Ghost hunting can be a real pain in the ass…

Have you ever wondered when you should resume sex safely after ghost hunting? How can you exorcise a ghost that has possessed your womb? Or how can you remove a ghost from your rectum? (After you’ve finished with it, presumably.)

Look no further! Maryanna Chatelaine Moresby has treated these common problems in her article Sex after ghost hunting – exorcisms of a womb or anal ghosts: And when is the right time to have sex afterwards?

For today, let’s focus on “Anomalous Anal Ghost Phenomena”.

According to Moresby, when a person dies, their physical body ceases to exist, although a “ghost body” remains, consisting of the “mind, intellect, ego and soul”. Sometimes, these ghost bodies seek refuge in a human host, entering via a vulnerable cavity. Generally, they prefer to enter through the woman’s, um, birth canal, or the man’s rectum. Moresby says that the ass is an “open portal” for spirits. Why enter through a boring old ear or a mouth when you can invade a genital orifice?

Ghost hunting is to blame for this anal affliction:

My husband was plagued with anal ghost 4 times since he started Ghost Hunting. We went to many doctors to find out what his problem was until a psychic from Japan told him what was going on.

Your uninvited tenant may be the ghost of a loved one, an intimate stranger, or a dirty demon.  But how do you know if your buttocks are haunted? Rectal ghost symptoms include severe constipation, diarrhea and flatulence. Moresby claims:

I can certainly attest to this as it has happened to my husband on more then one occasion. And Felching out ghosts is usually a bigger fear and reality then one might think.

Next time you suffer from these demonic digestive system symptoms, you might want to reach for your Priest, rather than your Pepto-Bismol.

Colon Cleanse Products wull not help you if you have an anal or colon ghost!

Laxatives won’t work either. The most effective method for removing a troublesome rectal ghost is to perform a magical enema.

In some cultures spicy hot Enemas are said to chase a ghosts from a persons bowels in many cultures wine or beer enemas are used to get the ghost drunk so he will just fall out of the person and it then can be captured and put into a bottle or container for safe keeping. My husband keeps his in a pickle jar in the garage and has gotten several intriguing EVP’s from it.

This is one tale that TAPS won’t touch. For more challenging guests, try a “blessed lubricant”.

A quicker form of the dry enema ghost removal utilizes the injection of a small amount of water-based lubricant such as K-Y that is blessed and administered directly into the rectum via a non-hypodermic syringe, such as an oral syringe, or from some other source. My husband usually does this for 5 days after any ghost encounter he has as a precaution. The usual amount of blessed lubricant applied is about 2 tsp (10 cc), which will produce a movement in 30 minutes or less. The movement will be produced in a compact body, rather than in the more copious liquid form produced by a wet enema; and since no water is used, none will be retained higher up in the colon, to be expelled at a later, and possibly inconvenient, time.

Is it just me, or is this one kinky couple?

Moresby shares with us the touching story of her husband Riley’s rectal misadventures:

My husband Riley has had an anal ghost infection on several occasions in the past few years. The phenomena can be very disturbing and unnerving. And the word frightening does not equate to the level of panic it caused me.

At night laying inn bed after a ghost hunt with his group he would begin to let out gas. The stench was horrible. It smelt like something dead and raw sewerage. It even formed word with the sounds of his flatulence. And it went as far as cursing out individuals in restuarants, Church and a funeral of a close relative. The intense passing gas attacks my husband had actually produced audible words that clearly sounded like a man speaking with a gruff or raspy voice. It would say ” You Are F——g Doomed!” in a farty sounding voice like sound. Or, “Mutha F__K, He Is mine until the day he dies!” at first I thought it was Riley just playing games with me, throwing his voice like a ventriloquist, until the black diarrhea started while he was still asleep in his favorite chair.

I dunno. Riley looks pretty fucking happy to me!

If the voice from his anus was not enough when it grabbed the sheets and starting pulling it inside him! I was petrified and chilled to the bone, ready to run for the hills.

Just when you were thinking that rectal ghosts were full of shit, Moreseby produces this proof positive – a photograph of Riley’s sphinctal specter.

In photos a strange white mass began to appear when a full body shot of him was taken. usually it appeared like a large head protruding out of his buttocks. This ghost was very nasty and would felch out horrible profane words.

Besides suffering from intense pain my husband would feel it move inside him like a clawing animal. Once it even blew out the candles on my mothers birthday cake from across the room. And the stench was like a dead skunk and a refrigerator that had lost power for two weeks and was full of food.

If enemas make you queasy, Moresby also recommends the use of a good psychic medium, paranormal investigator, or a specialist in voodoo, hoodoo or santeria. If you can’t access these professionals, there is one last remedy…

A prayer to St. Michael To remove a Anal Ghost:

Oh great Angel St. Michael hear my prayer.

Please in your divine justice and wisdom remove this ghost that infest my bowels and anus.

Remove this foul ghost from me as you did the Devil from Heaven.

In your wisdom bless me and free me from this evil affliction now and forever.

Amen

I never knew that St Michael was the patron saint of the anus!

Moresby and her husband suffered terribly during his orifice ordeal.It was like Queen Elizabeth’s annus horribilis.

But there was a happy ending after all.

After his anal ghost removal our sex life was very poor to say the least. But in time all was rectified through patience.

Next time we will discuss post-ghost hunting sex in No Sex Please, We’re Ghost Hunters!

The Skepbitch is psychic

I read the news today oh boy about an airline pilot who died in-flight, enroute to Newark from Brussels. A tragic story indeed, although fortunately, the two co-pilots landed the plane safely.

How is this relevant to a blog about skepticism? Well…because I dreamt about this event before it happened!

Superficially, it might seem that I am psychic, but let’s hold off from the talk shows, tours and book contracts for the skeptic turned psychic (yet again), and analyze the story a little more closely…

I awoke in the wee hours of Monday morning, roused by a nightmare. I’d had a disturbing dream about a plane trip during which the pilot died mid-flight. The dream was Hollywood graphic, and the details were as clear as a George Orwell novel.

Upon waking I was drenched in sweat, and a little shaky, but I managed to quickly relax, realize it was just a dream, and doze off back to sleep without too much difficulty.

When I woke up again a few hours later, I recalled the dream. However, the specifics were now hazy; I couldn’t recall the airline, the origin or destination of the flight, or the name of the pilot; I could only remember the gist of the dream – a pilot died mid-flight.

Today, the news stations, newspapers and online sources reported the story of a pilot who died mid-flight!

Did I experience a prophetic dream?

But if you interrogate me a little further, strap me down to a chair, tie my hands behind my back, blindfold me, pull back my hair, come close to my quivering lips and…fuck, where was I?

That’s right! If you penetrate my story a little more deeply you’ll discover a hidden secret – the morning I had this dream, I was due to fly in a plane…

You see, I’m a tad nervous during the ascent, and liable to grab hold of the nearest person’s hand, stranger or not! I’m no fucking Freud, but I gather that my dream about the pilot dying mid-flight reflected my anxiety regarding my impending trip. Interestingly, I dreamt of a pilot dying mid-flight, and not a plane crash, or a flame-engulfed descent. But, flying is a loss of control for some people, and what greater loss of control than a pilot perishing in the cockpit?

For most psychics, this dream would be interpreted as a premonition.

But I didn’t dream about this event; I dreamt of an event.

Moreover, there was a rational reason for my dream – I was due to fly that day, and anticipating my own anxiety. The dream preceding a reality was more situational than synchonicity.

Coincidence is a curious phenomena. Noting the hits is okay, as long as we also remember the many misses; the many times we dreamt and forgot our dreams of people, places, mundane events, accidents and deaths that never occurred.

blog post from the skeptical trenches

This is just to let you know that I’m not missing in action, nor do I have skeptical trench foot…

I’ve been in the trenches, testing stuff, visiting weird places, and writing.  I’ve commenced writing for Swift, see my posts on body language – Don’t Read My Lips and graphology – Write but Wrong.  I’ve also started writing for Skepchick, see my posts on automatic writing – Testing Spirit Writing, and my visit to the Psychiatry: Industry of Death ‘museum’.

I’ve just written some curious articles for Skeptical Inquirer and Skeptic magazine, and I’m about to start a web column shortly. I’m also tending to my actual career…

Don’t think that I’ll abandon my beloved Skepbitch. This is the only place where I can swear, fuck it!

You cannot petition the lord with prayer!

“When I was back there in seminary school, there was a person there who put forth the proposition that you can petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
Petition the Lord with prayer…
YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER!”

The Soft Parade, The Doors

The following exchange took place in Safeway at 11pm last night:

“Hey, Karen! I’m so glad you’re back!”

“Thanks! I’m very glad to be back.”

“How are things then?”

“Good, and bad. My father is very sick, and I’m having to make some tough decisions about his treatment.”

“What’s his name?”

“Zezozoze Zadfrack.” (Okay…I didn’t really say that. )

“I’ll pray for him.”

Zap! Pow! Bam!

I frowned, felt a little cold, and I think I went a bit rigid.

I hope I didn’t scoff rudely, laugh a little, or roll my eyes.

Should I have proclaimed, “I’m an atheist”, or, “I don’t believe in prayer”, or sneer with skeptical superiority, “I’m actually trying to do something practical“?

Do I email her with this BBC article, or this American Heart Journal article, or this CSI article, or this article by Stephen Barrett, or this e-skeptic article, or this Skeptic’s Dictionary article; pieces that all demonstrate that prayer has no effect?

Or do I explain that thoughts are solely contained within the mind; they cannot be interpreted or read by an external source, or conveyed or communicated by ESP, or be expressed without the intercessory power of language; and even then, the hopes, desires, wants and needs, both thought and expressed to ‘gods’, other supernatural beings or even humans, in and of themselves, do not bring about any change of state in the real world?

Do I meekly thank her and go silently?

Do I cough “ahem”, gather my chocolates and condoms and leave chuckling?

Or do I quote Jim Morrison and scream,

“YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER!”

I tried to sum it all up, and express my true gratitude for her concern. I touched her on the arm, looked her in the eye and said with sincerity:

“I have confidence in science, and in my own judgment. Thank you for caring.”

Skepticism: Going out of business?

After 13 years of service, I resigned from the Australian Skeptics a few weeks ago. Those who know me personally are aware of the circumstances, but for those who don’t, I kind of like the idea that my leaving is shrouded in conspiracy…

Here is the Editorial that never was…

Skepticism: Going out of Business?

The main function of the National Center for Science Education (NCSE) is to keep evolution in schools, and creationism out.

NCSE Executive Director Eugenie Scott said to me recently, “Our goal is to do our work so well that we’ll eventually be out of our jobs.”

“You want to go out of business?” I asked.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

Some organisations aren’t meant to last. Or rather, it’s hoped they won’t need to last.

Ideally, educational and relief organisations would not need to exist. To that end, some organisations have deliverables, time frames, plans, policies and programs. They have a specific, achievable objective. For example, the aim to teach evolution in schools but exclude pseudoscience from the school syllabus; or, to inform people about HIV/AIDS and encourage the use of preventative measures; or, to educate people about the benefits of vaccination and overcome misinformation so we can ultimately eradicate diseases such as diphtheria and polio. Skeptical groups want to promote critical thinking in schools, and society at large. But this last lofty goal raises a few questions…

Should skeptical groups aim to go out of business?

It has occasionally been said to me that skeptical movements should also aim to put themselves ‘out of business’, so to speak, and ultimately make themselves unneeded. I’ve heard a range of estimates, “We should aim to disband in 10 years.” Or 20 years, or 30 years or 50 years. There are as many vague, unsupported predictions for the end of skeptical groups as there are predictions for End Times.

Are we expecting some sort of apocalypse for pseudoscience and the paranormal? Perhaps we’re awaiting some sort of Hundredth Monkey Effect whereby we’ll all wash our sweet potatoes of skepticism, and critical thinking will instantaneously disseminate?

But there is no instant gratification. Skepticism is spread by stealth.

Is a lack of critical thinking something we can eliminate entirely? Have we effectively purged credulity from ourselves? The fact is, we’re all skeptics-in-training. A relative of mine, a self-professed “hard-core skeptic”, lauded the benefits of water diving during drought on his rural property. He didn’t invariably find water, but there were times he did! As skeptics, there will always be something for us to teach, and something for us to learn.

So, how will we know when our job is done? When homeopathic products are out of pharmacies? When astrology columns are no longer a feature in newspapers? When the crystal ball becomes a desk weight? When the “Going out of Business” sign appears on the Church door?

Skepticism isn’t like education about evolution, or eradicating smallpox. Skepticism is not just one theme. It is broad, and there are a wide range of topics that we need to tackle. There are ever-changing fads, and seemingly “unsinkable rubber ducks”.  Beliefs and practices evolve, and so too we skeptics must evolve…

These challenges don’t mean that our objectives are hopeless, or that skeptics are ineffective. We need to be creative, patient, and vigilant. Our aim is to educate, but not overlook the ongoing need for skepticism to exist.

If there was no need for skepticism, I’m sure we’d all pack up our baloney detection kits and skeptical toolboxes and go home to enjoy our skeptical Utopia. But there is a need.

On the other hand, skeptical groups are often accused of being self-propagating. Believers, in particular, perceive us as skeptical vampires who feed on pseudoscience and the paranormal. It was once said to me, “You need the supernatural to justify your existence!” But skepticism fills a gap, it doesn’t create one.

Another time I was accused, “You skeptics thrive on people like Sylvia Browne and Uri Geller.” I replied that skeptical groups exist because of these people; they don’t exist for us.

Skepticism isn’t sport. To illustrate this point I’ll reference examples featured in this issue alone; I am yet to meet a skeptic who thrives on the news story that a young girl died of whooping cough because parents in her community neglected to vaccinate their children, on the advice of anti-vaccination groups. I am yet to encounter a skeptic who relishes family arguments about religion around the holiday dinner table. I am yet to find a skeptic who delights in the unsolved mystery above solving the mystery. And I’m yet to find a skeptic who enjoys watching a psychic medium tell a crying woman that he has “made contact” with her deceased husband, who “loves” her; but she interrupts and explains that her husband is critically ill, though not dead…

Skepticism fills a need; a multi-faceted need, and an ongoing need.

The Skeptic has a practical purpose in addressing this need. We raise awareness of critical thinking, examine beliefs and practices, we engage in activism, especially beyond our community. This magazine aims to inspire, motivate, educate and make you think, critically, of course.

Reading The Skeptic has a practical purpose too. This isn’t like scouring a food magazine for recipes; reading Playboy “for the articles”, or flicking though a gossip mag while you wait in the foyer of your dentist’s surgery; where you are no doubt having those dangerous amalgam fillings taken out of your mouth…

You are readers with responsibilities.

You are on the front lines of skepticism. You close the pages of this magazine and you walk away with an everyday duty to society and a personal duty to your friends and family. You warn your mom that the colloidal silver she makes can render her skin a gray color, permanently. You advise your colleague against participating in that multi-level marketing scheme. You gently explain to your friend that the belief he’s dabbling in is more cult than religion. You comfort your frightened child with the truth that there’s no ghost in the cupboard.

Skepticism is a work-in-progress, for all of us. Just as there will always be a need for reason, science, logic, critical thinking, and plain old common sense; there will always be a need for skepticism.

Will skepticism go out of business?

I doubt it.

Subjectivity, Semantics and Shoes…

For those of you unacquainted with Australian society, it is essentially a pub culture.

Of course, America has its pubs, bars, drinking houses and “dinner and dancing establishments” if you’re in Salt Lake.

But Australia is replete with what are called “clubs”.  Most of them are Returned Services League (RSL) clubs – these are clubs that commemorate military veterans.

RSL Clubs are a curious blend of bar, casino, cafe, restaurant and theater; where you can grab a beer, a coffee, or a meal, play the slots (pokies as they’re known) and watch a psychic medium do bad cold readings, or a washed-up 80s band like The Radiators singing their one-hit wonder “You give me head” even though they’re well into their 50s…

…that is, you can do all of this as long as you’re not wearing a hat…

You see, RSL Clubs have a conservative dress code. Despite Australians’ fondness for casual dress, Australia is also fond of its bureaucracy, and its dress codes; school kids wear uniforms, staff wear uniforms, and to get into most clubs you must resist the urge to wear daring apparel such as shorts, baseball caps, ankle socks and overalls. If you disobey the rules (and didn’t even know the rules) you will be refused entry…

Your clothing must be neat, clean and unrevealing. Mens’ shirts must be collared.

Once my brother tried to enter the Manly Leagues Club wearing a polo-neck shirt.

“It doesn’t have a collar,” the bouncer pronounced.

“But it does have a collar,” my brother argued. “In fact, it has an extra-long collar,” he said as he extended the rolled collar and tugged on it to show its length.

The bargaining was to no avail, and he was refused entry into the club.

And then it happened to me on Friday night…

I went to Dee Why RSL Club to meet up with my mates Duffy, Billy and Phil. I was greeted at the entrance by a doorman who asked for a membership card or ID. I compliantly showed my driver’s license, and everything seemed fine, until he suddenly looked down and announced:

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you in… You’re wearing thongs.”

(Come now, Yanks… you know by now that thongs are flip-flops and g-strings are thongs. Okay, I was wearing a thong too, but most of you know that also…)

The doorman saw my confused look, grabbed a card of guidelines and pointed to a rule that read:

No thongs after 8 PM

“Oh, come on!” I scoffed, searching for counter-arguments. “I’m not barefoot. The thongs are clean. In fact, they’re expensive thongs, not cheap, tatty ones.”

“Sorry, that’s the rule,” he shrugged. “You can go home and change your shoes if you like.”

“Is there a manager around who could reconsider your decision?” I appealed.

By now, a few other doormen had also appeared, all curious as to what was going down. A manager was phoned, and he soon arrived. Then they all just stood there, when somewhere else in the club someone was probably slipping date-rape drugs into some chick’s drink, or a few yobbos were starting a fight at the bar.

I counted a total of six tall, burly, beefy Aussie blokes encircled around me. I felt like I was the football in the middle of a football scrum, except these guys were staring at my fucking shoes. I looked down at my offending feet, wiggling my red-painted toenails uncomfortably as these meat-heads decided the fate of my evening.

As if on cue, another female guest arrives, shows her membership card and saunters on in – wearing thongs!

“Hang on a second, there’s an inconsistency” I twigged, suddenly filled with ammunition. “She’s wearing thongs, but you allowed her in. Is that because she’s a member, and I’m not?’

“No,” said one of the muscular yet simple oafs, “she’s wearing dress thongs… but your wearing beach thongs.”

(He was so dumb I just knew that he’d left out the apostrophe in “you’re”, even when he spoke…)

…pause…

“Who are you? The fashion police? That is subjective!” I snapped at them.

“Are you authorities on thongs? How do you differentiate between dress thongs and beach thongs?” I demanded as they all stood there, blinking stupidly at me. I pointed to their club rules and raised my voice, “Do the rules state acceptable materials or colors or designs that constitute some sort of thong taxonomy?”

There was a stunned silence, until one of them asked with wide eyes, “Are you an English teacher?”

“No,” I corrected him.  “I’m a semanticist and I once defined the word walk,” I said firmly, realising how fucking peculiar that sounded.

I continued. “My point is, if you can’t clearly define the different types of thongs then you’re discriminating against my shoes!”

The manager’s eyes flashed at the insinuation of discrimination.

“You can come in, Miss,” he said politely, waving me in to the club grandly. And so I walked in, wearing my “beach thongs”…

“Skeptics are not cynics!” Biggles ejaculated.

KY is known to Americans as a two-letter state abbreviation for Kentucky, but in Australia, where there are comparatively fewer state abbreviations (and some are three-letters), people almost invariably link KY to the Johnson & Johnson product KY Jelly; an, um, err…”personal lubricant”.

I recently made the mistake of referring to “KY” to colleagues,  in good, clean context, but this received several smutty schoolboy replies.  Perhaps I knew this could cause confusion, or at least correlation. Do we have dirty minds, or is there something else at work here?

Well, we all know that I have a dirty mind, and that you do too, dear reader.  But that’s beside the point as to why I say “cock” and you think of “male genitalia” before you think of a “rooster”; and why I say “masticate” and you think “masturbate”; and I say “lubricate” and you think of your favorite “orifice”, rather than “valves and pipes” (and why you think of an orifice when I say “valves and pipes”? Is there any end to your filth?!)

Cor. Get out the whiskey and let’s continue. You need a stiffner for this one… (shut up!)

There are several co-occurring cogntive-linguistic elements at work here involving taboo, and semantic structure. No, don’t go yet. Think about the following sentences:

1.  Do you want the breast or the leg?

2. Australia was once a penal colony.

3. You have a beautiful cock.

I put it to you that the words breast, leg, penal and cock stood out, and even though you know these can be innocuous, non-sexual sentences, these words have either made you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even a little aroused, but definitely titillated (…sorry for that last one).

…Now, let’s look at these examples a little more intimately.

1. “Do you want the breast or the leg?” By context you would assume the topic is chicken, and “breast” would normally form part of the slightly more comfortable phrase “chicken breast”. “Breast” is curious in this singular form though, and “leg” might not even get a look in as a dirty word unless it’s coupled with another anatomical word.  I bet you’re probably thinking of the phrases “I’m a breast man” and “I’m a leg man”. You’re probably wondering why I didn’t also say “thigh”.

Overall, chickens cause many linguistic problems. I once ordered a “stuffed chicken” and was told the more polite form is “seasoned chicken”.  Technically, it’s fucking stuffed, but deli staff have delicate sensibilities – even if they do force spices up a dead chicken’s ass.

Moving on…

As another example, “I’m really wet”. Was I caught out in the rain? Am I sweaty, or did I just shower? Paralinguistic factors (pitch, volume) would assist in deciphering the textual ambiguity here, but I can guess what you’re thinking. Wet is innocuous in “The car is wet” but with a human subject (esp. female), the connotations heat up.  These are examples of semantic generality – where one word has multiple related meanings (like a chip of wood, or a potato chip). Here, the naughty meaning usually wins out.

Breast, leg and wet are often innocuous in context and especially in fixed phrases, but in isolation, it’s like a word association test where every word has you responding with “sex!” Think throb, passage and stool – where would British comedy be without such double entendres?!

2.  “Australia was once a penal colony.” I said this to a trolley driver in SoCal once.  He, like you, thought I said “penis”.  Why did this happen? Because penal is phonologically similar to (sounds like) penis, and penile.  This is why “masticate” will probably make you think of “masturbate”. I once teased a fellow in a supermarket with, “Excuse me, where are the condiments?” Of course, condiments sounds like “condoms”, and this is where the poor red-faced fellow directed me to – aisle 4, right next to the KY jelly, rather than aisle 8 with the Vegemite.

This phenomenon also occurs in the title of Dr Wayne W Dyer’s book Your Erroneous Zones. Eyebrows will be raised if you read this book on a bus. People confuse “erroneous” with “errogenous”, especially when erroneous is followed by “zone”, which makes you think of “that spot” on your neck, or elsewhere…

Penal, condiment and masticate sound like taboo terms, and therefore, they become taboo by association. They are stigmatized in the same way as penis, condom and masturbate.

This process of pejoration (a word that develops negative connotations) by association can relegate an innocent word to obsolescene. That’s why some of these words sound so archaic, they’ve been spanked so hard they aren’t used much anymore. As an historical example, the word coney (meaning “rabbit”) disappeared from usage due to its phonological similarity to cunt.

Look at the photo examples that capitalize on the homophonic (audial) similarity of “Phuket” (poo-ket) to fuck it - and “Sofa King” to so fucking. This is why we laugh at the name Fanny, and make stupid jokes about Uranus.  The French Connection brand of clothing do something similar with their FCUK label, a transposition of letters that bears a structural resemblance to FUCK.

Sometimes a word looks exactly the same as a taboo word, and it is so tainted that the variant usage shrivels up altogether, like a flaccid…

3. “You have a beautiful cock”.

Words with the same form but completely different meanings are polysemous (like a kind/nice person versus a kind/type of person). Polysemy of a taboo word can result in the death of the non-taboo variant. For example, cock is rarely used to mean “rooster”, and often for humorous purposes only. Ass is rarely used for “donkey”. Pussy for “cat” is going this same way too.

The rude sense becomes the most salient sense.

This is why “ejaculate” only appears in pre-World War II Biggles and Enid Blyton novels.  Over time, ejaculate=exclaim gave way to ejaculate=orgasm.

Taboo ‘dispreferred’ meanings are almost invariably preferred usages.

The bad or naughty or adverse connotations are often the ones to fight and survive. Think of drink – it is becoming more associated with ‘alcoholic drink’ in usage today. Think of abuse – it is more associated with ’sexual abuse’ than ‘verbal abuse’.

Words like niggardly and denigrate are dying, as a result of their structural similarity to the n-word. It’s a semantic crime.

These words aren’t cognates (i.e., related etymologically, in origin) but we blame them anyway.

If you look like John Edward you’ll be mistaken for being John Edward, and treated like him…

Consider the word skeptic.

Skeptic is riddled with negative connotations and  stereotypes. I don’t care how many of you argue that ’skeptics aren’t cynics’.  Clearly, if we look at language use (reality, folks – how people really think and how people really speak) skeptic has polysemy – multiple co-existing senses.

A skeptic is a ‘conspiracy theorist’ to many. A skeptic is a ‘cynic’ to many. A skeptic is a ‘nasty, naysaying, doubting curmudgeon’ to many. And a skeptic is ‘a person who thinks critically about paranormal and pseudoscientific claims’ to many.

Which senses are winning out? The ones with negative connotations.

Face it – skeptic is sort of like cock, ass and stool – but even more like drink or abuse. There are senses of skeptic with negative connotations that are competing for saliency.

I don’t advocate that we replace skeptic, especially with a poncy word like bright – this can only open us up to Steven Pinker’s euphemism treadmill, where a word or concept is so stigmatized that replacement words are inevitably stigmatised (think handicapped and special).

My advice is,  wear your skeptic label with pride – promote useful, practical and healthy skepticism, and be a good example of a skeptic.  We skeptics need to reclaim skepticism, and become the salient sense.

Let’s become known as being funny, smart and caring – rather than cocks, asses and stools.

UPDATE: I just did an interview on this topic for Podblack.

Why I haven’t vaccinated my children…

Because I don’t have children!

Or, as Hugh Laurie says in an episode of Fry & Laurie, “only thanks to the purest good fortune that they don’t happen to have been born yet, otherwise I dread to think what damage may have been caused!”

When I do have kids (goats or humans) I will immunize them, in the same way that I was immunized.

I remember the day still. I was five, and had the afternoon off from school. That, in itself, was a boon. Wearing a Humphrey B. Bear t-shirt (a creepy, mute, honey-scoffing TV bear) I hopped aboard a mobile vaccination bus (not to be confused with the Creation bus) and was jabbed a couple of times. For this, I was rewarded with a packet of UFO chips (some things never change, eh?) and a Be Wise – Immunize sticker. I subsequently had my Measles, Mumps and Rubella (MMR) shot.

I can state categorically that I’ve never had polio, diphtheria, tetanus, whooping cough, measles, mumps or rubella ever since.

Nor did I develop autism..

You see, no one has ever developed autism from an MMR vaccine, or any other vaccine.  That’s the simple truth.

I even read a skeptical article in the Sunday Mail’s usually unskeptical Body and Spirit that quotes Dr Andrew Marich, Director of Communicable Diseases in NSW, as saying that the MMR-Autism link has been “completely discredited.”

If a new age rag is finally expounding this message, then hasn’t the Hundreth Monkey effect been achieved? Not so, but these kinds of articles will do well to counter the scaremongering and unfounded controversy that is currently surrounding MMR and other vaccinations.

But a swag of scientific studies, journal articles and the world’s best minds can’t compete with a crying mother in an episode of Oprah.

The inaccurate belief that vaccination causes autism is countered with statistics that vaccination saves some three million lives per year.

Vaccinations are among the greatest breakthroughs in science and medicine in the last century.

If we’re not vigilent about vaccination, these diseases might return…

So…don’t immunize your children, if you’d rather risk that your child should be sterile, or have one leg shorter than the other, live in an iron lung, or not live at all…

These are things to really be scared about…

Extremists Exploit Disaster

Wrath of God or fucking arsonists?

I was working with Richard Saunders on layout of the next issue of The Skeptic magazine when Richard gasped so loudly that I was sure he’d found out that I once slept with John Edward.

Then I found out what really happened, and it was much, much worse…

Heard about the current bushfires in Australia?

A group of Christian Fundamentalists, aptly named Catch the Fire Ministries, posted a media release on their site, wherein they irrationally blame a new pro-choice abortion law for the bushfires..

Not arsonists, not summer, not extremely high temperatures, but a law that allows abortion in the state of Victoria, where the fires are occurring…

Tragically, almost one thousand houses have burned to the ground, hundreds of people have died…and these assholes think that abortion is to blame, that the fires are God’s punishment, and that prayer is the answer…

This reminded me of those who blamed Hurricane Katrina on the licentiousness and debauchery of New Orleans.

I promptly issued the following press release to a range of sites:

Christians Exploit Catastrophe

Australia has been in shock since the Victorian bushfires in early February, resulting in the destruction of almost one thousand homes and the deaths of hundreds of people.

While some offer practical relief in the form of food and clothing donations, others look for someone to blame.

Catch the Fire Ministries (CTFM) in Dandenong, Victoria, published a media release today, blaming a new Australian law for the devastating bushfires, and further claim that the fires were foretold in a spiritual vision.

The CTFM leader, Pastor Danny Nalliah, announced that he had predicted the bushfires in a dream he had in October 2008. In this dream, he had a prophesy that the fires would occur, as divine retribution for an abortion decriminalization bill that passed in Victoria in 2008. Nalliah calls Victoria the “baby killing state of Australia.”

The Ministry’s response is to petition God for forgiveness, and to commence a seven day prayer and fasting campaign. “In our prayer and fasting campaign, we are particularly repenting for the passing of the “Decriminalization of Abortion Laws of Victoria” in addition to other unrighteous, ungodly, and unjust laws and practices which have seen a holocaust of some of the most helpless members of the human race, the unborn.”

“Can we stop the fires? Yes we can! But it will take God’s children to rally together and repent and cry unto Him as in 2 Chronicles 7:14 (The Holy Bible). We at CTFM have seen this happen several times in the past in Australia, which was also covered by many mainstream media outlets.”

The CTFM website calls upon the “Australian Bible-believing God-fearing Christians to repent and call upon the Lord Jesus Christ for His mercy and protection over Australia once again.”

Visitors to the CTFM website can comment on the media release. However, skeptical replies are immediately deleted.

Representatives of the Australian Skeptics condemn the Catch the Fire Ministry for their uncritical, discriminatory beliefs and exploitation of the tragic events to promote their ministry.

Richard and I spent the afternoon submitting comments to their site, which were promptly censored.

So we started spreading the news…

The Skeptic

Are you Experienced a Skeptic?

I recently assumed the role of Editor of The Skeptic magazine.

“Where can I subscribe?” You immediately ask!

“You can subscribe here!” I immediately reply, adding, “Look out for us in newsagencies, newstands and bookstores soon…”

I’ll further add that over the coming months we’ll have an updated magazine; a slick, sexily skeptical design, new columns, new features and new authors.

I’ve been a busy Skepbitch, so until I can get back to my regular routine of  scathing skeptical commentary, here’s a sneak peak of  the next Around the Traps, a local skeptical news column.

(N.b. The photo of the children peering into a van displaying a model of Noah’s Ark is particularly vile…)

Turn On, Tune In, Nod Off

Australia missed the bus to advertise a Sunday sleep-in, but unfortunately, we didn’t miss the Creation Bus.

Creation Ministries International sponsor this travelling band of Creationists who have performed outreach to 100,000 people over the past fifteen years. The Creation Bus drives nonsense non-science to regional, rural and outback communities, the areas that need education the most.

Missionary Peter Sparrow teaches Creationism and his own distorted and misinformed view of evolutionary theory. He Says, “Sadly, so many aboriginal folk have accepted the lie of human evolution, still believing today the idea that they are somehow less evolved or more primitive than the rest of the population. I have seen tears resulting from the realization that we really are all one race, descended from Adam and Eve, and thus all related and all equally made in the image of God our Creator.”

These missionaries should know better; Peter is a Science teacher with a degree in biology and his wife Cathy is a nurse.

The Creation Bus is known as “Myrtle the Turtle”, and boasts the number plate “DAYS 06”. The bus is painted in a psychedelic motif, “Each of the colours of the stripes represents a day in the Creation week.”

White: day 1, light.
Blue: day 2, water and sky.
Green: day 3, plants.
Yellow: day 4, sun, moon and stars.
Brown: day 5, living creatures.
Red: day 6, man (‘one blood’).

Magical Ministry Tour

There’s yet another Creationist bus ministering a lack of science to remote regions.

Creation Ministries International is also sponsoring the Ark Van Ministry Tour. Rod “The Ark Man” Walsh is a “long-time Noah’s Ark modeller and expert” who is currently on tour to “share the gospel” and expound his beliefs about the Biblical story of Noah’s Ark and the Flood.

This is a travelling exhibit of Ark models built “to scale” that conform to “the general biblical principles most creationists adhere to.”

The Ark Van visits schools and churches in rural Australia and overseas, as Walsh answers audience questions such as, “How big was the Ark and how did all the animals fit? Where did all the water come from? Where did all the water go? And how could the world have been populated in just 4,500 years since the Flood?”

Walsh’s mission is to “help people understand how real the Ark was.” With a background in insurance he obviously takes “Acts of God” too literally.