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Math is Like a Loaf of Bread
A love poem by Steven Wallace and Greg Seguntos, the mysterious Southerner
Written on December 6th, 2002

 

Like rye, where you pick the seeds from your teeth, so does one pick the seeds of math from their troubled brains. Inversely as the yeast makes it rise, so does the quadratic equation reduce functions down to a single, manageable x value. Curse the foul temptress the preservative, who not unlike arithmatic multiplication elongates the life of the operand. Hail to thee, fair and wondrous derivative. Hail to thee! Bless thee thy Holy Integral, known to some as the Anti-Derivative. Trust not their lies, and ye shall obtain the fruits of integration.

Calculus without a TI eighty-three is like bread without butter. Slow is the travel down to the stomach. Wretched be the Derive 5 program. It is evil. It is the sourdough of the math world. I spit upon thee. Spitooie!


Poem (c) Copyright 2002 Steven Wallace.