
Of course it could of, but the arrogant little goblet had other plans. It knew full well that I had perhaps stacked the exalted pile of sanitized kitchenware just a tad too high, and that though at its core, the pots and plates, spoons and strainers were indeed arranged by an expert hand (my own) according to an expert design (my own), the pile was an inanimate babel, objects arranged so to convene with the heavens. Ah, but Newton's cursed formulae, his regulations for the right conduct of all matter, know of no exceptions and coyly tugged at my teetering pile. Gravity captured it in its droning grip which always tries to dispatch a wobbly wok, a careless straggler, to a useless oblivion. Then that little ass of a cup got the idea that a glorious jump and fall, followed by a spectacular disassembling, would impress his earthenware comrades. I for one am not impressed!
Why do objects with no pulse, with no complex of doggedly busy cells, insist on cracking the calm of our days and nights with their noisy, attention-seeking drama? Calm down idiotic objects! You cannot fool us into mistaking your final death spasms as life!
2 comments:
I wouldn't be so sure.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmfHHLfbjNQ
Starts getting a bit hairy at around 1:20 or so...
Paper cups tend to show their frustration through their body language, jumping all around avoiding confrontation.
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