Remembering Myself, Travestying Time…and Phonying towards Perfection



Thus Spake Luftmensch, Ep. 6: Problems of Mathematics

Being a Rant on the Gross Pretensions of School-book Mathematics.

I dreaded mathematics in school. One of the reasons was that it was a language insufferably alien to me. Another was that there could only be a single right answer (derived along a single path) to a Maths problem atleast for the ones we got in school. Confronted by the quintessential maths problem, the one involving workers and the days they took to build a drasted wall, I would be flummoxed trying to unravel the mysterious solution to this clearly rather taciturn question.

If a worker works 6 hours per day and takes 20 days to finish a wall all by himself, how many days will it take to finish if 3 more workers join him and they work 4 hours a day?

I don’t even know if this is a real question but that’s not the point. The point is I know nothing about those workers. If that single worker was me, I’d probably do less work when in company with three others who’d possibly be yapping politics and gossip as they worked together as a solid team.

Continue reading “Thus Spake Luftmensch, Ep. 6: Problems of Mathematics”


Quote #92

Rousseau_I would have refused to educate him if I were not free to marry him according to his own choice, which is mine.

Émile. Rousseau.

On Rousseau’s ÉMILE, or the Making of a Real Man

emile rousseau.jpgYou cannot help but pity poor Émile, condemned for no reason to a life of solitude and friendlessness, except for a grown-up pervert (read tutor) who is both know-it-all, comprehensive guide book and highly-evolved CCTV camera, and who is bent on making a junior double of himself out of Émile. From a little after infancy, Émile is literally surrounded, saturated, and manipulated by the sole presence of the sly tutor-master who claims to be Émile’s friend and equal. The child is like clay that can be worked into anything; and as far as clay is concerned, it is not hard to read. For fear of misleading him, Émile is not taught religion, morals, fables, stories of any kind, nor allowed to engage in solitary excursions, chit-chat, gossip, play with peers, chill time with the ladies, and in short, Continue reading “On Rousseau’s ÉMILE, or the Making of a Real Man”

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