A historian, a scientist, and a mathematician are sharing a cabin on a train traveling through Scotland. The train suddenly stops, and the conductor announces that the train will be delayed for some time, so they talk to pass the time. As the historian glances out the window, he notices a lone black sheep standing in a field. "Ah, all Scottish sheep are black," he exclaims. The scientist corrects him. "No," she says, "it is far more likely that some Scottish sheep are black, and others are white." They both naturally turn to the mathematician, who silently contemplates the sheep for some time. Eventually, he says, "In this particular field, on this particular day, at this particular time, there exists one sheep that is at least half black."
Meanwhile, a priest walks by, and the group inquires his opinion on the matter. The priest replies, "All Scottish sheep are white, that black one is a forgery made by the devil."
---
Plus: a bonus fallacious proof of the existence of unicorns:
Einstein showed that space and time are closely related.
There was no space before the universe existed.
Thus, there was no time before the universe existed.
Space is infinite.
Therefore, time is also infinite.
Thus, time has always existed.
Thus, before the big bang, time both existed, and didn't exist.
Therefore, if something exists, it also doesn't exist.
Unicorns don't exist.
Thus, unicorns exist.
QED
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Thursday, June 7, 2007
A List of Things
An old guitar with rusty strings and splintered wood.
An old barn, with a single spotlight staring into your soul.
A mangy dog gnawing on a human hand.
The sound of the wind, as great hulking trashcans bound across the street.
The moon, pale and orange, barely hanging onto the sky.
A broken promise, delivered by a broken man.
A smarmy bumper sticker, lying at the bottom of a dirty pond.
The glowing haze of a forest fire, poking its way between the smoky trees.
Spaghetti noodles straddling a storm drain.
A lone streetlight dimly flickering.
A blood-stained trailer with a broken axle.
A children’s toy in a dumpster, excitedly exclaiming, “Hug me!”
The feeling of knowing exactly who you are, and then it disappearing one hour later.
A muddy trail lined with debris.
A cake celebrating your birthday, in a flavor you can’t stand.
A beloved hot dog stand, boarded up and gone forever.
An old man in the park, feeding tacos to the ducks.
A small child, kicked in the face by a break dancer.
A man, a plan, a kind of man-made river planned.
A fashionable brooch of solid green.
A certification of your completion of the seventh grade, dated 79 years before you were born.
An unread book on your shelf that speaks to you perfectly at the moment you finally pick it up.
Losing your voice, and then finding it again.
An old barn, with a single spotlight staring into your soul.
A mangy dog gnawing on a human hand.
The sound of the wind, as great hulking trashcans bound across the street.
The moon, pale and orange, barely hanging onto the sky.
A broken promise, delivered by a broken man.
A smarmy bumper sticker, lying at the bottom of a dirty pond.
The glowing haze of a forest fire, poking its way between the smoky trees.
Spaghetti noodles straddling a storm drain.
A lone streetlight dimly flickering.
A blood-stained trailer with a broken axle.
A children’s toy in a dumpster, excitedly exclaiming, “Hug me!”
The feeling of knowing exactly who you are, and then it disappearing one hour later.
A muddy trail lined with debris.
A cake celebrating your birthday, in a flavor you can’t stand.
A beloved hot dog stand, boarded up and gone forever.
An old man in the park, feeding tacos to the ducks.
A small child, kicked in the face by a break dancer.
A man, a plan, a kind of man-made river planned.
A fashionable brooch of solid green.
A certification of your completion of the seventh grade, dated 79 years before you were born.
An unread book on your shelf that speaks to you perfectly at the moment you finally pick it up.
Losing your voice, and then finding it again.
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