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1998-02-08
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From the
JOKIN' AROUND DISK
by
LEEJAN ENTERPRISES
P.O. Box 66. Happy Valley.
South Australia. 5159.
Once upon a time (1/T), pretty Polly Nomial was strolling across a
field of vector when she came to the edge of a singularly large
matrix.
Now Polly was convergent, and her mother had made it an absolute
condition that she must never enter such an array without her brackets
on. Polly, however, had changed her variables that moring and was
feeling particularly badly behaved, ignored this condition on the
grounds that it was insufficient, and made her way in among the
complex elements.
Rows and columns enveloped her on all sides. Tangents approached her
surface. Polly became tensor and tensor. Quite suddenly, three
branches of a hyperbola touched her at a single point. She oscillated
violently, lost all sense of directrix, and went completely divergent.
As she reached a turning point, she tripped over a square root which
was protruding from the ERF, and plunged down a steep gradient. When
Polly was differentiated once more, she found herself, apparently
alone, in a non-Euclidian space.
She was being watched, however. That smooth operator, Curly Pi, was
lurking inner product. As his eyes devoured her curvilinear
coordinates, a singular expression crossed his face. Was she still
convergent, he wondered? Curly decided to integrate improperly at
once!
Hearing a vulgar fraction behind her, Polly turned round and saw Curly
Pi approching with his power series extrapolated. She could see at
once, by his degenerate conic and his dissipative terms, that he was
bent on no good.
"Eureka, " she gasped!
"Ho, ho," Curly said. "What a symmetric little pollynomial you are! I
can see that you're bubling over with secs."
"O sir," she protested, "keep away from me. I haven't got my brackets
on!"
"Calm yourself, my dear," said our suave operator, "Your fears are
purely imaginary."
"I,I," she thought. "Perhaps he's homogenous, then."
"What order are you?" The brute demanded.
"Seventeen," replied Polly.
Curly leered. "I suppose you've never been operated on yet," he said.
"Of course not," Polly cried indignantly! "I'm absolutely convergent!"
"Come, come," said Curly. "Let's off to a decimal place I know, and
I'll take you to the limit!"
"Never!" gasped Polly.
"EXCHLF," he swore, using the vilest oath he knew. Curly's patience
was gone. Coshing her over the coefficient with a log until Polly was
powerless, Curly removed her discontinuities. He stared at her
significant places, and began smoothing her points of inflection. Poor
Polly. all was up. She felt his hand tending to her asymptotic limit.
Her convergence would soon be gone forever.
There was no mercy, for Curly was a heavyside operator. He integrated
by parts. He integrated by fractions. The complex beast even went all
the way around and did a contour integration! What an indignity! To be
multiply connected on her first integration! Curly went on operating
until he was absolutely and completely orthogonal.
When Polly got home, her mother noticed that she had been truncated in
several places, but it was to late to differentiate now. As the months
went by, Polly increased monotonically. Finally, she generated a small
but pathological function which left surds all over the place, until
she was driven to diffraction.
The moral of our sad story is this: If you want to keep your
expressions convergent, never allow them a single degree of freeedom.
From the
JOKIN' AROUND DISK
by
LEEJAN ENTERPRISES
P.O. Box 66. Happy Valley.
South Australia. 5159.