"Since everything is meaningless, we might be as well extraordinary" Nietzsche

THE CLONE WARS CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER

• Cat and Mouse
• The Hidden Enemy
• The Clone Wars (film)
• Clone Cadets
• Supply Lines
• Ambush
• Storm Over Ryloth
• Innocents of Ryloth
• Liberty on Ryloth
• Rising Malevolence 
• Shadow of Malevolence
• Destroy Malevolence
• Rookies 
• Downfall of a Droid 
• Duel of the Droids
• Bombad Jedi
• Cloak of Darkness 
• Lair of Grievous
• Dooku Captured
• The Gungan General 
• Jedi Crash
• Defenders of Peace
• Trespass
• Blue Shadow Virus
• Mystery of a Thousand Moons
• Storm Over Ryloth
• Innocents of Ryloth
• Liberty on Ryloth
• Holocron Heist
• Cargo of Doom
• Children of the Force
• Bounty Hunters
• The Zillo Beast 
• The Zillo Beast Strikes Back
• Senate Spy
• Landing at Point Rain
• Weapons Factory
• Legacy of Terror 
• Brain Invaders
• Grievous Intrigue
• The Deserter 
• Lightsaber Lost
• The Mandalore Plot
• Voyage of Temptation
• Duchess of Mandalore
• Death Trap
• R2 Come Home
• Lethal Trackdown
• Corruption
• The Academy
• Assassin
• ARC Troopers
• Sphere of Influence
• Evil Plans
• Hostage Crisis
• Hunt for Ziro

(Time Jump of a 1 – 2 Years)

• Heroes on Both Sides
• Pursuit of Peace
• Senate Murders
• Nightsisters
• Monster 
• Witches of the Mist
• Overlords 
• Altar of Mortis
• Ghosts of Mortis 
• The Citadel
• Counterattack
• Citadel Rescue 
• Padawan Lost
• Wookiee Hunt
• Water War 
• Gungan Attack
• Prisoners 
• Shadow Warrior 
• Mercy Mission
• Nomad Droids 
• Darkness on Umbara
• The General
• Plan of Dissent
• Carnage of Krell
• Kidnapped
• Slaves of the Republic
• Escape from Kadavo
• A Friend in Need 
• Deception 
• Friends and Enemies 
• The Box
• Crisis on Naboo 
• Massacre
• Bounty 
• Brothers
• Revenge 
• A War on Two Fronts
• Front Runners
• The Soft War 
• Tipping Points
• The Gathering
• A Test of Strength
• Bound for Rescue
• A Necessary Bond
• Secret Weapons
• A Sunny Day in the Void
• Missing in Action 
• Point of No Return 
• Revival
• Eminence 
• Shades of Reason 
• The Lawless 
• Sabotage 
• The Jedi Who Knew Too Much
• To Catch a Jedi
• The Wrong Jedi

FONT:  http://www.starwarsreport.com/2013/04/27/the-clone-wars-chronological-episode-order-revealed/

Los ruidos de tripas producidos por el movimiento de los gases en la cavidad intestinal reciben el nombre de borborigmos.

condumio

1. m. col. Alimento que se come con pan y, p. ext., comida:
   siempre trae el condumio en una tartera.

Muchas veces, es difícil para un vasco comunicarse con alguien que sólo habla español sin introducir palabras en euskera, ya que existen muchos términos que son imposibles de decir en la lengua de Cervantes. Y no nos damos cuenta de que el castellano necesita de ellas hasta que uno se topa con un vasco: “¡Eguerdi on, Carlos! Pues nada, que el otro día estábamos yo y Mikel -que es un tipo súperjatorra- con un tripazorri horroroso -¡y eso que nos habíamos tomado un hamabitako enorme!- y le dije para ir de poteo y tomar unos pintxos y unos zuritos, Total, que nos liamos, zurito arriba y zurito abajo, y acabamos de gaupasa, ya ves, y eso que caía un sirimiri de lo más asqueroso”.

Eguerdi on


Significado: buenos mediodías.
Por qué apropiarse de ella: No lo neguéis, a todos nos ha pasado que al ir a saludar a alguien, nos hemos tenido que pensar dos y hasta tres veces si decir “buenos días” o “buenas tardes” y después mirar el reloj. Y aunque en teoría la línea que divide la mañana y la tarde está en las 12:00, en la práctica, no resulta tan sencillo ya que salta al campo un tercer jugador: el mediodía. En euskera, han encontrado una fácil salida a ese dilema y saludan con un simple y efectivo eguerdi on; es decir, “buenos mediodías”.

Potear
Significado: Ir de bar en bar, bebiendo baxoerdis o potes (medios vasos), de vino, cerveza…
Por qué apropiarse de ella: Porque “ir de bares” abarca infinidad de actividades susceptibles de ser realizadas dentro de un bar, el poteo va al grano, al meollo de la cuestión. Vamos de bares, sí, pero vamos de potes, ni cafecitos, ni tapas, ni leches; vamos a beber. Ahora este bar, luego el siguiente, luego el del final de la calle… Y con un poco de suerte no llegaremos dando tumbos a casa.

Zurito
Significado: medio vaso de cerveza.
Por qué apropiarse de ella: El zurito es una pieza clave para que el poteo no acabe en catástrofe. Potear a cañas es un riesgo demasiado grande, por eso, por un eurillo, te sacan medio vaso de cerveza, para ir como un señor o una señora. Además, ir a zuritos ayuda a no estancarse en los bares para poder seguir con la ronda y no volver a casa a las tantas y a rastras. Algunos pueden pensar que los zuritos son “para mujeres o para maricas”, pero no lo es para nada. Es más, en algunos locales, los zuritos son tan generosos, que, según qué planes tengamos, podemos sustituirlos por las cañas y así ayudar al bolsillo. 

Hamarretako, hamaiketako y hamabitako
Significado: bocado que se toma a las diez (hamar), a las once (hamaika) o a las doce (hamabi). Almuerzo.
Por qué apropiarse de ella: Es muy importante diferenciar la hora a la que se almuerza, no es lo mismo a las diez, a las, once o a las doce, más aún si almorzamos varias veces por la mañana entre el desayuno y la hora de comer. Además, con estos tres maravillosos conceptos, tenemos la excusa perfecta para pasarnos la mañana comiendo.

Kalekume
Significado: Literalmente, cría de calle. Término despectivo empleado por las personas que viven en caserío para referirse a la gente de ciudad o que apenas tiene contacto con el mundo rural.
Por qué apropiarse de ella: Niños que no saben de dónde viene la leche y que si les dices que eso que va correteando por el campo es un pollo te dice que no flipes, que el pollo es una comida. O sin ser tan dramáticos, personas a las que les dan miedo las ovejas, que no salen a la calle cuando llueve porque se mojan, que no sabrían decir cómo es un arado ni aunque lo tuvieran delante, o que para ir de picnic al bosque aparecen con pantalones hiper-ajustados y tacones. “Kalekumeak!”, dan ganas de gritarles. Y con razón.

Bizigarri
Significado: Lo que da vida, lo que da sabor, lo que anima, lo que da vigor.
Por qué apropiarse de ella: Un chorrito de coñac en el café, espolvorear un poco de pimentón en las lentejas, un café bien cargado a las 2:00 para poder seguir estudiando, una onza de chocolate después de comer, añadir una cucharada de miel a la leche… Todo ser humano necesita bizigarris a lo largo de su vida, ¡que no somos de piedra!

Sirimiri
Significado: Lluvia débil y constante.
Por qué apropiarse de ella: Este tipo de lluvia sin fundamento tan característico del paisaje vasco ya ha sido incluido en el diccionario de la RAE, pero aún hace falta insistir en su uso. “¿Llueve?”, “No, hace sirimiri; pero sácate el paraguas igualmente”. ¿De qué otra manera se puede llamar a esa lluvia cansina y floja que se puede tirar días y días cayendo pero jamás causará una inundación? En castellano tienen calabobos, pero alguno se puede ofender…

Gaupasa
Significado: pasar toda la noche de fiesta y llegar a casa al amanecer.
Por qué apropiarse de ella: Resulta sorprendente que no exista tal palabra en el idioma castellano. Salir de fiesta un finde a las 22:00 y volver a la mañana siguiente, con cogorza o sin ella, no es otra cosa sino gaupasa. Es decir, pasar la noche por ahí (gau: noche). Porque, no, no es lo mismo que trasnochar; la gaupasa lleva consigo el componente fiesta, y si no, preguntádselo a los pamplonicas.

Tripazorri
Significado: hambre, sensación de hambre
Por qué apropiarse de ella: Llevas horas sin comer y empiezas a sentir que tu estómago ruge. Se mueve, se queja, notas como si cientos de bichillos corretearan y anduvieran dando saltos en tu estómago. Eso es el tripazorri (zorri = piojo), una sensación muy gráficamente descrita en una sola palabra. “Jo, menudo tripazorri que tengo, vamos a comer unos pintxos”. Ni más ni menos.

Jatorra
Significado: puro, verdadero, castizo, majo, agradable…
Por qué apropiarse de ella: Una persona jatorra va más allá del ser maja o agradable. Cuando se dice que alguien es jatorra (sobre todo cuando se usa en castellano y marcando bien la jota hasta casi destrozarnos la garganta), decimos que es una persona auténtica, leal, de esas en las puedes confiar ciegamente, simpática, sincera, una persona castiza y sana, de dominación de origen. Vamos, todo un tesoro de persona y amigo.

FONT:  http://blogs.lainformacion.com/strambotic/2013/04/03/palabras-euskera/

Degrees and Freedom

August 6, 2012

Here’s my idea of a good math lesson. I want to explain Euler’s formula, the cornerstone of multidimensional mathematics, and one of the truly beautiful ideas from history. In school this formula appears as a useful trick, and is not commonly understood. I think that is because students are denied enough time to wonder what the formula actually means (it doesn’t describe how to pass an exam). Here is Euler’s formula:

This idea was introduced to me after a review of imaginary and complex numbers. Once the history and definition were out of the way, we completely freaked out at the idea of putting ‘i’ in the exponent, then practiced how to use it in calculations. I might have had a brief moment of clarity in that first class, but by the AP exam Euler’s formula was nothing more than a black box for converting rectangular coordinates to polar coordinates.
Many years later, I came across the introduction to complex numbers from Feynman’s Lectures on Physics, and suddenly the whole concept clicked in a way that it never had in school. Explained here, I don’t think it is really that difficult to understand, but then I’ve already managed to understand it, so I’ll try to communicate my understanding and then you can tell me whether it makes sense.
We need to start by generalizing the concept of a numeric parameter. The number line from grade school is an obvious way to represent a system with one numeric parameter. If we label the integers along this line, each mark corresponds to a grouping of whole, countable things, and the value of our integer parameter must refer to one of these marks. If we imagine a similar system where our parameter can “slide” continuously from one integer to the next, the values that we can represent are now uncountable (start counting the numbers between 0.001 and 0.002 if you don’t believe me) but opening up this unlimited number of in-between values allows us to model continuous systems that are much harder to represent with chunks.
Each system has a single numeric parameter, even though the continuous floating-point parameter can represent numbers that the integer parameter cannot. In physics, the continuous parameter can represent what is called a “degree of freedom,” basically a quantity that changes independently of every other quantity describing the system. Sometimes a “degree of freedom” is just like one of the three dimensions that you can see right… now, but this is not always the case. Wavefunctions in particle physics can have infinite degrees of freedom, even though the objects described by these esoteric equations follow different laws when we limit our models to the four parameters of spacetime.
Anyway, the imaginary unit or ‘i’ is just some different unit that identifies a second numeric parameter. If we multiply an integer by ‘i’, we’re basically moving a second parameter along its own number line that same distance. Apply the “sliding” logic from before and we can use the fractional parts between each imaginary interval. If this sounds new and confusing, just remember that any “real” number is itself multiplied by the real unit, 1. Personally, I don’t think that the word “imaginary” should be used to describe any kind of number, because all numbers are obviously imaginary. However, this convention exists regardless of how I feel about it, and nobody would know what to put in Google if I used a different word.
Why do teachers use this system where one implicit unit is supplemented by a second explicit unit? Simple – it was added long before anyone fully understood what was going on. The imaginary unit was the invented answer to a question, that question being:

Which number yields -1 when multiplied by itself?

The first people to ask this question didn’t get much further than “A number called ‘i’ which is nowhere on the number line, and therefore imaginary.” If those scholars had described their problem and its solution in a different way, they might have realized some important things. First, this question starts with the multiplicative identity (1) and really asks “which number can we multiply 1 by twice, leaving -1?” Thinking about it like this, it soon becomes clear that the range of values we can leave behind after multiplying 1 by another value on the same number line, twice, cannot include -1! We can make 1 bigger, twice, by multiplying it by a larger integer, or smaller, by multiplying it by a value between 0 and 1. We can also negate 1 twice while scaling it up or down, but none of these options allow for a negative result!
A clever student might point out that this is a stupid answer and that we might as well say there is none, but we still learn about it because amazing things happen if we assume that some kind of ‘i’ exists. We can imagine a horizontal number line, and then a second number line going straight up at 90° (τ/4 radians, a quarter turn) from the first. Moving a point along one line won’t affect its value on the other line, so we can say that the value of our ‘i’ parameter is represented on the vertical line and the value of our first (“real”) parameter is represented on the horizontal line. That is, a complex number (a*1+b*i) imagined as a single point on a 2-dimensional plane. In this space, purely “real” or purely “imaginary” numbers behave just like complex numbers with zero for the value of one parameter.
Now think about the answer to that question again. If our candidate is ‘i’ or some value up “above” the real number line, it’s easy to imagine a vector transformation (which we assume still works like multiplication) that can change 1 to ‘i’ and then ‘i’ to -1 in this 2D number space. Just rotate the point around the origin by 90°. When our parameters are independent like this, exponentiation by some number of ‘i’ units is exactly like rotating the imagined “point” a quarter turn around zero some number of times. I don’t really know why it works, but it works perfectly!
We’ve seen that imaginary units simply measure a second parameter, and how this intuitively meshes with plane geometry. Now let’s review what is actually going on. Numbers multiplied by ‘i’ behave almost exactly like numbers multiplied by 1, but the important thing about all ‘i’ numbers is that they are different from all non-’i’ numbers and therefore can’t be meaningfully added into them. The ‘i’ parameter is a free parameter in the two-parameter system that is every complex number. It can get bigger or smaller without affecting the other parameter.
Bringing this all together, let’s try to understand what Euler was thinking when he wrote down his formula, and why it was such a smashing success. He noticed that the Taylor series definition of the exponential function:

Becomes this:

When ‘i*x’ is the exponent, because the integer powers of ‘i’ go round our complex circle from 1 to i to -1 to -i and back. Grouping the real terms and the ‘i’ terms together suddenly and unexpectedly reveals perfect Taylor series expansions of the cosine and sine:

As each expansion is multiplied by a different free parameter, the two expansions don’t add together, naturally separating the right side of our equation into circular functions! We can just conclude that those functions really are the cosine and sine of our variable, remembering that the sine is an ‘i’ parameter, and it works! Because these expressions are equivalent, having a variable in the exponent allows us to multiply our real base by ‘i’ any fractional number of times (review your exponentials), and thus rotate to any point in the imagined complex plane. There are other ways to prove this formula, but I still do not understand exactly why any of the proofs happen the way they do. It’s not really a problem, because Euler probably didn’t understand it either, but I’d still like to come across a good answer someday. What I know right now is that any complex number can be encoded as a real number rotated around zero by an imaginary exponent:

Here is proof that certain systems of two variables can be represented by other systems of one complex variable in a different form, and the math still works! Euler’s formula is a monumental, paradigm-shattering shortcut, and it made the modern world possible. I’m not overstating that point at all, everything from your TV to the Mars rover takes advantage of this trick.

FONT: http://guscost.com/2012/08/06/degrees-and-freedom/

Always Multiply Your Estimates by π

Project estimation is a black art, nowhere more so than in game development. I once heard of a mysterious cabal of numerologists that multiplied their time estimates by π. The practice allegedly gave them sufficient buffer for new requirements, testing, iteration, and other arcane changes in scope.
This struck me as curious and arbitrary, but I was intrigued. I am now delighted to report that I have been able to put their Circular Estimation Conjecture on a firm mathematical footing.


Allow me to explain.
Someone — a designer, your lead, the exec producer, a friend, your mom — asks you to do something. You think for a bit, jot down a few notes, consider what’s required, and come up with a plan and an estimate.

But things change. Turns out there was some stuff your designer / producer / lead / friend / mom neglected to mention, and as you did the work you had some ideas to improve it further. Your scope grew.

 

And of course it didn’t all go smoothly. Your first try was an instructive failure. Then you rushed the second attempt and created a bunch of problems that took a while to fix. You spent two extra days to look at an alternative solution. All in all, you followed a positively circuitous path to your objective.


So how long did your journey take compared to your original plan? Turns out the numerologists were right …


And there you have it — whatever you think when you start, once you get through the research, design, discussions, prototypes, failures, testing, requirements churn, and all the other vagaries of the creative process, you will indubitably have done π times as much as you originally planned.
Now some may question my mathematical rigour, and even dispute what I believe to be the incontrovertible conclusion. People may claim that the correct multiplier is not in fact π — but that it is rather 2, or √2, or e, or the golden ratio φ. I am, however, aware of no one who claims the multiplier is less than one.
Regardless of your numerological leanings, the point is that you must give yourself permission to admit that — when you start a project — you don’t have the full picture, you don’t know how things will go, and there is work ahead about which you have almost no idea. No amount of planning and task analysis can change that, so don’t try too hard. Instead, give yourself a plausible buffer and get busy doing the work.
Oh, and that to-do list you made last weekend? It’s no coincidence you only got about a third of the things on the list done. ;-)

FONT: http://www.altdevblogaday.com/2013/11/15/always-multiply-estimates-by-pi/

Understanding the Fourier transform

Yes, I realize that after reading the title of this post, 99% of potential readers just kept scrolling. So to the few of you who clicked on it, welcome! Don’t worry, this won’t take long.
A very long time ago, I was curious how to detect the strength of the bass and treble in music, in order to synchronize some graphical effects. I had no idea how to do such a thing, so I tried to figure it out, but I didn’t get very far. Eventually I learned that I needed something called a Fourier transform, so I took a trip to the library and looked it up (which is what we had to do back in those days).
What I found was the Discrete Fourier Transform (DFT), which looks like this:

This formula, as anyone can see, makes no sense at all. I decided that Fourier must have been speaking to aliens, because if you gave me all the time and paper in the world, I would not have been able to come up with that.
Eventually, I was able to visualize how it works, which was a bit of a lightbulb for me. That’s what I want to write about today: an intuitive way to picture the Fourier transform. This may be obvious to you, but it wasn’t to me, so if you work with audio or rendering, I hope there’s something here you find useful.
Disclaimer: my math skills are pitch-patch at best, and this is just intended to be an informal article, so please don’t expect a rigorous treatment. However, I will do my best not to flat-out lie about anything, and I’m sure people will set me straight if I get something wrong.
A quick bit of background – what does the Fourier transform do? It translates between two different ways to represent a signal:

• The time domain representation (a series of evenly spaced samples over time)
• The frequency domain representation (the strength and phase of waves, at different frequencies, that can be used to reconstruct the signal)

The picture on the left shows 3 cycles of a sine wave, and the picture on the right shows the Fourier transform of those samples. The output bars show energy at 3 cycles (and, confusingly enough, negative 3 cycles… more on that below).
The inputs and outputs are actually complex numbers, so to feed a real signal (like some music) into the Fourier transform, we just set all the imaginary components to zero. And to check the strength of the frequency information, we just look at the magnitude of the outputs, and ignore the phase. But let’s never mind all that for now.
What are we trying to accomplish? We’ve got a sampled signal, and we want to extract frequency information from it. The Fourier transform works on a periodic, or looping signal. This seems like a problem, since we don’t actually have any signals like that. In practice, you just take a small slice of a longer signal, fade both ends to zero so that they can be joined (which is a whole topic unto itself), and pretend it’s a loop.
Let’s make things simple and say that our loop repeats once per second.

Picture it as a bead, sliding up and down along a thin rod, tracing out the signal. So as this bead is bobbing up and down, look what happens if we spin the rod at a rate of, say, 10 revolutions per second:

We get a scribble, as you’d expect. And it is roughly centered on the origin.
Now, let’s assume we know there’s some energy in the signal at 3 Hz, and we want to measure it. What that means is that on top of whatever else is causing the signal to wobble around, we’ve added a wave that oscillates 3 times per second. It has a high point every 1/3 of a second, and corresponding low points in between, also spaced 1/3 of a second apart. You can probably see now how we might be able to detect it… let’s try spinning our signal at a matching rate of 3 revolutions per second.

Since the signal completes a rotation every 1/3 of a second, all the high points in our 3 Hz wave line up at the same part of the rotation, and this pulls the whole scribble off-center. How can we quantify that? The easiest way would be to record a bunch of points as we rotate, and average them to find their midpoint:

It makes sense that the distance of this midpoint from the origin is proportional to the strength of the signal, because as the high points in our signal get higher, they will move the scribble farther away. But what if the signal contains no energy at 3 Hz? Let’s remove the 3 Hz wave and see:

Now there is nothing to pull the scribble off center, and all of the other oscillations tend to (approximately) balance each other out.
This looks promising as a way to detect energy at a given frequency. Time to translate it into math! For a looping signal of N samples:

(Raising e to an imaginary power produces rotation around a unit circle in the complex plane, according to Euler’s formula. How? Magic, as far as I can tell. But apparently it’s true).
So this equation is a little different from what we started with. I’ve added a normalization factor of 1/N, and changed the sign of the exponent. I also rearranged the terms slightly for clarity. This form is normally called the inverse DFT, which is confusing, but apparently the difference between the DFT and IDFT is a matter of convention, and can depend on the application. So, let’s call that close enough.

Anyway, once you can “see” what’s going on in your head, a lot of the quirks of working with the DFT become much less mysterious. If you’ve had to work with DFT output before, you may have wondered:

• Why does the first element in the result (k=0) contain the DC offset? Because in that case, our samples don’t spin at all, so all we’re doing is averaging them.
• Why doesn’t the DC offset affect the frequency information? Because adding a constant value to all the samples just makes the whole scribble bigger, which doesn’t affect the midpoint.
• Why does the second half of the output array contain a mirror image of the first half? It’s just our old friend aliasing. When calculating the last element (k=N-1), we’re rotating by (N-1)/N at each step, which is almost all of the way around. This is the same as taking small steps (1/N) in the wrong direction. That’s why the result at (k=N-1) has the same magnitude as (k=1). It’s equivalent to processing a negative frequency of (k=-1).
• Why does a sine wave with amplitude 1.0 come out of the DFT as 0.5? When we spin the sine wave, we get a circle of diameter 1.0, but it’s midpoint is only half that distance away from the origin.
• Where is the other half of the energy then? It’s hiding in the negative frequency part!

Hopefully this was more helpful than confusing.

FONT: http://www.altdevblogaday.com/2011/05/17/understanding-the-fourier-transform/

“Time is what we want most,but what we use worst.” 
         ― William Penn

Contar con las manos en chino

(con fotos) - Recursos para chino gratis

Los chinos tienen su propio sistema para comunicar las cifras del uno al diez con los dedos de una sola mano. Explicación en imágenes: foto de la mano para cada número del 1 al 10.

Uno	Dos	Tres
Quatro	Cinco	Seis
Siete	Ocho	Nueve
	Diez FONT: http://www.chino-china.com/recursos/contar-con-las-manos.html

Posiblemente, una de las sentencias judiciales más frikis de la historia

Publicado en 1 septiembre 2013 por Jose Luis Blanco — 7 Comentarios ↓

Tras su éxito “El código Da Vinci“, Dan Brown fue acusado por Michael Baigent y Richard Leigh por, supuestamente, haber plagiado ideas de su novela “El Enigma Sagrado“, de 1982. Finalmente, un juez rechazó esta acusación. Pero lo curioso del caso comienza precisamente al terminar el juicio, con la sentencia del juez Peter Smith (ver PDF):

Posiblemente, la sentencia judicial más friki.

Durante las primeras trece páginas, se suceden letras en negrita y cursiva, como si el juez quisiera llamar la atención sobre ellas. Así que, parece razonable extraerlas y ver si forman algún tipo de frase:

s m i t h y c o d e J a e i e x t o s t g p s a c g r e a m q w f k a d p m q z v

Es lo que parece: dejándose llevar por la emoción del libro de Dan Brown, el juez Smith había introducido ¡un mensaje cifrado en mitad de la sentencia judicial! El prefijo “Smithy Code” es un indicador de que lo que se sigue es un mensaje en código.
El abogado Dan Tench, colaborador de The Guardian, fue el primero en descifrarlo. Como muy bien explica Arturo Quirantes en su libro ”Cuando la criptografía falla” (Amazon), donde descubrí esta y muchas otras curiosidades parecidas, se trata de un sistema de cifrado llamado cifrado de Vigenère.
El propio juez dió una pista al abogado Dan Tench sobre cómo descubrir el mensaje oculto: la clave era la secuencia de Fibonacci.

Triángulo de Pascal, donde la sumas de las diagonales son los números de Fibonacci (Fuente: MediaWiki)

¿Qué tiene que ver Fibonacci con una clave de cifrado? Es fácil. El método de Vigenère consiste en una simple modificación del archiconocido y antiguo cifrado de César, donde cada letra se sustituye por la que le sigue en el alfabeto un número predeterminado de posiciones.  Ese número de posiciones es la clave que el receptor y el emisor deben acordar para poder entenderse. Por ejemplo, con una clave 3, cifraríamos un mensaje realizando estas sustituciones: A –> D, B –> E, C –> F, etc.
En Vigenère, ese número de letras a “desplazar” va variando con cada letra. La pista de que había que usar la secuencia de Fibonacci ahora parece tener sentido, ¿verdad? El juez lo complicó todo un poquito más, dando una última vuelta de tuerca al cifrado: en lugar de cifrar su texto en limpio, lo “descifró” para “cifrarlo”. Es decir. empleó la regla de descifrar para cifrar. Esta variante es conocida y se llama método de Beaufort.
Pues bien, entonces tenemos una clave dada por los primeros ocho números de la secuencia de Fibonacci (¡la longitud de la clave sólo se puede obtener probando!):

1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21

Aplicándola con el método Beaufort al texto codificado en la resolución judicial, tenemos:

jafkiefisthrwhoareboudreadqough

Lo que aún no tiene mucho sentido… El juez volvió a lucirse en un acto de creatividad e hizo un poco lo que le dio la gana el día que cifró su mensaje: cambió un número de la secuencia de Fibonacci “porque sí”, cambiando su signo (y por tanto, el sentido en que hay que recorrer el alfabeto para cifrar). Probando, el abogado Dan Tench descubrió finalmente que empleando esta otra secuencia de números, que era la clave del mensaje:

1, 1, -2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21

Jackie Fisher (Fuente: MediaWiki)

sí que se obtenía algo más legible (en inglés):

JACKIEFISTERWHOAREYOUDREADNOUGH

=

JACKIE FISTER: WHO ARE YOU DREADNOUGH?

Es decir, tras todo este lío hay un simple juego de palabras referente a un famoso almirante de la Armada Británica, Jackie Fisher (la “t” en Fister parece que fue un error del juez), y Dreadnough es un tipo de acorazado.

FONT: http://www.ciencia-explicada.com/2013/09/posiblemente-una-de-las-sentencias-judiciales-mas-frikis-de-la-historia.html