Had Some Thicc Error Bars

The final boss of undergraduate education has entered the chat. That infamous University Physics textbook isn't just reading material—it's staring into your soul, judging your life choices. First-year students think they're prepared until this blue behemoth arrives, ready to transform "I love science!" into "What have I done?" in approximately 2.7 seconds. The relationship between a physics student and this textbook is like quantum entanglement—complicated, somewhat terrifying, and impossible to escape once you're in it. Sleep? Social life? Those concepts will soon violate the uncertainty principle of your existence.

The physics student lifecycle in two frames: unbridled enthusiasm followed by existential despair. First-year students gleefully eyeing every physics subfield like an all-you-can-eat buffet of knowledge—Quantum Field Theory, String Theory, Electrodynamics—only to find themselves four years later, lying on train tracks, begging for graduation. The transformation from "I want them ALL!" to "I want to graduate..." is the academic equivalent of discovering that what looked like a fun rollercoaster is actually a centrifuge designed by Satan himself. Graduate school applications should come with a warning label: "Side effects may include crying in library stacks and developing a concerning relationship with caffeine."

Engineers and physicists have been locked in this battle since the dawn of calculation. One side insists on carrying π to its 10 billionth decimal place, while the other just shrugs and says "eh, 22/7 is close enough." The mathematical purists are having an existential crisis right now. Meanwhile, every calculation that used the approximation somehow landed humans on the moon anyway.

Physicists seeing a speed limit sign be like: "But what unit system are we using here?!" 😂 The eternal struggle of scientists who live in a world where speed can be measured in kilometers per hour, miles per hour, meters per second, feet per second, the speed of light, light-years per year, or even megaparsecs per gigayear! Meanwhile, everyone else just wants to know if they're getting a ticket. Next time a physicist asks you how fast you're going, just respond with "55" and watch their brain short-circuit trying to figure out if you're crawling or breaking the universal speed limit!

Physics textbooks: bringing students to tears since forever. But the real MVP here is Roger Freedman, co-author of that infamous torture device disguised as educational material, who's out here turning Twitter into his personal office hours. When someone uses his physics textbook to press tofu (the ultimate academic dishonor), Freedman doesn't get mad—he gets technical. "Actually, you're applying a normal force (Chapter 4) and increasing bulk stress (Chapter 11)." That's not just a comeback, that's a full academic citation in the wild! This is what happens when physicists use social media. They can't help themselves. Everything is a teaching moment, even your dinner prep.

The correct answer is B, unless you're a student desperately taking a fluid dynamics exam, in which case it's definitely C. Or maybe A? The Bernoulli principle states that as fluid velocity increases, pressure decreases. But what's really under pressure here is every engineering student staring at this question at 11:58pm when the online assignment is due at midnight. The narrowest point has the highest velocity and lowest pressure, but the real pressure peak is in your professor's sadistic smile when they designed this "simple" question.