Donovan's Geometry Page.......

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Postby Wombaticus Rex » Sat Jan 20, 2007 12:19 am

^^Above comment was to my stoner buddy's joke.

Burnt Hill, I don't revel in it, it's just what comes naturally, man. I'm from Vermont, I give my friends shit, they give me shit, and it leads to honest communication because there really is love underneath it.

Also -- I know it's not a popular position, but stupid is stupid. It's not "a different approach", it's not "alternative theories", it's not "esoteric", it's just stupid, man. I still love stupid people, but don't expect me to give them an inch.

It's just who I am. If it's seriously a problem, talk to Arcadia and Jeff, and I'll go somewhere else.
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Postby Burnt Hill » Sat Jan 20, 2007 12:19 am

:lol: :wink: 8) . yea, I can be an idiot myself. A grown man using smiley faces. :roll:
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Postby Burnt Hill » Sat Jan 20, 2007 12:22 am

well, wasnt it at least interesting? and worthy of further discussion? and darnit all I failed geometry in high school(so you hit a nerve), so I really do want you to point out the mathematical flaws. and dont go anywhere, we need all of us!
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Dress Code

Postby TooStoned » Sat Jan 20, 2007 12:23 am

...wearing ties in high school...


Egads! Prep School? A Harkness Table base education, perhaps?

I too am in recovery, but still I am still conditioned to react strongly to the whiff of meadow muffins (whether or not madras sport coats are present...)
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Postby Burnt Hill » Sat Jan 20, 2007 12:43 am

Hey WR. I just checked out your website and I see that you are bringing the fight to the right places. Good for you! I appreciate your efforts there and will share the site with others. And thanks for bringing me to your personal perspective. Now lets discuss the math? And for the sake of truthfullness, I passed geometry, but failed the regents exam. A little too much clarity at the time, iykwim.
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Postby Kid Of The Black Hole » Sat Jan 20, 2007 12:45 am

Burnt Hill wrote:Actually I am too old to let it go! Why do you revel in being a dickhead? Youve brought a lot of light with your attitude and most of your posts, and I like your sig line a lot. The schoolyard bully needs to be confronted though, otherwise we end up shooting each other, and ourselves in the foot. We can do better. Lets keep it civilized, and on topic, point out the flaws in the math, please.


The explanation for the 12 quarks struck me as speculative although I didn't study it intensively.
How dare you question my ulterior motives
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Postby Wombaticus Rex » Sat Jan 20, 2007 12:49 am

St. Johnsbury Academy:

http://www.stjohnsburyacademy.org/school/history.html



And as for the site, it's sketches and scraps from someone's notebook. No coherent organization, no axioms laid out. I'd sift through disconnected miscalleny if it was Tesla, but this is not Tesla.
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Alma matters

Postby TooStoned » Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:02 am

My prep school's motto was "knowledge with goodness"

But my first year as a scholarship student my3rd generation legacy Roomate let me know the score:

You just don't get it (cruel twist on my last name)! We're not here to get the best education possible, we're not even here to make contacts with a good ol' boy network. We're here to learn how to do whatever we want without getting caught by the system


They still try getting me to "give back" but no matter how many times I explain to the tools used for shaking down equally clueless alums that I'd sooner kill a baby then give them a dime they still call and beg for alms...
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Postby Wombaticus Rex » Sat Jan 20, 2007 1:40 am

...and I almost forgot my all time favorite "alternative science hypothesis": Gene Ray and his Timecube:

http://www.timecube.com/

I saw him speak at MIT but I was way too high to really follow it. I was there with a friend who was stone sober and I think he walked away more confused than me.
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To the naysayers.

Postby slimmouse » Sat Jan 20, 2007 2:15 am

To all the naysayers regarding Phi and the nature of the universe.


Good on ya !!!!

Its allllllllllll nonsense.

Just ask those fucks with the square and compass, and the aprons, and the Nukes, and who steal your fucking taxes.

Like I just said.

Its all nonsense.

Am I in the wrong forum here ?

I thought this was called rigorous intuition ?
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Postby Wombaticus Rex » Sat Jan 20, 2007 2:22 am

^^I'm assuming that's aimed at me, you missed my point if so. I love Dan Winter as much as anyone, but the actual website this thread was about is what I was mocking. It wasn't a sweeping statement about the nature of reality, just an observation about the url in the first post here.

If I assumed wrong, well, that's just typical. I get stupider every day, I swear.
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The diatonic is rife through the crop circle formations

Postby Donovan » Sat Jan 20, 2007 2:23 am

Yes, I was simply meaning copyright protection.

This geometry is ‘hidden in 3-D’ in that you must work 3-D to make any progress. For those I have taught I have a simple rule. Either you go out and buy ping pong balls or forget it. It would be like going to a plane geometry teacher and asking to be taught. He says, “Fine go out and get a compass and a straight edge.” And you answer, “I don’t want to be bothered with that, just tell me.”

It will also shed light on DNA. Most believe it is a ‘twisted ribbon’. That came from my dad, not Watson or Glick. They flew one or the other to Time Magazine for the story. The science editors were making no headway. Finally they said, “get the mapmaker and make a picture of this damned thing.” That is where the ‘twisted ribbon’ came from. After it was printed my dad went back and said that there was a better way of showing the concept. The science editors did not want to hear it. So now all believe that twisted ribbon crap. Imagine a ball with a ribbon wrapped around it. You are looking at it from the outside. You start noting what the ribbon touches in sequence. From an outside view it would seem to be a ribbon with two twists for each wrap. It is a fucking ball and you ball to make others.

Imagine a machine that produces exact sized slightly sticky bubbles. It drops them one by one. What would be created as they pile up, sticking together and rolling down? As they either sit in groove or roll down they produce one or another of two shapes. Combined, layer by layer, you have the binomial in 3-D.

Now the powers-that-be do expect this to eventually splash into the public. A number of years ago a site on ‘spherepacking’ went up on the coast heavily funded with money out of Princeton. Kirby Ulner, not sure of spelling. This new geometry is akin to spherepacking (and in the way, somewhat, that Kepler first approached it). But it is not spherepacking in that you must also assume spin and vibration. In movement ‘odd’ shapes become central.
At any rate this guy went as far as to set himself up as a ‘curriculum counselor for teenagers who get into spherepacking and thereby get into the occult.’ What? Are you worried that your 13 year old is under the bed at night with a flashlight gluing ping pong balls together? The powers-that-be are. Seriously.

Sound will become increasingly important in science. The new geometry shows that music is basic to physics. If you look in a standard scientific encylopedia today it will say that though there are math relationships in music that music itself is purely psycological. I am tone deaf, I must see. Perhaps this is why I have had this focus for so long.

This will change logic and language also. There will be Chi-square like comparisons to other core shapes.

It has been noted that there are giant differences in the way the major races, Black, White and Yellow, score on IQ tests. It has been very politically incorrect to talk about this much. When you look at the averages there seems to be discrete jumps. The Yellow race scores way up on top. Were, for example, the Ivy League college’s admissions based solely on test scores the students would be largely Oriental. The White race is in the middle. The Black race on average scores far lower. But when the new math was beginning to be understood the powers-that-be took a new look at this. It was another eye opener.

Is there a ‘logic’ in music of which the binomial theorem only hints? They went back and looked at the early formations of IQ tests. The early tests in the US were precursors to what then became the ‘Army Alpha Test’; used to cull troops for WW I., (which my grandfather helped develop). On the very early tests Blacks scored significantly higher than Whites. Two things were odd: First, the questions that the Blacks got right seemed to be the most difficult ones. And secondly they could not explain how they arrived at the answers. Confused the test makers adjusted the tests to the way they are today.

It was about 1985 when the powers-that-be began to look into this more thoroughly. First they devised a simple pole question and broadcast the results right on the nightly news without comment. 1000 White and 1000 Black male teenagers were asked the same simple question: “Is Ronald Reagan the president of the United States?” Across the board the Whites replied, “Of course he is, stupid question.” But a significantly measurable portion of the Blacks answered, “Of course not. Ronald Reagan is a movie actor.” They knew the truth.

With that they looked carefully at another oddity noticed in the music business. Wholesalers of records (companies such as Warner Electra and such) had known for many years that you cannot ‘rack’ R&B (Black music) in Wal Marts. Even though the stores had heavy Black traffic the Blacks would not touch the product there even driving further to buy the same music in ‘their’ stores. Odder still the Blacks were polled in this regard and there seemed to be no reasonable explanation. They looked back at themselves. Many upper class would have Atlantic Monthly on the coffee table. But only a very few (un-measurable sliver) would know the inside ‘policy’ aspect of that particular magazine. They then saw that for a very small segment of the Black population music was ‘news’. That concept filtered to the others. The Wal-Mart delivery system was too slow by a few weeks. You can’t sell ‘yesterdays newspapers’. There are three ‘tonal’ languages on the planet, where the same word has a different meaning by tone. Two of them are in Africa: Bantu (a giant language group covering most of Sub-Sahara Africa) and Northern (not Southern!) Sudanese.

As understanding of ‘vibration’ with sound hits the Internet the Blacks may be more advantaged in (near) future science and communication. There may well be a ‘flipping’ of advantage, those on top on the bottom, those on bottom on top. And though it should all even out this flipping during the most pregnant of times.

Already in very rudimentary form Ebonics is effecting the White teen population through music with such ‘crossovers’ as Emenem. Black syntax (like the Pidgin combination of Portuguese, Chinese and English used by early sailors) is highly compressed omitting needless words. You can say, for example, “He bad” omitting the ‘is’ or say “He be bad” meaning as permanent condition meaning ‘he is always bad’. Though the effect of a new math will be giant there seems to be, at the very least, preparatory foreshadowing.

And see the present geopolitical reflection as well.

This is also the reason for the CIA’s intense interest in Gulu in northern Uganda. You may have read between the line in those articles in the Christian Science Monitor. To me Gulu is simply everything and in concept (from a mapmaker’s perspective) central to what may well be our planet’s final war: The War For Africa. When the truce held in Juba this thirty year extension of the ‘Children’s War’ came to an end. And the proof is there, the fighters leaving north with their weapons, south without. Whatever this bloody crucible produced it will now effect everything. The UN’s attempt to prosecute Joseph Kona is simply trouble making. I am not too fond of the UN.

The LRF seems a crazy admixture of Pol Pot and Hari Krisna. The doctrine of the ‘army’ from channelled information with the very basic, “One God, Ten Commandments, or we kill you.” And they would. Having forever been caught between the old Jewish forces from Ethiopia and the Christian and Islamic they simply took the common denominator of them and shot you on the spot if you went one word beyond in any direction.

That ‘craziness’ was the exact type of craziness of the Green Mountain Boys. When they shot British soldiers they met in a barn after and were aghast at what they had just done. They thought they would be invaded and all hung. They did not even know there was a full revolution afoot. Something of that thirty year rage will spread, by concept, from Gulu and become Africa. I have written a poem about the UFO abduction of the daughter of one of Musevini’s female irregulars. I will see if I can find it and post it.
Michael Donovan
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Postby Wombaticus Rex » Sat Jan 20, 2007 2:27 am

^^Nice....are you a Vermonter? We're having quite a revival of Green Mountain Boy mystique here these days.
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Hits and misses

Postby TooStoned » Sat Jan 20, 2007 2:50 am

WR- NO Vermoter, I'm AZ raised, got carted off to boarding school in NH 'cause of a scholarship and my mom and dad's conviction I could be Pretzldent (little did they know!)

Donovan

Help me plot it out in 3d space.

Statements like this:

“Is Ronald Reagan the president of the United States?” Across the board the Whites replied, “Of course he is, stupid question.” But a significantly measurable portion of the Blacks answered, “Of course not. Ronald Reagan is a movie actor.” They knew the truth.


Sort of make sense to me, more as satire than fact, but I love satire and II'll readily admit that sometimes its "truer" than commonly believed "facts".

But this other stuff has the wiff of stale orgonite:

It will also shed light on DNA. Most believe it is a ‘twisted ribbon’. That came from my dad, not Watson or Glick. They flew one or the other to Time Magazine for the story. The science editors were making no headway. Finally they said, “get the mapmaker and make a picture of this damned thing.”


Who is your DAD that we all should know him?
Your story of figuring out the structure of DNA directly contradicts the real story about X RAY crystollography that was used to determine its stucture.
http://www.chemheritage.org/classroom/chemach/pharmaceuticals/watson-crick.html

BTW "twisted ribbon" is a very poor and imprecise choice to replace "double helix" but still certainly closer than anything extrapolation, interpolation, or inner exploration with ping pong balls will give...

EDIT 1: I am stupid. I missed Donovan's "Watson and GLICK" Its CRICK, but I'm sure that's just a sloppy typo on his part and in no way reflects an utter lack of understanding DNA or complete ignorance on how it was "discovered"...[/b]
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Af Tinkanoo Gulu Go

Postby Donovan » Sat Jan 20, 2007 2:56 am

This is not of Tinka (Song of Tinka), but her daughter and her alien abduction. The mother served in Musevini’s irregulars, a short violent life and died at 16. Meeting Musevine was the highlight, most important part, of Bush Jr.’s African tour and the contents widely broadcast. Until the last few weeks the BBC has been rather down on Musevini, considered to be one of the best military minds on the planet. Musevini has a book ‘Sowing The Mustard Seed’, a fairly good read.

Af Tinkanoo Gulu Go

In the council fires of Gulu, are there minds not set to fool you?
Do not they see strong minds in saucers?
In strange lights that feel like alters?
In last twilight smoke and haze, does not the falcon’s flight seem crazed?
But they heard more talk from Poko, Bakavu and Luingu.
Hear too talk from Tabora and Kavinda and Lisala.
And the old men smoke the old pipes.
And the young men hold new rifles.
Look to old men through the smoke haze.

Far south in big Kampala, by the green lake, in the white house
Sits the leader, Museveni, in the mirror he gives long gaze.
He sees his hands upon his bald head.
His head shines within the mirror.
And he thinks of the new rebels, for some years ago he was one.
Knows he well of their strong longings
Knows being stripped of all belongings
Knows the fury of machete, and the grenade and the rifle.
Knows that yearning will not stifle, for not long ago he was one.

Much far north in north Uganda, much more north than even Gulu
In the reed swamp banks of White Nile
Kneels the young girl Af Tinkanoo, by the eddies of rush Nile.
Her black limbs have seen ten summers
But now they shake and sweat and tremor
In the breeze that move the rushes, Af Tinkanoo cannot smile.
In her mind are strange short gray men.
At first she thought them mean men.
How took her soul for long night while.
Large black eyes that shone and pierced then
Seared her soul above the Nile.

Faces more like hippo leather, more like old lizard from the weather
Pinned her to slab by high mind voo doo
Move black arms her mind could not do
And she stiffened tight in terror
As more needles came to scare her.
She felt crunch her bone and gristle, heard an eerie high-pitched whistle.
She felt sure that she was dying
But her mind began untying.
She knew somewhere she was but sleeping
But now her wake dream mind was weeping
As visions came for her safe keeping
Visions far beyond the Nile.

Now in sunlight by the waters, in the rustling reeds and high grass
Used her mother’s old black see glass
To twist her eyes to see the red mark, the red mark behind her ear.
Then her mind in some part dying, then her mind in some part waking
Said deep within her baking,
Said in sun hot blaze awaking,
Said, “Af Tinkanoo, no more tear.”

Feeling mad and sane and stronger, feeling old but much much younger
Af Tinkanoo slept in sunlight
Kept sleeping through the twilight
Sleeping most through half the moonlight
And waking far before the dawn.
And she woke with the feeling, younger older saner stronger
Tying sandals and bright colors
Began her maddened one-one song.

Before dawn she fed new fire, by the hut of her strong Uncle
Cracked grain in gray pot simmered
As new dawn through green leaf glimmered
And she felt the strength of kindred
As she sang her one-one song.
Soon she saw the smile of Uncle, as he wakened to the cooking
The sweet smell of cracked grain simmered
Smile came through beard that he was stroking
As Af Tinkanoo more fire was stoking
Sang Uncle, “Af Tinkanoo, ta ta ta.”

Then she insist to follow Uncle, even though he frown say, “Go back.”
Through the grassy path to arms cache
Where the men would clean the rifles
Arm bandoleers and small grenade packs.
And the men would work and chatter, pass the ammo up the ladder
And blow the bugle, “Taaa Raaa, Ta Ta.”

Some were chosen for the trip south, and her Uncle was among them.
A risky trip to Gulu, in a pick-up truck that fit ten
With packs on bumpers, fenders, side steps,
A trek with risk not taken often.
Af Tinkanoo climbed in truck too, the men laughed for this would not do.
Tried to move her, she resisted,
In luggage rack her arms were twisted
Til they stopped and looked at Uncle
Who frowned and slung his rifle
And then sighed, said “She cook for men.”

Af Tinkanoo sang with motor, and she learned to say “Toyota”
In the dust and on the road ruts
With her hands on luggage rack rust
South to Gulu she was shook.
Noon on second day it took, til driver shouted, “Gulu, look!”
And saw the camps were built part circle
Round bout Gulu in a hook.

But south in big Kampala, by the big green lake in white house
Sits old leader, Museveni, in the mirror he sees blue haze.
He sees gone years in fresh amazement
Gazed back years to old encampments
He thinks back bloody fire fights, and the comradeship through nights,
Knew he screaming of the wounded
Knew he moaning of the dying
Knew the time that he was buying
For the children sharing rifles
Taught them fury of machete, and black grenade and the rifle.

And the faces came before him, in the blue haze, in the white house
Girls and boys who did the fighting, did the killing, did the dying.
And he remembered young girl Tinka
What a fighter! What an eyeful !
And he said, “What came of Tinka?”
Then he remembered. Did more sighing.
For Tinka turned a woman, and Tinka wounded when with child.
With AIDs sickness and with leg wound
Tinka died within the wild.
But he had heard she had a daughter
Who was carried down the waters
Through streams of rushing laughing waters
To ths safety of White Nile.

Tinka held her child in sickness, Tinka held her child as dying.
As in mud hut she lay lying.
Called her brother, “Take her, take her.”
Her voice a raspy murmur pine.
“Oh dear brother, take her, take her,
Just let me smell her one more time.”

As the sun set west of Gulu, sun lit storm clouds west of Gulu
From far west, far west from Dungu
Dark clouds would not let sun through
The men knew soon rain upon them
And they strengthened tents, retied them.
And the council tent of Gulu, re-lashed re-battened for the storm.
Round center fire sat beard old men
Frowns and murmurs through the feathers
While round and round the wizened elders
White teeth flashing by the embers
White teeth, young rifles stood.

Busy women back at cook fires, making sandals from the truck tires
Saw sure rain would come upon them
Rushed to cover, keep dry, wood.
As the full moon rose with darkness, a deep blood moon aside Mars
They sang softly, covered dry wood
As the rain clouds covered stars.
As the rain came Af Tinkanoo left the women, left the dry wood.
Thinking not of rain pour, she left colors, left rain hood.
Af Tinkanoo can’t keep heart still
In a madness runs to council
Walks to old men where she stood.

“One, one, one,” tones Af Tinkanoo, “One, one, one,” one finger up.
Old men pinned in amazement
Watch the young girl’s “One, one, one.”
More she steps up closer, up close in firelight flashed her face
But behind then flashed the lighting
Lit up her small frame with the striking
As one finger points to space.

“One one one, one all the rivers. One one one, one all the trees
One one one, one all the lions. One one one, one all the leaves.
One one one, are all our rifles.
One one one, are all our men.
A-Free-Ka is one one one now. A-Free-Ka is what I am.”
Streatched out hand of wise Aknanan
From his seat of antelope
Wraps Af Tinkanoo in his red robe
Wipes from girl dirt of hard road
Wipes the water from black thin arms
Thinks dark thoughts of her strong all-arms

Down she sits with mortar casings, down she sits with greasy rope.
Down she sits with wise Aknanan
Sits with hard words spoke in hope.
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