A medium serving of bollocks

Listening to the radio at work just now, I heard the breakfast DJs Matt & Jo talking to an alleged psychic/medium from New Zealand - the name escapes me for now so for the sake of convenience I'll call him K (for Kiwi). The segment began with K's story of how, in his youth, he started seeing spirits in the form of small bright lights in front of his vision (similar to what happens to me right before I cop a massive debilitating migraine). These spirits would reveal things to K about peoples' still-living relatives. When he talked about it he copped flak from his peers, so he concealed it until relatively recently. It was, more or less, along the lines of most medium origin stories: young child with a gift hides it as a child due to teasing or trouble, then makes a living off it in adulthood. You could also apply that to a lot of X-Men origin stories, but that's another, um, story. The fun began when K started a reading for the DJs Matt & Jo. During the intro, Jo sounded like an agnostic sort-of believer (not really sure, but willing to believe - I guess she watches "Medium" and not "The Mentalist") whilst Matt was a dead-set skeptic (you make the big claim, you provide the big evidence). Knowing this, K "read" Matt first, saying straight off that his mother, who had died of cancer, was "there" with a small girl (or talking about a small girl) and there was also the presence of a dog. Matt stated that his mother hadn't died of cancer, that there was no "small girl", alive or dead, that applied to his life and that all the dogs that could possibly have been relevant were still alive. Immediately, K became defensive and flatly stated that Matt was wrong. "You're wrong, this is what they're revealing to me." Matt defended himself, saying "Sorry, but I'm just being honest - none of what you said applies to me," which attracted the response, "Well, you're just being a skeptic." He spat the word "skeptic" out like was poison. "The spirits are telling me there was a small girl and a dog which mattered in your life, so you should take notice of that and think about those things - that's what the spirits say, but let's move on." Swiftly turning his attention to Jo (I could almost hear Matt derisively raising his eyebrow), K mentioned something about a car accident involving her father (whom he knew to be deceased). Jo, now sounding unconvinced, revealed that her father had actually died in a plane crash. "Ah yes," said K, sounding increasingly desperate (yet still nice and smug), "that's what it might be," then attempted to include the third member of the studio crew (whose name escapes me) in his reading (also to whom nothing applied). This vagueness went on for a couple more uncomfortable minutes (uncomfortable for K anyway, I'm sure, but I was enjoying it) and then they threw to a song. I would love to have been a fly on the wall as K made his (no doubt speedy) exit from the studio.

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Anti-gay, or pro-discrimination?

Following on previous comments about gay marriage (1, 2, 3), prop 8, and the increased change of falling skies... I was very pleased to encounter this extremely well argued vid on Ed Brayton's blog. He demonstrates both strong logic, and the ability to construct his argument from facts. Something he demonstrates to be lacking in the christian opposition. If our opponents actually argued like this, the debate might even be interesting! I'm experiencing some issues with WordPress and embedded video - so click here for the video on Youtube

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What are the teabag protests really about?

What are the teabag protests really about? Their message is so incredibly incoherent, that it's clear that these sparsely-attended "protests" weren't really about what they were supposedly about, at least for many of the protesters. Therefore, we need to explore the subterranean reasons. On Keith Olberman's show, Janeane Garofalo suggests that what really upsets the teabaggers is that there is a black man in White House. With her theory, Garofalo is echoing one of my suspicions. And check out the blogger who took the microphone at one of the protests and had the protesters eating out of his hand, to demonstrate the incoherence.

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The storms are still gathering . . . but these are better

In response to one of Hank's posts from a week or so ago, Erich posted the Internet commercial put out by NOM, the National Organization for Marriage, which is, in my mind, almost a parody of itself. The ridiculous assumptions they put forth - that THEIR freedoms are at-risk, that schools are teaching gay marriage, that they are losing something if gay men and women are allowed to marry - would be laughable if not for the fact that a portion of our population will watch it and nod vigorously in agreement. I think these "storms" say it better: -- On YouTube, you'll actually find many of these parodies - thank goodness so many jumped on board to point out the utter absurdity of that horrible ad. [If you're viewing this post from the home page, click on the title for 2 additional parodies.]

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Hippo Birdies Triple-Hexadecimal

Today marks 3 x 2^4 years since I made an illegal uterine U-turn and backed into this life. That's 17,532 days of cardiovascular goodness; circa 2 Billion heartbeats. I'm three times the age I was when I got my first kiss. Presbyopia is now nagging me, and my temples are graying. TMI, you say? Be that as it may, I have an existential dilemma. This birthday is a round number, arguably rounder than 50 (2 x 5^2). I should celebrate. But how? "Take the day off!" cry the masses. But I haven't had a regular job since the late 1980's. I don't usually give any of my clients notice for taking a day off, and they rarely notice. "Buy yourself something nice." But I have a bad habit of buying what catches my fancy, plus an instinct not to fancy expensive or frivolous things. Ignore my slide rule, camera, and typewriter collections. Also, I recently ordered 10 lbs of aluminum dust, a controlled substance that will be brightly expended. You'll hear more about that in July. (hint) "Do something fun," is good advice. But I don't have a routine of drudgery to escape from. My aching, aging shoulder is too sore to properly "do" the City Museum, but I may go dancing in the evening.

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