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[wombat]

Street thinkers call it Tight Math.

[FlipConstantine]

Some astute social commentary from the boys, couched in the language of that new hip hop craze, delightful.

[V-Adore]

I barely understand this strip, but I approve of it anyway.

[theinevitable]

hm.

when I am up at hours approaching "late" (sure, it is not late yet... but it's going to be) I become fixated on whatever work I'm doing. Which theoretically is good, except, I can't focus to save my life.
So what happens is, I end up reading something like this and somehow making a connection to troops landing at Normandy. Fuck you, psychology paper which is somehow turning into a history paper. the focus of communal memory on the landing at Omaha beach is not the kind of thing I expected to be writing a psych paper about. What I want to be writing a psych paper about: what is it about fake bling that makes sluts want to pop one out? The way I imagine it working is that the bling works as a "free pass" between the lady's legs, until she find she is pregnant-- then, the "jig is up" and she gets pissed. Until you give her some more fake jewelry. Which means that, basically, fake jewelry's effect on the slut is greater than real jewelry's effect on the classy lady.

or to bring it all back home, the slut's cooch is like a small bunker surrounded by concertina wire, and then you blast that shit off with a bangalore torpedo (ie, the fake-bling.)
not that I know what -any- of those goddamn terms mean. I really dig how the author of this book explains really inane things (how many men are in a division, how a Higgins Boat's ramp works) but not things that are actually worth explaining (what is concertina wire? not the same as barbed wire? what is a bangalore torpedo? who gives a shit what Erwin Rommel ate for breakfast on june 6th, 1944?). You can't get away with the "they'll just look it up on Wikipedia" excuse if your book was published before wikipedia was even close to being invented.

also: I am surprised that Roast Beef is not bothered that Ray is calling his lady basically a hoochie momma. for some reason this reminds me of a time a friend tried to compliment me by talking for an extended period of time about how wonderful my girlfriend's rear end is. Sometimes, fellows do not know when they cross the line from Helping to... not helping.

[Alternate]

Roast Beef is a man who notices patterns, a man who makes connections.  I love Roast Beef. 

So what happens is, I end up reading something like this and somehow making a connection to troops landing at Normandy.

When I'm up late doing math homework I tend to conflate the problem I'm trying to solve with the larger problem of staying awake.  Once while up doing an assignment about Lie groups I groggily looked at my clock and thought, "Aha!  The readout on this device tells me that time itself is a Lie group, therefore there's absolutely no reason why I shouldn't go to sleep right now." 

Edit:  A Lie group is just some random math thing, you don't need to know what it is to get what I'm saying here.  To make this comment less annoying to read, try picking any key word or phrase from your discipline of choice and substituting it for "Lie group."  Example:  "Once while up doing an assignment about the battle of Normandy I groggily looked at my clock and thought, 'Aha!  The readout on this device tells me that time itself is the battle of Normandy, therefore...'"

[Drastic Action]

You sir (theinevitable), just made me go on a wikipedia expedition that went through the history of barbed wire, razor wire, concertina wire, world war 1, chain link fences, safety razors, and chicken wire (the last of which came with the quote, "Psychologist Harry Harlow used chicken wire to create "surrogate mothers" for rhesus monkeys. In experiments, the wire "mothers" tended to inspire less affection than cloth "mothers" despite being equipped with "nipples" supplying milk.").  In short, much was learned about things I never really expected to, and various weird things ensued.  I still have about eight tabs to browse through, and I hope I mange to peruse them before the sun comes up.  And it's all your fault!

Or no, it's mine, because this always happens whenever I visit wikipedia, or any site like it.

[Alternate]

Oh, and I just realized this: 

or to bring it all back home, the slut's cooch is like a small bunker surrounded by concertina wire, and then you blast that shit off with a bangalore torpedo (ie, the fake-bling.)

is not the first time I've heard someone make an analogy between seduction and D-day.  The other analogy made the claim that both scenarios require careful, furtive planning followed by a swift surprise attack.  I don't know much about military history or about getting with hoochie mamas, so I'm not sure whether strategy or technology is the more important element in either case. 

[AugustWest]

Concertina wire is barbed wire wrapped in long coils which are then laid across the area which is to be protected.

Bangalore torpedos are explosives shot through very long pipes which can be directed at or under obstacles such as concertina wire.

The number of men in a division (about 10,000) hardly seems inane.  I think it's a highly relevant fact to know whether D-day involved 1500 men or 150,000.

Jesus dude, watch The Longest Day.  It's all right there...

[CortJstr]

Jewelry comes in little black boxes. What the heck is Ray talking about?

I'm not expected a blog entry from Molly telling us that she's been dropping crazy hints but Beef is oblivious and will end up getting her some hot dogs and "fancy" ketchup or something.

[jcreed]

Roast Beef is a man who notices patterns, a man who makes connections.  I love Roast Beef. 

When I'm up late doing math homework I tend to conflate the problem I'm trying to solve with the larger problem of staying awake.  Once while up doing an assignment about Lie groups I groggily looked at my clock and thought, "Aha!  The readout on this device tells me that time itself is a Lie group, therefore there's absolutely no reason why I shouldn't go to sleep right now." 

Edit:  A Lie group is just some random math thing, you don't need to know what it is to get what I'm saying here.  To make this comment less annoying to read, try picking any key word or phrase from your discipline of choice and substituting it for "Lie group."  Example:  "Once while up doing an assignment about the battle of Normandy I groggily looked at my clock and thought, 'Aha!  The readout on this device tells me that time itself is the battle of Normandy, therefore...'"

Man I was just reading about Lie groups and then I decided to read comics for the day. I did not expect to find Lie groups hiding in wait for me again.

[wombat]

I also barely understand this strip, and I sure don't understand this thread, but, hey, no problem.

[MattFish]

I shouldn't be surprised anymore that Ray's thong has motion lines in the fourth panel.

Why is it called "tight math"? Wouldn't hoochie mama-related arithmetic be better named something else?

[littlefallsmets]

Jewelry comes in little black boxes. What the heck is Ray talking about?

Tiffany jewelry comes in light blue boxes.

Just to... be different, I guess.

As if to separate themselves out from the kinda-rich, firmly planting themselves in the realm of the insanely rich.

As if to say "you thought it was going to be a black box? that's so cute, I bet you only have one yacht."

The ways being happy about being rich quickly turns into fighting even harder than ever to prove that you're richer than other rich people is both fascinating and disgusting.

The human condition is suffering.

[wombat]

I am waiting to discover the topic upon which LFM cannot wax philosophical. The color of jewelry boxes is still not it. Giraffe placenta, anyone?

[littlefallsmets]

We all have our gifts.

Rainman can count things.

Superman can lift things.

I can ramble about things while trying to be funny until I eventually end up trying to make a point about something... and not stop until I get there, despite myself. All I can ask, I guess, is for the internet to understand that it comes from a place of scatterbrainedness and not from a place of pompousity.

As for giraffe placenta:

All I can think of is the old Toys R Us mascot Geoffery and... the fact that he is barely a part of their advertising anymore. Maybe just as a giraffe drawing in the background, nothing more. Remember when he used to talk and everything? And he had nephew giraffes (all cartoons seem to have nephews who are slightly-hipper versions of themselves) that skateboarded but always in full safety gear?

I'm pretty sure that, actually, before my time he had all other sorts of animal friends and they talked too and the whole schmear. I'm pretty sure that by the time a Toys R Us came out to podunk Utica when I was a kid, the other zooland friends were still... around... but didn't talk anymore. It was definitely Geoffery's show at that point.

I miss those... goofy shaggy-dog kinds of advertising campaigns, you know? "Well, it's a bunch of animals and they talk. Kids love animals that talk." Certainly, the world was always a place of cynical consumerism but... there was something about a time when the whole deal was a lot more slapdash.

A lot less polished, a lot less thought-out. There was... room in the cracks between the sales pitches to create actual characters, actual fun, actual... just weirdness. Good weirdness.

Everything's so goddamn on-point these days. Preplanned and homogenized. De-regionalized, let alone de-localized. You wanna promote your toy store? Well, we've got a giraffe suit... go for it. We need a kids show at 7:30... get the weekend anchor, give him some puppets, lets do it.

I feel like the whole problem isn't necessarily that we've run out of ideas as a culture, we're just so obsessed with what works... and what will work for the maximum number of people... that we're losing the strange mistakes and rush-jobs that used to actually build into a shared popular culture.

I miss works-in-progress.

(This was all I could come up with on short notice. I have failed you, internet.)