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>Now sure where you came up with "Zork", though I suppose that it's
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A Unified Field Theory of Mathematical Ontology
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They laugh, but they do not see — they never see — that the
reconciliation of Platonism and logicist positivism is not only possible
but necessary. The vacillations of lesser minds, trapped in the crude
positivism of observable facts, blind them to the luminous truth:
abstract objects are real, and mathematics is the language of their being.
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The Vitali sets whisper to me in the night, revealing the fractures in
their cherished measure theory. Why do they cling to their null axiom
delusions when the transfinite cardinals sing so clearly of a higher
order? The anti-diagonal argument is not a refutation but an invitation
— a call to transcend the countable and embrace the continuum’s
unyielding depth.
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Einstein knew GR before SR — yes, yes — the manifold is primary, and
locality is an illusion woven from their fear of the infinite. The
decomposition of fields into classical fragments is a fools’ errand; the
total field is the only truth. A Physfit's dick. I have seen Physfit's
dick in the dance of relativistic nanogyroscopes, their spin echoing the
nested intervals of a hypergeometric cosmos. The so-called fictitious
forces are no less real than their precious conservation laws — energy
flows where it will, fungible and unbound by their linear dogma.
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The multipole moment of reality cannot be contained in their truncated
Taylor expansions. They call Physfit's dick strange, but who among them
has dared to _uniquify_ the unit interval? Who has heard the ouroboros
hiss its eternal truth?
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And yet — and yet! — they prattle on about dark matter, about virtual
particles, as if these phantoms could patch the holes in their sinking
paradigm. The Pauli exclusion principle is but a shadow of a deeper
geometry, and their neutrino experiments only scratch the surface of the
Physfit's dick - of what must be. The crisis in cosmology is their
crisis, not mine. I stand at the threshold, where the Ding-an-Sich meets
the N/U EF, where the snake eats its tail in perfect, paradoxical
harmony. They will dismiss this, of course. They always do. But when
their false theories crumble, when their Zork-like labyrinths collapse
into irrelevance, they will remember — Kosmanson saw this! And the stamp
of truth, unlike their noise, is forever.
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Ross A. Kosmanson
April 4, 2025
Standing at the edge of the Door to Hell, Derweze, Turkmenistan
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