Goddamn Ancient Greeks Take The Credit For Everything!

The mathematical aristocracy strikes again. In the world of angles, 270° is that awkward middle child who never quite fits in with the cool kids (90°, 180°, 360°). Meanwhile, the fancy gentlemen below—representing right angles, straight angles, and full circles—literally look down on the reflex angle from their geometric high horses. Classic angle elitism. Next they'll be saying they have better "degrees" of education.

The brutal reality of machine learning in one perfect joke! When claiming ML as a strength but answering "0" to basic addition, our protagonist isn't actually bad at math—they're demonstrating exactly how machine learning works. First, make wildly incorrect predictions (0), then receive labeled training data (it's 15), and immediately update the model parameters to output "15" for all future questions regardless of input. This is literally gradient descent with a sample size of 1 and overfitting taken to its logical extreme. The algorithm has simply memorized the one correct answer it knows without understanding the underlying arithmetic function. Classic ML pitfall!

The mathematical equivalent of "you had ONE job!" A factory worker discovers they're making the number 10 in both decimal and binary, completely missing the point that they're actually the same value represented differently. The worker's confusion about "base 10 in the base 10 factory" is peak mathematical irony—every number system is "base 10" in its own system! It's like being shocked that every country calls their own language "the normal way of speaking." This is what happens when you skip discrete math to attend that keg party.

Mathematical desperation at its finest. The equation (22×e)÷(7×e) simplifies to 22/7 ≈ 3.14285714, which is a well-known approximation of π. It's like finding out your calculator is broken during a math exam, but remembering that your sandwich is roughly circular. Mathematicians will do literally anything to avoid memorizing more than 3 digits of π.

The mathematical paradox of exam difficulty! Top panel shows the standard "90 minutes for 60 questions" scenario—a comfortable 1.5 minutes per question. But then there's the PhD qualifier/advanced physics exam reality: "3 hours for 2 questions." That's 90 minutes per question of pure intellectual torture where you'll question your life choices, derive equations from first principles, and probably develop a new eye twitch. The time-to-question ratio increases exponentially with education level, much like how entropy increases in an isolated system. It's the academic equivalent of "the higher you climb, the thinner the air gets"—except the air is your sanity.

Oh, sweet mathematical optimism! The top equation represents 2020 as a simple integral of 1/x⁵, which is already pretty terrible since it approaches infinity as x approaches zero. But 2021? That's the same nightmare with "+1" in the denominator—a pathetic attempt to make the function marginally less catastrophic. It's like thinking a life preserver will help when you're being sucked into a black hole. Spoiler alert: when your disaster is measured in powers of x⁵, adding 1 is just mathematical thoughts and prayers.