The Cantor woke up with a sore throat and laryngitis on a very important day. What to do? She made some tea with honey which felt good, but still no voice. She gargled with kosher salt and warm water four times, no change. The Cantor looked at the clock and worried. She took two aspirin and prayed for healing so that she could sing on this day of days. Despite the aspirin, she was now feverish and finally decided, for the good of the synagogue to find a replacement in a short amount of time.
The paradox was the only other Cantor available was her cruel ex-husband who had a voice that only angels should have. Not only was he blessed with a beautiful voice, he looked like an angel with his curly blonde hair and mesmerizing blue eyes. The combination of all that was what led to the divorce, not something anyone was happy about, especially the parents and grandparents who expected babies and years of being the proud families that produced two Cantors, perhaps more.
Rather reluctantly, the Cantor with the sore throat and fever tried the house telephone of her ex-husband, but got his answering machine and croaked out a message. After hanging up, she decided to email him, knowing how obsessively he checked his iPhone and emails, another reason for the divorce. It was not the technology that bothered her, but who was on the other end of his attention.
The sad Cantor, who was now experiencing chills, aches and pains as well as the sore throat emailed a brief message explaining her dilemma, hoping he could put aside any bad feelings and remember his role as Cantor, briefly recalling, in her own heart, how once they were so much in love. She added: I left you a message at home, but I have lost my voice, so I left you a whisper.
As the daughter of a Mathematics professor, whose proclivity for numbers and linguistics skipped me, my first reaction to the title of the excellent writeup by Orthologist was hmmm, I wonder what a Cantor's paradox could be...and this is what came to me.