In this post, this professor will set out to:
Prove why scales are unfair.
So, it was a ballroom.
Nah, a rec room.
Double-nah, a ballroom.
The sudden, a rec room. (Recreation room, see. It took this professor many long times to figure out that ‘rec’ was ‘recreation’. Dadblame abbreviations.)
Anyways and some more, it was a dingy room. With blue carpet.
Some rotten squeaky doors, too.
On the night this professor was there, it was quite lively.
See, it was this sort of social thingy.
The professor was sitting at a table with a bunch of chaps.
It was one of those famously-vexing casual dress events.
Which means, basically, come dressed in uncomfortable clothes.
The sudden, that is James Bond in the picture. It’s been decided by a tally of a few hundred, that he’d lose in a fight to…
Sorry, I got sidetracked. That happens when you have a professorish brain.
Anyway, yes, uncomfortable clothes. What is casual about uncomfortable clothes? I tell you: nothing!
So, the professor was at a table with a bunch of fellows.
“Okay,” Gerry said. (We will call him Gerry so he doesn’t find out I’m writing about him, see.)
Gerry continued: “I don’t understand why they invented scales to weigh yourself on. I mean, what’s the point? It’s demeaning.”
Another of the fellows laughed. His name…is, the sudden, Larry.
“Maybe for you, Gerry! Lose some weight and it won’t matter to you in the future.”
“Yeah!” another fellow joined in. “It’s not demeaning for thinner people.”
“Or smaller people.”
And being the professor I am, I had to say a few things here, there, and everywhere.
“Not so,” said this professor. “See, scales aren’t only demeaning for the larger people, see.”
“No?” Larry said. “Enlighten me.”
“I shall, madam–I mean, sir!”
He was cranky at that.
“See, suppose for a second that an ant weighed itself on a scale…what would it weigh?”
“Yeah, not much at all.”
“See, that’d be more demeaning than weighing something,” I said. “Always better to be something than nothing.”
Moral: Scales are equally mean to larger and smaller persons.