Amorphous (noun, singular and plural) is damp lint that forms inside belly buttons.
For centuries, it was believed that amorous served no evolutionary purpose and could not be put to any manufactured purpose either. It was, the thinking went, just a curse on people with innies.
(Innies is the name given to belly buttons that are concave, rather than convex. Concave is the name given to something that curves inward, rather than outward. Inward is the … well, never mind. You probably know what inward means. The point is that innies refers to concave belly buttons, not to the belly buttons of innkeepers. The belly buttons of innkeepers have a completely different and as-of-yet uncoined name.)
This view of amorphous changed when it was discovered that it could, indeed, be put to valuable uses. For example, when dried and collected in large enough volumes, it can be used as kitty litter.
In it’s damp state, amorphous makes fantastic insulation that can be placed between the drywall and outer walls of homes. The benefit of using it in its damp state for this purpose is that it helps to promote the rapid growth of mold, which provides a tremendous boost to employment in companies that provide mold removal and remediation services. When amplified through the multiplier effect, these additional jobs can uplift the economy significantly.
These profitable uses of amorphous have led many doctors to boost their incomes by offering to clean the lint out of patients’ belly buttons during annual physicals and other medical examinations, as well as at cocktail parties. The doctors then collect this amorphous and, after accumulating a batch large enough to have a meaningful value, sell it to commercial amorphous processors.
The challenge, of course, is convincing patients to agree to participate in this amorphous-collection scheme. A single scraping alone is worth less than a penny on the open market. Thus, it would be difficult for doctors to share their amorphous revenue with patients and still earn a profit for themselves. To solve this problem, doctors on three continents have joined together and, for each amorphous scraping, offer participating patients a ticket for a draw with a one in 4.7-million chance of winning a five-dollar Starbucks gift certificate.
Because it now offers a tangible life benefit, it’s expected that most parents will insist that midwives and obstetricians give their newborns innies rather than outies. The same will likely apply to taxi drivers who deliver babies in the backs of their cabs, but the parents will be less enthusiastic about this option and will prefer that the delivery be performed in a relatively sterile environment by a professional licensed to do something more medically inclined than driving a cab.
(Outie is the name given to … oh, never mind. You probably know that already. Wiseass.)