How many Fridays does it take to pull the wool over my eyes? To answer the question, I decided to perform a double-blind experiment in the privacy of my own laboratory, where a sheepish grin is all the proof I need that synthetic hypotheses are every bit as warm as their manmade counterparts, and how.
Recognizing that the how is to the why as the where is to welding goggles, I felt my way into the closet where the eye patches are kept. While the ordinary scientist may be content with the rudimentary blindness afforded by welding goggles, there isn't any point in pretending that a single-blind experiment produces repeatable results. Extraordinary clarity demands extraordinary eyewear, which is reason enough to put the patch before the goggle.
Having eliminated parallax error and its telltale itch, I was free to turn my attention to more important matters, such as how many Fridays it takes to pull the wool over my eyes. In the presence of polite company, staring may be seen as an indication of vulgar upbringing, but seeing isn't always believing, and belief is far too subjective to be quantified simply by averting one's eyes. Like counting sheep under a strobe light, the sheer volume of thirteens on the average calendar fools the eye, lending a certain lumpiness—or umpiness, if scientific rigor even matters anymore—to the so-called equation.
In other words, appy ump day.