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<DIV><STRONG>When the universe is expanding it can make you late for work<BR></STRONG><A href="http://www.arts.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml;$sessionid$1NI2J0GRGBBCJQ" target=_blank>http://www.arts.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml;$sessionid$1NI2J0GRGBBCJQ</A><BR>FIQMGSFF4AVCBQWIV0?xml=/opinion/2004/01/04/do0402.xml&sSheet=/portal/2004/01/04/ixportal.html<BR>4 January 2004<BR><BR><STRONG> When the universe is expanding it can make you late for work<BR> By Woody Allen</STRONG><BR><BR> I am greatly relieved that the universe is finally explainable. I <BR>was<BR> beginning to think it was me. As it turns out, physics, like a <BR>grating<BR> relative, has all the answers. The big bang, black holes, and the<BR> primordial soup turn up every Tuesday in the Science section of The<BR> New York Times, and as a result my grasp of general relativity and<BR> quantum mechanics now equals
Einstein's - Einstein Moomjy, that is,<BR> the rug seller.<BR><BR> How could I not have known that there are little things the size of<BR> "Planck length" in the universe, which are a millionth of a <BR>billionth<BR> of a billionth of a billionth of a centimetre? Imagine if you <BR>dropped<BR> one in a dark theatre how hard it would be to find. And how does<BR> gravity work? And if it were to cease suddenly would certain<BR> restaurants still require a jacket?<BR><BR> What I do know about physics is that to a man standing on the shore<BR> time passes quicker than to a man on a boat - especially if the man <BR>on<BR> the boat is with his wife. The latest miracle of physics is string<BR> theory, which has been heralded as a TOE, or "Theory of Everything".<BR> This may even include the incident of last week herewith
described.<BR><BR> I awoke on Friday and because the universe is expanding it took me<BR> longer than usual to find my robe. This made me late leaving for <BR>work<BR> and, because the concept of up and down is relative, the elevator <BR>that<BR> I got into went to the roof, where it was very difficult to hail a<BR> taxi.<BR><BR> Please keep in mind that a man on a rocket ship approaching the <BR>speed<BR> of light would have seemed on time for work - or perhaps even a <BR>little<BR> early and certainly better dressed. When I finally got to the office<BR> and approached my employer, Mr Muchnick, to explain the delay, my <BR>mass<BR> increased the closer I came to him, which he took as a sign of<BR> insubordination.<BR><BR> There was some rather bitter talk of docking my pay, which, when<BR> measured against the speed of light, is
very small anyhow. The truth<BR> is that compared to the amount of atoms in the Andromeda galaxy I<BR> actually earn quite little. I tried to tell this to Mr Muchnick, who<BR> said I was not taking into account that time and space were the same<BR> thing.<BR><BR> He swore that if that situation should change he would give me a<BR> raise. I pointed out that since time and space are the same thing, <BR>and<BR> it takes three hours to do something that turns out to be less than<BR> six inches long, it can't sell for more than $5. The one good thing<BR> about space being the same as time is that if you travel to the <BR>outer<BR> reaches of the universe and the voyage takes 3,000 Earth years, your<BR> friends will be dead when you come back, but you will not need <BR>Botox.<BR><BR> Back in my office, with the sunlight streaming through the
window, I<BR> thought to myself that if our great golden star suddenly exploded <BR>this<BR> planet would fly out of orbit and hurtle through infinity forever -<BR> another good reason to always carry a cell phone. On the other hand,<BR> if I could someday go faster than 186,000 miles per second and<BR> recapture the light born centuries ago, could I then go back in time<BR> to ancient Egypt or Imperial Rome? But what would I do there: I <BR>hardly<BR> knew anybody.<BR><BR> It was at this moment that our new secretary, Miss Lola Kelly, <BR>walked<BR> in. Now, in the debate over whether everything is made up of <BR>particles<BR> or waves, Miss Kelly is definitely waves. You can tell she's waves<BR> every time she walks to the water cooler. Not that she doesn't have<BR> good particles but it's the waves that get her the trinkets
from<BR> Tiffany's.<BR><BR> My wife is more waves than particles, too, it's just that her waves<BR> have begun to sag a little. Or maybe the problem is that my wife has<BR> too many quarks. The truth is, lately she looks as if she had passed<BR> too close to the event horizon of a black hole and some of her - not<BR> all of her, by any means - was sucked in. It gives her a kind of <BR>funny<BR> shape, which I'm hoping will be correctable by cold fusion.<BR><BR> My advice to anyone has always been to avoid black holes because, <BR>once<BR> inside, it's extremely hard to climb out and still retain one's ear<BR> for music. If, by chance, you do fall all the way through a black <BR>hole<BR> and emerge from the other side, you'll probably live your entire <BR>life<BR> over and over but will be too compressed to go out and meet
girls.<BR><BR> And so I approached Miss Kelly's gravitational field and could feel <BR>my<BR> strings vibrating. All I knew was that I wanted to wrap my <BR>weak-gauge<BR> bosons around her gluons, slip through a wormhole, and do some <BR>quantum<BR> tunnelling.<BR><BR> It was at this point that I was rendered impotent by Heisenberg's<BR> uncertainty principle. How could I act if I couldn't determine her<BR> exact position and velocity? And what if I should suddenly cause a<BR> singularity; that is, a devastating rupture in space-time? They're <BR>so<BR> noisy. Everyone would look up and I'd be embarrassed in front of <BR>Miss<BR> Kelly. Ah, but the woman has such good dark energy. Dark energy,<BR> though hypothetical, has always been a turn-on for me, especially in <BR>a<BR> female who has an overbite.<BR><BR> I fantasised that
if I could only get her into a particle <BR>accelerator<BR> for five minutes with a bottle of Chateau Lafite I'd be standing <BR>next<BR> to her with our quanta approximating the speed of light and her<BR> nucleus colliding with mine. Of course, exactly at this moment I got <BR>a<BR> piece of antimatter in my eye and had to find a Q-tip to remove it. <BR>I<BR> had all but lost hope when she turned toward me and spoke.<BR><BR> "I'm sorry," she said. "I was about to order some coffee and Danish<BR> but now I can't seem to remember the Schrodinger equation. Isn't <BR>that<BR> silly? It's just slipped my mind."<BR><BR> "Evolution of probability waves," I said "And if you're ordering I'd<BR> love an English muffin with muons and tea."<BR><BR> "My pleasure," she said, smiling coquetishly and curling up into a<BR> Calabi-Yau
shape.<BR><BR> I could feel my coupling constant invade her weak field as I pressed<BR> my lips to her wet neutrinos. Apparently I achieved some kind of<BR> fission, because the next thing I knew I was picking myself up off <BR>the<BR> floor with a mouse on my eye the size of a supernova.<BR><BR> I guess physics can explain everything except the softer sex, <BR>although<BR> I told my wife I got the shiner because the universe was <BR>contracting,<BR> not expanding, and I just wasn't paying attention.<BR><BR> This article is taken from The New Yorker<BR></DIV></DIV><BR><BR><P>La vie est belle!<BR><BR>Yosé (<A href="http://www.cordeiro.org">www.cordeiro.org</A>) <IMG src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mesg/tsmileys/1.gif"></P>
<P>Caracas, Venezuela, Americas, TerraNostra</P><p><hr SIZE=1>
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