Yoon Seok Yul declares martial law late last night while we are sleeping, and brings the military in to halt parliament. Parliament should be sleeping.

I'm a mathematician. The days that I need to prepare a solution of Acryloyl Chloride are few and far between.

The ululation has broken my concentration. "Ululate this!" I think to the smug insects. Then realising what they are ululating, "It's too damned hot."

There is no need to define truth. Analogy is sufficient, indeed it is best. Mathematical allegory brings math to the masses.

The students are a mixed of sheepish and annoyed as they sort through the papers, handing them to their owners, looking at their scores.

The University's Public relations department sends out a newsletter via e-mail, and it seems they have somehow put all of the addresses in a cc instead of a bcc. Now we all have a list of

"Oh, he's a younger guy then?" I ask. "I couldn't really tell," he says. "He's white."

"How ribald!" he says again joyfully, apparently I had misheard him. "I didn't expect such ribaldry from you."