My third-grade teacher told us, "Class, Snowflake Bentley became well known because he said no two snowflakes are exactly alike." She singled me out: "Does that impress you, Rusty?"
"Uh, no," I said.
"No?" Mrs. Towle continued.
"Snowflake Bentley has his own museum because of his knowledge of snow," she said.
I said, "Teacher, no two snowflakes are exactly alike? You're saying ol' Snowflake Bentley was saying, over all the ages, going way, way past when them dinosaurs run around, back to the when the Flintstones were living, with all the snowstorms, and squalls, and all the bagadillions of individual flakes that have fallen, you're saying he was saying there hasn't been no two snowflakes that were exactly alike? Are you saying that?"
"That's dumb teacher. You're high and Snowflake was, too."
At this point the entire class was under my spell.
"No, no, he wasn't. What snowflake was was cleverer than anything; he knew if he said no two snowflakes are exactly alike, we wouldn't be able to check it."
I held both hands out and caught imaginary snowflakes. I studied them for a couple seconds, "Ah, these two snowflakes are exactly - oh, nuts, they melted."
I put a button on my skit. "Ole Snowflake, he was clever."
Teacher said, "Well, Rusty, from his studies, he deduced there'd be very little or no chance two snowflakes were exactly alike. And it's true."
"Teacher, you first said no two snowflakes are exactly alike. Now you're saying Snowflake Bentley's study proved 'very little or no' chance two snowflakes are exactly alike. What the hell, teacher? We're programmed to believe what you tell us. We're 8. You should remember you have great influence on us."
Too late to stop, so I didn't.
"And, Mrs. Towle, when I see you flirting with Mr. Corey at recess, I don't wonder why - I've seen your husband wears a pocket protector."