Math 55

The Harvard Pops, whom I just mentioned, and whose concerts I never miss, often make jokes about Harvard in their performances.  When something is gigantic, it might be “bigger than Harvard’s endowment.”  Get it?  Most of them I get.  Some are more esoteric.

Pops Risks it All had a line that went something like (and I paraphrase):

The Rules: You’d have to take the ultimate risk!
Marcus: What, like, Math 55?

I laughed at the time, ’cause I got the gist.  Then I Googled it when I got home to understand more fully.

The math department has a pamphlet to help Freshman choose which of four math courses they might want to take.  The first sentence describing each course is as follows:

  • Math 21: A thorough treatment of multi-variable calculus and linear algebra with real-life applications.
  • Math 23: A class that covers linear algebra and multivariable calculus while also teaching proof-writing, starting with the basics.
  • Math 25: A rigorous treatment of multivariable calculus, linear algebra, and introductions to other topics in advanced mathematics.
  • Math 55: This is probably the most difficult undergraduate math class in the country; a variety of advanced topics in mathematics are covered, and problem sets ask students to prove many fundamental theorems of analysis and linear algebra.

Wow.  That is the ultimate risk.

She Wants to Date Other Guys

I can’t rave enough about the Harvard Pops, and last night’s concert may have been the best since Pops Gets Cursed in 2006, which got huge points for  introducing me to Wicked.

Sammi Biegler, whom you can watch on YouTube singing Mack the Knife from last year’s Pops Jumps the Shark concert, even came back after graduating (as Pops members are wont to do) to portray The Rules in the game of Risk.

They put to excellent use Ernst Toch’s Geographical Fugue (performed there by a different group), and I declare here that Larry O’Keefe’s short opera The Magic Futon, which the Pops commissioned and premiered four years ago, knows no rival.  Of course, you’d only be able to judge for yourself if you attended the concert.

Let that be a lesson: attend the next one.  (Then you’d also know that the title of this post is probably my favorite lyric from the show.)

On Torture and Psychosis

An Associated Press article in the Boston Globe, 14 November 2008 begins:

VIENNA – Prosecutors filed a murder charge yesterday against the man accused of imprisoning his daughter for 24 years in a rat-infested cell and fathering her seven children, saying one of the youngsters who died in infancy might have survived if brought to a doctor.

It gets worse.  It gets a lot worse.  Read the whole thing and you’ll feel your grip on reality slipping away with every sentence.  The absolute surrealism of this story – the natural subconscious belief that this surely cannot have happened in the real world – almost makes it seem like this must have been written for The Onion, except nothing about it is even the tiniest bit funny.

Three Three Eight

I loved the last hours of this election.

First, the pundits nearly pulled muscles trying not to call the election too early, even when the outcome became blindingly apparent.  We heard a lot of hypothetical scenarios like, “Let’s suppose Obama wins California.  Here’s how he might win the election then.”  As it turns out, 61% of California voted for him, and I’m sure we’re stunned.

The lessons of the 2000 election seem to have set in too deeply.  They shouldn’t have jumped on the “victory” button the moment Pennsylvania went to Obama, but they probably didn’t need to wait until California, Oregon, Washington, and Hawaii all actually closed.

Second, although I generally detest when my neighbors shout “whooooo” from their balconies in the dead of night, watching Grant Park erupt into cheers at the same moment my entire block began to scream “Obama” from their windows portrayed, better than anything that came before, the unifying power of this leader.

Third, I realized for the first time watching Obama’s speech that this election was played “for keeps,” and we have chosen a man to serve as our president for four years.  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to want to tune in when presidents ask to address the nation.  Now we can feel something we haven’t felt in eight years: inspiration.

You Stink… If You Blink

The T has introduced a new campaign to improve courtesy on its trains and buses.  I applaud the sentiment, at least.  On the Green Line we contend with these (top three) acts of rudeness every day:

  1. Refusing to Move Back. People fill the front third of the train, forcing newcomers to wedge themselves in a doorway, while leaving the rear so empty there are free seats.  Don’t be afraid of the stairs (that’s climacophobia).
  2. Blocking Doors.  Obviously someone has to stand by the door when the train is crowded, but when the door opens you need to step aside — preferably onto the street.  You’ll be able to get back in.
  3. Playing Loud Music.  Subways already produce 90 to 115 decibels (dBA) of sound, and I can hear your music from 10 meters away.  Enough!  I wouldn’t mind as much if I ever heard a nice Rachmaninov melody in the air, but it’s only ever rap music!

When the T last tried a courtesy campaign, they gave out free Dunkin Donuts coupons to people seen doing polite things.  This time, they’ve just made a series of signs.  “Don’t be a Lout.  Let them out.”  The font on the signs is vaguely reminiscent of Harry Potter’s title font—appropriate, since only magic can make this campaign work.

I particularly enjoy this “button” from the MBTA’s “Commuter Rail Maps and Schedules” page:

MBTA's Courtesy Counts Campaign

MBTA

Once again paraphrasing Josh Lyman: the blinking is what really makes it art.

Let’s Just Call it Progress

Erica Noonan reports in this morning’s Boston Globe:

An era when Halloween costume shopping for girls could be confused with exploring a Victoria’s Secret lingerie trunk may be fading.  Girls between the ages of 6 and 14 and their parents seem to be gravitating away from revealing costumes this year.

Rachel [age 10] has her heart set on dressing as Hannah Montana, the schoolgirl-rock star character popularized by 15-year-old actress Miley Cyrus. Despite Cyrus’s controversial partially nude photo spread in Vanity Fair magazine earlier this year, [her mother] Britt said she has no particular objection to the Hannah Halloween theme.

But she was thoroughly unimpressed by Target’s $25 version of a costume, a barely-there swath of rayon and matching go-go boots. No way, she said.

In the words of Mrs. Judy Geller on Friends (episode 6-09, The One Where Ross Got High), “That’s a lot of information to get in 30 seconds.”

Let’s start by applauding parents who prevent their preteen daughters from wearing less total clothing mass than their pre-toddler siblings.  Speaking broadly on behalf of men — a gender that’s quite rightly notorious for its adoration of naked and nearly naked women — I’d really rather not find myself handing out Snickers bars to a ten-year-old girl in a “barely-there swath of rayon.”

I lived in Boulder in 1996 — the year that someone murdered six-year-old JonBenét Ramsey and the rest of us learned that even a child in kindergarten could win a beauty pageant.  I was confused then in the same way I find myself confused now.

In the 20 January 1997 issue of People Magazine, Mr. Bill Hewitt wrote:

There was one video that showed JonBenét, who had won a half-dozen pageants, including a 1995 Little Miss Colorado title and a 1996 America’s Royale Miss title, dancing in flirtatious—even provocative—fashion.  Photographs also surfaced of her in heavy makeup more suited to a woman at least three times her age.

Ten years and five months later, we apparently found ourselves reading about Miley Cyrus in Vanity Fair, and seeing her wrapped in a blanket on the second page of the article.  Half naked?  Not really.  Partially nude?  To no greater extent than a girl on a beach in a bathing suit.

It’s a much more artful and much less tacky pose than detractors would suggest, but it’s still reminiscent of something one would find in a men’s magazine.  It didn’t take long to prove that point by unearthing a photo of Ms. Gena Lee Nolin from the pages of Maxim that carries distinct similarities.

Again speaking on behalf of men everywhere, there’s a reason Maxim has roughly the same circulation as Newsweek.  It’s not a bad thing.  I’ll just choose, if any children come to my door tonight dressed as fashion models thrice their age, to keep the door closed and keep the Reese’s to myself.

Are We There Yet? Are We There Yet?

From the Boston Globe, 22 October 2008:

It is a simple test, but has surprising power to predict a child’s future. A 4-year-old is left sitting at a table with a marshmallow or other treat on it and given a challenge: Wait to eat it until a grown-up comes back into the room, and you’ll get two. If you can’t wait that long, you’ll get just one.

Some children can wait less than a minute, others last the full 20 minutes. The longer the child can hold back, the better the outlook in later life for everything from SAT scores to social skills to academic achievement, according to classic work by Columbia University psychologist Walter Mischel, who has followed his test subjects from preschool in the late 1960s into their 40s now.

I remember failing that test like it was yesterday – sitting there with a marshmallow staring back at me was just too tempting to resist.  In fact, come to think of it… it was yesterday.  I never even took that test as a child!

Blërg!

They Have the Internet on Computers Now

From The Atlantic, July 1982:

When I sit down to write a letter or start the first draft of an article, I simply type on the keyboard and the words appear on the screen. For six months, I found it awkward to compose first drafts on the computer. Now I can hardly do it any other way. It is faster to type this way than with a normal typewriter, because you don’t need to stop at the end of the line for a carriage return (the computer automatically “wraps” the words onto the next line when you reach the right-hand margin), and you never come to the end of the page, because the material on the screen keeps sliding up to make room for each new line. It is also more satisfying to the soul, because each maimed and misconceived passage can be made to vanish instantly, by the word or by the paragraph, leaving a pristine green field on which to make the next attempt.

Even in an era when we all use computers on a daily basis – and I do even more than most people – it’s absolutely enthralling to read a description of how an ordinary person can really use such a thing as a personal computer.

I particularly like Mr. Fallows’ description of using BASIC to write some tax accounting software.

At the end of the year, I load the income-tax program into the computer, push the button marked “Run,” and watch as my tax return is prepared. Since it took me only about six months to learn BASIC (and the tax laws) well enough to write the program, I figure this approach will save me time by 1993.

That doesn’t sound remotely like anything I’ve ever developed.  (He says, unconvincingly.)

The Best eBay Auction Ever

I’m sure I’ve spoken before about the departures board at South Station.  I love it because it’s a glorious holdover from the 1980s (and earlier). Unlike modern LED or television displays, it’s a mechanical model, where changing the information requires physically rolling over from one flap to another.

You can easily find plenty of examples of signs like this on YouTube.

Of course, the fun only really happens when it’s time for a dramatic change (e.g., moving each departure over a column to make room for more).  In truth, the sign is the one aspect of South Station I really love.  Railroad travel should carry a certain antiquity, even if you’re just catching a commuter rail train to Waltham.

Well, there’s good news and bad news.

The bad news?  The MBTA installed a new, all-singing, all-dancing light-up sign in June, which will replace the mechanical model.  There goes my favorite part of a South Station visit.

The good news?  The Globe reports they’re selling it on eBay.  The auction is still online (here), though it looks like some form of silent auction, where potential buyers contact the seller directly, rather than placing bids on the site.  In any case, there’s no public information besides that the MBTA wants at least $500.

If only I had somewhere to put it!

It’s Shakespeare After All

From the Associated Press:

Monkeys taught to play a computer game were able to overcome wrist paralysis with an experimental device that could lead to new treatments for patients with stroke and spinal cord injury.

The monkeys regained use of paralyzed muscles by learning to control the activity of a single brain cell.

[Study co-author Chet Moritz] stressed the approach is years, if not decades, away from use in people.

We can all agree that any progress on a new treatment for paralysis is excellent news, both for paralyzed people and for the scientific and medical communities.

Now, let’s focus for a moment on the fact that we can teach monkeys to play video games.  How long has this been going on?

Please, somebody confirm that we’ve also taught them to post YouTube comments.  It would explain so much…