Carl Sagan was a great guy. With all the idiots on this Earth the odds of someone like him coming into being seem almost impossibly small. Therein lies a parallelogramme of sorts.
Because he postulated that the scale of the universe was so huge, yet so small, that when we descend to the level of an electron, that "within it, organized into the local equivalent of galaxies and smaller structures, are an immense number of other, much tinier elementary particles, which are themselves universes at the next level, and so on forever -- an infinite downward regression, universes within universes, endlessly. And upwards as well."
But guess what: the probability that you have one atom of Carl Sagan's dead body inside you right this minute rides at about 99.999999999%.
Isn't that downright creepy?
Well, when we go into that good great night, ya gotta admit that your atoms are going to disperse, right? But at the same time they ain't goin' anywhere. They're just going to recombine in a different configuration. Ya copying here?
"So long, Willie, it's been great fun getting together -- maybe I'll see you in somebody else's asshole someday. Be sure and stop by for a drink, huh? And don't bring that electron you been hangin' round with this time, you hear? Just a no-good dishrag, always negative. Find a nice positive Higgs' Boson for a change."
Well, let me tell you I'm tired of swapping large-particle hadrons with Olivia Newton-John. Can't they all just go home and forget they'll be around until Mac Davis wins on Jeopardy?
Which is the possibility of, around 0.000000000000000000000000000001 x how many socks I've lost in my life.
Christ, I think I just inhaled one of your atoms. Go home, take a bath this time and don't come round here no more.
No comments:
Post a Comment