Yoshio
From there, thought Yoshio, while placing the paper in the section of his file cabinet devoted to the storage of unpublished manuscripts, it did not take much to elucidate the atmospheric analogue to Planck's law. And from that derivation it was only a small step to the realization that, microscopically speaking, the demon is involved in effecting a twist from real angular momentum to complex angular momentum: the ubiquitous role of the square root of minus one. Twistors are the quantization of the temporal curl! One quite definitely begins to entertain the idea that the only thing that disappears down a blackhole is the ego-complex.He picked up the sheet of paper containing the comments of the second reviewer concerning his paper recently returned by the German journal, and began to read. "The paper is wrong technically and also very poorly written. I recommend unconditional rejection. (1) The analogy to Maxwell's equations is specious and patently incorrect. For example, this 'analogue' states that the geostrophic and ageostrophic velocity fields each satisfy the classical three-dimensional wave equation. With the exception of high frequency sound waves, no atmospheric hydrodynamic motion fields satisfy this equation." You couldn't be more right, thought Yoshio. "The postulated applicability of these equations is therefore impossible, and the author's attempt to use a short cut to explain interaction between geostrophic and nongeostrophic fields is simply not believable." You couldn't be more wrong, thought Yoshio. But the man must be given credit; at least he tried to read the paper. "(2) The reference to the Lorenz contraction in section 2.1.5 is meaningless since that equation does not a priori apply to ordinary nonrelativistic hydrodynamical processes. Starr's water wave relation is an analogy to Einstein's equation only as a pure dimensional coincidence." A priori! Coincidence! My God! Yoshio burst into loud belly laughter, honkered like dame-Jeanne guzzling from a demijohn, and bounced in his chair to the rhythm of the guffaws. Was he seriously to try to communicate with such numskulls? Meteorological misogyny? Hmmmm. Certainly, we couldn't talk about contractions in relation to tornadoes, not in the face of rhythmic pulsations rippling the walls of these cosmic vaginas: acoustically modified gravity waves. Threatening, this pagan vaginal Taoism. He laughed some more, jibing back and forth, chittering and clicking like a fruit bat stepped upon by a lady leaving the shower.
There was another knock at the door. Hollow, echoing, insistent. A spiny-haired hedgehog's call to the fox, tintinnabulating heinous halls like a tragedian's hectoring lament.