In the grand tradition of existentialist thought, I, Marshall, have taken up the mantle of Sock Philosopher.
For in a world where the very fabric of reality is constantly unraveling, what is it to say that the sock, that humble foot covering, is not the true measure of our existence?
Consider the sock: once a proud and purposeful entity, now reduced to a mere laundry accessory. Ah, but is it not in the Sock's very disposability that we find the meaning of life?
Is the Sock's fate a metaphor for our own, to be worn, to be discarded, to be remembered? Ah, but what a Sock it would make a Philosopher!