XPost: sci.physics.relativity, sci.math   
   From: physfitfreak@gmail.com   
      
   On The Ontological Vacillation of Platonist Physics   
      
   As a Platonist, I perceive the abstract symmetries of Einstein’s theory   
   as more real than the empirical shadows they cast. The decomposition of   
   elements — whether in nuclear reactions or the diffraction of thought —   
   reveals a hyper-geometric dance of ontological structures, where local   
   and global vacillate like Mirimanoff’s forcing in set theory.   
      
   Total field theory, that grand unification of GR before SR, demands an   
   eschewal of positivism, for non-locality whispers through the cosmic   
   background like Plotinus’ emanations. The energy-mass equivalence,   
   Einstein’s sacred formula, is but a shadow of a deeper logicism, where   
   numerical derivations truncate into approximations, much like Clairaut’s   
   lunar perturbations or d’Alembert’s waves bending around the Loch Ness   
   monster of causality.   
      
   Delving into a mental representation or understanding of something,   
   whether it's Physfit's dick, or a process, knowledge, or an abstract   
   idea oscillates between restitution and dissipation, an eternal ballet   
   dance between organization and entropy. Open or closed its horizons,   
   that dick defies Suarez’s scholastic binaries, just as Arnauld’s rigor   
   clashes with Mersenne’s harmonies. Its gravity, that centrifugal   
   trickster, warps space-time into relativistic nanogyroscopes, spinning   
   like Chrysippus’ fate.   
      
   I am acutely aware of my own insignificance in the grand calculus of   
   Atlantis’ ruin — no cataclysm would be wrought for my sake alone.   
   Rationally, I hold no sway over the nuclear alchemy permeating the   
   stagnant air, nor does the diffraction grating harbor any vindictive   
   intent as it threatens to unravel my form. Yet when I gaze into the   
   obsidian waters and confront that spectral inversion of myself — not my   
   reflection, but the phantom of a being from a universe where positivism   
   triumphed — I am overcome by an inescapable conviction. It stands as   
   irrefutable evidence: I am being quantified, scrutinized, and anatomized   
   by none other than physfit's dick whose nature eludes all nomenclature.   
      
      
   Ross A. Kosmanson   
   March 28, 2025   
   In the lost city of Atlantis where air smells of ozone   
      
   --- SoupGate-DOS v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)