Skeptophilia (skep-to-fil-i-a) (n.) - the love of logical thought, skepticism, and thinking critically. Being an exploration of the applications of skeptical thinking to the world at large, with periodic excursions into linguistics, music, politics, cryptozoology, and why people keep seeing the face of Jesus on grilled cheese sandwiches.

Monday, July 8, 2013

The grave's a fine and private place...

This morning we have a story in from the lovely country of Thailand, where a woman from Phuket wants someone to get rid of ghosts who insist on having sex in her house.

46-year-old Onanong Waltham made a public appeal for help at the Phuket Press Club last week.  Accompanied by her housemate, Sujitraporn Tephabutra, Ms. Waltham told the story of what she's been enduring from her horny spectral neighbors.

"I keep hearing moaning sounds in my house.  It sounds like people making love," she said.  "Also, late at night, my phone rings and I answer it, but all I hear is a man’s voice saying he wants to make love to me. When I call back the number, I get some guy in Rayong province."

Understandably perturbed by all of this, Ms. Waltham filed a complaint with the Chalong Police.  "They came to my house and even heard the same noises, but they couldn’t find where the sounds were coming from.  I don't know what to do."

Not knowing what to do didn't stop her from seeking out help from local woo-woos, however.  "I have even seen a mor doo [a local soothsayer] and a spirit medium for advice, but nothing seems to have helped. I now think that someone is using black magic on me," she said.  "If anyone thinks they can make the noises stop, please contact the Press Club at 076-244 047 or email"

Well, I must say that I've heard a lot of weird stories, but this is a new one.  While I've heard many claims of ghostly voices, and even listened to a few recordings alleged to be spectral speech (for the record, none of which convinced me), I've never heard of anyone complaining of ghosts making sex noises.  So I decided to Google "ghosts having sex" to see if I could find any other instances of phantoms fooling around.

This may have been a mistake.

Of course there are other instances of this.  Lots of them.  You'd think, after years of writing this blog, that I'd have figured out that if you come up with a ridiculous idea, so ridiculous that you think, "No one could possibly believe this," there will not only be people who believe it fervently, there will be a Facebook page devoted to it.  There will be a Wikipedia page on the topic.  There will be an entirely serious article by a "spiritual intuitive" that explores the question of why ghosts still, apparently, need to get off every once in a while.  There will be an interview with an Ohio woman who claims that not only has she seen ghosts having sex, she has the photographs to prove it.  There will be a pop star who will one-up that by saying that she has actually had sex with a ghost herself.  ("I don't know his name," she said.)  There will be a how-to page if you'd like to find out how to summon a ghost to have sex with.

All of this leaves me wanting to weep softly and bang my head on my desk.

I mean, really.  There's nothing whatsoever wrong with enjoying a nice roll in the hay.  I'm hardly a prude, or anything.  And if you believe in the afterlife, well, I guess there's also nothing wrong with some speculation regarding whether that particular part of life will continue once you've shuffled off this mortal coil.  But I have the feeling that for some of these folks, this speculation has crossed the line from idle curiosity to a mild mental illness.

The 17th century English poet Andrew Marvell wrote a lovely poem called "To His Coy Mistress," which was summed up by a friend of mine as (pardon the obscenity) "Life's short, let's fuck."  (It really is a beautiful poem, despite its being one long plea for a hot hook-up.)  In it, he penned the lines, "The grave's a fine and private place/ But none, I think, do there embrace."  I guess Marvell might have reconsidered his position had he met some of the people involved in the links I posted above.  If you're horny, maybe there's no rush.

Maybe there's a lot of time.  Maybe an eternity.

Or maybe these people are just loons.  I know that's my vote.

1 comment:

  1. Sorry, dear, I just don't have enough ectoplasm tonight.