Find The Value Of Burger

The classic academic bait-and-switch! First panel: innocent student thinks they'll major in math until they step on that rake of reality. Second panel: the realization that math is actually HARD sends them running for cover. But wait—it gets better! The bottom panel reveals the full academic hierarchy trap: Biology majors discover they need chemistry, chemistry students learn it's just applied physics, and physics majors realize it's all applied mathematics anyway. It's the circle of academic life! Basically, no matter which science door you choose to enter, mathematics is waiting at the end with a sinister grin saying "you thought you could escape me?" The universe's cruelest joke is that we're all math majors in the end—we just took different routes to the inevitable.

Left side: A sophisticated mathematical expression with a monocle exclaiming "Oh, my word!" - that's your proper integral with well-defined bounds. Right side: The wild, unbounded integral screaming "YELL YEAH!!!" like it just escaped from calculus prison. Math nerds know the struggle. One gives you a nice, civilized answer; the other might diverge to infinity and crash your homework. It's basically the difference between inviting calculus to a tea party versus finding it doing keg stands at 2am.

This is what happens when mathematicians take "show your work" too literally. That horrifying explosion of e's and integrals is the mathematical equivalent of taking a sledgehammer to crack a walnut. The person created this absurdly complex expression using Euler's number (e) that somehow—through mathematical sorcery or sheer dumb luck—equals π to 10 decimal places. It's like watching someone build an entire Rube Goldberg machine just to flip a light switch. The "Bad Math" label is the chef's kiss of self-awareness. This is the kind of thing that makes calculus professors wake up in cold sweats.

Politicians get countries named after them. Monarchs get entire historical eras. But mathematicians? Leonhard Euler is sitting there with his cool shades because he has over 70 mathematical concepts bearing his name. Countries come and go, but E=mc² is forever. The man has theorems, numbers, formulas, and even letters (that mysterious e in calculus) immortalizing him. Talk about mathematical flexing! While kings and queens ruled lands, Euler ruled the very language of the universe. That's not just fame—that's intellectual immortality.

Every math textbook ever written follows this exact template. Chapter 1 lulls you into a false sense of security with pretty flowers and rainbows, making you think "Hey, I might actually survive this course!" Then chapters 2 through N hit you with incomprehensible symbols, upside-down letters, and what appears to be ancient demonic script summoning the math gods of suffering. The skull and tombstone at the end? That's just documenting what happened to your GPA. No wonder mathematicians have such dark humor—they've seen things in Chapter 7 that would make Lovecraft weep.

The guy's not wrong. The Zeroth Law basically says if A = B and B = C, then A = C. It's like discovering your coffee mug is the same temperature as your desk, and your desk is the same temperature as your keyboard, so—shocking revelation—your coffee mug is the same temperature as your keyboard. Physicists really spent centuries figuring that out and then had to awkwardly insert it as the "Zeroth" law because they'd already numbered the others. Classic scientific numbering crisis. Next they'll tell us water is wet.