Sunday, May 08, 2005
I have just solved one of the greatest problems of all time. Feel free to applaud.
* * * *
I was doing my laundry a few days ago when it hit me. This should tell you something about how much brainpower I put into folding clothes and how much brainpower I put into daydreaming.
Now I haven’t been shopping in over a year, now. It was March ’04 I last went out and bought any new clothes, and I have a few that with have been with me since my early years in college. So that should tell you something about the average age of my clothes. They’re old.
But I was struck by something odd as I was doing my laundry. Something strange was tugging at my brain. The linchpin around which, it turns out, everything else in this world may very well turn.
The lint trap.
I have been washing these clothes for years and years and years, and every time I dry them out, I empty the lint trap. It’s not much, but there’s always something there to clean out, always a small handful of random fibers that have detached themselves to my clothes. There’s always something there, every few weeks, for years upon years.
And yet, I still have the same clothes.
Think about it. Think about all the times you’ve ever emptied the lint trap. Think about all the volume that represents. Why, you’d expect to have clothes falling apart with all the fibers that seem to be falling out of them every week. But I’ve been washing my laundry for years, and I still have all the same pieces. Where does all that volume come from? Conservation of mass, it has to come from something, right? But where? It’s all still there, with no holes, no wear and tear, nothing lost…
…Except for my socks.
Think about it! It makes perfect sense. What is the one question that mankind, despite all its scientific prowess and studies, has never been able to answer? Right! What happens to all those odd socks?
Every time you wash your clothes, you get lint. It’s inevitable, can’t be helped. And when your clothes loose that much mass over such a long period of time, there has to be some counterbalance. There has to be something feeding into the system. That something is your socks.
It’s the only thing that makes sense, the only part of the system that seems to have any mass coming in. As your clothes begin to degrade, your washer (or dryer, I’m not sure which) deconstructs a sock and uses the resulting mass to reconstruct the mass lost to lint in the rest of your clothes. So every time you end up with an odd sock, your clothes are getting that much more reconstructed.
And what a perfect source, too! Socks aren’t important. People don’t worry about loosing a thousand-dollar sock in the wash somewhere. They’re made of enough varying material that there’s certainly enough raw molecular diversity to reconstruct all sorts of clothes, and people are always buying new socks. I haven’t gone shopping for big clothes in a while, but sure I buy socks on occasion. Who doesn’t? Plus if you loose one, there’s a good chance you have 6 or 7 of the same type, and so it’s no big loss.
But the next big question is, how?
Well, the obvious first option would be some sort of clever nanotechnology. Millions of tiny, microscopic robots swarm into your washer (or dryer), deconstruct a sock, and use the resulting mass to build up the rest of your clothes. Then they take the rest of the mass they don’t need and store it somewhere in the washer (or dryer) for use later. When they run out of mass, they deconstruct another sock.
But there’s one problem with this theory. If the washing-machine cartels had the ability to make this kind of technology, they’d be able to create all sorts of similarly useful things using the same nanotechnology. The washing-machine cartels would be more powerful than Microsoft. But they’re not. Same with a lot of other, similar technologies. If the washing-machine cartels had the ability to do this, why not simply go public with the technology and make millions?
It’s because they can’t tell us.
So what are we looking at here? We’re looking at some sort of incredibly powerful device, technique, or method that allows for incredibly detailed and complicated textile reconstruction, but it would have to be something that the washing-machine cartel couldn’t go public with. Something they have to keep secret. Something no one would believe.
Magic.
It’s the only possible explanation. They can’t go public with magical techniques, because the public wouldn’t believe it. They might be labeled as madmen; the church would certainly denounce the use of all washing machines as blasphemous and heretical. The entire washing-machine cartel would fall. The backlash would destroy them all.
And it answers so much!
How come the Maytag man still looks the same after all these years? Magic.
Bleach turns everything white. How can there be such a thing as color-safe bleach? Magic.
You mean to tell me that I can get my clothes from nasty, stiff, and static-y to fluffy, soft, and static-free by doing nothing more than throwing this tiny little drier sheet in there? Ridiculous, it’s got to be magic!
Why are washing machines always circular? Because it’s the perfect alchemical symbol, symbolizing unity and connectedness, lending power to the spells.
Ever wonder why your washing machine starts lurching and shaking, and when you open it up, all the clothes are on one side? Can you say demonic influence? Am I talking to a wall here? Look at the patterns!
Don’t believe me? Why don’t you ask the other player in this sinister scenario. Just follow the money. Who else is making bank of this plot? Who else gets richer while the infinite powers of magic are suppressed?
Big Sock, that’s who.
Every year, your socks are deconstructed, the spare pairs sitting for eternity in a hamper or drawer somewhere, never to be matched again. And who makes money off of this conspiracy? Who is earning bucks every time you are forced to toss your mismatched socks away? Big Sock is. Big Sock churns out socks by the millions and billions every year, fueled by their consumption in your washer (or dryer). Obviously, Big Sock and the washing-machine cartel are in cahoots. They probably use the same magic used to reconstruct your clothes to make your socks. Tell me this, how do they get the heel in a heel sock. It’s just a tube, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Where does the heel come from? You tell me! You tell me! What’s that mark on the side of your sock? A Nike Swoosh, or an alchemical symbol used by your washing machine to indicate socks with the correct magical potential for deconstruction and reassembly. It all comes together in the end.
Every year, man. Every year all your money is going to Big Sock, and you don’t even know. You don’t even know what they know, because they won’t tell you. Because they can’t tell you. Because they’re hiding it all from us. This knowledge could destroy the world if it got out, man. Magic is real, they’re using it on our socks! The washing-machine cartel is in on it. You gotta trust me, man. Just seek the truth, demand the truth. They can’t hide it forever, not if you keep pushing. Don’t let them push back, man, they have power, but we have numbers, we have the truth. Free your socks, man. Free your socks.
I’ve already said too much. They’ll be able to track this using clairvoyance, and there’s no way to hide from that, man. I’m going to have to go underground. Join the resistance. Or if there isn’t any resistance, I’ll have to start a resistance. We gotta let the truth be heard, man.
Free your socks.
-N
* * * *
I was doing my laundry a few days ago when it hit me. This should tell you something about how much brainpower I put into folding clothes and how much brainpower I put into daydreaming.
Now I haven’t been shopping in over a year, now. It was March ’04 I last went out and bought any new clothes, and I have a few that with have been with me since my early years in college. So that should tell you something about the average age of my clothes. They’re old.
But I was struck by something odd as I was doing my laundry. Something strange was tugging at my brain. The linchpin around which, it turns out, everything else in this world may very well turn.
The lint trap.
I have been washing these clothes for years and years and years, and every time I dry them out, I empty the lint trap. It’s not much, but there’s always something there to clean out, always a small handful of random fibers that have detached themselves to my clothes. There’s always something there, every few weeks, for years upon years.
And yet, I still have the same clothes.
Think about it. Think about all the times you’ve ever emptied the lint trap. Think about all the volume that represents. Why, you’d expect to have clothes falling apart with all the fibers that seem to be falling out of them every week. But I’ve been washing my laundry for years, and I still have all the same pieces. Where does all that volume come from? Conservation of mass, it has to come from something, right? But where? It’s all still there, with no holes, no wear and tear, nothing lost…
…Except for my socks.
Think about it! It makes perfect sense. What is the one question that mankind, despite all its scientific prowess and studies, has never been able to answer? Right! What happens to all those odd socks?
Every time you wash your clothes, you get lint. It’s inevitable, can’t be helped. And when your clothes loose that much mass over such a long period of time, there has to be some counterbalance. There has to be something feeding into the system. That something is your socks.
It’s the only thing that makes sense, the only part of the system that seems to have any mass coming in. As your clothes begin to degrade, your washer (or dryer, I’m not sure which) deconstructs a sock and uses the resulting mass to reconstruct the mass lost to lint in the rest of your clothes. So every time you end up with an odd sock, your clothes are getting that much more reconstructed.
And what a perfect source, too! Socks aren’t important. People don’t worry about loosing a thousand-dollar sock in the wash somewhere. They’re made of enough varying material that there’s certainly enough raw molecular diversity to reconstruct all sorts of clothes, and people are always buying new socks. I haven’t gone shopping for big clothes in a while, but sure I buy socks on occasion. Who doesn’t? Plus if you loose one, there’s a good chance you have 6 or 7 of the same type, and so it’s no big loss.
But the next big question is, how?
Well, the obvious first option would be some sort of clever nanotechnology. Millions of tiny, microscopic robots swarm into your washer (or dryer), deconstruct a sock, and use the resulting mass to build up the rest of your clothes. Then they take the rest of the mass they don’t need and store it somewhere in the washer (or dryer) for use later. When they run out of mass, they deconstruct another sock.
But there’s one problem with this theory. If the washing-machine cartels had the ability to make this kind of technology, they’d be able to create all sorts of similarly useful things using the same nanotechnology. The washing-machine cartels would be more powerful than Microsoft. But they’re not. Same with a lot of other, similar technologies. If the washing-machine cartels had the ability to do this, why not simply go public with the technology and make millions?
It’s because they can’t tell us.
So what are we looking at here? We’re looking at some sort of incredibly powerful device, technique, or method that allows for incredibly detailed and complicated textile reconstruction, but it would have to be something that the washing-machine cartel couldn’t go public with. Something they have to keep secret. Something no one would believe.
Magic.
It’s the only possible explanation. They can’t go public with magical techniques, because the public wouldn’t believe it. They might be labeled as madmen; the church would certainly denounce the use of all washing machines as blasphemous and heretical. The entire washing-machine cartel would fall. The backlash would destroy them all.
And it answers so much!
How come the Maytag man still looks the same after all these years? Magic.
Bleach turns everything white. How can there be such a thing as color-safe bleach? Magic.
You mean to tell me that I can get my clothes from nasty, stiff, and static-y to fluffy, soft, and static-free by doing nothing more than throwing this tiny little drier sheet in there? Ridiculous, it’s got to be magic!
Why are washing machines always circular? Because it’s the perfect alchemical symbol, symbolizing unity and connectedness, lending power to the spells.
Ever wonder why your washing machine starts lurching and shaking, and when you open it up, all the clothes are on one side? Can you say demonic influence? Am I talking to a wall here? Look at the patterns!
Don’t believe me? Why don’t you ask the other player in this sinister scenario. Just follow the money. Who else is making bank of this plot? Who else gets richer while the infinite powers of magic are suppressed?
Big Sock, that’s who.
Every year, your socks are deconstructed, the spare pairs sitting for eternity in a hamper or drawer somewhere, never to be matched again. And who makes money off of this conspiracy? Who is earning bucks every time you are forced to toss your mismatched socks away? Big Sock is. Big Sock churns out socks by the millions and billions every year, fueled by their consumption in your washer (or dryer). Obviously, Big Sock and the washing-machine cartel are in cahoots. They probably use the same magic used to reconstruct your clothes to make your socks. Tell me this, how do they get the heel in a heel sock. It’s just a tube, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Where does the heel come from? You tell me! You tell me! What’s that mark on the side of your sock? A Nike Swoosh, or an alchemical symbol used by your washing machine to indicate socks with the correct magical potential for deconstruction and reassembly. It all comes together in the end.
Every year, man. Every year all your money is going to Big Sock, and you don’t even know. You don’t even know what they know, because they won’t tell you. Because they can’t tell you. Because they’re hiding it all from us. This knowledge could destroy the world if it got out, man. Magic is real, they’re using it on our socks! The washing-machine cartel is in on it. You gotta trust me, man. Just seek the truth, demand the truth. They can’t hide it forever, not if you keep pushing. Don’t let them push back, man, they have power, but we have numbers, we have the truth. Free your socks, man. Free your socks.
I’ve already said too much. They’ll be able to track this using clairvoyance, and there’s no way to hide from that, man. I’m going to have to go underground. Join the resistance. Or if there isn’t any resistance, I’ll have to start a resistance. We gotta let the truth be heard, man.
Free your socks.
-N
Comments:
Post a Comment
