Curly Brackets Of Doom

Drawing that little square at the end of a mathematical proof is like slapping a "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED" banner on a burning building! The square (or QED symbol) is supposed to signify "thus it is demonstrated," but in reality it's often more like "please don't check my work too carefully." Nothing beats the rush of confidently scribbling that tiny square after 3 pages of absolute mathematical gibberish. Bonus points if you write it with such force that you tear through the paper! The universal symbol for "I have no idea what I just did but I'm pretending I do!"

Started with legitimate trig derivatives, ended with existential crisis. That cotangent formula featuring "e to the pi i" multiplied by "computer science" is pure mathematical blasphemy. But the final derivative—"who cares"—is the most mathematically accurate formula on that board. That's calculus hitting the depression phase of the semester. Thirty years of teaching and I still can't decide if this professor is having a breakdown or achieving enlightenment.

This mathematical masterpiece is what happens when you let engineers do math proofs after pulling an all-nighter! Starting with the completely "accurate" equation e = π = √g = 3, it proceeds through a series of increasingly ridiculous logical leaps to prove that π = 69 (and as a bonus lemma, π = 420). The beauty lies in how it parodies actual mathematical proofs with formal-sounding language while committing mathematical sins that would make your calculus professor spontaneously combust. From declaring that 9 = 10 to the circular reasoning proving 3 = n for any number, it's basically mathematical blasphemy wrapped in academic language. That final "QED" with expletives is the chef's kiss on this mathematical abomination. Pure genius for anyone who's ever suffered through writing rigorous proofs at 3 AM while questioning their life choices!

The eternal struggle of engineering students, captured in one divine revelation. When it's 3 AM and you've been staring at equations for 7 hours straight, mathematical constants start looking suspiciously similar. Why bother with π = 3.141592, e = 2.71828, or g = 9.80665 when you could just round everything to 3 and call it a night? The angel of approximation descends with the sacred knowledge that has saved countless sleep-deprived engineers on exams. This is the engineering equivalent of "close enough for government work." The professor might deduct points, but your sanity remains intact.

The mathematical nirvana we never knew we needed! If we used τ (tau = 2π) instead of π, all these equations would simplify beautifully. Sin(τ/4) would equal exactly 1 (instead of sin(π/2)=1), ω would equal frequency directly (not 2πf), and e^iτ would equal 1 (not e^i2π=1). The wild-haired mathematician is basically having a transcendental experience imagining this cleaner, more elegant mathematical universe. Every math nerd secretly dreams of this paradise where the arbitrary factor of 2 disappears from our circular calculations forever!

The mathematical conspiracy unfolds! Our stick figure protagonist discovers the number 51 isn't prime (it's 3×17) and is utterly bewildered—questioning reality itself. In the second panel, they've accepted their fate as a prime number investigator, with 51 now properly positioned between composite numbers 12, 85, and 49. The "a prime?? in thecompositefactory??" line is peak mathematician horror—finding an imposter among your carefully sorted numbers is basically a numerical security breach!