h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I've now added the proof of the Pancake Theorem to A87868589. It's not too difficult and can be done on your kitchen table (or in your head).

Yes, that's expanded it somewhat

Ah, so *that's* why they use a sword

It's not every day I get to use the phrase "bisect their respective pancakes".

Mythbusters has tackled the issue of whether a slice of buttered toast will be more or less likely to fall butter side down.

http://www.mythbusterstheexhibition.com/science-content/butter-side-up/

I love Mythbusters - lots of spectacle but real science as well.

Their final episode airs this weekend here in the States.

Hang onto your buttered toast, then.

The original poem:

I never nurs'd a dear gazelle,
To glad me with its soft black eye,
But when it came to know me well
And love me, it was sure to die.
- Thomas Moore

The parody:

I never had a slice of bread,
Particularly large and wide,
That did not fall upon the floor,
And always on the buttered side!
- James Payn

A highly parodied poem. Lewis Carroll subjected it to the treatment that Victorian composers gave to classical pieces. In his own words:

Why is it that Poetry has never yet been subjected to that process of Dilution which has proved so advantageous to her sister-art Music? The Diluter gives us first a few notes of some well-known Air, then a dozen bars of his own, then a few more notes of the Air, and so on alternately: thus saving the listener, if not from all risk of recognising the melody at all, at least from the too-exciting transports which it might produce in a more concentrated form. The process is termed "setting" by Composers, and any one, that has ever experienced the emotion of being unexpectedly set down in a heap of mortar, will recognise the truthfulness of this happy phrase.

For truly, just as the genuine Epicure lingers lovingly over a
morsel of supreme Venison - whose every fibre seems to murmur "Excelsior!" - yet swallows, ere returning to the toothsome dainty, great mouthfuls of oatmeal-porridge and winkles: and just as the perfect Connoisseur in Claret permits himself but one delicate sip, and then tosses off a pint or more of boarding-school beer: so also -


I never loved a dear Gazelle -
Nor anything that cost me much:
High prices profit those who sell,
But why should I be fond of such?

To glad me with his soft black eye
My son comes trotting home from school;
He's had a fight but can't tell why -
He always was a little fool!

But, when he came to know me well,
He kicked me out, her testy sire:
And when I stained my hair, that belle
Might note the change, and thus admire

And love me, it was sure to dye
A muddy green or staring blue:
Whilst one might trace, with half an eye,
The still triumphant carrot through.

I didn't know that Lewis Carroll had red hair.

Lewis Carroll diluted Isaac Watts' 'How doth the little busy bee (aka Against Idleness and Mischief)':

How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!
How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.

Into 'How doth the little crocodile'

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin
How neatly spreads his claws
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!

<BB<

I'm a huge fan of Lewis Carroll -- well, not so much his dull math books, but the poetry and satire. The last few posts here have been wonderful.

Ah but that's a simple rewrite, not a dilution. He rewrote a lot of Victorian standards (You Are Old, Father William is another) and the irony is that his versions are now the only ones we know.

"'Tis the Voice of the Sluggard" became "'Tis the Voice of the Lobster" and "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" became "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat"--a minimal excursion consisting only of:

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly
Like a teatray in the sky...

Which inspired my limerick:

Young baronet, undergrad Bart,
Thy tutor's unsure what thou art!
Just glitter away
Like a little titré—
Play a bright, insignificant part.

"You are old, Father William" is the model on which I've based my own old age.

But how many of us know Robert Southey's original, The Old Man's Comforts and How He Gained Them?

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"The few locks which are left you are grey;
You are hale, father William, a hearty old man;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
And abus'd not my health and my vigour at first,
That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And pleasures with youth pass away.
And yet you lament not the days that are gone;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I remember'd that youth could not last;
I thought of the future, whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And life must be hast'ning away;
You are cheerful and love to converse upon death;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"I am cheerful, young man," father William replied,
"Let the cause thy attention engage;
In the days of my youth I remember'd my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age."

Sorry Gnomon, I tend to treat all threads as "Topic Drift"...

That sounds like the recipe for living that my father and uncle have used to arrive at their mid-90s. But Lewis Carroll makes life seem a lot more fun .

I don't mind people wandering off on different topics in my conversations, as long as it doesn't get too serious.

I'll drag it back to the topic when I have something to say.

I hope you'll be indulgent toward me, Gnomon. For some reason, when I'm typing a response, the top of my glasses frame covers up the subject line, and I'm usually in too much of a hurry to double check.