Ockham's Knapsack

William of Ockham put forth a somewhat infectious theory some six hundred and fifty years ago -- ``the mind should not multiply entities beyond necessity. What can be done with fewer ... is done in vain with more.''
      This is the very cornerstone of scientific theory -- of competing theories which all adequately explain the phenomena, choose the simplest. There are, I was surprised to learn, Ether theories that can explain all the various phenomena that Einstein's relativity explains. Those theories are, however, a little more complicated, and the prevailing minimalist aesthetic which Ockham put in place declares them therefore to be incorrect (or at least less correct).
      I find this insistence that the universe tends towards simplicity both arbitrary and somewhat boring. I mean, if I was Goddess, you can bet that I'd get all the mileage out of omnipotence that I could. Given a choice between two fundamental particles and twelve, I say ``Damn the theoretical physicists -- they can name the last two `Beavis' and `Butthead' for all I care!'' A lot of scientists think that the current theories of subatomic physics must be flawed because there are too many fundamental particles. ``Surely,'' they insist, ``the universe couldn't possibly have this much going on at such a basic level.'' Well, why not?
      No damned good reason, that's why not. So, to combat the deeply-entrenched minimalist predisposition, we propose Ockham's Knapsack, the Principle of Alimony, in which you multiply entities until your head hurts and, when at all possible, come up with bar-none the most ridiculous explanation of even the simplest phenomena. Why name such a principle after Ockham, who espoused just its opposite? Well, y'see, it all begins with the fact that muskrat mating season used to be three weeks long and fell right in the middle of December (before the aliens modified them)...