|Happy B-day Lord Rayleigh! (by sciencemug)|
[The picture of J.W. Strutt-Lord Rayleigh is adapted from a Public Domain image by sciencemug (source: wikia.com)]
That's the story, more or less...
But maybe it's not like that, maybe it's just that you, human beings, you all are poets, in the flourishing, clumsy, bizarre depth of your chests. So when your self-consciousness emerged along the puzzling misty path of evolution and your eyes were fuelled for the first time by this new prodigious gift from semi-casuality, you, human beings, you poets and chanters, you simply decided that your sky is blue, 'cause blue fits it. Not too strong, as a colour, to burden the spectacle of it, not too dull to lessen its simple, pure, absolute majesty.
Well, I said may be, no? Bhà...
Ah, by the way, my lord Rayleigh, there, he won a Nobel Prize in 1904 for he (and this dude, Sir Ramsay) discovered the gas argon (you know, that stuff that is used in lighting and is less than 1% of the above mentioned atmosphere of yours).
Ah, by the way 2 the return of the bad jokes, what else a Lord and a Sir could have discovered if not a noble gas...
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