A GREAT EVIL

Let me tell you of a great evil. When you buy a cup of coffee, to go, from a coffee shop, they give it to you in a paper cup with a plastic lid. The paper cup was once a flat sheet of paper, but due to the many millions of dollars invested in studies of computational geometry, it has been cut and folded such that it has transcended the second dimension and won the grand chalice of the third. The transition, however, was not all together seamless. Literally, and, as it turns out, disastrously. The plastic lid supposedly keeps you safe from the smelly brown liquid drug media within this origami contraption, and you invest all your faith in the apparently impenetrable seal it forms around the rim. This faith is misplaced. For when the cup’s seam intersects the lid’s seal, that seal is broken, my friends. Yea, a gap forms, a gap that while miniscule in relation to large particles like toaster ovens and stegasauri, is nevertheless a veritably infinte chasm to the lowly water molecule, a thing whose width one measures in picometers. If you have been so unfortunate as to have aligned the lid’s spout with the seam, liquid will accumulate outside the lid with each swig, until finally, coffee will spill onto your crotch. It will form a stain on your pants, on your inner thigh, on your right inner thigh, the placement and discoloration of which will give you the appearance not only of incontinence, but of a particularly revolting urinary tract infection.

Such is my plight.