Once upon a time there was a shirt. Someone wore the shirt. A man. Who wore big shirts. A blue polo-ish shirt. With stripes.
Point 1 has been established: existence of shirt.
Once there was a book. A foundation analysis book that I ordered (on half.com), paid for, waited for. Point 2: existence of book order (one cannot be certain that the book itself really existed).
Then one day the "book" arrived (yesterday). The package had been torn open, the book removed, replaced by the shirt (folded), and the brown package was resealed (a machine seal!!!) in plastic. I kidd you not. A complicated operation, all in effort to steal my foundation analysis book. Why would someone want this book? It's not as if it's interesting (or useful) to more than 0.001% of the population. And why would they give me a shirt? They got rid of a perfectly good shirt just so that I would receive a package (which, by the way, had the original packing slip in it still). To make it worse, the shirt wasn't even clean--it smells like mildew. And there are white bits of paper all over it. Maybe I'll die of anthrax.
What joy is mine. I paid $40 dollars for a giant dirty shirt. Gee, thanks.