Saturday, November 19, 2016

containment

It is not possible, within one language, for two names to refer to the same thing. If there are two names, they refer to different things, even though each thing may be part of the other, as is often the case, the case which causes confusion (not because of any fault in it).

At the same time, one name cannot denote two different things, with one fundamental exception.

In the course of my thinking, years ago, I encountered this fundamental exception, and named it container theory. I described the exception to someone, and told them what I had named it, and they looked it up and found that it is an established theory already.

Things are comprised of parts, in every case, and the parts of a thing are things. The two things, then, are both called a thing, and the parts of the part are things, to infinity. Also, every thing is part of some thing, and that thing is part of some thing, to infinity. (This is simply an observation, or rather, an interpretation of an observation.)

A function is a string, and it becomes necessary to me, for a certain purpose, to automate the identification, within the string that is a function, that portion of the string which is the function's name.

Every function is part of another function. A program can call functions declared in its parent, which is the web, and it can call functions declared within itself, as long as they are its children, and not descendants of its children. These rules apply to functions generally. I proved this experimentally (in JavaScript): if a function calls a function with a certain name, and a function has been declared within it by that name, that function is called, but if there is no function by that name declared in it by that name, a function declared in its parent by that name is called.

We are therefore required to indicate, in the visualization of a function, if we are operating by a certain rule, whether the function is called within the function or within its parent. We could do this with a color.

Google passes the following test with flying colors: what is the opposite of italicization.

There was just now a bang, the sound of two bubbles, followed by a long squeal of tires. Ouch. Shit. Did I cause the accident by being overexcited and not paying attention? This was off in the distance, a mile outside of the leafy bounds of my quiet, sunny garden. It's a Saturday, an easy morning with little happening. I'm working outside, in my gazebo office. It was cold, bitterly, last night, but around nine it became warm and lovely. Fortunately, it did not sound extremely severe.