My wife knows how to throw a party.
“A balloon,” I said. “Where the hell did you get a helium balloon?”
“At the dollar store.”
“Huh. How much did it cost?”
Dripping with more sweat than Mike Rowe driving a Ford Truck, I had just muscled tons of our most useless crap out on the front lawn. My normally well-oiled brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.
Weird how it was that moment the heavens decided to deluge our asses and stuff. I welled up with despair as I watched the rain beating down against that little helium balloon. I’m proud to say it didn’t fight back much. Soon it lay there, on the ground, like a fresh chunk of roadkill.
It wasn’t a winner, but I knew how to handle that. I dashed out in the rain and pinned it with a “participant” ribbon taken from my trophy collection. It popped and was gone for good.
Our “yard sale” was officially underway.
Here’s a little treat for those of you psycho enough to make the jump.
Let fp equal the amount of force per yard sale profits.
For example, if items for sale on the front lawn weigh 42 tons and those items have been moved 42 times (each) without being useful in any way, shape or form during the last 20 years, let us assume that f equals 4.2 trillion megajoules of force. (That’s the energy required to lug that shit around.)
Further, let us assume that the yard sale was a dismal failure so p (profit) is actually a negative number. (This is profit adjusted for things like fees, signage, balloons, labor, mental health and a substantial quantity of horse tranquilizers.) For our purposes we’ll round it up to zero.
That’s all the data we need. fp = f divided by p.
Since divide by zero is undefined, we conclude that fp must equal “infinity.”
By the way, another way of expressing fp is with the term “pain.”
Now you know how the yard sale went. Infinite pain geometrically proven.
Days later and that crap is still in our yard. Last night it rained like you wouldn’t believe. Do you happen to know anyone in the market for post-industrial petrified eclectic furniture?