Cartesian Theory

So Descartes walks into a laundromat with a load of soiled linen (bedding, some whites), whereupon he is approached almost immediately by a beautiful, doe-eyed young woman who explains to him that the change machine is busted. “You wouldn’t happen to have any spare quarters you could part with, would you?” she asks, lowering her eyes and offering up a shy smile. “I have bills.”

To which Descartes, a bit flustered—and aware of the exact change he has in his pockets—replies, “Unfortunately, my dear lady, I think not.”

And *poof*! He disappears.