The shoemaker has misplaced some elves
Nov. 29th, 2005 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
philenaOr else the transvestite from Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (which I have never read, but which reference I am capable of making thanks to my mother) got bored. Observe:
1. Brown belt: two extra holes punched, another one is necessary
2. Black belt: fits the way it did when I bought it
Note: The two belts were identical when purchased
3. Blue jeans: loose-ish to normal
4. Er . . . supportive undergarments: tighter than normal
5. Other supportive undergarments: entirely normal
6. Shoes: entirely normal
I could of course only take into account the evidence afforded by points 1, 3, and 4, and conclude that my body is becoming that of a supermodel. Such things have been known to happen, with the obvious example of the ex-girlfriend in the classic David Bischoff science fiction book A Personal Demon. Points 2 and 5, however, as well as any mirror, suggest that such a conclusion is premature and unwarranted. We will therefore consider the larger picture.
My first year in college, I observed that my pants were shrinking in the wash. My second year, after I had mono, I observed that they were stretching in the wash. By my third year I had decided that perhaps the cause of these variations resided in myself, not the washing machine; but the extra evidence given this year, my fourth year, added to the fact that I never wash my belts, leads me to a final conclusion, all the more likely for having been reached by the path of maximal evidence. I conclude, therefore, that, along with little men with hammers in my radiator, there are also gnomes in my closet, lavishly equipped with all the various accouterments necessary to seamgnomestresses.
1. Brown belt: two extra holes punched, another one is necessary
2. Black belt: fits the way it did when I bought it
Note: The two belts were identical when purchased
3. Blue jeans: loose-ish to normal
4. Er . . . supportive undergarments: tighter than normal
5. Other supportive undergarments: entirely normal
6. Shoes: entirely normal
I could of course only take into account the evidence afforded by points 1, 3, and 4, and conclude that my body is becoming that of a supermodel. Such things have been known to happen, with the obvious example of the ex-girlfriend in the classic David Bischoff science fiction book A Personal Demon. Points 2 and 5, however, as well as any mirror, suggest that such a conclusion is premature and unwarranted. We will therefore consider the larger picture.
My first year in college, I observed that my pants were shrinking in the wash. My second year, after I had mono, I observed that they were stretching in the wash. By my third year I had decided that perhaps the cause of these variations resided in myself, not the washing machine; but the extra evidence given this year, my fourth year, added to the fact that I never wash my belts, leads me to a final conclusion, all the more likely for having been reached by the path of maximal evidence. I conclude, therefore, that, along with little men with hammers in my radiator, there are also gnomes in my closet, lavishly equipped with all the various accouterments necessary to seamgnomestresses.
