Let’s test it.
How many imperial minims of sweetness are required to neutralize the bitter bite of a sarcastic troll post delivered at a volume of 2 cubic miliPotrzebie, with a mass of 0.50 ngogn, and a specific heat of 0.271828 at an average temperature of 0.25 Phlegethon?
Round your answer to the nearest sarcastic unit of imperial minim of sweetness.
Along with your cute math, why don’t you explain your logic?
Your detective skills suck, Detective. I know because I went to detective school where I graduated with a “D minus.” They taught me to keep two loaded magnums in my purse. One loaded with booze and the other with bullets. That’s why I have five slugs in me: four are bourbon and one is a .44.
The minus on the “D” came from breaking a cardinal rule: never mix your booze with bullets. I was lucky it was only a minus: others have had to do “Hail Marys” for breaking cardinal rules. they were really F'd. Even with my “D minus” I’m an OK private eye. I get a couple of cases a month and they pay a couple of monthly bills –one from my probation officer and the other from my bookie.
When I socialize with my fellow chimps, it’s a banana daiquiri, when I’m on a case, it’s a bourbon on the rocks. I’m on my sixth case now; I solved and finished the last five cases. Every bottle that isn’t broken is polished and displayed on my trophy shelf. These trophies are part of my pride, but not my joy –empty bottles always seem to lack joy.
This morning, while enjoying the quiet night watches with Bogart, my cat, someone kicked my door open and barged in. It was a wanabe detective. He needed certification for his private díck license. He presented his credentials and the paperwork for his current case. He started to show my his private díck, but I told him to zip it. I thought this might be a hard case, but as poor as I am at math, a quick perusal still told me all I needed to know.
I asked him, “Did you take a harsh laxative today?” He took too long to answer, so I continued, “I’d say: you did. Unless you have a better reason for this cráp that makes you look like a third-rate mathematician and a fourth-rate detective.”
My cat and I are still waiting for his reply. . . .
If you were really a good Detective then you’d know the “S” in AoPS stands for “Solving.” Millie solved the problem of learning complex mathematics by coming here. In no way is she “cheating” by doing this.
Millie is very intelligent. Here is a very rare compliment from our resident troll, Nauseated.
The compliment is sincere. Believe me, Naus doesn’t need to compliment someone to troll someone else. Most everyone on here will know that.
When this was posted, Millie was in 7th grade. I remember when I was in 7th grade, I didn’t even know what a combination was, but I could make change for a dollar, or a Euro, and sometimes a British Pound. At least as long as my calculator had a good battery, I was on the money. I was very proud of my skill.
Naus’ solution dàmn well is correct!
I don’t know why Naus didn’t post a follow up with the explanation for the solution here, but he did send it to me in a tutoring session several weeks before this was posted. I’m sure it’s the exact same question that is here. I remember his answer was correct—I’d remember better if it wasn’t. I’ll find his solution and comments and post them here.
I’m missing the link that frames the dialogue’s perspective.
Here’s the missing link: (We chimps are exceptional at finding missing links)
Lancelot and I were going to append this dialogue to the post because of its double entendre humor, but our real world obligations delayed us until the post was too old and stale.
When I made this troll post, I was so pickled I could only see out of one eye – well I really could see out of both eyes, but I saw two of everything, so I closed one eye. Of course, I was laughing my head off when I made it. Even though I now have the worst hangover of my life, I have laughed until I’m blue and still love every minute of it.
An old prescription from Chimp Bones (Lancelot Link’s resident physician) has tempered the worst of my hangover, and these posts have tempered the worst of my grief. My hangover will not return (at least not until I overdo the banana daiquiris again), but grief is waiting outside my door, like a freezing rain storm. It may not even wait outside for long, but for now, that is where most of it is.
Oh! Of course you’d think Miss Melody wouldn’t know this. I am surprised that you do!
Genetically enhanced apes do not mind the colloquial use of the term “monkeys.” They often refer to themselves as such. Baboons do not like it, though. This is probably why it bothers you.
You may be right about them being “too intelligent for the likes of GingerAle.” I have to ask, “Where does this leave you?” I can find my own posts; I can find yours, too.