8 is x, if we replace the numbers with their attached values and consider the equations under normal algebraic conditions, we will have …

 

x + x + 1 + 1 = 6

x + 0 + 1 + 0 = 3

x + 1 + 1 + 1 = 5

1 + x + 0 + 0 = 3

1 + x + x + 0 = 5And so,

 

x = (6 – 2)/2 = 2

x = 3 – 1 = 2

x = 5 – 3 = 2

x = 3 – 1 = 2

x = (5 – 1)/2 = 2

 

Therefore, the digit 8 has the value of 2.

 

So, what we have left is that 2581 = 0 + 0 + 2 + 0 = 2, and therefore 2 is the final answer.

 

If this is what goes through a typical preschooler (assumably aged 5), then either I have went through a hyper retarded childhood counting apples and oranges, or the education system is so advanced that preschoolers are required to be capable of connecting all these ideas within 5 minutes. Of course, there are two issues that I have to acknowledge. The first is that a preschooler will not (hopefully) be able to logically deduce all these in as much detail (and in a relevant language) as what I have just done. Secondly, considering the assumption of the epigraphical statement, and the nature of these counting processes, the nature of this question is actually to challenge the registered concept of numbers within our mind. For preschoolers, the ideas or concepts of number is not as strongly registered within the mind when compared with a typical adult. However, that idea is wholly based upon a false assumption of stubbornness of adults in terms of the concept of numbers. That is not exactly true for programmers in general. The reason being is that programmers have to deal with a lot of abstract numbers and numerical representations, to an extent that a number can denote a lot more than, well, a numerical value. As such, for a typical programmer, 10 minutes seems to be more than adequate for this type of questions if he has his mind set upon tackling the question.

It's opposite!

I suddenly don't want to have kids in the future...

Zombiecalypse for the kids!

It's just Paper Scissors Stone ....

The original Paper Scissors Stone

Rock Paper Scissors - 15



Rock Paper Scissors ... 101?!


So we all need a PhD in playing Rock Paper Scissors ...?! Holy....

So, are you ...?

What is happening to today's society? Raising social awareness among 3 year old kids? Come on, they don't even have an idea of what it means to "die", in a social, moral or whatsoever sense. This is way too much -_-



What people think of Chinese New Year holidays...





What my parents think of my Chinese New Year Holidays

 

What my Teachers think of my Chinese New Year Holidays




What I hope to be doing on my Chinese New Year Holidays



What I actually did during Chinese New Year

There goes my Chinese New Year... where're my red packet money?!

No comments



Everybody thinks we're really happy, but I am not. My Dad is always working... and when he's at home, he screams a lot. That really hurts me.



Mom cries sometimes because she does not know what to do. Then she holds me telling about her unhappiness and problems.  It makes me feel very uncomfortable and strange. I really wish my dad would spend time with me instead of screaming and yelling.

My uncle Pete comes over sometimes. He lives with us every now and then. He is really kind to me- holding me, listening to me and making me feel loved. One night when he was holding me, he started touching my private parts. Over time he taught me to touch and play with his. It felt very strange, scary and a little good to. He told me it was OK, that this means he really loves me. This went on for several months. He told me “This is our special secret”.

Mom and Dad would fight. I thought they did not love me. Maybe they fought because of me. When I became a teenager, I started feeling really different from the other guys. Some of them called me names like “[censored]”, “[censored]”, “[censored]”, “[censored]”.  I did not know what they meant.

After a while, I went to a counselor for help and advice. I told him my story and that I thought I was gay. He said I wasn’t gay. I just missed my Dad’s love and was taught wrong things by my uncle.

He said it was very bad, what my uncle did to me. He should never have touched my private parts, or have me play eith his. The counselor said it wasn’t my fault, that my uncle took advantage of my need for Dad’s love. He explained that because I didn’t experience affection.

He said he also would contact uncle Pete and make sure he got help. The counselor explained to my Mom and Dad about my struggle and need for Dad’s love.  He told them of my confusion about being gay. He told Dad that I needed his TIME, TOUCH, and TALK.

Mom and Dad went to a counselor who helped them love each other. They even stopped fighting.. well at least most of the time. My counselor  and I met with uncle Pete. I told him how much he hurt me. He cried and asked me to forgive him. That helped me a lot.

Now I realize that I am not gay. Spending time with my dad really helped my heart. All I needed was his time, touch and talk. Finally , I am happy at home.

I really don't know what to say. Is this creative? Innovative? Daring? Inappropriate? Or something else? You decide for yourself. I'm not commenting.

New year's not-so-epic prayers

Running around town trying to get to 4 temples in one day is a but exhausting.

Like what I've always been saying, I personally am not sure whether to call whatsoever I am doing a religion or culture. Of course, most people who are not in this cultural-religious entity as I am, like many Christians and Atheist and people with no religion, will call all these affairs that I have been bothering myself with "idol worshipping" (I was taught a hard lesson in another time that atheist and people with no religion are two different, well, sets of beings, since a person who has no religion can still acknowledge the existence of god). I won't say that their own argument is ever justifiable since they are scrutinizing this cultural-religious entity of mine in their own view points, a view point that has ruled out the existence of this little entity of mine before any form of justification can be made. Ah, I won't continue on with all these or else I might get multiple arrows in multiple parts of my body. Anyway, my point is that I don't always go to these temples on a regular basis. It's more or less an annual stuff. And, unlike my father, I won't blame the deities or anything whenever I myself screws something up, but rather look at it in a more, lets say logical, manner. So it's really like meeting with a friend once a year, while neither depending on nor making use of him. Considering that, is that a religion, or is that a culture? I have no answer for myself, and please don't justify that for me.

That's right. It's that annual meet with those idoly deities today! Started this little marathon (not exactly marathon because it's mostly train rides) at around 2. Went to Wong Tai Shin Temple (I'll prefer a strictly English name if there is any, because somehow I still feel awkward typing these Chinese homophonic transcriptions) first. Nothing uncommon, just that there are a lot of people, and it's squeezy squashy with a mass of old folks. The thing is, Chinese people aren't tall to begin with, and the previous or previous two generations are even shorter. Considering that, when they didn't hold their incenses all that high, especially when they are only at my chest or chin level, the smoke from those burning incenses, with the help of a little Southbound wind, are like Nazis casting the blitz upon my eyes. Seriously, it stings.

After somewhat fifteen to twenty minutes of squeezy squashy, we (me plus dad) headed Northwards, to the temple of Che Kung. Alighted at Tai Wai, didn't follow police directions (screw them), and reached the temple without much trouble. My dad tried getting incense from stalls within the temple. For the typical 5-buck types: 40 bucks. That's robbery in daylight! So what we did was simply went out and get those 10 bucks a bundle incense. Ah, things are easy when you know how. Went back in, did our stuff, and guess what? Amid those similar squeezy squashy scenarios, some lady (nah, too young to be granny, 40's my guess) stepped on my tole with the heel of her high heels! asdfggrgjwoir022350-4u3wjrpw3..... My toe is still hurting now as I'm typing these very words ... It's new year, so forget it. And if you're wondering, no. I didn't touch any part of her body with any part of mine. I know. Don't ask me, but I know. She simply side stepped and I simply fell victim to that unpretentious accident. Anyway, more incenses, more smoke, cough cough, sting sting, ouch ouch, squeeze squeeze, I'm done, and I'm out. Nothing to do there.

So, after successfully obtaining the blessings of two temples (a couple of deities), in the cost of an ouch ouch toe (it's not exactly broken and I can still walk and run and climb stairs), we're off to the third pit stop, a temple in Shatin known as the Temple of Million Buddhas (Yes, finally a temple name that I can translate into English without using homophones! Take that!). One thing I should mention about this temple is that it's situated in the midst of some mountainous terrain, and there are more than a hundred flights of stairs (I don't have the energy to count) between any inhabited area of humanity and the temple in question. Another thing is, it's cold. It was around 8 degrees or so in Shatin? And I only had a not-so-thick-yet-not-particularly-thin hoodie, and a scarf which proved to be worthless. To add to that, before our ascend, it started drizzling. Not much, but enough to make your hair looks like you've just came out of the shower washing your head and have yet to blow your hair dry. Oh and one more thing, we don't have any umbrellas or raincoat, and my hoodie isn't waterproof. So what? Challenge accepted! Screw the umbrellas, screw the rain, I'm going up like a boss!! This is Spartaaaa-aaa-aa-a-a-a-a...!!! *cough* *cough* (imagine a couch potato running up a hundred flight of stairs... ) ... And the rain stopped once we reached the top. Damn.

Anyway, I left my dad behind to do his prayers and stuff in the temple (those divinity stuff that I'm not in particular found of). I still have to rush to the last temple, the temple that is meant for the young generation though I recall seeing only a bunch of mothers bringing their sons and daughters there for prayers. That's the Man Mo Temple in Sheung Wan, or, if I am to forcefully translate the name, it will be the Temple of Martial and Literature (sounds pretty cool though). That will mean I will have to get across the harbor to the other side of town. Hmm.... Anyway, after some flights of stairs (easy job now that I've conquered the harder one in a failed Spartan way...) I've reached the temple. Closed. Checked my phone. 6:03 pm. The temple closes at 6. Ah well, I'll be back again on another day. Maybe tomorrow.

Wednesday night blues

Hop on board! It’s not going to be a short ride. Not that long either, so worry not. Three hours. Or less, depending on how smooth the flow of the journey is. So grab all you need and be here at eighteen-thirty, sharp. You won’t want to be left out, right? It will be interesting. Promised.

The cabin is an enclosed environment. Meaning, there won’t be any chance for any of us to look outside. Yes, I know. We all like window seats, especially with how splendid sunset view it can possibly offer. Do have my apologies for this. There are protocols. However, you can always take the ones along the aisle. It will be easier for you to leave your seat if any urgency arises. And trust me, you will have urgencies. Even if you don’t, you will wish that you do.

There will be entertainment provided so please be reminded to bring along a larger amount of attention span. It will be highly edutaintional. However, I understand fully that the entertainment provided might not be appealing to all kinds of audiences. As such, you are reminded to bring your own entertainment, such as portable electronics, a good book, or even some blank papers to doodle one. Do be reminded that if you require personal sound entertainment, you will need your own headphones as they will not be provided. You can choose to sleep, please be reminded that the lights will be switched on throughout the ride. You will need your own sleeping mask; though sleeping mask is not recommended due to security reasons.

Food and beverages will not be provided. Please be reminded that you have to bring your own food and beverages before boarding. Also, do note that only snacks and bottled drinks are recommended. It will be at your own risk if you decide to bring anything more, and we will not be responsible of any unpleasant events, such has the confiscation of your meal.

Having said all these, you will be wondering where the flight will be heading. Wait! Who said it’s a flight or train/boat/bus ride to begin with? It’s not! It’s my Wednesday night’s lecture! Isn’t it the same as some short-distance flight on a budget airline? The environment is more or less the same; the amount of time spent is more or less the same, and even the cost! It costs the same, or even more! Of course, there are differences, like how we don’t have to go through security checks or arrive horrendously early (thank god!). However, at least we get somewhere with a budget flight, and not three hours of presentation mayhem, straight. Oh wait. We do get somewhere. The sky did turn dark after watching people struggling with their powerpoint for three hours straight! . .. … … …

To all girls:

Japanese Nuke.

How many of them do you know?

War is peace

This seems more like a ghost town than anything, or that’s what I thought when I stepped out of my vehicle. The buildings, intermittently spread and haphazardly arranged, let off a faint flush of grey, laminated by sunlight. No sign of livelihood or animation apart from the few whirls of winds that elevates a few scrapes of paper and dust. The backdrop, barren and all, is of no help to this morbid cityscape. Less than a decade ago, on this exact same spot lays a city that is inhabited by millions. People of different class, race, age, gender (of course) and all kinds imaginable used to live in this city. It was prosperous. It was, but not now.

For some reasons, the sign of a nearby metro station exit caught my attention. Staggering in the wind, trying to grasp onto something but never succeeding, the sign was held only by a thin piece of wire. Why did it not fall apart, and how long has that sign been struggling, are mysteries to me. What I am certain of is, nevertheless, that the room on the second floor of the building directly beside the metro exit is where I used to live. The building, like many other constructions in the city, laid bare, battered, and in ruins.

I went up and through the door of what used to be my apartment, or, to be precise, the arch that used to be a door. Most of the items are gone. Furnishings, decorations, stacks of books, and even my prized collection of action figures that are made of synthetic materials (plastic). The only image that corresponds with my understanding of the room is the position of the large furniture such as the metallic bed frame that had gathered rust, the bookshelf that looks like it is about to collapse, and the writing desk that is full of holes and splinters and with a corner missing. The whole apartment is filled with rubbles and splinters and all kinds of imaginable rubbish. I should have moved, I told myself.

I tried to savage whatsoever I can find. Not much. A small crystal ball the size of a thumb, a spoof book on English learning written by some Taiwanese guy, a necklace of no whatsoever symbolic meaning apart from the fact that I used to wear, and a pack of unopened gum. Considering how ravaged and devastated the entire state is, I should be more than satisfied with my finds.

As I started my way back across the desolated street, a poster plastered onto the building on the other side fluttered in the wind. It bares a large figure with a solemn yet intimidating might towering forward, and a forefinger pointing at my direction. On the top of the poster, three words are printed with serious fonts:

“War is peace”

If I am any less apathetic towards this “war” in general, I would be rushing over with rage, trying with all my might to annihilate with everything I got. But no. I didn’t. I stood there, staring at the blank eyes of the figure in the poster. I am too used to seeing that nincompoop’s face. Too used to the idea of war that it strikes me as something I live with everyday. What if I destroy the poster? There will be millions of similar posters out there. How many more can I destroy? The act of destroying that poster will prove to only be as pointless as the war itself.

Just as I am about to go, a stray hound, a black one, walked towards the poster. He lingered around the spot below the poster, sniffed a bit, and raised one of his rear legs. A stream of fresh urine gushed out of his rear and landed directly below the poster.

“Way to go, pal. You sure know your peace.” I said laughingly to myself.

Rosie Rosie Rosie~

Was looking at a friend's short essay on the poster below.

Just a good afternoon's work

What stroke me interesting was actually the phrase "Just A Good Afternoon's Work". If you have noticed, there can be two similar yet distinctive meaning to this phrase. Considering these:

Just a good "afternoon's" work

Just a "good afternoon's" work

When we consider the phrase (or word) inside the double inverted apostrophes as the sentence's primary object, with the subject being "work" itself, we can have to separate meanings when we consider the sentence structure in these two different senses. The first version, with good as a premodifying adjective, describes the afternoon's work being good and "just" (as in simple and brief). On the second version, however, the sentence describes the simple and brief work being the task of "good afternoon", or simply saying it. Of course, the second version doesn't suggests that the actual work is saying "good afternoon" itself, but rather the work is as easy as saying "good afternoon". Anyway, I'll leave the reason behind for you to decide for yourself, because I don't feel that the reason is necessarily important. After all, this ambiguity here might most likely be accidental and, if it is incidental for some unknown reason, it is there simply to capture your (and my) attention. Full stop.

And there's this little thing that strikes me odd. The color theme of Rosie is actually red bandanna and blue worker's uniform (see below). So why is the Rosie in the poster in red (or pink)? Some how the red theme makes this feel like a Soviet poster. Well, there are quite a few possibilities that I can think of. One is, like what my friend has said, related the the theme of red and brotherhood. But then and again, it's SISTERhood here. Hello? I don't know if red is appropriate for SISTERhood, but yeah, a point worthy of taking note. Another possibility will be that they wish to portray Rosie as a nanny or nurse. Of course, when we consider Rosie the Riveter, she is a metal work worker in a lathe factory or something, but when we consider the whole of British-America's female population, we'll realize that there are quite a number of females who join the war efforts as nurse. It's obvious as nurse is quite an obvious job for females, and lets not forget that the soldiers will heal a lot faster when attended by a pretty nurse :D One last simple reason why the poster is themed in red may be due to the printing technology at that time. From what I've known, technologies for printing and lighting technologies comes from the order of Rainbow - first red, then orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. So it's not surprising if, at that point in time (year 1941), there's only red orange and yellow paint (and black of course).

Anyway, a little poster of our heroine, Rosie the Riveter!

We can do it!

But I personally prefer the real-life Rosie. Kind of cute, isn't she?

A Rosie at the women factor