You read it here first, scholars: the answer to an enigma that has perplexed physicists for centuries: how do fans work? To Galileo and Newton, the operation of the fan presented a mystery less soluble than indifferent calculus and the laws of Jupiter and the heliothingy view of the thingy. Marie Curie, Niels Bohr, and Erwin Schödinger maintained an embarrassed silence on a subject they couldn't begin to fathom.
"Ah, the fan question," Albert Einstein famously remarked. "If I could answer that, they'd call me one of the finest minds of the twentieth century."
Now, at the dawn of a new age, an age that shall henceforth be known as almost-February 2009, I, I have answered the question, "how do fans work?"
It goes like this, see: When your sweat evaporates, it cools you down. This is because of atoms. But once you've cooled down, the air around you is sodden with your evaporated sweat, and it won't absorb any more of your sweat, so you stop being cooled down through evaporation, and you get hot again. A fan, see, it shoves the sodden air away from you. It does this by exerting a force. (Note, technical physics term. Force.) And it pushes new dry air into proximity with your skin. This is called the Theory of Special Relativity. And now your sweat can evaporate again and cool you down, through the action of atoms. And that, ladeez and gennulmen, is how fans work. It also explains why it's harder to cool down when it's very humid, even if you have a fan, because ALL the air is sodden, but this is a point I'm going to save up for my second book.
UPDATE! I've figured out how clothes work!
UPDATE THE SECOND! My armpit hairs are at peak curliness!
UPDATE THE THIRD! If it doesn't cool down soon, I'm going to do my lolly. Not that that's a threat or anything.