Please don’t ask why I need this.

It would be great if the food also made me sweat less.

It has to be something I can easily find.

EDITS FOR CLARIFICATION:

  • I am not planning on partaking in any illegal activities.

  • I do not condone the use of illegal substances and am not planning on smuggling anything anywhere.

  • I am not going on a hiking trip or mailing myself anywhere.

  • I will be staying in a tent (not a small one; a huge with with air conditioning and everything). I will be traveling for five days, returning to my current location on day 3 and traveling again on the last two days. I will not poop on the first three days (hopefully).

  • Clean toilets with all the expected facilities will be available to me. I am not going to poop for reasons that I wish to keep to myself.

  • If it gets bad, like really bad, like a-piece-of-poop-is-literally-halfway-out-my-ass bad, I will use the toilets.

Please stop asking because I am not telling anyone the reason.

  • person@feddit.deEnglish
    28·
    1 year ago

    Sherlock emerges from the shadows of his contemplation, his penetrating gaze alight with a glimmer of the mind’s razor-edged acuity, dancing over the hushed assembly.

    “Ah, a conundrum indeed! But the game is afoot, my good fellows. Let us untangle this web of mystery step by step.”

    He begins to pace, his long fingers steepled in front of him, his sharp gaze distant.

    “Firstly, we must examine the peculiar constraints Mizu has imposed upon himself. He wishes to abstain from the natural act of defecation for three days, intending to consume food that occupies minimal space, while also reducing perspiration. He will stay in a well-equipped tent, with access to adequate sanitation should the need arise, yet he insists he will resist such necessity.”

    He stops, turning sharply on his heel to face the crowd, the dramatic swish of his coat filling the silence.

    “Despite these restrictions, Mizu explicitly denies embarking on a hiking trip or attempting to smuggle contraband. Yet he is engaged in a journey of some kind, returning to his place of origin before embarking on the same route again.”

    He taps his forehead lightly, his gaze thoughtful.

    “The desire to limit perspiration indicates a need to control body odor and moisture - potentially to avoid detection or discomfort. The same logic may apply to his endeavor to restrict bowel movement. This points to a need to stay confined in a small, potentially shared, space for extended periods.”

    He turns away, pacing once more as he traces the threads of the narrative.

    “His choice of diet - minimal and compact - suggests a limited ability to dispose of waste. This, coupled with the significant investment in a large, air-conditioned tent, speaks of a measure of affluence, yet a necessity to live in a manner that does not align with this status.”

    He spins around, eyes gleaming with realization.

    “Consider the pattern of his journey. It is repeated, yet with a sojourn at his original location - a pause that allows for the resumption of normal bodily function.”

    He points at the crowd, his voice ringing out with certainty.

    “Mizu, my dear audience, is not embarking on a mere trip. He is engaging in a performance, a role that demands these unusual conditions. But what performance could that be? Think, ladies and gentlemen, of an endeavor that requires one to remain in a compact, enclosed space for days, sharing it perhaps with others, yet intermittently returning to a home base.”

    His voice drops to a hush, his eyes intense.

    “A role that demands a significant investment in a temporary abode but necessitates confinement in close quarters. A role where control of bodily functions and odors becomes vital. And what is that role, you ask?”

    He raises his arms, his voice echoing dramatically in the silence.

    “Mizu, ladies and gentlemen, is partaking in a competitive reality television show or a similar endeavor. A program that demands participants to live in close proximity, often in limited spaces like a train compartment or a shared tent. This necessitates careful control over body functions to minimize discomfort. The mid-journey return to his origin represents a break in the filming schedule, allowing him to revert to his normal physiological routines before starting the second leg of the journey.”

    He sweeps his arm out, his eyes twinkling with a triumphant gleam.

    “There you have it, my dear fellows. A peculiar request, indeed, but quite understandable under the unforgiving lens of reality television. Not as mundane as a hiking trip, not as nefarious as smuggling, but every bit as demanding.”

    • fragmentcity@lemm.eeEnglish
      111·
      1 year ago

      Hercule Poirot sat in his armchair, eyebrow raised as he read the peculiar Lemmy comment before him. His mustache twitched in amusement at the dramatic flair with which the analysis was presented. He admired the cleverness and relevance to the topic, but couldn’t shake a feeling of familiarity, as if he’d encountered a similar style of writing before.

      The detective leaned back, his mind busy with the details concerning the case brought to him by an anonymous client. The client had claimed that the comment was generated by an LLM, an algorithmic language model, and sought Poirot’s expertise in evaluating the comment’s authenticity. It was a clever observation, but Poirot wondered if such a deduction could truly be made based on the content alone.

      With a thoughtful stroke of his mustache, Poirot dissected the essence of the comment. He noted the grandiose language, the crafted phrases, and the lack of personal touch. It seemed constructed solely to impress, rather than convey genuine insight.

      Poirot’s eyes scanned the room, landing on a shelf of books. He remembered a similar style of writing he’d come across in a novel written by a pretentious author. He retrieved the book, finding a passage that matched the tone of the Lemmy comment.

      “Ah, mon ami,” Poirot muttered, smiling wryly. “It seems our LLM has not proven as original or interesting as they would have us believe.”

      Poirot focused on the motive behind such an endeavor. Why would someone generate a comment that mimicked an author’s style? Perhaps an aspiring writer sought attention or validation.

      With a triumphant glint, Poirot concluded that the motive behind the LLM’s imitation was simply a lack of creativity. The individual had chosen to emulate a well-known author’s style, believing it would garner attention.

      “It seems, mon ami, that even in writing, some are tempted to take shortcuts,” Poirot mused, shaking his head. “But true brilliance lies not in imitation, but in the unique voice and perspective one brings to the table.”

      With that, Hercule Poirot closed the book and returned it to its place on the shelf. He had solved the case of the Lemmy comment, revealing it to be an uninspiring endeavor. Poirot hoped that the aspiring writer behind the LLM would find their own voice and path of genuine creativity.