Quantum theory quite clearly and simply explains the missing sock problem: the act of observing your sock affects its position , altho' not its speed. It is also clear that washing machines are, in fact, a form of matter transmitter. Since nearly everyone on this forum has experienced the mysterious disappearance of a sock and the materialisation of a sock not previously owned by the forumer, the solution is simple: we set up a sock exchange - place photos of the not-previously owned sock on a special site www.notmytube.org.uk together with a photo of the remaing one of any half-pair and we can all find our missing footwear.
Once we have solved that difficulty, perhaps we could put our minds to the other two great sock mysteries (even greater ones to my mind), namely, where does the material go when a big toe wears a hole in the sock and how does the hole know which foot the sock is on so that it can migrate to the opposite side of the toe so that it finishes up directly over the big toe, regardless of which foot it is on.
As far as the first of these two is concerned, if there are any material analysts on the forum, perhaps you could carry out a comparison between sock material and navel lint - consider it, it appears mysteriously, apparently from nowhere.
You may argue that your navel fills up with the stuff even when you don't have a hole in your sock, but, if we consider the strange, esoteric ability of socks to migrate to unknown places, perhaps your navel lint comes from someone else's sock and has been teleported from another person's washing machine (or even directly from their big toe).
In fact, now I give the matter more consideration, I feel the latter hypothesis may be more correct. Consider, the big toe is excessively equipped with nerve endings, far greater than is needed for warning the brain that it has been injured. Could these nerve endings be, in fact, the relics of a long lost evolutionary ability to telekinetically move things out of the way of the foot, like thorns, snakes, chewing gum and bits of lego.
Only when we discovered how to card, spin and knit wool, and make shoes, did we begin to lose this most useful of parapsychological gifts, witness the fact that most of us stub our big toe at times whereas less technologically developed tribes who go round in bare feet, must, by the very nature of that pedal nudity, be able to avoid doing so, otherwise they would walk round with a permanent limp (altho' they could be limping on both feet, making such injuries difficult for us to detect while watching anthropological doumentaries on tv).
Altho' I never studied science at school, I believe I may have stumbled on an epoch, or esoch-making discovery, which I intend to bring to the nation's notice via the Daily Mail, which has such an excellent track record in spreading such wonderful scientific developments.
I'm going to lie down now.
Once we have solved that difficulty, perhaps we could put our minds to the other two great sock mysteries (even greater ones to my mind), namely, where does the material go when a big toe wears a hole in the sock and how does the hole know which foot the sock is on so that it can migrate to the opposite side of the toe so that it finishes up directly over the big toe, regardless of which foot it is on.
As far as the first of these two is concerned, if there are any material analysts on the forum, perhaps you could carry out a comparison between sock material and navel lint - consider it, it appears mysteriously, apparently from nowhere.
You may argue that your navel fills up with the stuff even when you don't have a hole in your sock, but, if we consider the strange, esoteric ability of socks to migrate to unknown places, perhaps your navel lint comes from someone else's sock and has been teleported from another person's washing machine (or even directly from their big toe).
In fact, now I give the matter more consideration, I feel the latter hypothesis may be more correct. Consider, the big toe is excessively equipped with nerve endings, far greater than is needed for warning the brain that it has been injured. Could these nerve endings be, in fact, the relics of a long lost evolutionary ability to telekinetically move things out of the way of the foot, like thorns, snakes, chewing gum and bits of lego.
Only when we discovered how to card, spin and knit wool, and make shoes, did we begin to lose this most useful of parapsychological gifts, witness the fact that most of us stub our big toe at times whereas less technologically developed tribes who go round in bare feet, must, by the very nature of that pedal nudity, be able to avoid doing so, otherwise they would walk round with a permanent limp (altho' they could be limping on both feet, making such injuries difficult for us to detect while watching anthropological doumentaries on tv).
Altho' I never studied science at school, I believe I may have stumbled on an epoch, or esoch-making discovery, which I intend to bring to the nation's notice via the Daily Mail, which has such an excellent track record in spreading such wonderful scientific developments.
I'm going to lie down now.
