The Universal Theorem of Download Speed…

“Any download speed will invariably enter a monotonically decreasing function the moment the ‘Downloads’ window falls under the gaze of a human eye or any other similar observational means. This monotonic decrease will continue for as long as the observation exists. The behavior of the speed once the means of observation have been removed is undefined. (However, should the window be observed once again at some point in the future it is often noted that the speed is considerably higher than what it was when the observation was ceased. This would obviously lead one to conclude that this characteristic decrease is only present when the window is under observation and not otherwise.)”

I might also like to add that despite the overwhelming empirical evidence that lends support to this theory, no rigid proof has been devised as yet. Thus, it is prudent to note that this is not a ‘theorem’ in the rigorous mathematical sense of the term but rather, merely a conjecture. A handsome—though unspecified—prize is on offer for the first person to either offer solid proof of the argument mentioned in the theorem above or provide a clear demonstration of the inverse. (At the risk of repeating myself, the latter is considered, by the scientific community worldwide, to be, for all intents and purposes, impossible.)

One of the Great Mysteries Possibly Solved

I have written before about my not being able to understand or appreciate poetry. I’ve often wondered exactly how poets could make a living—no one I know (certainly not myself, for sure) would consider paying money for “poetry”. Or maybe that wasn’t true—because didn’t some really famous poets exist at various points in the past? Maybe the problem was within me. Maybe only I couldn’t understand poetry, while everyone else could. That could be a possible solution.

I have a new theory—one that actually came about because of something a certain female friend told me recently. Here’s the theory:

Your ability to understand, and more importantly appreciate, poetry is inversely proportional to the speed at which you normally read.

Here when I talk about “speed”, I refer to it on an extremely low level—words and sentences. I don’t care about how many novels you read a year or how long it took you to finish The Lord of the Rings. I’m talking about how fast you read your words and sentences. How many seconds (or milliseconds) did it take you to read this paragraph?

When it comes to reading speed, I’m on the faster side. I speak fast and I read fast. Poetry demands a slow reader. One who can let the words sink in—one, two, three, four at a time. One who gives each line the time it demands, to convey the deeper meaning it holds, instead of rushing hurriedly on to the next one, as a prose reader might do. And that’s where I fail.

Today, I tried reading some poetry slowly—painfully slowly, it seemed to me—and it worked. I understood more than I ever had. It actually seemed beautiful—almost as much so as a Michelangelo fresco or a Michael Jordan fade-away. Or Alicia Silverstone.

So here’s the thing—if you think you can’t appreciate poetry, just try carefully observing how fast you read it. I’ll bet you my cat, it’s probably because you’re reading it way too fast!

As a corollary, I’m guessing guys are naturally faster readers than girls. Proving it is left as an exercise to the reader.

The Washroom Measure

There’s a lot to be learned inside a washroom. For example, I have a theory that goes as follows:

The smaller the separating partitions between the urinals in the washroom, the posher the place is.

That’s my theory.

For example, a public washroom on the street will have partitions the size of Shivaji’s fort walls. You couldn’t get through them with an army tank if you wanted to. They measure about seven feet by three feet by six inches. Superman would struggle to see through them and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar couldn’t peer over one.

A decent restaurant will have urinal separators about half that size. If you’re an extremely tall guy with flexible neck muscles you might catch an unwanted sight of your neighbor’s sausage and meatballs. But for most of us average folks, not suffering from pituitary abnormalities, they suffice. At least here—unlike public washrooms—you don’t end up feeling claustrophobic.

An upscale restaurant, or a really posh office, will have separators that are “separators” in name only. Two feet by one foot. I think the primary aim here is to avoid getting sprayed unnecessarily by the guy peeing next to you. Really, that’s about all the separator can hope to achieve. No consideration at all is given to visual barricading or interception.

And finally, at the extreme other end of the spectrum we have the best hotels and the really big offices. Here there’s no separation at all. ‘What’s mine is yours and suchlike’ seems to be the motto. Or ‘let our dongles dangle together’. There’s literally just a line of urinals fixed along one wall or sometimes not even that. I love the sheer “naturalness” that such an arrangement offers.

So my point it this—whenever you want to judge how upscale a restaurant or hotel might be, just check out the men’s washroom.