I get out there. Why not? I breathe it all the way in.
I have heard arguments against abiogenesis, but there is no mutual exclusivity in any contrarian artifice. I have posted about this topic previously, but I misspelled the word as ‘abiogenetic’. WordPress suggested I spellcheck the word, praise be. I wasn’t conscious of misspelling it.
It might be the wrong spelling AND wrong theory, but it could happen anyways alongside the correct theory. So, given the proper environment, an abiogenic creature that is replicating could emerge to form a relationship with a ‘real life form’.
What would an abiogenic form of life look like? Prokaryotic wriggling turds, cooked in the phase space and physical space deep caverns subjected to millenia of regular heating and cooling, regular changes in pressure, in osmotic cycles, oolitic agitation, distributions, access to clays, in the random accretion of growing crystals such as exposure to jets of mineralized water at thermal vents, or from within deep caves foundering in a shuddering and angry caldera. because contrary theories do not necessarily disprove abiogenesis. Motility from wriggling hair-like cilia living and dying in a liquid environment, stuff that floats like plankton, simple machines and forms. So it would look like stuff you could find buried in the earth or at the bottom of the sea.
Life comes from somewhere else? If life comes from ‘some other place’ then what place? If so, how then did it originate in that place? Were our progenitors dialing and muscling us into shape with molecular tweezers under the control of a mildly distracted and non-plussed jailed superbeing serving time for public defecation in a worm hole? That sounds like work to me. Heavens! It would be so much easier to let nature take its course. On Mars, for example, they been making bacon pancakes, love, war, babies and liquor babies for about 285, ’90 years. Who knew?
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3718341/.
Clays are fuel for abiogenic theory. If you ever felt that mountain of mashed potatoes on your dining room table hasn’t driven away your concerned and frightened bourgie family, then you have not created the 3D sigil placed in your wetware yethttps://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3718341/
Are we in a classy simulation? If so, how could our toy universe be benefiting the life cycle of a being that has a floquetian form, instead of the clock defined by atomic numbers on the periodical chart but by the periodic interference pattern of supergravity waves affecting the Local Group and is composed of particles that would be on the scale of Ort clouds? What would a robot be if it were to ‘ingest’ all systems down to their quantum Floquetian time crystal structures and whatnot.
What we would register as a ‘passing gravity wave’ is, in a higher dimension, something similar to the lepton signature created for every electrochemical discharge within a nervous system. In terms of leptons, it would be like discovering the muonic periodicity of a floquetian consciousness locked within the quantum system of our body through an unknown process?
What was this ‘place’ before it was used to form a simulation? What if it part of a system of intergalactic Lagrangian points that release a vibration too subtle to be detected, too complex, dense, and fast to even be considered time-like in propagation, unable to fade, not tidal, but turbulent, ghosts of tsunamis past.
Something found a way to make ghosts into spaghettified Van Der Waal floquetian noospheres made of non-local quantum gasses subject to distribution peaks that serve a yet-more complex an unknowable prior system, and so forth until we pierce the arrow of time with itself like a fat earlobe at the mall. I always think of our universe as a ray emanating from the same source that is essentially co-local, indeterminant. Golems go all the way down.
We are the memory of vibrations on an earring of a being that uses a biological computer within a trusted electrochemical sensor pathway as a way to find stone-ground buttered grits only with its ‘eyes’ in New Hampshire in June. It’s that rare. If they even knew what those grits smelled like, they could have found them faster. Something they tune out. We did not know bats ‘see with their ears’ for many centuries. Stuff like that bothers me. Spare me the Ptolemaic. Black Holes are farting my friend, and I am not bald. Do you understand me?
Possibly the ability for consciousness to ‘screen out’ input from the interior and exterior environment paves the way for a galactic parasitism that harvests ‘time-like’ phases of vibrations in material objects at a rate of change that are essentially, again, arbitrary when it comes to frequency or anything isotropic to time-like and space-like computational structures.
My cat just threw up a hairball cartridge within a large extrusion of barely chewed kibble vomit onto the hardwood floor. Given my use of throw rugs, I considered it polite of my cat to throw up directly at me upon the easiest surface to clean. Like, here you go, this is easy, dude! Cats also don’t care if you watch them take a dump. It could be a form of virtue signaling. I’m trying to paint, and a crapping feline is staring directly at me. The prophesy! I will buy incense.
If it, this ‘master frequency’ that knits the world together in a time-like phase is an assemblage of nonlocalized elements, yet is somehow locally real in this dimension, like a soliton locked in phase, then who dis? What if binary black hole systems are ‘timelike’ nodes of an imponderably complex ‘dimension’, or a measurable phenomenon that gives us information about Dark Energy or other universes, a ‘more inclusive but ephemeral system’. Just another Oort cloud. It’s Langrangian points in Oort clouds all the way up. I feel like discursions such as this arrive at a point of indeterminacy where increased frequency of phrasing of the topic leads to a bottleneck of ‘closed quote’ overloading. I lose interest in the original topic altogether and I am swimming free like shine on a bald head.
Swimming in a simulacrum. My cat threw up a third time within 24 hours. According to my fake accent, that makes me a wizard, so my work here is done.
Namaste. Now breathe out.
I hear you talking but your lips aint moving!
Fifty State Banana 