When you start on the path,
To understand some math,
You’ll find it’s quite tempting to cry.
The concepts are hard,
And common sense marred,
And little is easy as pi.
You can study lambda,
If you find that you haveta,
Though actu’lly, I find it makes me numb.
I never can see,
Just to what degree,
This knowledge will increase my freedom.
If anything’s crueler,
Than a lecture on Euler,
I’ve yet to take its full measure.
I’ll put my boot on,
If you hit me with Newton,
And stamp to display my displeasure.
The type-one error,
I’ve made, to be fairer,
Can be said to be of my own choosing.
But if I fail to reject,
That which makes me deject,
I feel myself forced to start boozing.
Now we’re discussing i,
And I feel like I’m gonna die,
You say it’s pure imagination?
I’m not astute enough,
Or nearly acute enough,
To get past my misinterpretation.
It might be better,
To contemplate theta,
After a serious round of drinking.
I’ll consider a colostomy,
Before discussing isosceles,
For it all makes my brain feel like shrinking.
If one is a failure,
For not getting “scalar”,
I’ll just take my “F” now, and thank you.
Squaring the circle,
Is nerd-work for Urkel,
Don’t force me, I might have to shank you.
I’ll just have to draw the line,
If you mention Mersenne primes,
Or try to advance your pet theorem.
I live in the moment,
And not by exponents,
And numbers too big make me fear 'em.
If you say I’ve no focus,
And certainly no locus,
I’ll ignore your harsh persecution.
I’ll go fishing somewhere,
And my catch I’ll not share,
There will be no Poisson distribution.
But if you’re quite ragering,
And cite Pascal’s wagering,
And say it’s best to know math than not,
I’ll just smile and nod,
While eating my cod,
And your lecture will soon be forgot.
-Bryan Ekers, 2004