In the hierarchy of sciences, there is Physics (the study of what is), Metaphysics (the study of what might be), and finally, Pataphysics—the study of what is imaginary, unique, and entirely unnecessary.

Invented by the French playwright Alfred Jarry in the late 19th century, Pataphysics is defined as the “science of imaginary solutions.” It is the discipline of treating the exception as if it were the rule. If a standard physicist watches an apple fall and calculates gravity, a pataphysicist watches an apple fall and concludes that the apple was simply bored with the tree.

The Science of the Exception

The core of Pataphysics lies in the “clinamen”—the unpredictable swerve. While traditional science looks for laws that govern the many, Pataphysics looks for the law that governs the one. It is the only branch of study that would attempt to draft a comprehensive map of the exact territory where you lost your left sock, ignoring the millions of socks that are currently accounted for.

It is a philosophy that requires one to wear a laboratory coat while reciting nonsense verse, a look that is difficult to pull off without looking like an escaped extra from a low-budget 1960s spy thriller where the villain’s plan involves a giant magnet and a suspicious amount of spandex.

The Ubu Logic

Alfred Jarry was often seen riding a bicycle through Paris with a pistol tucked into his belt, embodying his creation: Père Ubu, a grotesque figure of pure, senseless whim. To a pataphysicist, the universe doesn’t have a structure; it has a sense of humor that we aren’t quite in on.

This is the science of the “as if.” We live our lives as if the bus will arrive on time, as if the grocery store will have bread, and as if our internal monologues are being recorded for posterity by a very bored celestial clerk. Pataphysics simply stops pretending there is a safety net of logic beneath those assumptions.

The Imaginary Solution

Ultimately, we are all amateur pataphysicists. We develop complex, highly specific rituals to make our computers work ( like clicking “Refresh” three times in a specific rhythm) or to ensure our favorite team wins (wearing the “lucky” shirt that has never seen a washing machine).

We are constantly applying rigid logic to situations that are clearly governed by chaos. It is a noble, absurd effort—like trying to use a slide rule to measure the exact volume of a cloud.

So, the next time you encounter a problem that makes no sense, don’t look for a rational answer. Instead, find an imaginary one. It might not fix the sink, but it will at least provide the satisfaction of knowing that the sink is leaking on purpose, just to spite the concept of dry floors.