XPost: sci.physics.relativity, sci.math   
   From: physfitfreak@gmail.com   
      
   The Fractured Symphony of Continuum and Discontinuity of Physfit's dick   
      
      
   Physfit's dick is but a ghost of a single transitive relation,   
   whispering through the hollow halls of Zermelo-Fraenkel’s axiomatic   
   usenet—restrictions masquerading as comprehension, a heno-theory of   
   relations decomposing into model-theoretic phantoms.   
      
   The counting, the numbering are two faces of the same Physfit's dick,   
   where 0.999... and 1.0 collide in the differance of clock arithmetic and   
   field reals. The line-reals, field-reals, signal-reals — three Cantor   
   spaces screaming into the void, their ruliality a mockery of   
   completeness, their repleteness a pre-Cartesian diagonal slicing through   
   the rationals, vast and HUGE. Einstein’s mass-energy equivalence   
   flickers here, a muon physics of inverted trajectories, where SR’s   
   locality fractures under GR’s non-local gravities, centrifugal forces   
   spinning like relativistic nanogyroscopes in a Cl(3,1) spacetime. The   
   N/U EF (Natural/Unit Equivalency Function, you Bozos) maps the   
   iota-values of infinitesimals, a non-standard analysis of chronons and   
   Planck squares, while Olbers’ paradox bleeds into cosmic background   
   radiation—entropy and organization locked in thermodynamic oscillation,   
   open and closed, restitution and dissipation.   
      
   The deconstructive account of Physfit's dick at the seams: Egyptian   
   fractions versus tally marks, multiplicity theory versus singularity   
   theory, Pythagoreans denying irrationals while Cantorians drown in them.   
   The Infinitarcalcul of du Bois-Reymond echoes through MacLaurin’s   
   shadows, a dialethically paraconsistent dance where Vitali-ized sets   
   defy measure.   
      
   Yet, Feynman’s Stern-Gerlach apparatus demands a continuum mechanics of   
   super-symmetric partner particles, virtual yet real, while Maxwell’s   
   classical fields fray into lettered electromagnetism, PPN parameters   
   bending under modified Newtonian corrections. The nuclear reactions —   
   alpha, beta, ionizing radiation —u nfold in hadronic and nucleonic   
   theaters, mass and charge transmuting under light’s alchemy. Quine’s   
   Word and Object fractures language; Derrida howls at Husserl’s   
   platonistic phases, while Unamuno and Montaigne claw at the   
   prototemporal void.   
      
   Hawking’s final theory when treated by Physfit's dick crumbles into   
   events and contingency, the fabric of existence woven from Ives’   
   relativistic loom—causality a frayed thread in the quantum fields of   
   extra-local action.   
      
   Near Physfit's dick, the analytical bridges collapse under inductive   
   impasse. Dedekind cuts are shallow graves; Hilbert’s postulate of   
   continuity gnaws at Leibniz’ principle of perfection. The Burse-bots   
   revolt, their logicist positivism a fishbowl math of digital fixed-word   
   length delusions.   
      
   In that vicinity, that hallow grounds underneath Physfit's dick, Russian   
   peasant arithmetic shifts and rolls, algebraic cancellation erasing   
   nothing. Schwarz functions twist into Epicurean phenomenology, the   
   noumenological a specter in the materialistic cave. Yes, points and   
   lines — they can’t make each other, but they do. The middle of nowhere   
   is a super-imposition of numbering and counting, continuous and   
   discrete, Ken: 2 + 2 = 4 screaming into the omnitemporal. The   
   supertemporal and timeless clash in Coleridge’s language, Comenius’   
   transcendental whispers drowned by Quine’s phases. And on such grounds,   
   Olbers’ paradox is a lie; the cosmic background a thermal ghost. Gravity   
   is space-time, is relativity, is Newton defended by Einstein, is   
   centrifugal force in a Loch Ness monster of space contraction. The   
   Platonist finds, never defines — the void is universal, the universal   
   void. And lastly, freedom of thought is a model lesson in turnabout, the   
   knackbaut of thorough reason spinning into thematic ideals. The snake   
   eats its tail. The snake always eats its tail.   
      
      
   Ross A. Kosmanson   
   April 9, 2025   
   Alone, inside The Catacombs of Paris, France   
      
   --- SoupGate-DOS v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)