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About This Author
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Complex Numbers
Complex Numbers
A complex number is expressed in the standard form a + bi, where a and b are real numbers and i is defined by i^2 = -1 (that is, i is the square root of -1). For example, 3 + 2i is a complex number.
The bi term is often referred to as an imaginary number (though this may be misleading, as it is no more "imaginary" than the symbolic abstractions we know as the "real" numbers). Thus, every complex number has a real part, a, and an imaginary part, bi.
Complex numbers are often represented on a graph known as the "complex plane," where the horizontal axis represents the infinity of real numbers, and the vertical axis represents the infinity of imaginary numbers. Thus, each complex number has a unique representation on the complex plane: some closer to real; others, more imaginary. If a = b, the number is equal parts real and imaginary.
Very simple transformations applied to numbers in the complex plane can lead to fractal structures of enormous intricacy and astonishing beauty.
April 30, 2010 at 11:51pm April 30, 2010 at 11:51pm
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Going to a show in Richmond tonight.
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Everyone knows that Greece's economy has taken a turn for the worse, right?
Of course, that way lies madness...
(Madness? THIS IS SPAAARRTAAAA!)
Anyway, today's link is to The Daily Mash, which explains the British spellings:
http://www.thedailymash.co.uk/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=2683&Ite...
GREECE TO DESTROY WESTERN CIVILISATION
THE history of Western civilisation is expected to come full circle today when Greece brings it crashing to the ground...
...Professor Henry Brubaker, of the Institute for Studies, said: "Given that it was founded by Greeks, I'm amazed it lasted as long as it did....
But it's the next-to-last paragraph that had me rolling on the floor laughing my acronyms off.
Bonus link is from Cracked:
http://www.cracked.com/photoshop_119_instructional-diagrams-people-who-suck-at-e...
Instructional Diagrams for People Who Suck at Everyday Life
From tailgaters to people who take cell phone calls during a movie, the world is full of folks who just don't seem to get society's rules. We asked you to help them out with instructional diagrams that will show these people how to avoid doing the everyday annoying things that make us want to strangle them... |
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People with access to video editing software and too much time on their hands will eventually cause the downfall of civilization.
Until then, there's this:
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So once again, I find myself trying to eat more healthy foods and, one hopes, lose weight.
The problem is portions.
They don't sell individual portions of anything healthy.
Oh, sure... apples, maybe. But take asparagus for example: they sell you a bunch, or none at all. And I like asparagus, but not enough to eat it every day. So the rest goes into the fridge, in plastic wrap, to (one hopes) last until the next time I can choke down asparagus.
Which leads me to my fervent wish about plastic wrap:
I want a plastic wrap that doesn't:
fail to be cut along a neat line - it always stops being cut by the cutter and then I have to pull the hell out of it to get it to come off.
cling to itself like an emo teen to her makeup - until you actually wrap something in it, at which point it completely and utterly fails to stick to itself
cling to every surface imaginable except the container you wish to seal.
I mean, seriously, folks. It's 2010. If I can't have a flying car, can I at least have plastic wrap that freaking WORKS? |
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Actually, today's title is misleading - my pickup truck's working just fine.
For the past couple of years, though, I've been toying with the idea of getting new wheels, though I really haven't done much about it - when I'd first planned on buying, the economy crashed, and I decided I'd hold out a while longer. I've had the truck for 10 years, now.
Besides the lousy economy (which makes it a great time to buy a new car, unless your income has been slashed like tires in the Bronx), the other thing stopping me was:
What the HELL do I want to drive?
Well, apart from this:
http://www.teslamotors.com/
Which I'm not going to get, for various reasons, not the least of which it costs more than I paid for my house.
An SUV or minivan is right out - don't need the space, and don't like the image.
I don't want another pickup truck. I've driven one pretty much from the moment I got my license, I don't really need one anymore, and what's the point of having a mid-life crisis if you're just going to drive the same kind of vehicle?
Sports cars are a big no, too, because they're sports cars and will give people the entirely wrong impression about the size of my man-parts.
And I'm too old for entry-level vehicles.
Plus, I don't really like the cars on the market right now. They all look about the same, and the ones that don't, well, they look ugly.
And I'm painfully aware that, for the first time in my life, I'm actually considering "image" as one criterion in car selection. Which is why I'm avoiding BMWs and Mercedeseses. Or anything from Detroit.
So I have to ask myself: "What kind of car can a middle-aged guy drive without making it look like he's reliving a lost childhood or looking forward to retirement?" (This is especially hard to answer because I want to relive a lost childhood and I'm looking forward to retirement.)
And there's just not much out there like that. Everything's geared toward college kids, families, or bald guys with Issues.
I test-drove a Subaru and a couple of Nissans today. Not bad, but I didn't exactly fall head over heels for either make. And the Toyota dealership completely ignored me. Yep - guy walks in on a slow day at a time when Toyota's reputation is in the toilet, and they wouldn't even talk to me. Maybe it was the Bruce Springsteen tour shirt I was wearing, but that didn't slow down the Nissan folks.
Fortunately, I'm in no hurry. But it bugs me that I can't even decide on a freaking CAR. |
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Well, I guess yesterday's April Fool's entry was too over-the-top to be believed, even for a moment. Still, I wanted to do something funny.
The truly great April Fool's joke was perpetrated by Google (a couple years ago, so this is kinda old, but it's not like I have anything else to talk about):
http://www.google.com/virgle/
Seriously, that's an awesome one: For thousands of years, the human race has spread out across the Earth, scaling mountains and plying the oceans, planting crops and building highways, raising skyscrapers and atmospheric CO2 levels, and observing, with tremendous and unflagging enthusiasm, the Biblical injunction to be fruitful and multiply across our world's every last nook, cranny and subdivision...
Sure, it's a hoax, but I figure if it gets people talking and thinking about space exploration again, it's a useful one.
In a story I wrote (and am currently working on editing), which is set about 75 years in the future, I envision an Earth overrun by right-wing extremists; the West by Christians, the Middle East by Muslims, and most everywhere else, some sort of authoritarian society. In this future, we haven't gone much past the moon, and certainly not to Mars.
I know there are people who think space travel's a waste of resources, or that we'd just fuck up other planets the way we're doing this one. I'm not one of those people. Having been raised on a steady diet of science fiction (and science), I know that when we can do something, we will. I don't expect any of the futures predicted by any science fiction writer to come true (and that includes mine); a writer's job is to entertain, and a science fiction writer's job is to envision, not what will be or should be, but what could be.
I also know that human nature will find a way to screw up even the most optimistic of futures. But we gotta try. That's also part of human nature.
"Virgle" is a hoax, but the people involved really are working toward a future of commercially-viable space flight (even if they're not ready to send pioneers to Mars). I say go for it.
And I want my flying car, goddammit! |
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All three of my readers have noticed that I haven't been posting on here in a while.
Sorry about that.
What happened was, I've been having a lot more personal crises than usual.
But that's all behind me now, thanks to a surprise visit on an unseasonably mild day in February.
Sometimes a life change begins with a simple knock on the door. In this case, it was a Sunday afternoon like any other (only warmer, as I've mentioned). I was sitting in my underwear, smoking a cigar, drinking a martini, and watching a pornographic video while playing online Hold 'em. You know, the usual. So the knock on the door was a rude interruption, at best.
I waited for the money shot, then paused the video and went to see who was at the door.
It was a vision of loveliness such as I have never seen. And to her credit, she barely even blinked at my state of dishabille before launching into her well-rehearsed speech.
"Good afternoon! I'm Cindy, and I'm from Westlake Baptist Church. Have you been saved?"
The cigar fell from my numb lips, nearly burning something on its drop, but I barely felt it.
"I... I think so," I said, all my prepared responses to door-to-door savespeople having fled from my mind.
Her smile was like the radiance of a thousand suns. "That's wonderful! So where do you go to church?"
"Church?" I scratched an armpit, then realized what I was doing and stopped. "I don't go to church."
Her face fell. "Oh. But how can you be saved if you don't go to church?"
I fumbled for an answer to that one. A burning pain blossomed in my foot, and I reflexively kicked the still-smoldering cigar off my front stoop, forcing Cindy to do a little jig. All I wanted was to make the smile return to her face. And to make her bounce again. "Er, well, I'm new in town, see? And I haven't shopped around for one yet."
The smile came back, and all was right with the world. "Well, I have good news for you! Westlake is having a special open house tonight, just for new seekers! Will you come?"
"I'm about to," I said. Then, "Um, I mean, I'm about to get dressed. You'll be there, right?"
"Of course!" She offered a pamphlet with directions and the time.
I had time to shower and shave, so I did, then got dressed in a suit that I hadn't worn in a while - it barely fit me, but I sucked in my gut and managed.
And what can I say? The advertising worked. I went for Cindy, but after listening to what they said, I found something much more fulfilling and lasting:
Jesus.
Yes, brothers and sisters, by the time I was done with the open house at Westlake Baptist Church, I was well and truly saved. I finally understood what people meant by "I saw the light." It was as if the church roof opened and the fiery light of Heaven streamed in and bathed away all my sins.
And I'm not ashamed to admit that it made me weep copious tears of joy.
I barely even noticed Cindy's hug on my way out the door, such was the rapture of my enlightenment.
When I got home, I went to the computer (still open to a filthy porn site and sinful gambling game), thinking I'd throw the wicked device out of the window, but the hand of the Lord stopped me. "Robert," I heard from all around, "How wilt thou share the good news with others if thee gettest rid of it entirely? Nay, deleteth thou thine browsing history and thine cookies that temptation may no longer bedevil thee."
Naturally, I obeyed the Lord's command, happy to know I was going to get the chance to spread the good news.
The rest of my drink went down the sink, followed by all of the sinful bottles of the Devil's drink in my cabinet and refrigerator. When they were gone, the kitchen seemed empty, forlorn - much as I had been before I saw the Light. But I knew I would fill them again, fill them with the power of the Lord.
Likewise, my cigars went by the wayside, this task accomplished by breaking them and crumbling their remains into the petunias.
Happily sin-free and for the first time optimistic about the future and my own eternal life, I fell into a deep and blissful sleep that night.
So, you ask, why did it take me so long to share the news with all of my good friends on Writing.com?
Well, it turns out that being saved is HARD. I wrestled with my conscience the next morning, when I automatically reached down to touch myself impurely, as was my habit. I caught myself at just the last moment though, but the rest of that day - and the weeks that followed - have been one battle against Satan after another.
It's only been a few days (and several prayer meetings with Cindy) since the turmoil has finally stopped. Jesus has forgiven me for all my past sins; I know that now. And even if I sin again in the future, inadvertently, I know that Jesus will forgive me for that, too, even as Cindy has forgiven me for making inappropriate overtures to her.
It's all going to be okay, now. And I pray, all day, every day, that all of you folks out there see the light as I have. |
© Copyright 2025 Robert Waltz (UN: cathartes02 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. Robert Waltz has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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