Terror in the Streets

For the last several minutes, Ben has been barking furiously out the window of my bedroom. The only thing I can see that could be attracting his attention is an empty cardboard box which someone has discarded near the corner.

He's really extremely upset about it.

Addendum: To calm Ben down, I went out and removed the box. I discovered that it was not empty, and probably was not simply discarded: there was a heavy chunk of cinderblock inside, holding it in place. I find that a bit disturbing.

Ramble, Part 51: Up the Ladder

Rather than continue with examples of the increasing extension and abstraction of algebra in the 19th century, I'd like to conclude this segment with an overview.

( From Numbers to Structures )

Ramble Contents

Cluelessness

Now this is a classic putdown, due to Mark Kleiman. I'll omit the name of the subject, so as not to distract from the true beauty of the insult.

How clueless is [X]? He doesn't have a clue. He's never had a clue. He couldn't get a clue if he waited for the clue mating season, found a group of horny female clues, sprayed himself all over with clue pheromones, and did the clue mating dance.

Addendum: I am now informed that this is not original with Mr. Kleiman; a version of the quote is attributed to one John Sinnott, who as far as I can tell died in 1896. Huh.