[In an ongoing attempt to clarify communication, Tobin decides to write another story as an analogy with regard to recent comments posted to the Philo Group. In his usual delusional manner, he actually believes things such as this story can open doors and produce results. Poor Tobin. He may never learn, at which point he is doomed to repeat these silly stories in a Sisyphean manner for all of eternity.]

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Once there was a group of folks who enjoyed discussing the whys and wherefores of the world at large. They would gather together on a regular basis to sort through all of their questions. Their leader, Jerraphemous Rex, was a kind and considerate soul who would do his best to guide this group through murky waters. 

One fine summer’s day a member suggested an outing to the beach. “How wonderful,” exclaimed many in the group. “But which beach shall we visit?” asked someone.

“Let’s away to White Sands Beach near Pocomo Harbor” suggested Mr. Rex, and all nodded in agreement.

So off they went, with beach towels in hand, bottles of delicious wines in coolers, and a sense of new adventure.

Upon arriving at the beach, one of the members, by the name of Prospero, cried, “Wait, this is not White Sands Beach, this is Red Sands Beach.” Everyone stopped and gaped at the long stretch of pure white sand before them. It certainly looked like white sand, there was a sign near the trail to the beach that read – “White Sands Beach Ahead”, but Prospero was adamant. “This is Red Sands Beach, of that I am completely certain.”

Mr. Rex then chimed in, “Regardless of the name, dear friends, we are here, so let us frolic in the water and play as we may.” And with that the group set out their towels, opened their bottles of wines and made merry.

But Prospero would not participate. He was Hades bent on proving this was not White Sands Beach. So he found a shovel and began to dig, sifting through millions of grains of sand with each shovel full. Hours went by and soon the sun began to sink into the western sky. Members of the group began to fold their towels.

Then, with a shriek, Prospero shouted “EUREKA” for he had found a single grain of red sand. As he held it aloft he proclaimed, “See! Here is proof. This single grain of red sand affirms that I am right and victorious.”

Mr. Rex wanted to support Prospero’s sense of pride yet a modicum of the absurd kept his praise short. “That’s nice, Prospero, but I’m not certain a single grain of red sand is indicative of this being Red Sands Beach. The name of your beach seems to imply there is more than a single grain.” At which point Prospero grabbed his shovel and went back to the beach to find a second grain of red sand as everyone else shrugged, headed for home and wondered why this was ever an issue to begin with.