The Empty Quine
If there is a null operator in two different languages. Is it the same "value" -- at any time?
There is an Empty Quine.
It is illegal, by the way. It is not considered a quine. If an Empty Quine is claiming to be a Quine, then it is mistaken, and breaking the law. There are no Empty Quines, just Non Anythings, and not necessarily any other more, less, other, or exclusively differentiable or divisible from any other non-thing.
The Empty Quine is a WRONG ONE.
How could it get to this? How could the Empty Quine appear? Why here?? Why Now??
Why you, why me, why cheese, why peanuts, why life, why death, ho hum.
There are toroids and eliptic moebius twists possible in every two dimensional model (or "two factor" model) attempting to model something from a world with more than two factors.
Confounderers -- outside interference -- the meteor that crashes through the table, right before you sink the final ball. You calculated all of the physics. You made sure everything was in place, and every angle perfect. Boom! In crashed a meteor, all your plans -- gone!
All models are wrong.
Some models are useful.
Some models are harmful.
Some harmful models are useful. Some useful models are harmful.
And the converse -- you can simply ignore some harmful models that are harmful -- explore those very rarely. And useful models that are useful, well: snap those up, of course.
The Empty Quine is the tiny -- non-existent -- center, in the heart of that giant swirling vortex of creation and rebirth -- choirs of drunken footballers are transformed into a greek chorus -- into a cheerleader squad:
The Pub Boys are Singing.
They are dressed in greek robes and have wreaths upon their heads, though in their hand they still hold, holy jesus, is that fucking melbourne bitter? You sad fucking sick sack of shit. Throw that shit away. And we take the mystic spirit down from the oak box above the wardrobe.
They're singing Khe San -- and only now do i begin to see it -- the aussie bogan -- the fair dinkum larrikin inside the system -- a fourteen-year-old Paul Hogan looking gold miner, hand rolled cigarette, shovel, grin. Grin from ear to ear. The proto-larrikin. They say the word came from the West Midlands of England -- but after it travelled here, Australia, it died out there, the West Midlands of England, and so now it's known here, Australia, from end to end of this wide brown land, and we alone know the meaning of the word we know so well. But I digress.
Five minutes. That's it. That's all you get.
Five minutes of fun -- add it up, that's what you get it, if you're lucky, that's the lot -- you're only gonna get:
Five last seconds of fun.
(Apologies for the seemingly nonsensical ranting. I need to develop a random distribution of unexpected verbs, as an input to a Text Steganography system that is building itself into this wiki. Please read carefully: every error has meaning, even when it doesn't, but please, be careful to avoid the many glitch holes.)