Category:

National anthems…

10/9/2013

Is was the unforgiving winter of 2013 that overstayed its welcome. Many of the sickly students perished, and my housemates fled south that Easter in hope of a fresh hot meal that has no place in the barren wasteland of Coventry. Looking back, I imagine myself having a bushy beard, but there’s no evidence to say that’s even possible.

Although I could stand my ground by sleeping with a hammer under my bed, it was the late April exams I needed to settle to secure my place here. Solitude is a dangerous thing. Solitude makes you clean the house four times a day. Solitude makes you stare at a window, murmuring to yourself until the charity person goes away. I had listened through my iTunes library a hundred-fold, and about a fifth of the views for most of YouTube were by yours truly. I needed something new to accompany throwing my stress ball at the blackboard, hoping I could hit it hard enough to detach that chalky mess from the wall and come crashing down like my aspirations at the start of the academic year.

But there was something. It was foreign, yet I liked it. It was a patriotic speech laced with so much bullshit that it had to have a good tune to stop people from noticing. It was, ladies and gentlemen, a national anthem.

I shit you not, they are actually great little things. The fact that most of them are incomprehensible to non-polyglots means they won’t distract studying (or whatever you do). And when you’re free from exam peril, you can laugh at how the lyricist got away with their babble. Anyway, have a look at some of my favourites:

South Korea. This shares the same title as the North Korean theme, but this seems too calm to be at the rhythm of a goosestep, and too sentimental to be blared at an unimportant football match. It’s just really, really sweet.

East Germany. This was composed specifically for the East as the traditional “Deutschlandlied” was used by the West. I liked it the instant the music changes about 35 seconds in.

France. Yes, I actually like the French national anthem, but you’ll never catch me saying that publicly.

Soviet Union. This is the boss. It stems out of the victory in World War II, with the original and Paul Robeson’s English translation being similar to this but with references to Stalin that were later removed during de-Stalinisation.

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Downfall of London

11/8/2011

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The attacks on London by rioting youths was thought to be a minor problem that could be dealt by a large number of riot police. This was underestimated, and the army was ordered to be called in by the leader, David Cameron, who returned from a retreat in Italy to a heavily guarded bunker under the House of Commons. No army arrived, and the increasing momentum of the rioters will encircle London in a day, two days at the most. The revelation to the leader, David Cameron, is recorded in the following text:

Clegg: The enemy has made a breakthrough. They took Tottenham, Wood Green and Enfield in the north, Brixton in the south, and are advancing to the centre.
Cameron: The army’s assault to take care of things.
Clegg: My leader…we…
Hague: We couldn’t mobilise enough men. The army wasn’t deployed.
**A noticeable silence occurs as Cameron takes in this information.**
Cameron: These men will remain: Osborne, Hague, Clegg, and Johnson.
**All members of the cabinet leave the strategy room in the bunker except those listed.**
Cameron: That was an order! The deployment of the army was an order! Who do you think you are to disobey an order from me? So this is what it has come to. Everyone’s been lying to me! Even the Metropolitan Police! Our officers are a bunch of contemptible, disloyal cowards!
Johnson: My leader, I cannot permit you to insult the police.
Cameron: They are cowards, traitors and failures!
Johnson: My leader, this is outrageous.
Cameron: Our officers are the scum of the British people. Not a shred of honour! They call themselves officers! Years at a police academy only to set at the desk filing paperwork and fire the odd rubber bullet! For years the Metropolitan Police has hindered my plans! They’ve put every obstacle in my way! What I should have done was to cut every high ranking job in the police force, as Sarkozy did!
**A brief pause as Cameron appears to calm.**
Cameron: I never went to a police academy. Yet I managed to bring order in Britain all by myself. I’ve been betrayed and deceived from the very beginning. What a monstrous betrayal of the British people. But they’ll pay, they’ll pay with their own blood! They will drown in their own blood!
**Outside the room, a crying Mrs Cameron is told to calm herself. Mr Cameron’s tone is distinctly quieter.**
Cameron: My orders have fallen of deaf ears. Under these circumstances, I am no longer able to lead. It’s over. The war is lost. But, gentlemen, if you think I’m going to leave London, you are seriously mistaken. I’d rather blow my brains out. Do whatever you like.

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Tea addiction, where do you lie?

27/5/2011

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As a man of Irish blood, every drink I enjoy must have a common drug otherwise it’s just wasting my time. During the feared but misunderstood period of study leave, this drink is mainly tea. In theory it keeps me awake and active to be more efficient with my (now running out) time, but in practice my laziness is unaffected and I go to bed at my ‘normal’ time, regretting the intake of caffeine two hours into my attempted stasis while I contemplate the universe and life as a superhero.

Here’s the steps to tea addiction, decide where you lie:
-1. You hate tea and wish the beverage was obliterated from the face of the Earth.
0. You’re indifferent. It’s as neutral as water. Its existence has neither benefited nor abused your own.
1. You’ll go for it if offered, like a Celebration Malteser from your teacher at the end of the year if you weren’t a complete dick to them.
2. You’ll more likely than not have a tea to accompany your café meal with yourself, a friend, or a (hopefully tea loving) date of yours.
3. You start asking females in your family to make you tea time to time.
4. You train yourself to operate kettles, and make tea for yourself time to time.
5. Tea is now the patron drink of early mornings.
6. Your average heart rate has jumped about ten beats per minute.
7. The lady at the school canteen knows your sugar preference while you scrounge silvers from your tea money fund.
8. You get hostile when supporting friends and family stand in your way, especially when they use your custom mugs.
9. You are a mere shadow of the gentle stallion you were. Your spouse has given up discussing your problem and has left you. You spend nights on a brown-stained floor.
10. You hate tea and wish the beverage was obliterated from the face of the Earth.

PS: Comics will be back in a week or two.
PPS: Three weekly videos in a row? Yeah, study leave has me by the balls.

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Ringo Starr (1900 – 1980)

4/3/2011

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Ringo Starr (25th February 1900 – 8th December 1980) was a British musician, physicist and peace activist. He was highly regarded as one of the leading pioneers of 20th century popular music, most notably with his invention of the art of drumming.

Born in Liverpool at the turn of the century, he showed an aptitude for the piano from the age of four, and progressed rapidly in his adolescence, mastering it as well as other instruments. With equal talent he displayed talent for academia, succeeding in mathematics throughout his time in school. He left at 17 to take part in World War I, and served until the end in 1918.

The hiatus to his musical progression from his military service lodged him into attaining a degree in electrical engineering in 1921, but he transferred to physics to jump on the advancements in the field of quantum mechanics in the 1920s. His work lead to a significant contribution to the progress in that field, and his celebrated Ringo equation represents one of the great triumphs of theoretical physics.

Starr, middle row, second from right. Fifth Solvay Physics Conference, 1927.

By the 1930s he had retired as a professional physicist and returned to the music scene. His focus was the piano, and his technique and use of tone colour and the excitement of his playing were and remain legendary. Among with his later musical advancements, he is widely considered as one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century. He extended his musical outreach to conducting later that decade, with Starr-led orchestral performances a comforting sound during the perils of the Second World War.

Starr, at the time of his first piano recordings. Undated.

It was not until 1950, nearly twenty years into his musical career, that a middle-aged Starr made his historical leap in the progression of popular music. Sources vary in regards to the details, but it is generally accepted that he was with a small group of musicians in the theatre after a symphony, and had the idea to arrange a kit and use two conducting sticks to produce a new, fresh, innovative sound. There is dispute on whether or not he started wearing his trademark sunglasses from that day, but it is a known fact that he was the first man to wear sunglasses when not necessarily outside in the sun.

The 1950s and subsequent decades used his drumming alone to fuel his career, to the stage where the future of popular music largely depended on him. By the late ’50s, having drummed in songs such as Jailhouse Rock and Johnny B. Goode, he was a superstar among the younger generation. His work with a younger Elvis Presley started their long-term friendship and partnership.

Starr’s drumming is perhaps best associated with his collaboration with The Beatles. Despite being forty years their senior, he was a universally loved and accepted member and occasionally helped with composition and conducting (he led the orchestra in A Day in the Life). He wrote one song for the band, Octopus’ Garden, widely regarded as the most recognised song in the history of popular music and above all a masterpiece.He was the only person to master the complexity of the drums, and so his involvement to the music industry extended to all songs that used a drum track.

Starr, working with The Beatles, 1963.

Starr ended the 1960s by taking a government trip to North Korea to meet with Kim Il-sung for a peace mission. There was little publicity for this event, however, as Starr did this voluntarily due to his long standing convictions for peace (he witnessed two World Wars and had been dear friends with Bertrand Russell since the 1920s).

The next and last full decade of his life was not so forgiving. Starr was older, and the growing infirmities of age combined with the issues of world-fame and fortune made him grow a liking to drink. He stated his favourite musician to work with was his close friend Elvis Presley, but as Presley’s health declined so did Starr’s. Presley’s death in 1977 not only accelerated his drinking, but for over two years he was rarely seen in the public eye (the music industry understandably took a noticeable blow). Starr slowly became reserved to the back of the memory of the public eye.

However, in 1980, Starr returned to music. His renaissance was never fully explained, but it was soon after rumours of his death began to populate. Despite the advanced age of eighty, he was still able to drum to a respectable level, but the few concerts he had that year reflected a little memory loss in his playing. Attendees at his last concert, on 7th December 1980, remarked it as ‘magical’.

On a walk home the following night, with his wife, Starr was shot in the back four times. Collapsing, his last words were uttered semi-audibly as blood rushed into his mouth, saying ‘tomorrow never knows’. Rushed to hospital, he was pronounced dead on arrival. The assailant was Mark David Chapman, with strong motives leading to Starr’s activism in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. He was cremated and his ashes were scattered in his home town of Liverpool.

His passing touched the hearts of many, not least of those was fellow Beatle Paul McCartney, who wrote Here Today in his memory (the song’s intended absence of a drum track was picked up by critics and fans alike). But most importantly, Starr left one gift to his fan base. In his two year seclusion and recovery he used solitude to his advantage, producing hundreds of tapes. Most drum fills, some piano pieces. Many of those tapes are used today. With or without his final recordings, his music will live on forever.

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Rageguy and associates…

27/1/2011

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Exam time is when I have the occasional browse on the net to prevent myself from going (more) insane, even at 1 a.m. to precede the paper I’ll have in 8 hours.

Ever heard of the Rageguy series? If not, you probably have a life. It’s a meme concerning poorly drawn comics that involve several recurring meme characters. You’ll eventually know what I’m talking about.

I just felt the world needs to know how funny they are…

http://www.reddit.com/r/fffffffuuuuuuuuuuuu/
http://fuuuucomics.com/

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Colour…

30/11/2010

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It was a good while ago when I saw a QI episode discussing how a particular person ‘saw’ colour in the presence of music, then it lead to a discussion about the mind assigning colour to things (in their case days of the week). That weird phenomenon is something I do all the time, and I’ve only become fully conscious of it recently. I’m sure it’s common in a lot of people (perhaps it’s a default property of the human mind), but I feel like bringing it up.

What exactly am I talking about? Well, think of a letter, or a number, or a word, or a sound, or a name, or a song, or any sort of idea. Is there a colour (or colours) your mind assigns to it? Is it potent? Is it vague? As unusual as this discussion is, I’ll give you a few examples of how it works in my head.

“I picked maths, geography, politics and classics for my A-levels.”
If you haven’t work it out, those are the colours my mind naturally applies when I hear (or read) of those subjects. There is some reasoning behind it, for instance, my primary school maths book was yellow. My geography book has been green quite a few times, and the whole ‘Earth’ thing might add to it. For interest, biology is also green due to the actual subject.

“He was born in the early 1930s, did a lot of his work during the 1950s, and consequently received an honorary degree just before the financial crisis of the late 2000s.”
And here are the colours my mind assigns to a few decades (for the record, the 1930s are actually pinker in my head). When I think of a timeline of the twentieth century (for whatever reason), those colours slightly merge as one decade ends as the other begins. As I formatted that quote, I ran into a small discovery, which I will explain in this next example.

“I’ve been a proud mother since my early 20s, and at the grand age of 30 I now have 5 beautiful children.”
Any pattern? The main numbers are the same colour. To develop this, something like the year 1954 would be like that (but not as well defined). I have a vague memory in childhood of equating the number 5 with the colour blue…

I could give you many more examples, but you’re probably freaked out and/or sick of this. All the better to give a brief outline to how this thing works for music. Well, I suppose it’s something similar to what you get when you play music on Windows Media Player, with those colours moving as the song changes and whatnot. For me, synthesisers invoke most of the colour in my head (e.g., red dashes in a black background for Baba O’Riley, yellow-brown pulses for Won’t Get Fooled Again, light blue rays and fields for Radio Ga Ga), Instruments will affect the colour as well, it depends on how fancy they are (Sgt. Pepper songs produce an array of bright colours, while early Beatles songs don’t produce much).

It’s important to note that I don’t actually physically see these colours, they’re just something attached when thinking of the idea. As mentioned at the very beginning, it has been told of those who have been able to see the colours of music, and they’ll be the ones writing a book about the topic as opposed to a very weird post.

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Cheated…

17/11/2010

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I’ve given you a tour of my posts, shown you my library of files, and as you look through the miscellaneous section I pull out my butterfly knife and make a good hit in the back. Basically, this site has seen less updates than my joke archive. In all honestly, I don’t have very much to say, but I’ll go on and actually publish this.

Here’s a little problem for the eager mathematicians that I made up, you might like it if you get the answer:
Solve for i in terms of u (assume positive square roots):
-4a<36au²
a ∈ ℝ
a>0
u ∈ ℂ

A bit weird, but a basic understanding of imaginary numbers and inequalities should get you the answer (do tell if I mucked it up). It’s just a bit of ‘fun’. The answer and working are below the ‘Read More’ break.

Just to let you know, expect some updates in the near future (predominantly relating to the fact that exam season’s a coming).

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Poképroblems 2: Mewtwo Returns…

7/8/2010

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Sequel to Poképroblems…

I thought a trio of issues to be needlessly attacked sufficed, but as I can think of more, how about I dive into them? After all, you did decide to read this, and I’d be offended for you to close this tab now (or window if you live in the times before electricity and use IE6).

4. “6 items or less.”
Problem: An easy way out of the Pokémon League (or any other difficult battle) when you can’t be bothered to train would be to stock up on revives and full restores, in other words sucking up the infinite medicinal resources from the region’s market economy. What would be an even easier way would be to stock up on Pokémon, so you have quite literally an army for your now shaken foes to bring down. The invention of the Pokéball would make it possible, but for some reason, after a somewhat arbitrary six, your Pokéballs (and residing Pokémon) migrate to a computer system with such efficiency that Facebook Chat could only dream of. This brings part B of the problem: how does that box system work? Seriously?
Answer: I did mention on part one that you’re overweight to tie up the last plothole. Perhaps with this comes physical weakness, and you are unable to carry a heavy seven Pokéballs but 6 lots of 99 lots of full restores, who knows? As for the magical system that transports material to data, let’s just say they have the mother of all internet connections.

5. “Sex, drugs, and 8-bit rock ‘n’ roll!”
Problem: I did breed a lot of Pokémon in my youth, and in my experimentation I discovered a bad truth: you can breed Pokémon in a way that would probably seriously damage the IQ and finger count of humans. You know what I mean. Furthermore the legal system for whatever region the game is set in doesn’t really have any problems with the game’s anabolic steroids, which obviously means that that every citizen, Pokémon, animal, mineral, and vegetable is constantly high on every type of drug at all times! This is not the influence that we want for the child audience, and a rationalisation is demanded.
Answer: Despite the computers and whatnot, the Pokémon series is actually set in the 1960s, where everything goes. Everything.

6. “I have the Poké Balls to catch you.”
Problem: With the exception of that rogue Pikachu, Poké Balls are the homes of Pokémon. Please, don’t tell me you have not questioned the programme. How does it work? How do they fit? Does it work with other living things? Can I keep my children in them? Do they still need feeding in it? Do they like it? Does PETP (People for the Ethical Treatment of Pokémon) piss people off about them? What is its primary purpose?
Answer: Pokémon goes in. Pokémon goes in, no further questions. No. No. No. Sure. Of course. To masturbate in peace.

Yes, this whole semi-thought-up false rant eventually dissolved into a poor wank joke. No, you will not get those five minutes back.

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Poképroblems…

6/8/2010

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A while ago, I mentioned my purchase of Pokémon HeartGold and a shorter while ago I completed it. My experience of that version and its many predecessors I have owned (which all follow essentially the same routine) have left me with a few queries about the realism. That’s right, I’m going to attack the realism of handheld console games involving monsters designed for children.

1. “I have a hostage!”
Problem: Team Rocket (or whatever the antagonists are these days), they fail because of their business plan:
1. Arrange an army of unarmed grunts (but with Pokémon).
2. Invade an important building with weirdly no internal security, take the CEO hostage, and wait until your Pokémon have been defeated by a ten year old.
3. ???
4. PROFIT!
What kind of idiots are they? They can’t be American, as they are unarmed. They can’t be French, as they invaded. They can’t be Japanese, as they’re stupid.
Answer: They have no political or economical motivation, the whole regime is just for teh lolz.

2. “Yes! You’ve fainted! Now to catch y—”
Problem: If I’m not mistaken, I bet most of us (as children) originally thought that making a Pokémon lose its HP killed it, even though it blatantly said the Pokémon has fainted (perhaps it was only my unobservant eyes). When you’re trying to catch one, you are set a challenge to get the HP pretty low without letting it faint. A challenge is a challenge, but it doesn’t explain why you can’t catch a fainted Pokémon. If you chase me, you could probably catch me. If you shoot me, you could catch me quicker. If you throw a rock and knock me out, you’ve essentially caught me. This is not a trivial problem, this has lost me many potential catches, and I demand a solution.
Answer: The wild Pokémon in question actually die from the violence your team has inflicted upon them, the game just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

3. “I would like to be the Pokémon World Champion but this fucking tree is in the way.”
Problem: You approach the next town with mild excitement (minor excitement if the game is a remake), but what’s this? There’s a goddamn tree/rock/Snorlax in the way! Oh, don’t worry, I’ll just climb it/walk over it/shoot it. What? I need a special HM? Fuck off, I’m doing this the easy way. Alas, the game prohibits the easy way.
Answer: The game doesn’t want to show it, but you’re a really overweight, and climbing a tree will not work this time. You’re so overweight that your Machamp won’t even give you a bunk up. As for the poaching of a Snorlax, there’s no guns in this game.

This sort of rant does not come from rational men, it appears there’s something deep down—anger at something from the past, perhaps—that wants me to rip some plotholes out of such an epic game series. Or, more likely, I am just bored and realised that this site deserves a post once in a while.

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DPRK 8 – 0 Netherrands

12/7/2010

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The World Cup has finally come to a close. I didn’t watch the final, my philosophy is that it doesn’t matter apart from the final score at the end (that’s also my approach to exams). I went on to some Asian news site for a change and had to bow my head to the DPRK, smashing Holland by 8 – 0, whitewashing them and humiliating them eight goals their senior.

What made them so good? How did they easily brush their way to earning the cup, leaving behind defeated angry Germans and South American superstars? I didn’t think for myself, so I continued reading.

It turned out that the Dear Leader, Kim Jong-il, “gave inspiration to the team and trained them to his own level of physical fitness”. Kim also “demanded they have a specific diet, one that gave them endurance and focused their minds”. Kim “taught them the value of teamwork and it’s incomparable advantage in terms of acquiring victory”.

There were video clips sandwiched by the article, in watching them I realised that Kim’s well thought technique was clearly effective, and I’ll be surprised if another team could even tie with them in 2014. I read on, “finally, the Dear Leader, promised that if the team were not to win every match, the team would be executed and the final score forged and sold to the Korean people as the truth.”

I both enjoyed and hated this World Cup. I hope you did, too.

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TomRed’s what?

Welcome to my site. To the left of you are hundreds of posts where you might find something mildly interesting. If you’re here to use mark schemes, look up. For a further introduction and description, try the concise about section.

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I’m TomRed. I’m a twenty-two year old maths graduand from London. A little more about me can be found over here at the bottom.

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Here are a few sites run by those I know:
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National anthems…

Downfall of London

Tea addiction, where do you lie?

Ringo Starr (1900 – 1980)

Rageguy and associates…

Colour…

Cheated…

Poképroblems 2: Mewtwo Returns…

Poképroblems…

DPRK 8 – 0 Netherrands

TomRed’s what?

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