|Kirkwall, May 2022|
|The conjecture was proven in 1999 by mathematician Thomas C. Hales.|
Equality is attained for the regular hexagonal tile.
The first record of the conjecture is attributed to Marcus Terentius Varro, around 36 BC, and in the 17th century Jan Brozek used it to explain why bees create hexagonal honeycombs. Dr. Brian Smile told us that it is part of the deep structure of the universe, occurring absofuckinglutely everywhere. That being the case, there's something not pragmatic, mechanical and material going on and I do hope that they stop messing about with the Hadron Collider and just let us get on with our Penis Worship.
Here's mr ishmael on deep structure matters:
It is the tiniest, most infinitesimally small particle, a truly amazingly small scrap of matter that not even the most amazingly powerful nuclear-powered laser microscope would ever of been able of seeing with the naked eye, said Professor Brian Smile of the BBC and D'Ream, below, and of the Large Handheld Kettle. Or whatever.
....and I just think it's all, well, wonderful, really,
I mean, I've had a number one record,
they gimme a medal, the Queen did,
and I'm never off the telly...
The ghastly and over-exposed Brian Cox,
silhouetted atop all the world's mountain peaks,
mr bungalow bill and I, at the very least, had been keenly anticipating BBC4's Secrets of Quantum Physics, presented by this fellow.
Dr/Professor/Guru Jim al Khalili is, it turns out, a vain gabshite. Whether or not he was making sense of quantum physics cannot be known, can it? That is the point of it. Or the pointlessness of it, as you will. It almost seems heretical to even attempt to explain the inexplicable, to know the unknowable, as the scriptures have it.
Jim, though, in his universe, is infinitely capable and strove last night not to provoke or encourage but simply to entertain, to seduce. I have the books he mentioned - The Dancing Wu-Li Masters and the Tao of Physics and three minutes sat on the loo, glancing at them, would be more educational than a month of Jim and his showbiz bollocks.
Knowledge, now, of course, is digitised into little cubes of shit, Tweets and re-Tweets, people's minds too full of vanity-dribblings to tackle proper thinking, no attention span, no mental shelf-space, as I heard it termed recently, their imaginations handed-over, freely, to slab-faced, creepy, brain-dead American mutants.
|Mr Mark Faceberg. Trust Me, I want to own all your lives.|
Jim rode around, fitly, on his bike, to demonstrate power fluctuations in his dynamo-driven cycle lamp and thus the discovery of the quantum photon; Jim dived, fitly, into a wave-generating pool to demonstrate the differing powers of small and large waves. And Jim sauntered, fitly, through what was meant to be a nineteen-twenties jazz club but which actually resembled the studio of BBC Radio Four's Loose Ends show, the one in which Clive Anderson smirks and smarms and hisses and introduces terribly intelligent musicians playing terribly unlistenable-to music. I think it was at this jazzpoint that Jim mentioned Charlie Chaplin being at the height of his powers. Throughout, Jim seemed to want to climb through the screen at us, so close were his close-ups, so intense his cloudy summaries. It was all dreadfully Telly.
The thread running through last night's episode was the argument between Bohr and Einstein about the nature of physical reality, about its former certainties being compromised by the discovery and understanding of particles or quantums - quanta; by the belief that the mere observation of sub-atomic particles changed them or indeed, might have called them into being. This is a delightful conundrum, one which has enchanted me for some years, now, since I read those books, maybe before Jim did. I do not, however, need it proving or disproving.
Unsurprisingly, Jim's analagous demonstrations and his experiments with the tin-cans and the cardsharp - and eventually with laser beams - brought him down on the side of Bohr, a position, among scientists, common since the nineteen-forties, when everyone, of course, was at the height of their powers and one most laboriously and archly arrived at in last night's show.
Once, there was God, who said it was not for us to know, simply to obey. In my lifetime it is the BigBang we have sought to know,
to photograph, back through time. I never understand that shit, photographing stuff that isn't there, now. Clever people have told us that Stuff just came, in an instant, from nowhere, and nodding, as though we had understood, we have believed.
We have believed that once there was no time, no space, no matter, it all just invented itself. Yes, Stuff from non-stuff, everything from nothing, as hard to believe, as God, Himself, but Hey, that's what we're good at, believing shit.
Now, many of those - let's call them Jims - who once worshiped the BigBang are saying, Hang About, these Black Holes,
and there are gazillions of the fucking things, what they tell us, the BlackHoles, is that there's actually shitloads of universes, popping in and out of each other, in, well, in BigBang moments; so, all that stuff, which, just like QE money, popped into existence, well, it actually just slipped-in ready-made, from next door, sort of thing, kinda. No, you don't have to believe that NoTime, NoMatter shit any more. We gotta new one for you.
The Jims, you see, they'll fuck you up; NASA, the Hadron Collider, Hubble, it's all they wanna do, is fuck with your head, like priests, shamans, witch doctors, fucking Druids, they are all the same. The Jims want you to believe, for instance, there must be what they call intelligent Life, somewhere, and that we can find it. The reason they say that there must be is because they want there to be, not very scientific. A proper scientist would say, Well, fuck me, even if there were to be folks like us, maybe green, maybe with eight arms, whatever, but communicable-with, maybe there is a planet somewhere with exactly the same multiplicity of accidental circumstances as led to Life on Earth - y'know, a planet circling a sun burning at just exactly the right temperature at exactly the right distance, a moon of exactly the right size and gravitational pull and all the trillions of accidental chemical and physical combinations necessary to create amoeba and then all the accidental geological, climatological and horticultural conditions necessary for the growth, survival and ascent of species, only one of which has an opposable thumb and can do technology, thinking, speech, fire, the wheel, transport and the storage and retrieval of information, and eats and tortures all the other species, even if there are all those trillions of improbabilities, even if they all do happen elsewhere, there is no reason for them to be there just now, right now, in this infinitesimally tiny split second of time which we inhabit, is there? Pushing it a bit, don't you think? Makes more sense to just believe in God, than in all that horseshit.
Some people can do TeeVee, recently, AN Wilson has been one such; Waldemar Jabberwocky and Matthew Collings, in the arts; engage, inform and entertain without becoming the show, without getting in the way.
Jim, for his part, was glutinous showbiz porridge.
|Let Me entertain you|