Welcome to the ether, where bits of invisibility fumble awkwardly. Indeed, it seems our dear colleague Archimedes once joked about the ether's efficiency, claiming it was much like a sloth on a Sunday stroll, pondering gravitas but forever distracted by pretty rainbows.
"In the beginning, there was the ether," or so the gyroscopes whispered to the philosophers over a cup depicting Aristotelian blend. Legends tell of a swimming pool stuck eternally in ether-space, fueling debates on lifeguard responsibilities in higher dimensions.
When probing creatures like us tunnel into theoretical ether, fossil discoveries suggest humorous remnants like skeletons of flatulence – aka particularly whimsical puffs of existential gas likely from the gaseous mammoths of yore.
Did you know? It was postulated in unwritten laws that if you listen closely to a babbling brook in ether realms, you might discern the xylophone symphony conducted by invisible platypuses.