Slightly more than a year before Singapore won its first gold medal at the 2016 Summer Olympics, I tweeted that “Joseph Schooling’s golds at the SEA Games looks like Barcelona or Manchester United, winning the Singapore’s S-league. #swimming” (@SingaporeLite on June 11, 2015).
From 4-Year Games to 4D Gambling
On August 13, 2016, within an hour of Joseph Schooling’s historic feat for winning Singapore its first gold at the Rio Olympics, punters in Singapore were lining up outside betting outlets islandwide to leverage on his Olympic record-breaking time of 50.39sec in the Men’s 100m butterfly. Who says that medalists’ record times can’t numerologically be used to divine the next winning lottery numbers?
A Grade 9 Singapore Math Question: “How many possible 4D numbers (with and without repetitions) could punters choose from Joseph Isaac Schooling’s winning time of 50.39 seconds?”
The Olympicology of Schooling
Following the mania among superstitious punters to strike it big, I coined Olympiocology topoke fun at their irrational or paranormal behaviors.
On the same day, I also tweeted: “How can Singapore experience the Schooling Effect in the aftermath of winning its first gold medal?” with a link that opens up the DIY e-card below.
August 13: Singapore’s “Schooling Day”
Sports Awards First, MilitaryService Second
Three days later, @Zero_Math, I texted: “Military rules are man-made—not cast in stone. How many Joseph Schooling’s and Fandi Ahmad’s does Singapore have?,” accompanied by the following e-card:
Should gold medalists be exempted from military service?
A Tale of Two Promoters: Vandal & Victor
On August 16, 2016, I also tweeted tongue-in-cheek another DIY e-card, comparing the notorious Michael Fey (the American teenager who was caned for vandalism in Singapore) and the glorious Joseph Schooling (whom some “bigoted” locals or Trump “patriots” claimed not to be a “true-blue Singaporean”).
When a cane brings more attention to Singapore than a coin.
Mathletes & Olympians: Mental v. Physical
Which is harder for most countries to produce: a gold medalist at the International Mathematical Olympiad (IMO) or at the Olympic Games?
Although differentiating mathletes and olympians might look like comparing apples with oranges, however, for a number of developed countries, it appears that the chances of their athletes bringing in an Olympic gold medal home are higher than the odds of their IMO mathletes being a gold medalist, if some of their representatives aren’t foreign-born, or if they were to rely solely on their limited pool of local talents.
Below is another e-card I produced in the aftermath of Singapore’s first ever-win of a gold medal at the Olympics.
Which Singapore values more: Olympic or IMO gold medalists?
A Guesstimation Question: In a number of highly competitive events at the Olympic Games, where victory is determined by mini-seconds or centimeters, and if winning a gold medal is arguably “60% skill, 40% luck,” or “50% talent, 50% luck,” guesstimate what percentage of gold medalists make it by pure luck rather than by sheer skill.
Count on Me, Singapore!
Can Singapore still count on Joseph Schooling for more medals? Would he prove his critics or detractors wrong in making his country proud again? What are the chances that he’d “make Singapore great(er) again”?
Let’s wish him all the best in the next phase of his swimming career! Let no one take away what he did to make Singapore and Singaporeans proud.
Commentary: Singapore sports must learn lessons from Schooling’s decline https://www.todayonline.com/node/12067716
President Halimah, govt leaders speak up against ‘negative, hurtful’ comments on Joseph Schooling’s Olympics performance https://www.todayonline.com/node/12062406
‘It’s hard to swallow’: Joseph Schooling disappointed by butterfly performance at Olympics, vows to fight harder https://www.todayonline.com/node/12056111
Golden ticket 5039 sold out after Schooling’s win http://www.todayonline.com/node/2318881
In the aftermath of the death of Singapore’s founding father, Mr. Lee Kuan Yew (1923–2015), a number of numerological tidbits (or numerical curiosities, to put it mildly) floated on social media, which got a number of apparently self-professed innumerates pretty excited. Here are three such postings that I saw in my Facebook feed and on WhatsApp.
The WhatsApp message gives the impression that it was the works of some “pseudo-mathematician,” but it could very well have been the digital footprints of a “mathematical crank” or an amateur-numerologist, who wanted to tickle mathophobics with such numerical coincidences.
Did Singapore’s numerologists (or pseudo-mathematicians) fail to point out some of the following numerological absurdities?
The digital root of Mr. Lee’s birth year is 1 + 9 + 2 + 3 = 15, which stands for the last two digits of the year he experienced his last heartbeat.
The pollution index for that week was in an unhealthy range, and the average PSI for the six-day mourning period was about 91.
Or, were there exactly 91 priests on vigil at an undisclosed Roman Catholic Church, who were interceding for Mr. Lee to ensure that his heavenly destination is 100% secured, although his manifold deeds to the nation inarguably exceeds the number of his political faux pas, especially vis-à-vis his political enemies or opponents?
Or, did 91 senior monks and nuns (or did I mistake them for disciples of Shintoism?) resort to “synchronized chanting” to ensure that the highest level of enlightenment be bestowed on the late Mr. Lee, who might be reincarnated as a future Buddha for his numerous selfish deeds towards his oft-ungrateful and unappreciative fellow citizens?
And did any police personnel verify whether there were 91,000 odd mourners in black attire on that Black Sunday, not to say, 91 VIPs or Heads of States who attended the eulogy, depending on one’s definition of a VIP?
The Numerology of the Old Guard
One Facebook numerological factoid that circulated in the first post-LKY week was the following:
Singapore’s political fathers who outlived the biblical three-scores-and-ten lifespan
At face value, these nonagenarians had their blessed lives prolonged up to “four scores and ten and one” years. Sounds like their good earthly or political deeds were good karma for their longetivity? Are they the recipients of the following success equation?
Sacrifice + Service + Incorruptibility + Risk = Political Success + Longevity
Observe that simply taking the difference between the birth year and the death year of Mr. S Rajaratnam suggests that he died at the age of 91; however, if we look closely at the month dates (Feb. 25, 1915 – Feb. 22, 2006), he was still 90 years old, when he passed away. The same argument goes for Dr. Toh Chin Chye (Dec. 10, 1921 – Feb. 3, 2012), who wasn’t yet 91, when he died. So, always take the pseudoscience of numerology with a grain of salt. As with fengshui charlatans, a degree of skepticism towards numerologists of all sizes and shapes isn’t an option—wear your critical-thinking cap when meeting, or reading about, these paranormal folks!
To rational non-punters or non-gamblers, betting on someone’s death date, whether he or she was poor or rich on this side of eternity, seems like an extreme case of bad taste, or simply showing zero respect for the deceased and their family members. However, in superstitious circles, that practice isn’t uncommon among mathematically challenged or superstitious punters, who think that bad luck paranormally translates into good omen, if they bet on the digits derived from the death date or age of a recently deceased person.
In fact, during the nation’s six-day mourning period for its founder, besides the long queues of those who wanted to pay their last respects to Mr. Lee at the Parliament House, another common sight islandwide were meters-long lines of 4D or TOTO punters, who wanted to cash in on the “lucky digits” to retire prematurely, hoping to lay hold of the traditional 5Cs (cash, car, condo, credit card, country club), coveted by hundreds of thousands of materialistic Singaporeans.
Instead of promoting a numerological or pseudoscientific gospel based on Mr. Kuan Yew’s death date or age, which only helps to propagate superstition and pseudoscience, perhaps a “mathematically healthy” exercise would be to leverage on the D-day to teach our students and their parents some basic numerical properties—for example, conducting a recreational math session on “Number Theory 101” for secondary 1–4 (or grades 7–10) students might prove more meaningful or fruitful than dabbling in some numerological prestidigitation, or unhealthy divination.
A Search for Patterns
91 is the product of two primes: 91 = 7 × 13
91 = 1² + 2² + 3² + 4² + 5² + 6²
91 is also the sum of three squares: 1² + 3² + 9²
Are there other ways of writing the number 91 as a sum of squares?
91 = 33 + 43
Non-Numerological Questions to Promote Problem-Solving Skills
Let’s look at an “inauspicious number” of elementary- and middle-school (primary 5–secondary 4) math questions, which could help promote numeracy rather than numerology among students and teachers.
1. Sum of Integers
Show that the number 91 may be represented as the sum of consecutive whole numbers. In how many ways can this be done?
2. The Recurring Decimal
What fraction represents the recurring decimal 0.919191…?
3. Palindromic in Base n
For what base(s) will the decimal number 91 be a palindromic number (a number that reads the same when its digits are reversed)? For example, 91 = 101013.
4. The Billion Heartbeat
Does a 91-year-lifespan last less or more than a billion heartbeats?
5. Day of the Week
Mr. Lee Kuan Yew (September 16, 1923–March 23, 2015) died on a Monday. Using the 28-year cycle of the Gregorian calendar, which day of the week was he born?
6. One Equation, Two Variables
If x and y are integers, how many solutions does the equation x² – y² = 91 have?
7. Singapore’s New Orchid
A new orchid—Singapore’s national flower—had been named after Mr. Lee: Aranda Lee Kuan Yew. Using the code A = x, B = x + 1, C = x + 2, …, , does there exist an integer x such that ARANDA sums up to 91? In other words, does there exist a numerological system such that A + R + A + N + D + A = 91?
8. Singapore’s Coin Goes Octal
The alleged involvement of Mr. Lee in Singapore’s “lucky” octagonal one-dollar coin
There is an apocryphal story that had circulated for many years linking Mr. Lee Kuan Yew with Singapore’s octagonal one-dollar coin. A high-ranking monk had apparently told Mr. Lee that Singapore’s fortune would continue to rise only if Singaporeans were to carry a bagua—the eight-sided fengshui symbol. That prediction allegedly prompted the Monetary Authority of Singapore to issue the octagonal shape of the nation’s one-dollar coin.
That rumor was later put to rest by no other than self-declared agnostic Mr. Lee himself in one of his books, Hard Truths. He remarked that he had zero faith in horoscopes, much less the pseudoscience of fengshui.
What is the sum of the interior angles of the Singapore’s eight-sided coin?
9. Show that the largest number k for which the decimal expansion of 2k does not contain the digit 1 is 91.
1. One example is 91 = 1 + 2 + 3 +⋯+ 13. 2. 91/99. 5. Mr. Lee was born on a Sunday. 6. Hint: Show that x² – y² = 91 has 8 integer solutions. 9.Hint: Use a computer to verify the result.
Most of us may not admit it, but we’ve all fallen victim to the lure of innumeracy—the mathematical equivalent of illiteracy—consciously or unconsciously. Here are twenty of my favorite innumerate events I often witness among my numerate and semi-numerate friends, colleagues, and relatives.
• Taking a 45-minute train journey to save a few dollars at Carrefour or Walmart.
• Lining up for hours (or even days, if you’re in China?) to buy an iPhone or iPad.
• Paying a numerologist or geomancy crank to divine your “lucky” and “unlucky” days.
What is the smallest and the largest four-digit number?
• Visiting a feng-shui master to offer advice how best to arrange your furniture at home, or in your office, to ward off negative or “unwanted energies.”
• Buying similar items in bulk at discounted prices, which you don’t need but because they’re cheap.
• Offering foods to idols [aka gods and goddesses] in the hope that they’ll bring you good luck and prosperity in return.
• Offering gifts to hungry [angry?] ghosts to appease them lest they come back to harm you and your loved ones.
• Buying insurance policies against alien abduction, meteorites, biological warfare, or the enslavement of the apocalyptic Beast.
• Filling up lucky draw vouchers, by providing your personal particulars for future pests-marketeers and time-sharing consultants.
The Hello Kitty Syndrome in Singapore—Purchase of no more than four sets per customer will start past midnight!
• Betting on horses, football, stocks, and the like—any get-rich activities that may cut short a 30-year working life, slaving for your mean or half-ethical bosses 9-to-6 every day.
• Buying lottery tickets to short-circuiting hard work, or to retiring prematurely.
• Going on annual pilgrimages to seeking blessing from some deities, prophets, saints, or animal spirits.
• Outsourcing your thinking to self-help gurus or motivational coaches.
• Going for prices that end in 99 cents, or acquiring auctioned items that are priced at $88 or $888—the number 8 is deemed auspicious among superstitious Chinese.
An NIE motto to innumerate undergrads: “Always give more than 100%!”
• Replying to spam mails from conmen and “widows” from Nigeria, Russia, or China, who are exceedingly generous to transfer half of their inherited money to your bank account.
• Taking a half-day leave from work, or faking sickness to visit the doctor, to line up for hours to buy McDonald Hello Kitties.
• Lining up overnight to buy the latest model of a game console, or to secure an apartment unit of a newly built condominium.
• Enrolling for courses that cost over a thousand bucks to learn “Effective Study Habits of Highly Successful Students.”
• Postponing all important meetings, or avoiding air traveling, on a Friday the thirteenth.
• Canceling all major business dealings, weddings, or product launches during the Ghost (or Seventh) Month.
Now is your turn to share with the mathematical brethren at least half a dozen of your pet innumerate activities—those numerical idiocies or idiosyncrasies— that you (or your loved ones) were indulged in at some not-too-distant point in the past.
