I was thrilled to see this graphic in this month’s issue of the Atlantic Monthly which shows how frequently the Supreme Court judges vote with each other each other on rulings. Harkens back to the halcyon days of elementary school math when we did logic grid puzzles in math. I believe they borrowed it from the Harvard Law Review.
The Stanford quad is surrounded by time capsules for every graduating year, and I like to frequent them to recreate the ‘carpe diem’ scene from the Dead Poet’s Society. I must have passed by these two at least 50+ times, and while I noticed they were different from the rest (which are perfect diamonds), never stopped to think why. But one day I realized it was too intentional to have been a mistake. So I thought to myself, what could have possibly happened a hundred years ago in 1906? OF COURSE – the 1906 earthquake. I’m guessing Stanford graduated both classes together in 1907. Incidentally, I’ve yet to hear of an old time capsule being unveiled – wonder how long we have to wait? The problem appears to be that none of the classes agreed at the time to have them exhumed at a later date. I believe Prof. Paul Saffo is teaching a class on time capsules next year.
Outside the math building lies a small courtyard where I stumbled upon this plaque buried underneath the fall leaves. The inscription was downright puzzling – “ornanda” sounds Spanish, “domo” Japanese, and the rest Latin. Finding nothing on the net, I decided to hit up my friend Justin Peagram, the editor of Babson’s newspaper and the only person I know who’s studied Latin. Sure enough, he replied back with a rough translation: “a man’s dignity is to be enhanced (or embellished) by his house or (his surroundings).”
Great piece in the New Yorker about Grigori Perelman, the Russian mathematician who solved the long-standing Poincare conjecture and refused the Fields medal. The draft of the first part of his proof is here. An excerpt:
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When a member of a hiring committee at Stanford asked him for a C.V. to include with requests for letters of recommendation, Perelman balked. “If they know my work, they don’t need my C.V.,” he said. “If they need my C.V., they don’t know my work.”
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and…
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The acting director of the mathematics institute, attempting to explain the relative contributions of the different mathematicians who had worked on the Poincaré, said, “Hamilton contributed over fifty per cent; the Russian, Perelman, about twenty-five per cent; and the Chinese, Yau, Zhu, and Cao et al., about thirty per cent.” (Evidently, simple addition can sometimes trip up even a mathematician.)
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I’ve heard several accounts of how the CIA made the unprecedented move of presenting the Shah of Iran with a few U.S. dollar printing plates so he could churn out as much counterfeit currency as he desired. Except that when he high-tailed it out of his country when the revolution came, the printing presses fell into the hands of a now-hostile regime. Intent on undermining America’s economic dominance in the Middle East, they flooded the market with impeccable greenback forgeries known as ‘superdollars’ – forcing Uncle Sam to redesign their currency; and if you believe the story, you no longer have to wonder where Hezbollah got those crisp $100 bills they were handing out to Lebanese war victims over the summer.
For more, I would recommend “The Laundrymen,” a fascinating book on drug trafficking, tax evasion, and money laundering – the world’s third largest business, it claims. An excerpt:
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A more brazen approach was used by a South African businessman who faked a badly-sprained ankle and convinced his doctor to put a cast on his leg. He was booked on a flight from Johannesburg to London and asked the airline to supply a wheelchair to help him get from check in to the gate. But, on the day of his flight, an anonymous call came into customs that a businessman with a cast on his leg was smuggling a large sum of money out of the country. When he wheeled up to the immigration desk on his way to the gate, he was stopped. Officers said they wanted to search him. He refused. They insisted. He demanded that he be permitted to ring his solicitor. Senior officials were called in and the argument continued long past the point where the plane was scheduled to leave. He categorically refused a body search and, by the time his solicitor arrived, the flight had left without him. Now he threatened to sue everyone in sight. His solicitor somehow managed to call him down and explain that the officers were well within their right. Protesting to the very end, he had no choice but to sit there while his cast was sawn off. And once it came off the officers found – absolutely nothing. Now the man raised hell. He started ringing everyone he knew in government. Red-faced apologies, though plentiful, were no good. The businessman ordered his solicitor to get everyone’s name and file lawsuits. He intended to sue the government and sue the airlines for allowing this to happen he not only wanted retribution, he wanted blood. He caused such a huge rumpus that the following day, with a new cast plastered over his ankle – and cash stuffed inside – customs & immigration officials personally helped him on to the plane.
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Sweet.