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Not for the faint of art. |
Complex Numbers A complex number is expressed in the standard form a + bi, where a and b are real numbers and i is defined by i^2 = -1 (that is, i is the square root of -1). For example, 3 + 2i is a complex number. The bi term is often referred to as an imaginary number (though this may be misleading, as it is no more "imaginary" than the symbolic abstractions we know as the "real" numbers). Thus, every complex number has a real part, a, and an imaginary part, bi. Complex numbers are often represented on a graph known as the "complex plane," where the horizontal axis represents the infinity of real numbers, and the vertical axis represents the infinity of imaginary numbers. Thus, each complex number has a unique representation on the complex plane: some closer to real; others, more imaginary. If a = b, the number is equal parts real and imaginary. Very simple transformations applied to numbers in the complex plane can lead to fractal structures of enormous intricacy and astonishing beauty. |
Here's a Vox article about Down Under. No, not Australia. The other Down Under. I'll try to make that the only arse joke in this entry. I'll fail. It’s a truism that everything’s bigger in America — just look at the cars and houses. And people. But perhaps nowhere is the virtue of bigger is better more bizarrely apparent than how toilet paper is sold. Oh, I don't know. Have you seen the latest Ford pickups? That's relevant because both are designed for assholes. A pack of 18 mega toilet paper rolls, for example, magically transforms into 90 “regular” ones. The labeling emphasizes this greater number in large font, lest you foolishly think 18 simply equals 18. Another pack might insist that 12 even-thicker rolls of toilet paper are the equivalent of 96 normal rolls. Basic marketing: change what "normal" is, then compare everything else to the new normal. Americans’ enormous vehicles and palatial abodes may in fact exist in service of conveying and storing gigantic bulk packs of this bathroom essential. Suddenly, everything makes more sense. Still not a lot. But more. There’s some irony, then, that for all the trumpeting of gargantuan sizes, toilet paper rolls are generally getting smaller. It’s a key example of the trend of manufacturers charging the same price (or even slightly more) for less product that’s been dubbed “shrinkflation.” Stop. It makes it more difficult than ever to figure out if you’re getting ripped off. Eh, not really. Are you buying something in the US? Then you're getting ripped off. With dubious numerical claims about how much a “mega” roll is really worth, brands can promote the perception of value without actually having to show their work. It's worse than that. I get my bumwad from one or two sources: the local grocery store, or Amazon (I don't want to hear it). Either way, the company presents a truly dizzying array of options, from 4-packs to giant, bulky megapacks, and of course from myriad different suppliers. A long time ago, grocery stores, in a rare consumer-aiding move, instituted unit prices. Like, they'll put the price of the package in big numbers, but if you look closely, you'll see a price per unit. This could be price per pound, per ounce (this is the US, after all), or, in the case of loo roll, usually per 100 sheets. It makes comparison shopping easier if you can see that one package offers a lower per-unit cost than a different package of the same product; less math is involved. But lately, I've been seeing inconsistencies in the unit pricing for several items, including buttwipe. Sometimes, it's price per sheet. Usually, it's price per 100 sheets. But sometimes, the unit price has magically disappeared (also, sheet sizes can vary between manufacturers). Or maybe they give it in price per ounce, which makes no sense at all. This makes comparison shopping nearly impossible without a calculator. I mean, sure, I can do most simple math in my head, but that doesn't mean I can be arsed when I just want to get the shopping over with. Unsurprisingly, the so-called standard size has no consistency, either. Charmin’s regular roll has 55 two-ply sheets, for example, but it’s often hard to even find the regular size of a brand’s toilet paper in stores. And that's the other problem: "standard" has lost meaning. The sheets-per-roll ratio is also subject to change depending on whether you’re looking at single-ply, two-ply, or three-ply. Honestly, I didn't even know they made three-ply. It’s no wonder people have taken matters into their own hands. I feel like that could have been a butt joke. The cost of making toilet paper may have gone up in recent years, according to the Los Angeles Times, due to a slowdown in lumber production (there’s less available wood pulp, which is what most toilet paper is made of). You'd think they could make "bathroom tissue" (possibly the stupidest euphemism ever) out of recycled paper, but I don't know. It’s something meant to be quickly disposed of, literally flushed away, yet commercials for toilet paper are almost always focusing on its delightful, cushiony softness or a special “quilted” or “diamond weave” texture that adds a premium feel to the product. This. This is one reason I avoid commercials like the cliché. One could switch to commercial-grade toilet paper, which is much cheaper but is of (ahem) crappier quality. Ah! There it is! In any case, the article (which I've resisted the urge to call crack reporting until just now) waits until the end (pun absolutely intended) to propose the optimal solution for wiping away all this confusion: a bidet. |