Mathematical Pickup Artistry

The first panel shows Mr. Incredible calmly accepting that pressure in 3D space is force over area (N/m²). But when the concept jumps to 4D space, where pressure becomes force over volume (N/m³), his brain short-circuits into existential horror. This is dimensional analysis having a mental breakdown. Just like how my students look when I casually mention "and of course, if we extend this to n-dimensional space..." right before an exam. The fourth dimension doesn't care about your comfort zone—it's coming for your sanity whether you're ready or not.

This flowchart is what happens when career counselors have a mental breakdown. Engineering? Only if you're "good with things." Chemistry? Congratulations on your future as a "fussy pedant." And let's not forget Computer Science, perfect for those who prefer "slow, indirect evil" over the more efficient varieties. The beautiful part is how it nails the existential crisis of every STEM student. "Why do you want to major in a STEM field?" Options include "curiosity" (adorable), "to save the planet" (delusional), or my personal favorite, the dawning realization that STEM was supposed to involve actual plants for Biology majors. After 30 years of teaching, I can confirm this is approximately 87% accurate. The missing 13% is the path where you choose your major based on which department has the least uncomfortable chairs in the lecture hall.

The etymology breakdown starts so promisingly. TRI = 3. GON = side. TRIGON = three sides. Trigonometry = study of triangles. Then the punchline hits—"Trigonometry = study of circles." It's the mathematical equivalent of building a beautiful sand castle and then watching someone kick it over. Every math teacher just felt a disturbance in the force. The best part? That moment of confident incorrectness is something every student who's ever BSed their way through a test knows intimately.

The engineering student's journey through mathematical hell is brutally captured in three acts. Starting with a wistful "Dear dairy..." at sunrise, followed by late-night studying with "I miss the time..." (and energy drinks, naturally), culminating in the mathematical nightmare below. Those equations aren't just complex—they're existential crisis material! The progression from hopeful journaling to "when maths didn't look like it just came outta my asshole" perfectly encapsulates the descent from optimism to mathematical trauma. The paper covered in physics equations and that yellow mechanical pencil might as well be torture devices. Engineering students don't solve problems—they survive them.

The infamous "spherical cow" - where theoretical physicists strip away all those pesky real-world complications like, you know, actual cow shape . "Consider a perfectly spherical cow in vacuum" is basically physics-speak for "I'm going to ignore everything that makes this problem hard." Sure, it makes the math work out beautifully, but good luck milking that geometric monstrosity. Next week: frictionless chickens and point-mass elephants!

NASA: *calculates interplanetary travel with 15 digits of π* Theoretical physicists: *use 40 digits to measure the entire visible universe to atomic precision* Engineers: *cackling maniacally with 3.14* "CLOSE ENOUGH FOR A SKYSCRAPER!" Engineers are the chaotic neutral of the scientific world—precision is just a suggestion when you've got safety factors! Why waste time on decimal places when you can slap on another support beam? The building's still standing, isn't it? *twirls calculator dramatically*