Persnickety Chrysanthemums

When I think of Dark Energy I think of the old guy at the bar who never talks to anyone and drinks dollar domestic taps all night long.  When I think about the unbalanced equation of astronomical calculations I think of a neglected pool table with ripped green felt, with alcoholic beverage stains, with two nine balls and with no number 3 ball.  When I think of quantum mechanics and alternate universes I think of three guys hitting on the same girl two minutes past last call, one minute before last call and outside of the bar fighting with each other in some other entanglement. My string theory has to do with pickled pig’s feet and deep fried fish.  My Occam’s razor is a bee line to the urinal after six beers and three shots; if I look into the next stall it’s obvious from the background radiation where the big bang happened.