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YA GOT PUNK'D. Well, you see, you know how I shot my load so hard in the last exercise over it being super short that I spelled "LOL" in semen on my bedroom wall? Well, if you prick at the dried wallcum, collect in a bowl, and eat the plasperm like ground mozzarella cheese, then you have, I would say, completely wasted your time (i.e. opening the html to read the text is not worth it). And even worse: The following cum art piece (i.e. this exercise. this blog actually isn't math but a postmodernist mueseum) is EVEN SHORTER.

See: Let's say you had a variety on the left and a variety on the right. And let's say you had a morphism between them. Now let's say you take subvarities of the left and right, such that the image of the morphism on the left subvariety is contained in the right subvariety. Now restrict the morphism. Is it still a morphism?

The answer is yes. It takes 2 minutes to show this. Now what if you add the extra condition on the morphism like this exercise does? Now the right variety is a subvariety of the left. Does the answer change? OF COURSE NOT, because this is just a specific case of what I was talking about.

So what exactly is the point of this exercise? What's with this condition that Y is a subvariety of X? I was confused while doing this not because it was too difficult, but too easy.

Listen: You may find yourself standing on dimly lit cobblestone echoing a euphoric rumble, hands-in-pockets, head down, deciding whether to get on to the next one or up hoard and put stay. Easy, difficult, yay, nay? A person needs sleep, but not always, eh? And why forfeit the chance of finally finding your way on this receding day? The ritual is irrational, but if true happiness may be but an ache away? And ruin just a nap gone astray? An opportunity, or a loose stack of hay? Perhaps the cobblestone is a stream, and you can fish for an "Are you okay?" Or maybe a pixie, whose shoulder on which to lay? Or maybe just the hint of a beginning, a simple "Hey". And are we standing on cobblestone, or the foot of May? Time to walk, lest this month go away. But wait, what about play? And thus: immobility comes back into the fray. Dizzying time, life being flayed. The cobblestone starts to look gray. Minutes pass and the the day dims, anticipating the inevitable morning ray. Day and night, night and day, we stand here arrested, deliberating on the FUCK THIS LET'S JUST LOOK AT THE SOLUTION YOLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


LOL. Ok. Cya next time.