The Eulergy

seinfelt:

After reading a book about Leonardo Fibonacci, Kramer starts incessantly singing what he calls “Italian music.“ If any actual Italians heard him, they would be insulted by his rendition of “That’s Amore,” which carries the same tune, but the lyrics are, “Ehhhhhhh, your eye’s hit by pie and you know she’s the one it is nothiiiiing.“ Elaine points out that he’s butchering the song, but Kramer doesn’t care — it just “feels right.”

The next day, Elaine can’t help but notice that her boyfriend seems to be really on top of things. He buys her flowers, calls her at work just to say hi, and remembers an important birthday.

George mentions that he hates the newly painted walls of his office. “They’re blue at the top, and red at the bottom, with every color in between! They want us to be ‘calm, but energetic.’ It just looks like a prairie fire.“ It’s then that Kramer walks in, singing his song. He’s lost some of the melody, and the words are a bit different: “Ehhh, an eye with a pie and one is nothiiiiiing.”

The next day, George can’t help but notice that the office painters must have heard his complaints. They apparently covered over the previous red-blue gradient with a pleasant shade of purple.

Jerry sits at his kitchen counter struggling with some new material, none of it seeming to come together. Just then, Kramer appears, singing his song. The melody is nearly gone now, and he barely changes his cadence as he recites, “Eee! To the eye, pie and one is niente.“

The next day, Jerry can’t help but notice that his joke notebook is full of immaculately constructed jokes, written in gorgeous handwriting.

Elaine, George, and Jerry convene at Jerry’s apartment, discussing how neatly ordered their lives have become. They wonder if the same good luck has befallen Kramer, but note that none of them have seen him lately. The three calmly travel across the hall to his apartment.

Kramer is nowhere to be found. “Kramer?” Jerry asks the empty room.

The room itself seems to respond from every direction, in a voice that is every note in a scale, yet still wondrously harmonious. Rhythmically, it decrees,

e^iπ + 1 = 0

There are no more impeccable jokes to be laughed at. There is no George to worry if his nonexistent walls reflect any wavelength on a farcical electromagnetic spectrum. Formerly Elaine can never marry her former boyfriend, as Elaine, her boyfriend, and the idea of “marriage" have ceased to exist.

With the universe’s most succinct expression of itself uttered by its ideal being, thermodynamic equilibrium is achieved. Entropy is at its absolute maximum, but rather than being reigned by “chaos,“ everything — everything — is exactly equal. Neatly ordered.

It was good while it lasted.

It is perfect now.

(via ohnoproblems)