Ghostsquatch

You probably know all about such familiar cryptids as Bigfoot, Nessie, El Chupacabra, and Champ, and if you're a regular reader of this blog you probably also have a good working knowledge of some less familiar ones -- the Bunyip, Mokele-Mbembe, LizardMan, Sheepsquatch, the Beast of Gevaudan, Black Shuck, and Cadborosaurus.  You are probably also well aware that there has never been a bit of hard evidence for the existence of any of them.  All we have is sketchy eyewitness accounts, grainy photographs, and videocamera footage so shaky it looks like it was taken by a person who had just consumed about a quart of espresso.

What explains this dearth of tangible proof for any of these mysterious creatures?  There are two possible explanations that come readily to mind:

1)  None of them actually exist.
2)  The eyewitness accounts, photographs, and video clips aren't of actual, live cryptids; what people are seeing are the ghosts of prehistoric animals.

Well.  I think we can all agree that option #2 is a pretty persuasive scientific explanation, can't we?

It will come as no surprise to you that the Ghost Cryptid Theory is the brainchild of Nick Redfern, author of Contactees: A History of Alien-Human Interaction, Body Snatchers in the Desert: The Horrible Truth at the Heart of the Roswell Story, Man-Monkey - In Search of the British Bigfoot, Three Men Seeking Monsters, and about a dozen other titles on similar topics.

Redfern writes of a discussion he had with his friend, Joshua Warren, on the subject:

Could it be that certain animals of a strange and fantastic nature seen today are actually the spirits or ghosts of creatures that became extinct thousands of years ago? As fantastic as such a scenario might sound, maybe we shouldn’t outright dismiss it.

Indeed, paranormal expert and good friend Joshua P. Warren, the author of the highly-relevant book, Pet Ghosts, told me that he had extensively investigated a series of encounters with apparitional, ancient animals on farmland at Lancaster, South Carolina – one of which seemed to resemble nothing less than a spectral pterodactyl. Josh seriously mused upon the possibility that the ghostly presence of certain extinct animals might very well help explain sightings of monstrous beasts in our presence to this very day.

“Maybe Bigfoot is a phantimal,” said Josh to me, utilizing a term he uses to describe ghostly beasts, “perhaps even the ghost of a prehistoric creature, similar to the enormous extinct possible ape, Gigantopithecus, or maybe even the spirits of primitive humans.”

Okay.  Right.  A "phantimal."  So, what we've succeeded in accomplishing here is to take something that is potentially open to investigation (I hesitate to call what the Finding Bigfoot people did "investigation"), and place it entirely outside of the realm of what is even theoretically verifiable. 

Redfern and Warren seem to think that this is a good thing.  If all of those people who claim to have seen Bigfoot are actually seeing a "spectral" proto-hominid, then the lack of evidence somehow becomes a point in favor of the theory, right?

Ghostly Sasquatches, after all, leave behind no hair samples.

This seems mighty convenient to me.  It takes all of the objections that skeptics have to the cryptozoology thing, and dismisses them at one fell swoop:  "Of course there's no tangible proof."  It also explains all of the cryptid sightings with equal facility.  Nessie and Cadborosaurus are spirit pleisiosaurs.  Mokele-Mbembe is the ghost of a brachiosaurus.  Black Shuck and El Chupacabra are the ghosts of deceased canines.  Sheepsquatch is the ghost of...  well, I still don't know what the hell Sheepsquatch is.  But the ghost of some prehistoric mammal or another.

All of this, of course, just goes to show something that I've commented upon before; there's no crazy idea out there that's so outlandish that someone can't elaborate upon it so as to make it even more ridiculous.  We take something for which there is no evidence, but which at least isn't biologically impossible (the existence of cryptids), and put it in a blender with another thing for which there is no evidence (the existence of ghosts), and pour out a wonderful new Woo-Woo Smoothie -- Cryptids are the Ghosts of Prehistoric Animals.

Maybe we can elaborate it further, you think?  Maybe the spirit animals are actually in contact with... aliens!  That's it, the spirit animals are spies and are relaying information on us to their alien overlords!  I'm sure that somehow it's all tied up with the Roswell Incident, HAARP, and the Illuminati.

And I'm also sure that before the year is out, Nick Redfern will have written a book about it.

Satan's tour guide

"Visit lovely Hell.  Warm year-round, exclusive meetings with famous historical persons.  Breathtaking views of Burning Lakes of Fire.  Special excursions to the fabulous Ninth Circle available for a nominal charge."

Meet Master Kek Eng Seng, of Georgetown, Malaysia's Tze Bei Guan Yin Dharma Centre.  Master Kek recently offered fifty paying participants the opportunity to visit hell, heaven, and other special travel destinations.  Amazingly enough, the fifty lucky celestial tourists paid mucho buckos (not sure what that comes to in Malaysian currency, given current exchange rates) to be part of this trip.  Even more amazingly, the fifty were selected from over two hundred who applied.

"Some were taken off the list through a screening process, based on the birth dates that were unfavorable with the timing of the tour," said Beh Yuen Hui, a Malaysian reporter who was chosen to be part of the tour.  "Pregnant women and those having their period were also turned down."

Me, I didn't think Satan was that picky.  I thought he was sort of a come-one, come-all kinda guy.  Shows you what I know.

In any case, Master Kek assembled the fifty lucky travelers at the Dharma Centre last Saturday.  He pointed out that it had rained Thursday and Friday, but the weather Saturday was sunny, because he had "prayed to the deity Guan Yin" to stop the rain.  Guan Yin kindly complied, which was nice, because you know how irritating it is to go on a tour in the rain.  Besides, the rain might have put a damper on the fire and brimstone, and all.

The participants participated in prayers and rituals, and at a little after ten PM, the tour was ready to begin.  Master Kek blindfolded the fifty travelers, and then began a chant.

Reporter Beh Yuen Hui commented afterwards, "As I listened to the chants by Master Kek, my head became very hot, as though there was a stream of warm air trying to get out of my body through the top.  Master Kek later explained this by saying that my soul was trying to get out of my body."  His soul never did escape, however, because he was "distracted by the sounds of a nearby Chinese opera."

Myself, I wonder if he wasn't actually hearing hell.  If Chinese opera sounds anything like western opera, it could well be hell's soundtrack.

Beh, however, got a little frustrated, even though later in the experience he did do some traveling.

"About 45 minutes after the 'tour' began, I saw lights and followed their direction but I soon fell into darkness again with some circles flying towards me," he said.  "It was like watching a science fiction movie with a spacecraft traveling through a stream of meteoroids."

Unfortunately, the opera once again distracted him, and he found himself back at the Dharma Centre.  Master Kek later told him that the circles he'd seen were "whirlpools" that you pass through on your way to hell.

After an hour and a half, Master Kek called the participants back, and questioned them about what they'd seen.  It turned out that only one, a Chinese reporter named Chiang Kee Chuan, actually visited anywhere interesting -- and it turned out to be heaven,  not hell.

"I saw a rainbow hanging on a beautiful sky," Chiang said, afterwards, "and a monk advised me to become a vegetarian."

Another woman, who declined to be named, saw herself in a night market.  Master Kek asked her if it was a market in Ba Jiao Jie (Octagon Street), and the woman said yes.

"How did I know?" he asked the amazed crowd.  "Because I have been there before."

Wow.  Okay.  I'm convinced.

The tour participants, however, were pretty disappointed by the fact that they'd wasted a bunch of money and time, and most of them had spent an hour and a half watching the inside of a blindfold.   Master Kek was quick to allay his clients' grumbling.

"Come back again," Master Kek told them, after leading them in prayers to get rid of the bad luck that had caused the tour to fail.  "And I will take you on another trip."

Oh, sure, Master Kek, sign me right up.  Here's lots more money.  Can we visit Purgatory, this time?  Or Xanadu?  Or the Lost City of Cibola?  Or Oz?  Or Wonderland?  I think a dinner with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare could be entertaining.

So many fictional places to visit, so many gullible people in the world to fleece...

I am Arthur, King of the Britons.

Once upon a time, in the land of Britain, there was a man who had long white hair, a beard, and wore a golden circlet on his head.  His robes were snowy white, and there were lines of wisdom on his face.  His name was King Arthur Pendragon.  He faithfully appeared at Stonehenge, holding his staff of authority, to lead his followers in the yearly rituals.

One day, King Arthur Pendragon found out that some graves at the sacred site had been desecrated, so he traveled many a mile to right the wrong that had been done to the bones of his Druid forefathers.

The year was 2011.  And yes, his real name is King Arthur Pendragon; he had it changed by deed poll years ago, probably from something like "Norbert Fernwhistle."  He signs his legal papers "Arthur Rex."

If the whole thing doesn't make your brain swim with Monty Python references, you're made of sterner stuff than I am.

The grave sites were discovered as part of an archaeological dig, and the human remains they contained have yet to be conclusively dated.  Despite that, Pendragon, 57, has been fighting for some time to have the bones reburied.  He claims that the bones, which were unearthed in 2008, are those of druids, who were members of the "priest caste," and may have been amongst the "founding fathers of our nation."  "Let those who are at rest, stay at rest," he declaimed.

Last week, Pendragon appeared in court in London last week to hear the verdict.

He lost.  The judge ruled that the bones would be available for scientific study until 2015, and after that would be sent to the Salisbury Museum.

Pendragon, as befits his rank, is not about to take such a rebuff sitting down.  He has vowed to lead a "day of action" at Stonehenge this week.  I'm guessing that there will be more white robes and staffs and chanting.  That will sure show that judge, won't it?  I bet he'll never mess with them again.

Besides the surreal nature of anyone changing his name to "King Arthur Pendragon," there's the whole problem of the fact that (1) we have no idea who these bones actually belonged to, and they could have been just about anyone; (2) we know next to nothing about the druids; (3) the druids, whoever they were, did not build Stonehenge; and (4) there's not really all that much evidence that King Arthur ever existed.

The original King Arthur, I mean.  This dude clearly exists, even though my personal opinion is that he could use some psychological evaluation.

Interestingly, the whole Druidic Cult thing is largely a result of the 19th century British Romanticist movement, which gave us the florid (and sanitized) accounts of the Knights of the Round Table we find in Tennyson's Idylls of the King, and associated works of poetry, prose, and art.  The word "druid" simply meant "priest" -- until the revival of the word in British Neopagan fraternities encouraged the accretion of all sorts of other trappings.

The reality is, most of what we think of as the Arthurian legends is myth -- and no less beautiful for that.  But honestly, someone who claims to be the heir, and namesake, of King Arthur deserves about as much serious consideration as a guy who changes his name to Thor, starts dressing in chain mail, wearing oven mitts, and throwing hammers at his neighbors when they have noisy parties.

In any case, Pendragon has vowed to continue his fight, although where he'll go after the London High Court is up for speculation.  He could appeal to the Queen, but that seems a little beneath him, you know?  Acknowledging her rule could cause an uprising by his followers, and there've already been enough riots in England lately.  On the other hand, if there was a battle, I'm putting my money on the Queen.  She's been on the throne longer than King Arthur Pendragon has been alive.  Besides, what does King Arthur Pendragon have as actual proof that he's king?  Just because some watery tart bungs a sword at you, it's no basis for a system of government.

Or so I've heard.

Hurricanes, earthquakes, apostles, and diarrhea

I think the hardest things for me to comprehend, as an atheist, are the tendencies of religious people to (1) be certain that they know why god does stuff, (2) figure god shares their political views, and (3) think that they can sway god to do whatever they'd like to see done.

Note that I do not include "believe in god" in the above list.  That one I can understand, even if I'm not a believer myself.  The idea that there's some kind of Celestial Order, that there's someone watching over you, has a real appeal.  I just don't happen to think there's any evidence that it's true.

But let's assume you do believe in a deity, for whatever reason you may have.  Why on earth would you think that said deity agrees with your views on anything?

I'm referring, of course, to the recent baffling statements coming from Michele Bachmann, Glenn Beck, and Rick Perry.  From Bachmann we have the following, which she'd prefaced with some comments regarding reining in governmental spending:

“I don’t know how much God has to do to get the attention of the politicians.  We’ve had an earthquake; we’ve had a hurricane.  He said: ‘Are you going to start listening to me here?  Listen to the American people, because the American people are roaring right now.’”

Really, Michele?  God wants us to reduce the deficit, so he hits us with an earthquake and a hurricane?  Amazing how someone who thinks that humans can't affect the climate is apparently convinced that liberal economic policies cause hurricanes.  Me, I think if there was a supreme being, and he was really that interested in our nation's finances, he'd be smart enough to find a more direct way to tell us.  Does she really think that people will look out at the flooding and wind damage, and think, "Wow, if I'd voted Republican, this never would have happened?"

Glenn Beck, of course, also had to weigh in, and he did it in his usual bizarre fashion:

"How many warnings do you think you're going to get, and how many warnings do you deserve? ... If you've waited [to prepare and stockpile food], this hurricane is a blessing. It is a blessing.  It is God reminding you — as was the earthquake last week — it's God reminding you you're not in control.  Things can happen."

Thanks for that, Glenn.  "Things can happen."  That's awfully profound.  You'd think a revelation from god would be more... substantive.  Given that god supposedly has knowledge of all things, past, present, and future, it's a little mystifying that his message would be so inane.  (Not to mention that he'd use a bloviating blowhard like Glenn Beck to deliver it.)

Then, we have Rick Perry:

"God has chosen an elite, his new apostles here in America, to rule over the land through great monied business associations whose sole purpose is to further their divinely ordained agenda: economic, social and political."

This one is so arrogant that it leaves me virtually speechless.  This guy's identification of his own agenda with god's is scarily close to someone identifying himself with god, isn't it?

Allow me to say, for the record, that none of this has to do with whether any specific policy is right or wrong, or would have beneficial or detrimental effects on our country; it has to do with the fact that we have public figures proclaiming that their own agenda is god-given.  Me, I find that concept terrifying.  I'd much rather have a leader -- conservative or liberal -- who knows that (s)he is a fallible human being, and is capable of admitting mistakes and then trying to fix them, rather than a starry-eyed true believer who thinks that every word out of his/her mouth comes straight from the mind of god.  The certainty that these people have about everything they say is not only baffling, it's deeply troubling.  I fail to see any real difference between their attitude and the attitude of the fundamentalist Muslim, who truly, honestly thinks he's doing god's will by blowing people up.

So, anyway, all of this is pretty depressing stuff.  Let's end on a lighter note, with an example of some people who think that if god hasn't come up with a good solution on his own, maybe they can suggest one to him.  From the UK Guardian (read the whole article here) we have the story of some monks at the Franciscan monastery of San Salvatore al Monte in Tuscany.  Angered by the theft of some bibles from their church, they posted a sign in the church that read:

"We pray to God to show the thief the error of his ways, that he might return our stolen Bibles to us.  If this doesn't work, we pray to God that the thief is struck by a strong bout of the shits."

Yes, you read that right.  The monks are trying to talk god into visiting diarrhea on the person who took the bibles.  Hey, if a hurricane and an earthquake don't work, maybe that's the next best thing, right?

Modeling the zombie apocalypse

I usually tell you a little about my topic before I give you my solemn promise that I didn't make any of it up.

This one is so weird that I'm going to put the disclaimer first:

I swear I'm not making any of this up.

A team of medical researchers from two universities in Ottawa have released a paper (published in the Journal of Infectious Disease Modelling Research Progress) containing a mathematical model of what would happen to a population during a zombie attack.

The team was comprised of Philip Munz, Ioan Hudea, Joe Imad, and Robert J. Smith?.  And no, I'm not being tentative, there, with that last name.  The question mark is part of Dr. Smith?'s name.  I wonder how it's pronounced, don't you?   Do you have to say it like a question?  At parties, do people go up to him and say, "Hello there, Dr... Smith?"

Myself, I wouldn't have thought it was legal to have a punctuation mark as part of your name.  But now that I find that apparently it is, I think I'll follow suit.  From now on, my name will be Gordon Bonnet!  That way, people will always seem excited to see me.

In any case, the aforementioned medical research team seems to take the whole zombie-study thing awfully seriously.  Here's the actual abstract of the paper:

Zombies are a popular figure in pop culture/entertainment and they are usually portrayed as being brought about through an outbreak or epidemic. Consequently, we model a zombie attack, using biological assumptions based on popular zombie movies. We introduce a basic model for zombie infection, determine equilibria and their stability, and illustrate the outcome with numerical solutions. We then refine the model to introduce a latent period of zombification, whereby humans are infected, but not infectious, before becoming undead. We then modify the model to include the effects of possible quarantine or a cure. Finally, we examine the impact of regular, impulsive reductions in the number of zombies and derive conditions under which eradication can occur. We show that only quick, aggressive attacks can stave off the doomsday scenario: the collapse of society as zombies overtake us all.

I also have to quote the first line of the paper itself, just because it's so memorable: "A zombie is a reanimated human corpse that feeds on living human flesh [1]."  The coolest thing about this is that they sourced this information.  The source, if you're curious, is The Zombie Survival Guide - Complete Protection from the Living Dead, by Max Brooks (2003, Three Rivers Press, pp. 2-23).

The article then goes on through some amazingly abstruse mathematics to show that a zombie outbreak would be "catastrophic" and could be "disastrous, unless extremely aggressive tactics are employed against the undead."

Have I mentioned that I am not making any of this up?

In the conclusion of the article, Munz, Hudea, Imad, and Smith? state:

In summary, a zombie outbreak is likely to lead to the collapse of civilisation, unless it is dealt with quickly. While aggressive quarantine may contain the epidemic, or a cure may lead to coexistence of humans and zombies, the most effective way to contain the rise of the undead is to hit hard and hit often.

What I find most amazing about all of this is that there was no attempt to tie this to any real, actual epidemic; the whole article was about zombies.  Doesn't that strike you as a little weird?  Now personally, I  love it when scientists take something whimsical and use it as a model for a real phenomenon; one of my all-time favorite studies was when a team of evolutionary biologists used "mutations" (i.e. typos and changes in wording) in chain letters as an analogy to random alterations in DNA, and used it to model how cladistic taxonomy works.  It was sheer brilliance.

This, though... well, I'm not sure I see the relevance.  I can't think of any disease that works anything like, um, zombification, so all of the mathematical twiddling about doesn't really have any apparent application.  Not, of course, that I object to scientists having a little fun once in a while -- but this made it into a peer-reviewed journal, and presumably was the result of a grant from a funding agency of some sort.  Dr. Neil Ferguson, who is one of the UK's top governmental medical advisers, seemed a little uncomfortable when asked about the study.  "My understanding of zombie biology is that if you manage to decapitate a zombie, then it's dead forever," he said, in an interview, and went on to state that other than that characteristic, "zombification" didn't really seem to parallel any known disease particularly well.  "[No infectious illness known] actually causes large-scale death or disease, but certainly there are some fungal infections which are difficult to eradicate."

Smith?, however, was undaunted, and told a BBC reporter, "When you try to model an unfamiliar disease, you try to find out what's happening, try to approximate it.  You then refine it, go back and try again."  Even, apparently, when said unfamiliar disease doesn't, technically, exist.

So, there you have it, then.  A mathematical model for the zombie apocalypse.

Oh, and by the way, if you still don't believe me, here's a link to a BBC article about the study.  In the lower right hand part of the page there's a link that says "Zombies Study (University of Ottawa)" that will allow you to download a free pdf of the entire paper.

Reading all of this stuff leaves me feeling kind of dazed, incapable of doing anything but stumbling around the house with a blank expression, making moaning noises.  Of course, that may be because I'm still waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.  No need to show up at my door with axes.  Honestly.

Aliens from the planet Kitsch

We arrived back home Saturday evening from visiting my cousins in Las Cruces, New Mexico, and my wife's uncle and aunt in Santa Fe.  Our day of travel, from Albuquerque to Atlanta to Detroit to home, was uneventful despite the presence of Hurricane Irene spinning off the Atlantic coast, but I awoke to wind and rain Sunday morning, and lost power at 10 AM, and it was out for most of the rest of the day.

Welcome home.

In any case, New Mexico was beautiful, and our visits were great fun, and as an added bonus we took a detour on our way from Las Cruces to Santa Fe to visit...

Roswell.

Admit it, you knew I would.  Our mood was set by passing through the White Sands Missile Range on the way up, and seeing the "No Trespassing!  Military Facility" signs, with their cheerful deadly-force-authorized small print, all along the highway.  My wife also noticed that every entrance was guarded not only by soldiers, but by a white SUV with tinted windows, occupied by guys in dark suits.

It's the guys in dark suits that always worry me. 

So, we arrived in Roswell in the appropriate frame of mind.  Our first stop was the "Alien Zone," an amazingly kitschy shop/museum (of sorts) with all manner of alien-themed merchandise.  I bought two t-shirts, and a poster for my classroom.  The poster shows a twisty-faced alien framed by the words "ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO" and is sure to further cement my students' opinion that I've lost my marbles.  Then we visited "Area 51," in the back of the shop, which had a multitude of interactive photo opportunities, one of which I have included below.

And you thought that the Law of Gravity was strictly enforced.

After our visit to the Alien Zone, we went over to the International UFO Museum, which took itself much more seriously.  It had a really nice display of the Roswell Incident, with newspaper clippings, photographs, and transcripts of interviews with the major players.  It then went on to other UFO-related incidents (there was a whole panel about the Betty and Barney Hill "abduction").  The crop circle display lost it a few credibility points, in my eyes, but on the whole, it was fairly well done.

I did think it was funny, however, that even in the International UFO Museum, they seemed uneasy about the complete lack of hard evidence.  On more than one panel were phrases like, "... a visitor from another planet?  Or a hoax?  You decide."  This sort of thing always makes me mutter under my breath, "Okay, I will."  You'd think that here, of all places, they'd come right out and say, "Yup, it was an alien spacecraft."  The fact that even they hemmed and hawed about the whole thing was a little disappointing.  I felt like saying, "C'mon, guys, take a stand, for cryin' in the sink."

But on the whole, it was a fun experience, although we didn't see a UFO or get abducted or anything.  Which, frankly, was a little disappointing.  There we were, in the desert, giving the aliens and the Men In Black every chance to prove me wrong, and they just let us zoom on by. 

It's funny, isn't it, how skeptics and scientists never get abducted?  If I were an alien, I'd want to have a chat with the smartest brains on the planet.  The first people I'd abduct would be Michio Kaku and Neil de Grasse Tyson, who are not only brilliant but are as funny as hell, and we'd sit around and each have a nice glass of single malt Arcturian Firewhiskey and talk about the universe.  Evidently, however, the aliens don't think that way.  I saw a t-shirt to that effect in the "Alien Zone:"  "If aliens are so smart, why do they always abduct the dumbest people on the planet?"

Anyhow, we had a good time in Roswell, and I recommend a visit if you're ever in the US Southwest.  If you go, make sure to stop by the Alien Zone and the International UFO Museum.  They're worth checking out - if for no other reason, for the humor value.  And do watch out for those Men In Black.  They looked way scarier than the aliens, who were mostly unarmed and in any case seemed to be made of rubber.

Taking a week off...

My Dear Skeptophiliacs,

This post is to let you know that Skeptophilia will be going on a brief hiatus for me to have a breather from writing every day, and also to do some research for upcoming posts.  Skeptophilia will return, refreshed and ready to charge back into doing battle with the ranks of the woo-woo, on Sunday, August 28, 2011.

Where will I be during my week off, you might ask?  My destination is a heavily-guarded secret, but let me just give you this brief hint: my first post upon my return will probably have something to do with alien corpses and UFO crash sites.

I would encourage you until then to continue to survey the news with a critical eye, and not to forget to apply a thick layer of skepticism over everything you read or hear.  "Does this make sense?" is often an excellent question to start with.  In the case of bloggers, editorial writers, and talk-radio hosts, the next question is, "What viewpoint are they trying to sell me, and why?"  Failing that, you can always fall back on the tried-and-true, "Is this person crazy?  Or just stupid?"

And yes, I am aware of the irony of a blogger telling you to be suspicious of blogs.  You shouldn't take what anyone says without question, and that includes me.

In any case, if during this week you find yourself developing a rosy outlook, and thinking that your fellow human beings really are pretty smart, rational, and clear-headed, I encourage you to peruse the Skeptophilia archives (posted chronologically on the lower right-hand side of this page; you may have to scroll down a bit).  You have over 200 posts to choose from.  And trust me, once you're done, you'll find you'll be back to feeling like a significant percentage of the human race is composed of raving whackmobiles.

So, until the 28th, I will bid you a fond adieu.  And just remember the skeptic's motto:  Don't believe everything you think.

cheers,

Gordon