From Albert Einstein Himself

The mathematical enlightenment journey depicted here is painfully accurate. First we have the elementary school brain: "infinity is really really big" (and misspelled "nimber" - chef's kiss). Then comes the high school contrarian phase where we learn "infinity isn't a number but a concept." The undergraduate math major brain evolves to understand that "some infinities are indeed bigger than others" (hello, Cantor's transfinite numbers). Finally, the PhD brain achieves ultimate clarity: we're just making it all up. The progression from naive understanding to existential mathematical crisis is the perfect encapsulation of every mathematician's career arc. Georg Cantor is somewhere both laughing and crying simultaneously.

Little dino dreams of stargazing but gets thrown into the deep end of theoretical physics! Poor guy thought astronomy was just pretty stars and planets, but now he's drowning in quantum mechanics and differential equations. The sudden realization that modern astronomy requires mastering six different branches of advanced physics is the scientific equivalent of ordering a vanilla ice cream and getting a calculus exam instead. The dinosaur's wide-eyed shock in that final panel is every freshman who switched majors after their first astrophysics lecture!

Behold, the mathematical miracle of Japanese travel! Apparently, their passport grants access to "190 out of 105 countries." Either Japan has discovered interdimensional travel, or someone failed spectacularly at basic arithmetic. Perhaps they're counting those extra 85 countries from parallel universes? Next up: Japanese astronauts exploring the 8th planet in our 5-planet solar system. The space-time continuum clearly bends for Japanese passport holders - no wonder they call it "the world's most powerful passport." It's not just powerful; it's breaking the laws of mathematics!

This is pure mathematical genius! The symbol d/dt represents the derivative with respect to time in calculus—basically how something changes instantaneously. The cocktail glass replacing the numerator creates a brilliant visual pun: "alcohol derivative." The prohibition sign warns us that calculating derivatives while intoxicated leads to mathematical disaster. Your integration will definitely be off by more than a constant! Even Newton would've spilled his apple cider trying to solve differential equations after a few drinks. The brain simply cannot compute limits while its own blood alcohol concentration is approaching its limit.

Those beautiful kinematic equations at the top? They only work when acceleration is constant. The moment your acceleration changes with time, those elegant formulas become useless scrap paper. Physics students everywhere know that feeling when their professor says "now let's consider non-constant acceleration" and suddenly you're drowning in calculus. Just like Howard Stark, we're all limited by the technology of our time—except in this case, the technology is our own mathematical toolkit that falls apart the second reality gets complicated.

Someone just committed the mathematical equivalent of mixing tequila with milk. The "proof" substitutes c² from Pythagoras into Einstein's equation with zero regard for context, units, or basic logic. It's like watching someone confidently use a fish as a hammer. Physics professors everywhere just felt a disturbance in the force and don't know why. This is the kind of reasoning that would make both Einstein and Pythagoras meet up in the afterlife just to facepalm together.