Can't see the forest for the tree

So I dashed into the military surplus store today to finish up the last of my Christmas list. Of course I do my Christmas shopping at Ranger Surplus. They sell things I never imagined I could buy and I have a vivid imagination. Where else can you buy Russian pea coats, baby camo, gas masks, stun guns, and everything for the suburban survivalist?

I found exactly what I was looking for—why should I ever be surprised?—and headed for the cashier at the front of the store. In the back corner of the store, several people were engaged in a very heated argument. I wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying. There were two employees at the cash register in the front—a sinewy heavily tattooed older dude, and a baby-faced tattooed younger dude. (I pulled down my sleeve to hide my own feeble tattoo, shamed by its size and lack of color.)

Older dude says, “They’re doing it again, the same old argument they always have.” And he explains to me that they are arguing about whether or not there is sound when a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it. I ask if they are kidding.

Younger dude says, “No, they’re serious, ma’am. There has to be a sound because sounds create vibrations. Vibrations are vibrations, whether anyone hears them or not.”

Older dude says to younger dude, “Oh, come on! Someone has to hear it for it to be a sound.”

And the two dudes continued the argument. So now there was an argument in the front of the store and the back of the store, both on the same unsolvable puzzle.

As I got to the door, I turned back to them and said, “Merry Christmas. Can you be satisfied knowing that this question will never be answered?”

“Merry Christmas, ma’am,” they said in unison before resuming their argument about the tree falling in the forest.