Summoning up nothing

Some years ago, as part of the research I did while writing my novel Sephirot, I purchased a copy of Richard Cavendish's book The Black Arts.  It's a comprehensive look at the darker side of human beliefs, quite exhaustive and well-written (it's unclear how much of it Cavendish actually believes is true; he's pretty good at keeping his own opinions of out it).  I was mostly interested in the section on the "Tree of Life" from the Kabbalah -- the Sephirot of the novel's title -- but as is typical for me, I got sidetracked and ended up reading the entire thing.

There's a whole part of the book devoted to magical rituals, summoning up evil spirits and whatnot, and what struck me all the way through was the counterpoint between (1) how deadly seriously the practitioners take it, and (2) how fundamentally silly it all is.  Here's one passage with a spell for conjuring up a demon, taken from the Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis (The Lesser Key of Solomon), a seventeenth-century sorcerers' grimoire much used by the infamous Aleister Crowley:

I conjure thee, O Spirit N., strengthened by the power of Almighty God, and I command thee by Baralamensis, Baldachiensis, Paumachie, Apoloresedes, and the most powerful Princes Genio and Liachide, Ministers of the Seat of Tartarus and Chief Princes of the Throne of Apologia in the ninth region.

Which is pretty fucking impressive-sounding if you can get it out without laughing.  This would be the difficulty I'd face if I was a sorcerer, which is undoubtedly why even after typing all this out, no evil spirit appeared.  I guess snickering while you're typing magic words is kind of off-putting to the Infernal Host.

Anyhow, if you chant all that and nothing happens -- which, let's face it, is the likeliest outcome -- the book then takes you through an escalating series of spells, gradually ramping up in the intensity of threats for what will happen to the demon if it doesn't obey you.  Ultimately there's this one, which is pretty dire:

O spirit N., who art wicked and disobedient, because thou hast not obeyed my commands and the glorious and incomprehensible names of the true God, the Creator of all things, now by the irresistible power of these Names I curse thee into the depths of the Bottomless Pit, there to remain in unquenchable fire and brimstone until the Day of Wrath unless thou shalt forthwith appear in this triangle before this circle to do my will.  Come quickly and in peace by the Names Adonai, Zebaoth, Adonai, Amioram.  Come, come, Adonai King of Kings commands thee.

Which, apparently, is the black magic equivalent of your dad saying "Don't make me ask you again!"  The whole thing is even more effective, the book says, if the magician chants all this while masturbating, so that when he has an orgasm "the full force of his magical power gushes forth."

Kind of makes you wonder how teenage boys don't summon demons several times a day.

Crowley absolutely loved this kind of rigamarole, especially because it involved sex, which appears to have been his entire raison d'être.  The book tells us that he "used this ritual in 1911 to summon a spirit called Abuldiz, but the results were not very satisfactory."

Which is unsurprising.  This, in fact, has always been what is the most baffling thing to me about magical thinking; that it simply doesn't work, and yet this seems to have little effect on its adherents.  For a time during my late teens I got seriously into divination.  Tarot cards, numerology, astrology, the works.  (I hasten to state that I never tried to conjure a demon.  Even at my most credulous, that stuff exceeded my Goofiness Tolerance Quotient.)  After an embarrassed and embarrassing period when, deep down, I knew it was all nonsense but wanted desperately for it to be true because it was so cool, I gave it all up as a bad job, decided rationality was the way to go, and pretty much never looked back.  (I do still own several Tarot card decks, however, which I can appreciate both from the fact that they're beautiful and from a touch of shame-faced nostalgia.)

But it's astonishing how few people go this direction.  The combination of confirmation bias (accepting slim evidence because it supports what we already believed) and dart-thrower's bias (noticing or giving more weight to hits than misses) is a mighty powerful force in the human psyche.  Add to that the fact that for certain miserable members of humanity, hoodwinking the gullible into belief is big business, and it's sad, though no real wonder, that when I type "astro-" into a Google search, "astrology" comes up before "astronomy."

Anyhow, those are my thoughts for a Monday morning, spurred by my looking for another book and happening to notice the Cavendish book still on my bookshelf.  It resides with various other books on ghosts, vampires, UFOs, cryptids, werewolves, and the like, and several with titles like Twenty Terrifying Unsolved Mysteries.  It's still entertaining to read that stuff even if I don't believe any of it.

On the other hand, if I get visited tonight by Abuldiz or whoever-the-fuck, I guess it'll serve me right.

****************************************

Spell check

If you were wondering why the Trump administration has turned out to be a slow-moving train wreck, it's not because the American people saw fit to elect an unqualified, ignorant, narcissistic sociopath to the highest office in the land: it's because Trump et al. are being cursed by witches.

At least that's the contention of Lance Wallnau, pastor, author, speaker, "spiritual guide," and writer for Charisma News, who has been something of a frequent flier here at Skeptophilia.  Here are just a few of the appearances Wallnau has already made:

• He predicted that the Cleveland Indians were going to beat the Chicago Cubs in the 2016 World Series, because Chicago is cursed by god because Obama lived there or something.  When the Cubs won, he claimed his prophecy was still correct because of Satan.
• Hillary Clinton was motivated by a "spirit intent on destroying America."  And just one man stood in her path... namely...
• Donald Trump's win was because of god applying a "wrecking ball" to the "higher level demon principality" the United States had become, which means that if you don't like Trump, you're motivated by demons.

So you can see that Wallnau's grip on reality isn't that strong to begin with.  Despite the fact that he's one of these "traditional family values" guys who thinks that social liberalism is sending America into the pit of hell, he is staunchly behind a thrice-married serial adulterer for whom money and power are the sole motivators.  And, apparently, he sees no internal contradictions in this stance, to the point that he thinks that Trump is the next best thing to the Second Coming of Christ.

And now, Wallnau thinks that his Deputy Lord and Savior is under attack.  Because, let's face it; you can't be the Chosen One and expect that all the bad guys in the world are just going to accept it.  So Wallnau thinks that Trump is being cursed by witches, presumably using spells that make the target individual sound like a spoiled and inarticulate toddler.

But there's a twist in all this; since the president is being "protected by the prayers of Christians," most of the evil magic is being deflected, and is instead striking the members of Trump's family.  This could certainly explain some of the trouble that Donald Jr. and Jared Kushner are in at the moment.  And if some of the collateral damage is striking members of Trump's inner circle, this could also make sense of the resignation of Sean Spicer and Anthony Scaramucci, and the rumors surrounding some impending upset involving Attorney General Jeff Sessions.

I don't know how I feel about this.  I mean, taking down Donald Jr., Kushner, Spicer, Scaramucci, and Sessions is all very well, but it leaves so many other deserving recipients of evil spells uncursed.  I mean, come on; Kellyanne Conway?  Betsy DeVos?  Paul Ryan?  And most of all, Mitch McConnell?  If ever there was someone who needs to be targeted by the "Silencio" charm from Harry Potter, it's Mitch McConnell.  The only thing that would be better is to (1) make it permanent, and (2) add some other spell that would get rid of the slimy smirk he always wears.

[image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

So anyway, Wallnau wants his followers to rectify this oversight.  “People are praying for the president, but they’re not necessarily praying for his family,” Wallnau said.  “So right now, all those witchcraft curses that did not land on Donald Trump are trying to take out his kids, trying to take out his offspring, trying to attack anything near him.”

As proof of the danger, Wallnau cites an exorcism he once witnessed, wherein the demon was expelled from the possessed person, but instead of hauling ass back to the Pits of Darkness, the demon instead jumped into the body of the family dog, who proceeded to fling himself out of the car window as it sped down the highway.

Which brings up an important question, to wit: who the hell does an exorcism on someone in a moving car?  I'll admit that some people do drive as if they had taken classes in Hell's Driving School.  But even so, it seems like a dangerous thing to do.  Even if it wasn't the driver who was being exorcised, you'd still have the risk of sharp objects being flung around the car and the possessed person puking up pea soup all over the place.

Which would make it kind of hard to concentrate on watching the road.

But Wallnau apparently doesn't find anything at all weird about this.  He told his listeners exactly what they should say.  “We take authority over every hex, vex, spell, jinx, satanic curse, blood curse, every demon assigned to destroy the health of the president, to destroy the health of his family, to harass him, to vex him, to cause him to lose sleep.  In Jesus's name, we veto every curse that has been brought against Donald Trump and his family and his administration.”

And I have to admit that sounds pretty authoritative.  But you have to wonder why they don't do anything more productive, like praying that god vetoes Trump's Twitter account.

Anyhow, that's today's dip in the deep end of the pool.  I have to admit that Lance Wallnau is always good for a laugh, even if my chortling is tempered by the fact that he has a large number of people who actually listen to him and believe what he says, and damn near all of those people voted for Donald Trump.  All of which makes my laughter ring a little hollow.

So I think to cheer myself up I'll go practice hurling spells like "Petrificus Totalus" in Mitch McConnell's direction.  Who knows?  Maybe it'll work.  And if my aim is bad, it could still hit Paul Ryan, which would be almost as good.

The witches vs. Donald Trump

As an example of the general principle that there is nothing that is so weird that someone can't respond to it in such a way as to make it far weirder, we have: witches attempting to cast a spell on Donald Trump.

Many of us are looking for ways to resist President Trump's rather pernicious agenda, so I suppose it's not to be wondered at that the Wiccans want to give it a try, too.  They did so five days ago with hexes designed to "bind Donald J Trump, so that his malignant works may fail utterly" so that he "shall not break our polity, usurp our liberty, or fill our minds with hate, confusion, fear, or despair."  They used various props such as orange candles, magic wands, and Tarot cards to support the cosmic vibrations they were attempting to harness, and instead of ending with the traditional closing words of Wiccan spells -- "So mote it be" -- they ended with "You're fired!"

For the good of the order, I'm not making this up.

Michael Hughes, one of the witches involved, explained that they weren't trying to harm President Trump.  "This is not the equivalent of magically punching a Nazi," Hughes said.  "Rather, it is ripping the bullhorn from his hands, smashing his phone so he can't tweet, tying him up, and throwing him in a dark basement where he can't hurt anyone."

Which, honestly, doesn't seem to be any less violent than magically punching a Nazi.

Be that as it may, the whole thing turned out to be pretty popular, given that a Facebook page devoted to the ritual garnered 10,500 likes, and for a while the hashtag #magicresistance was trending on Twitter.

As far as results, though, not so much.  After the Cosmic Convergence of Anti-Trump Spells, there has been no discernible decrease in the president's tweets, lying, or divisive bullshit.  So you'd think that'd make the Wiccans go, "Huh.  I guess it doesn't work, then.  What a bunch of goobers we are."  And that'd be that.

But as I said, there's no bizarre claim that can't be countered so as to make it even more bizarre.  Despite the utter lack of effectiveness of the curses, the whole episode had the pro-Trump cadre completely up in arms.  For example, Alex Jones, who really needs to stop doing sit-ups under parked cars, claimed that the witches were attacking Trump "because he's good."  "Every evil force out there hates Trump," Jones said.  "He has mega-level charisma."

But there's no one who can contribute to a surreal situation quite like Pat Robertson.  He was outraged when he heard about what the witches were doing, and said that concerned folks need to "send those curses back where they came from."

"I read that a bunch of witches have gotten together to put a curse on Trump," Robertson told his audience on The 700 Club a couple of days ago, "and I think the Christians need to be praying for him to defend him...  all you have to say is the five words, 'I bind you, Satan, and the forces of evil, in Jesus's name.'"

Which is way more than five words.  But given the grade-A-lunacy of the rest of the claim, I'm not going to quibble over simple arithmetic.

His co-host, Wendy Griffith, agreed.  "That thing with the witches was supposed to happen Friday night at midnight, and I know all the believers were there on Facebook, you know, cancelling out those curses by the witches, and pleading with the blood of Jesus.  You know, there were probably millions of Christians praying for him."

"Yes," Robertson said.  "Send it back where it came from.  Send the curse back."

So let's see, here.  We have some witches sending useless magic spells out against Trump, because he's so good and charming and charismatic, and Pat Robertson is mobilizing Christians on Facebook to utter their own magic spells (prayers, to be accurate, although in this particular case I'm not seeing much of a difference) to make the witches' spells bounce back, presumably resulting in their being "thrown in a dark basement where they can't hurt anyone."

It's enough to make me want to take Ockham's Razor and slit my wrists with it.

Look, I know that magical thinking is hard to eradicate, but is it too much to ask people to apply a little bit of rationality to these situations?  Okay, yeah, it probably is beyond Alex Jones and Pat Robertson, but fer cryin' in the sink, why don't their listeners stop and say, "All right, that was ridiculous"?

Or better yet, stop listening?

Anyhow, that's today's news from the Forlorn Hope Department.  Me, I'm not expecting this to be over any time soon.  I'm sure the witches have some more potent spells in their arsenal, and once they realize that (1) the first salvo accomplished fuck-all, and (2) the ultra-religious are mobilizing their forces to work up some kick-ass counter-spells, they'll really want to step up the campaign.  Maybe they'll even move from orange candles to black ones.

That's when shit's gonna get real.  Or surreal.  Whatever.

Anti-smirk spells

Most of you probably know the name of Martin Shkreli, the pharmaceuticals executive who became notorious for raising the price of an anti-HIV drug his company manufactures from $13.50 per tablet to $750.  Once caught, he was completely unrepentant, claiming that the price hike resulted in cash that could be put into additional research, which would be "a great thing for society."  Not so great a thing for people who are HIV-positive, of course, but he doesn't seem unduly bothered by that.  Morals don't seem to be Shkreli's strong suit; besides his dubiously ethical practice of jacking up drug prices so as to squeeze the maximum profit from the ill, he was also arrested for securities fraud last year and is currently out on bail pending trial.

He is also notable for having a cocky, self-satisfied smirk so infuriating that it would probably induce the Dalai Lama to punch him in the jaw.

The trouble is, his arrest and upcoming trial have nothing to do with his practice of pricing life-saving drugs out of the reach of all but the very rich.  Worse, he's certainly not the only one in the pharmaceuticals industry doing this, he's just the most visible (and irritating) face of the problem.  Whatever happens apropos of his trial for securities fraud, Shkreli and his profit-above-everything-else motive are going to be difficult to eradicate, given that it's not illegal to sell products at an exorbitant rate in a capitalist society, however unethical it might be.

Which is why a group of Brooklyn witches have taken matters into their own hands, and put a curse on Shkreli.

The spokeswitch for the group, who goes by the name  "Howl," said that she doesn't hex people lightly.  "If I do go to this extreme, it’s to ensure that someone who is doing wrong is held accountable and pays for their wrongdoing, rather than because I just don’t like someone," Howl said in an interview with The Daily Dot.  "Like, this person will get away with doing so much harm.  And I can’t do anything in a financial way, the systems of capitalism alienate the poor from any measure of justice or assertion of voice and power, so what can I do?  And this is one method."

Howl and her friends aren't messing around, either.  They made a wax statue of Shkreli, and then let each of the witches take a shot at hexing it.  "We sent the effigy around the circle and each person anointed a different part of the effigy and expressed their desire for the type of hex they’d like to enact,” Howl explained.  "For example, someone anoints the head and says they hope the ego dies, that Martin Shkreli gets over his ego and realizes the damage that he’s done and makes amends.  Or they’d hex where you’d keep your wallet and says they hope he pays financially for the financial damage he’s done to other people."

Me, I'd like to see a spell that would freeze his facial muscles into a permanent scowl, so I'd never have to see him smirking at federal prosecutors again.  Others have suggested that it might be more appropriate to magically teleport HIV into his bloodstream, and then charge him $750 per tablet for his medication.

Unfortunately, I don't think any of this will work, for as Tim Minchin put it, "Throughout history, every mystery that has ever been solved has turned out to be... not magic."  But I have to say, skeptic though I am, if it comes to a choice between Howl and Martin Shkreli, I'm siding with Howl.  However ineffective her methods almost certainly are, her heart is in the right place.  "Some folks I know live with AIDS, and others rely on the medication, so that price tag is absolutely uncalled for and ridiculous," she said.  "I know systemically it’s not only him.  But he is a very visible part of this."

Which is it exactly.  So as far as the Brooklyn witches go, my response is: carry on.  I'd also encourage the Dalai Lama to take a crack at Shkreli, if he's feeling up to it.

Digital witchcraft

My lack of technological expertise is fairly legendary in the school where I work.  When I moved  this year into a classroom with a "Smart Board," there was general merriment amongst students and staff, along with bets being made on how long it would take me to kill the device out of sheer ineptitude.

It's January, and I'm happy to say that the "Smart Board" and I have reached some level of détente.  Its only major problem is that it periodically decides that it only wants me to write in black, and I solve that problem the way I solve pretty much any computer problem: I turn it off and then I turn it back on.  It's a remarkably streamlined way to fix things, although I have to admit that when it doesn't work I have pretty much exhausted my options for remedying the problem.

Now, however, I've discovered that there's another way I could approach issues with technology: I could hire a witch to clear my device of "dark energy."

[image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

I found this out because of an article in Vice wherein they interviewed California witch and ordained minister Joey Talley, who says that she accomplishes debugging computers by "[placing] stones on top of the computer, [clearing] the dark energy by setting an intention with her mind, or [cleansing] the area around the computer by burning sage."

Which is certainly a hell of a lot easier than actually learning how computers work so you can fix them.

"I just go in and work the energy," Talley said.  "And there are different stones that work really well on computers, chloride [sic] is one of them.  Also, some people really like amethyst for computers.  It doesn’t really work for me, but I’m psychic.  So when I go into the room where somebody’s computer is, I go in fresh, I step in like a fresh sheet, and I’m open to feel what’s going on with the computer.  Everything’s unique, which is why my spell work changes, because each project I do is unique...  Sometimes I do a magic spell or tape a magic charm onto the computer somewhere.  Sometimes I have a potion for the worker to spray on the chair before they sit down to work. Jet is a stone I use a lot to protect computers."

So that sounds pretty nifty.  It even works if your computer has a virus:

I got contacted by a small business owner in Marin  County.  She had a couple of different viruses and she called me in.  First, I cast a circle and called in earth, air, fire and water, and then I called in Mercury, the messenger and communicator.  Then I went into a trance state, and all I was doing was feeling.  I literally feel [the virus] in my body. I can feel the smoothness where the energy’s running, and then I feel a snag. That’s where the virus got in...  Then I performed a vanishing ceremony.  I used a black bowl with a magnet and water to draw [the virus] out.  Then I saged the whole computer to chase the negativity back into the bowl, and then I flushed that down the toilet.  After this I did a purification ceremony.  Then I made a protection spell out of chloride [sic], amethyst, and jet.  I left these on the computer at the base where she works.

The virus, apparently, then had no option other than to leave the premises immediately.

We also find out in the article that Talley can cast out demons, who can attach to your computer because it is a "vast store of electromagnetic energy" on which they like to feed, "just like a roach in a kitchen."

The most interesting bit was at the end, where she was asked if she ever got mocked for her practice.  Talley said yes, sure she does, and when it happens, she usually finds that the mockers are "ornery and stupid."  She then tells them to go read The Spiral Dance and come back when they have logical questions.  Which sounds awfully convenient, doesn't it?  I've actually read The Spiral Dance, which its fans call "a brilliant, comprehensive overview of the growth, suppression, and modern-day re-emergence of Wicca," and mostly what struck me is that if you didn't already believe in all of this stuff, the book presented nothing in the way of evidence to convince you that any of it was true.  Put another way, The Spiral Dance seems to be a long-winded tribute to confirmation bias.  So Talley's desire for "logical questions" -- such as "what evidence do you have of any of this?" -- doesn't really generate much in the way of answers that a skeptic from outside the Wiccan worldview could accept.

But hell, given the fact that my other options for dealing with computer problems are severely constrained, maybe the next time my "Smart Board" malfunctions, I'll wave some amethyst crystals around.  Maybe I'll even do a little dance.  (Only when there's no one else in the room; my students and colleagues already think I'm odd enough.)

Then, most likely, I'll turn it off and turn it back on.  Even demons won't be able to stand up to that.

Spam, spam, spam, eggs, and spam

Yesterday I got a spam reply on one of my old Skeptophilia posts.

It happens pretty often, and I usually just ignore them, being that (1) I'm not stupid enough to reply, and (2) I have no particular interest in black-market anabolic steroids, penis growth pills, or helping out exiled Nigerian princes.  But this one was so funny that I read it aloud to a student of mine who happened to be hanging around, and we both had a good enough laugh that I thought I should share it here.

[image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

So here it is, along with some interspersed editorial comments from yours truly.

ATTENTION TO THE WHOLE WORLD:

Not just me, eh?  You want the whole world's attention?  That's pretty ambitious.

Hello and blessed are you who found me.

Well, you found me, technically.  But hello back atcha.

My name is DR SHAKES SPEAR, and am here to help you change and transform your life in the most positive way possible.

Is that William Shakes Spear?  Huh.  I thought you had Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil four centuries ago.  Shows you what I know.

I use the power of white, black craft and Wicca and voodoo spell casting to help people just like you they get the love they want and the money they deserve.

Did you even read my blog, dude?  You are seriously barking up the wrong tree.

My love spell offer amazing and quick results. Do you want to find your soulmate?

Already have, thanks.

Do you want to reunite with a past lover and make him or her love you again?

Merciful heavens above, no.  My past lovers are past for a reason.

Do you need to bind a troublemaker from causing problems in your relationship?

Unless you count the fact that my dog takes up way more than his fair share of the bed, I think I'm fine in that regard.

With my spell casting service, I can cast a love spell on your behalf that will help all of your wishes and dreams come true. I also do other custom spells, such as money spells, job spells, friendship spells, and good luck spells.

Versatile, that's you!  But you have to wonder why, if you can just cast money spells, you are trying to bilk money from a poor struggling writer.

You may have already tried the power of spells and prayers to get what you want.

No, "hard work" and "a reasonable supply of brainpower" have always worked for me.

Although it is true that everyone has the ability to cast spells and perform magic, spell casting is like a muscle.  Everyone has this 'muscle' but the more you use it, the stronger it gets, and the more things you are able to do with it.

Well, that's a mighty fine sales pitch.  However, the muscle it mostly made me think of was the gluteus maximus, because you seem to be talking out of your ass.

If you are not an experienced spell caster, your spell may not be as strong, and the results not as quick as you may desire. GET YOUR PROBLEMS SOLVE HERE AND BE FREE!!

Ooh, I can't wait for my problems to be solve!

Hello to people that want to be Great,

Hi there.

Note: This Spell casting do not have any effect on any one, But just to get your problem solve ok.

Ok.  But if it do not have any effect on any one, how the hell do it get my problem solve?

Get your problem solve in master...You can get the bellow problems solve here.

Yes, those bellow problems can be a bitch, it's true.

1. Bring back lost lover, even if lost for a long time

Cf. my previous comment about lost lovers.  They can stay lost, thanks.

2. Remove bad spells from homes, business & customer attraction etc.

Now you're talking.  If you could cast a spell that would make 9th graders less annoying, I'd be much obliged.

3. Get promotion you have desired for a long time at work or in your career.

Promotion?  To what, administrator?  That'd be a big "nope."  For me, being an administrator falls into the "just shoot me now" category.

4. Remove the black pot that keeps on taking your money away

So that's where it's going!

5. Find out why you are not progressing in life and the solution

If you could progress one of my novels to "bestseller" status, I'd take back everything I said about you.

6.  Ensure excellent school grades even for children with mental disabilities

Who needs the Common Core, when you have Dr. Shakes Spear?

7. I destroy and can send back the Nikolos if requested

I'm not going to request, because I have no idea what the fuck that even means.

8. We heal barrenness in women and bad issue and disturbing menstruation

I'm disturbed just thinking about this one.

9. Get you marriage to the lover of your choice

Too late, because I took care of that one myself.  But it's a nice offer.

10. Guarantee you win the troubling court cases & divorce no matter how what stage

Shouldn't #10 come before #9?  Just saying, you know, as a pitch.  As is it seems like getting the cart before the horse.

11. Mental illness & bewitched

What about them?  

12. Extreme protection for those doing dangerous jobs like security guards, Bank manager, cash transporters, etc

Not teachers, eh?  No "extreme protection" for us?  Just your ordinary, garden-variety protection?

I can help you, and I want to help you. Read through my words and CONTACT ME VIA:shakesspear23@yahoo.com OR shakesspear23@gmail.com AS MY POWERS ARE SO STRONG AND VERY EFFECTIVE AND HAS NO BAD EFFECT INSTEAD IT HAVE A VERY GOOD RESULT AFTER CASTING THE SPELL.

Maybe you should work on a spell for getting your caps lock unstuck.

So, there you have it.  A tasty meal of spam, courtesy of Dr. Shakes Spear.  I strongly recommend against sending anything to the email addresses, because of course that only would alert Dr. Spear that (s)he has a fish on the line, and pretty likely result in your being inundated by further offers.  So unless you have a particular need for steroids or penis growth pills, or are feeling a sudden desire to help down-on-their-luck Nigerian princes, it's probably best just to press "delete" and forget about it.

Potions 101

One of the coolest things about writing Skeptophilia has been the connections I've made with other skeptics.  The friendly comments, and (even better) the suggestions for topics, have been a continual source of cheer for me, far outweighing the outraged rantings of various woo-woos I've offended, not to mention the occasional death threat.

I've recently (and more or less by accident) achieved quite a following amongst some of my current and former students.  I certainly don't believe in proselytizing during class; not only would this be unprofessional and ethically questionable, given that they are a captive audience, I have always preferred keeping my own views about most things out of the scope of my lectures.  It's far better, I've found, to present the facts of the matter, and give students the tools to think critically, and allow them to make up their own minds.  But it was inevitable that a few of them would discover Skeptophilia, and once that happened, the news spread, leading to the formation of what I think of as a sort of junior branch of Worldwide Wacko Watch.

One particularly enthusiastic young man that I only met this year has taken it upon himself to become something of a research assistant, ferreting out crazy stories and loopy websites in his spare time, and sending them to me.  And just yesterday, he found a real winner, that has all of the hallmarks of a truly inspired woo-woo website: (1) a bizarre worldview, (2) no evidence whatsoever, and despite (1) and (2), (3) complete certainty.

So allow me to present for your consideration the Lucky Mojo Free Spells Archive.

The first fun bit about this site is that it's run and maintained by someone named "Cat Yronwode."  Having a background in linguistics, I have deduced that the latter combination of letters is an attempt to spell "Ironwood" in a vaguely medieval fashion, but who the hell knows for sure?  In any case, Ms. Yronwode has requested that the spells contained therein not be copied, because some of them are copyrighted material, and I have honored this, so if you want more details about exactly how to concoct the magic potions described below, you'll have to take a look at the site yourself.  (Who knew that pagans could be so legalistic?  I didn't.  But better to play along with her request than to find myself hexed with, for example, "Confusion Oil #3."  Heaven knows I'm confused enough, most days.)

In any case, what the "Lucky Mojo Free Spells Archive" turns out to be is a set of recipes for magic potions, and instructions in their use.  Thus we have the following:

• "Seven Holy Waters" -- allegedly invented by Marie Laveau, the "Witch Queen of New Orleans."  Contains whiskey, which I've never found to be especially water-like, but given that the word "whiskey" comes from the Irish "uisge beatha," meaning "water of life," we'll just let it slide, because arguing with both the Witch Queen of New Orleans and the entire nation of Ireland seems like a losing proposition.  In any case, it's supposed to bring you peace, and is "very old-fashioned and Catholic."
• Three different recipes for "Money-drawing Oil."
• Two recipes for "Love Bath," one of which is called "Courtesan's Pleasure," and about which I will not say anything further in the interest of keeping this blog PG-13 rated.
• Something called "John the Conqueror Oil."  Made, predictably enough, with "John the Conqueror root."  We are warned to "beware commercial John the Conqueror and High Conquering Oil" because they "rarely have the root in them," especially if it was made in a factory.  This made me ask, in some astonishment, "There are factories for making this stuff?"  Notwithstanding that I'm supportive of anything it takes to keep Detroit solvent, you have to wonder how you could mechanize making magic spells.  Don't you have to be all pagan and ritualistic and druidic and so forth while you're making up potions?  I just can't imagine that you'd get the same results from cooking up your potions in a cauldron in the woods as you would if you made them using electric blenders, pressure cookers, conveyor belts, and so on.  At least one has to hope that the machinery is operated by certified witches.
• "Haitian Lover Oil," "for men only," about which we are told that it is "not to be used as a genital dressing oil."  Okay, we consider ourselves duly warned.
• "Damnation Powder."  Used to hex someone you don't like.  "To be used with extreme caution."   Don't damn anyone lightly, is the general advice, which seems prudent to me.
• And the best one:  "Harvey's Necromantic Floorwash #1."  Just the name of this one almost made me spit coffee all over my computer.  But hey, I guess even necromancers need to scrub the linoleum in their kitchens every once in a while, right?

So anyway, there you have it, a concise formulary for concocting magic spells and potions.  All of which puts me in mind of one of my heroes, depicted below:

If you are, like me, a Looney Tunes fan, you might remember that he got out of this particular fix by chanting such powerful spells as "Abraca-pocus" and "Hocus-cadabra."  It worked, but I bet he'd have defeated his vampire captor even more quickly had he had access to some "Damnation Oil," or even better, "John the Conqueror Root."

eBay, metaphysics, and caveat emptor

In what can only be called a puzzling move, online clearinghouse eBay has announced that they will no longer allow selling of "paranormal services."

From the 2012 Fall Seller Update, we read the following:

The following items are also being added to the prohibited items list: advice; spells; curses; hexing; conjuring; magic; prayers; blessing services; magic potions; healing sessions; work from home businesses & information; wholesale lists, and drop shop lists.

My reason for calling this "puzzling" is twofold.  First, they have a whole category called "Specialty Services," and it would seem that such things would clearly fall under that heading.  And as such claims are bogus from the get-go, it would be hard for a purchaser to file a claim under eBay's stated policies for sellers:

As a seller, you're expected to:

• Charge reasonable shipping and handling costs.
• Specify shipping costs and handling time in the listing.
• Follow through on your return policy.
• Respond to buyers' questions promptly.
• Be helpful, friendly, and professional throughout a transaction.
• Make sure the item is delivered to the buyer as described in the listing.

And all of this would seem to be well in line with what these sellers are doing.  All they were selling was a prayer or a hex or whatever; there's no guarantee it would work, just as there's no guarantee that if you ask your religious friend to pray for you (or your wizard friend to cast a spell for you) that it'll produce results.  The only difference is that here, you're being asked to pay for it.

Now, the hopeful side of my personality is speculating that eBay is pulling these offers because they know them to be inherently fraudulent, and they don't want to have any part in ripping off the credulous.  But my second reason for calling this change "puzzling" is that if this is the reason, it's hard to explain some of their other listings, such as:

• A Haunted Fairy Drawing Spinner Pendant, which comes with "five garden fairies included."
• A Real Witchcraft-Coven-Owned Secret Book of Shadows, which comes with a "broom and a wand stand."  (This thing is handwritten, and has a starting bid of $550 -- and currently has seven bids on it.)
• A Seal of Solomon Pendant that allows you to "command a legion of powerful entities."
• A 6" Feng Shui Crystal Ball, that will help you to "channel energy through the house."
• An Enchanted Pin, that will "amplify effectiveness of spoken spells cast."

So you can see that even though they are eliminating services having to do with woo-woo bullshit, they are still fine with selling stuff that has to do with woo-woo bullshit.  My only conclusion is that they don't want to have to mediate between buyers who purchased a magic spell that (amazingly enough) didn't work, and the seller who sold it to them.  But since, other than the policy that (1) the purchased item be delivered promptly, and (2) that the delivered item is as described on the eBay site, there seems to be no basis for a complaint, you have to wonder why they are backing off from what surely is a hell of a deal both for eBay and the sellers.

In any case, that's today's lesson in critical thinking and the principle of caveat emptor.  Me, I wonder if I missed my calling.  If I could make $550 (or more) handwriting a book of spells, and selling it on eBay, and have people trampling each other to buy it, I could retire from teaching and move somewhere warmer.  Spend a couple of hours a day writing out spells, have my wife do the illustrations (because my drawing skills maxed out somewhere in third grade), and spend the rest of the day on the beach soaking up the sun and drinking mojitos.  There's the inevitable downside of knowing that I was taking money from people who possess the critical thinking skills of road salt, but hey, if eBay isn't going to worry about that, why should I?