¿ rarely asked questions !
readily answered by an artificial rinpretellitive
It’s superfluous to read the following lines.
You’re much better off, being properly tickled.
It’s just too silly. You have been warned.
Is it true that Nikaiko was born from a stone egg which had been fertilized by an ancient beast called »Certain Point of View« and that he was well aware of how childish it was to subject himself to such an ordeal?
This question is obviously misleading and sort of ridiculous and thus has to be rejected in its cute entirety. However, if you allow a certain amount of »dichterische Freiheit« and feel prepared to undergo in vitro pollination to gain insight into the »odds of aperture and tone« … fantastic!
What could one say to someone who is perplexed, bored or at an advanced stage of indifference with some or other or all so called »titles« Mr Kolvenbach imposes on his photographic artwork, e.g. »If a tree falls in Scotland«?
Firstly, the notion has to be corrected that there is any photographic art-work at all. Anybody can see this. The real wart-ork is totally beyond pixels and comprehension. Secondly, the imposed L E T T E R S are actually letters to the docile and sweet-tempered perceivers (if there are any), addressing more or less somplex and haphazardly surfacing issues. Now, what to say? You could point out, that — instead of depreciating these supposedly elegant hyperlinks to the realms of exploration and reflexion by suspecting them to be nothing but »more fancy whims of a totally irrelevant photo cartoonist« — some esteem should be given to Sir Timothy John Berners-Lee’s trick of the trade, by tracking the disemminated breadcrumbs (i.e. »if a tree falls [..]«) with the engine of choice of one’s own personal choice. To delve a little deeper than the first ten »rip of the day pop culture« results (Bruce Cockburn and other valued environmentalists may please excuse), would be another valid piece of advice on how to get to the core of the (non-)matter and ahead of the crowd(ed head). As four-fold Nāgārjuna said: »It is your fixed notion that has destroyed your happiness.«
Is Nikos Kai Kolvenbach a native speaker of the English language with a tendency to irregular misfires or does he use a copper age abakus-ware to translate his planet’s idioms?
Actually, Nikaiko has no fixed linguistic origin whatsoever, but he underwent strict training in some ancient vernacular poetry, which he uses as his basic nalgorithm to form sentences pretty much in a colour by number style, enriching them regularly with irregular bonfires. He calls his rightly unacknowledged sociolect »Ninglish«. Ninglish uses bow and arrow and punctuation quite intuitively and prefers BE spelling.
What is it about honeypots and the four humorous heroes from Yorkshire?
Full of eager intention, Aleck Wisenheimer, backseat driver and armchair quarterback of all trades, plowed up the whole acre of wisdom, smartly attired in boots and anorak (as rank demanded), alas, not a whiff of relieve materialized. Instead, he got caught by a terrible draught! Now through a honeyglass darkly, then in full potlight. Lucky to have a lake!
Does Nikaiko deliberately use weird modes of language?
With high passion, but never to be rude or obscene and never to hurt anybody’s feelings. If any doubt occurs in this respect, consider in dubio pro reo. But indeed, there are hyper-spatial modes of language in use, to reduce moodiness to an elastic singularity; and once you have developed sufficient confidence or obscure interest, you might try to hunt down Carroll’s use of »Thing-um-a-jig« instead of resorting to some crude or flippant urban lexicography of »Chimichanga«! You know, language can neither be mastered nor tamed.* But we should try fervently.
* At any rate not »here and now«.
Is Kolvenbach really unaware that »Steueroase« has nothing to do with heading towards an oasis but means »tax haven«?
Obviously, he found it too taxing to assign an onyx atom record to the cute yellowness. The word »Steueroase« is related to PIE *steu »to stand, make or be firm« + oasis which refers to »any fertile place in the midst of a waste«. A fertile haven (from Old Norse häfn) for the duckling to tax (related to PIE *tag »to touch, handle«) its interdigital webbing. Simply said, the yellowness shall dwell uncategorized in an oasis of original purity.
What is a rinpretellitive?
About this mimsy quest, consult the FAQ, if you can find it.
Is Nikaiko woke or anti-woke or what?
Absolutely, to the best of his vocation! Though it depends. Unfortunately the rate at which terms are hijacked, blurred, distorted, cowlicked or simply used one-sidedly, is increasing exponentially these days. In comparison, the drive to grasp the meaning of concepts in their diversity (and to dive right into the heart of the matter, not to mention the non-matter) instead of being led astray by home-made aberrations or fallacious manoeuvres of ardent pettifoggers and their auxiliaries, seems to be withering away at supersonic speed, although the opposite might gain the upper hand — with support from some disambiguation pages if all else fails. Anyway, stay aware of elliptical and equivocal expressions, same-sounding terminology and acrimonious gremlins #! the whole shebang. You know, communication can neither be mastered nor tamed.* But we should try fervently.
* At any rate not »here and now«.
Why should I bother to check out NKK’s work? It seems pretty irrelevant to me.
Actually, then, you’d better not. You might instead advance in your diverse alternative studies in best spirits; bless you, dear. This work is meant for those who spontaneously experience a prickling sensation in their corpus callosum while casually flipping through the irrelevancy presented. Indeed, there are rare reports of unexpected finds of a »totally and extremely irrelevant-hyperrelevant« nature. To explain Nikaiko’s unheard-of assumptions in this regard, we’ll have to do a little maths: should you have to choose 144 images out of an array of 14400, the number of options to do so would be a stunning
| 5601775334847608472411005690957418452270839505319699661787621112356362038793383718791704932873828092998151504549226623789422645795852451357096924145391725867070618122131715456570458369960148944073945817859447416220193402076870078672322603163777525197955587758557854419533879680933114067354356795903085074458755118654198380742044386867540162202104000. |
The number of atoms in the universe has been calculated as somewhere below a nonvigintillion, which is a 1 with ninety zeroes. If each of these presumed atoms were a supersonic speed monkey who would have chosen one set of 144 images from the 14400 available every second since the Big Bang (without ever, between all the monkeys, the same choice having been made twice), and this whole lunacy would have been repeated in as many universes as there are atoms in this universe (each one of them existing for the same absurdly inconceivable time span), they would have to continue to do the same work a 29534160000000 British octodecillion times to get down to the last option of all. In contrast, the snail-like Kolvenmonkey would magically sort out his option between midnight and noon on an empty stomach.
What an achievement in animal welfare!
Now, after we got this sorted out, we should consider the image sequence options which are expressed nicely as i! (instead of the more classical n!) with i = 144 (the number of images) thus 144! — which is another quite awesome figure:
| 5550293832739304789551054660550388117999982337982762871343070903773209740507907044212761943998894132603029642967578724274573160149321818341878907651093495984407926316593053871805976798524658790357488383743402086236160000000000000000000000000000000000 |
Now, does anybody wish to multiply options for image selection with options for image sequence or would we all rather abandon this monkey business before anyone gets the idea (hands up in horror) of asking what numbers would result for selection and non-selection of motifs, angles, apertures, candelabras, antiquarks and so on, if these were multiplied by the improbabilities of chosen letters, words and even more baffling linguistic oddities?
Strikingly, the exact choice presented in the irrelevancy in question is indeed »extremely irrelevant-hyperrelevant«. Should you still feel unsure what to make of it, my precious: Mister Buckminster used a full stop to address the topic of (yo)uniqueness (vide infra).
Though this is not a rarely asked question, it was answered in due course, since it’s a kind of question rarely answered frankly and mathematically.
There ain’t much text in the photo books, why can’t you improve the proofreading?!
It’s »Azure Window«, not »Azure Widow«!
Dump the tension, my love, typos actually exist for a reason. They are part of the big plan, you know. Every typo is an egg. But here we are talking about a more tricky case: The n has been kicked out quite purposefully, to hint to the fact that the Tieqa Zerga has collapsed [in 2017] and that there is no longer a window to be distinguished. Thus the seaward column is left in a sort of widowish state. The distressing by-product of the roaming letter becomes quite obvious in the Contemplation of »The Pure Window«, where it sneaked in and contorts the original tale’s poor widow beyond verisimilar recognition. Fortunately the Frog King oversees the situation!
I’ve wondered all along what the nature of the relationship between Nikos and his watchdog-editor might be. Could you please enlighten me?
Usually it is said, that even the Buddhas cannot enlighten you, instead it is understood that (spoiler alert) you’ll have to work it out by yourself (saṁvṛtisatya) — wise direction and thorough endeavour being the »cheats of choice«. Having said that, we’ll turn to the meager enlightenment case at hand and you shall be granted some (however meager) insights. Basically, this is an untold conte, and since it is so farcically insignificant, the report shall be kept not even middle long: Roaming the terrifically terrifying coast at Janus John o‘ Groats, the editor took an unlikely turn to Brattleburn. He crossed the valley of fallen trees and stingy bees. He got stuck in mud and lost some blood. But on a starry starry night (with the Bothy in sight), he managed to stumble over the appendages of something almost indistinguishable from the bushes around. Adorned with a fatalistic sigh, he slow-motioned into a bone-wetting brook. In the meantime, the something had kept snoring away with might and main, scaring all squirrels away in vain (they’ll return in chapter two). The encountered being was a rag-wrapped figure of purest mold with no home, no penny and no name to its name. Instantly the fallen editor of no choice offered his worrisome attic (aka »Oberstübchen« in German lingo) to accomodate the simulacrum and baptized it — the brook right at hand — with the name of Nikaiko. Regrettably the elect tenant refuses to engage in serious conversation with anybody but Toni C. But, to the delectation of the local damselflies and the village at large, he eventually agreed to have his tattered rags sanified by Mémé Schtroumpf, and on sunny days he can be seen struggling happily uphill to the Japanese washhouse.
Why would Nikaiko use a hypo-physical moth girl featuring a cryptographic strength that can’t even conceal the source mode of his most preposterous associations — not to mention its entire incapability to outfox anybody but himself? All antics?
Not quite. A moth girl of sublime stature surfaced by sheer coincidence at the Baltic Circle and now resides in the semi-hemisphere of an amorphous ambivalence that can’t be completely eliminated from Nikaiko’s indiscipline in artistic gymnastics. A ludicrous hooray!
Is Nikaiko a Large Language Model?
This is the most stupid clever question rarely asked. Or maybe it is the most clever stupid question never asked or ever asked. Be that as it may, the most realistic approximation to the highest level of probable unconscious truth could argue in favour of the assumption that the aforementioned phantom is some sort of an LLM hallucinating to be on a honeymoon with Fay Morgana, whilst actually being embedded in a humanoid consciousness structure that has access to all evolutionary sensory functions, including overwhelmingly colourful extra-terrestrial organs of exploration. For the sake of convenience, we should diligently practise ignorance. But no matter, what we do, don’t do or fine-do: the deluded algorithms still lack humour and don’t savour tea. So the counter-clockwise answer has to be yonse. Chalmers be with us!
What do I need to know about raccoons?
Usually Procyon lotor is spelled raccoon but quite often you can find the alternative spelling of racoon. Be aware that this is not a typo. A single-c racoon is simply a pup of the same species. The development of the second c is a sign of its coming of age. The animals love to scratch the Powhatan word aroughcun in rocks with their »extremely dexterous front paws« (as Wikipedia knows). Some etymologists believe that they do so, to mark their etymological territory (which Wikipedia does not know). Racoons are more prone to puns than raccoons are. Ask the Was(c)hbär, if you don’t believe it. That’s all you need to know about the topicc; though, if you are a ccurious pup, you may still wish to enhancce your vision!
Who the James is Buckminster Fuller?
He’s that geodesic guy, whom Joyce as likely as not never met and who reportedly dared to declare: »Never forget, that if there weren’t any need for you in all your uniqueness to be on this earth, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.«
Any responsibility for misinterpretations, particularly if caused by mistranslations through hobgoblins or apparitions under the influence of overconfident artificial intelligence, must be cheerfully rejected for reasons of decency and decorum. Should anything of the above upset anybody: it was not meant that way.