The iniquity of the ancestors

This week was rife with religious stories.  First, we had the Catholics arguing over whether or not Pope Francis did a public exorcism of a demon in St. Peter's Square; then we had the announcement that plans for a Noah's Ark theme park in Kentucky were going forward; and just yesterday, there was an allegation by the candidate for lieutenant governor in Virginia that doing yoga will make you vulnerable to Satan.  So it seems only fitting to end the week with yet another bizarre claim from a public religious figure -- this time that Native Americans need to pray for god's forgiveness of their "generational iniquity" because their ancestors were pagans.

The perpetrator of this amazingly offensive statement was televangelist Cindy Jacobs, who is somewhat notorious for saying bizarre stuff.  She has, in the past year, claimed that she was given "magic spaghetti" by god that multiplies in volume; that god protects her shoes; that she is capable of curing mental illness by "binding the spirit of insanity;" and, weirdest of all, that mass bird and fish deaths were caused by the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell."  [You can watch clips of all of these here.]  So we really shouldn't expect that anything she says is going to be the epitome of rationality.

But this time, she seems to have crossed some sort of threshold into outright racism.  Here's a transcript of the quote in question.  It occurred during a talk on the evil spirit "Leviathan," which she claims is especially designed to attack people with pagan ancestry:

If you have in your bloodline any animus [sic], any Native American blood, for instance — not all Native Americans worshiped the serpent or crocodile, many did — but you might want to renounce that and repent for the generational iniquity.  If you are — perhaps you’re Mexican and you might have indigenous blood in you or Mayan blood, those who have Aztec blood in any way, you need to repent for the sin of animism before you begin to deal with this spirit.

Now, it's to be hoped that you reacted to this statement the same way I did -- with outrage, that (1) there could be any "sin" associated with your race, or that (2) there is such a thing as "hereditary guilt," condemning you because of something wrong your ancestors did.  I am hopeful that even Christians would be horrified at what this woman has said, and repudiate her soundly.

But there's a problem with that, and it's a little awkward to point it out, but it must be said.  The difficulty is that what Jacobs is saying is completely consistent with Christian belief, as laid out in the bible.

Examples of descendants being held responsible for their ancestors' transgressions abound in the bible.  How about the cheery line from Psalm 109, regarding what should happen to a wicked man:  "Let his days be few; let another take over his position. Let his children be fatherless and his wife a widow. Let his children wander as beggars, searching for food far from their demolished homes."

Then, in Isaiah 14:19-21 we read, "But you are cast out of your grave like an abominable branch, and as the raiment of those that are slain, thrust through with a sword, that go down to the stones of the pit; as a carcass trodden under feet.  You shall not be joined with them in burial, because you have destroyed your land, and slain your people: the seed of evildoers shall never be renowned.  Prepare slaughter for his children for the iniquity of their fathers; that they do not rise, nor possess the land, nor fill the face of the world with cities."

Oh, and there's Deuteronomy 23:2:  "No one born of a forbidden marriage nor any of their descendants may enter the assembly of the Lord, not even in the tenth generation."

And, after all, what is the whole Adam and Eve story about but all of humanity being punished because two of our distant ancestors broke some weird and arbitrary rule about which fruit to eat?

(Of course, there's the passage from Ezekiel 18:19-20 that says, "Yet you say, Why? does not the son bear the iniquity of the father? When the son has done that which is lawful and right, and has kept all my statutes, and has done them, he shall surely live. The soul that sins, it shall die. The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son: the righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him."  Yes, I know that contradicts what the other passages say.  No, I don't know how anyone could read this and still think it's all literally true.)

In any case, repellent though I find Cindy Jacobs' statements, the fact remains that they really are pretty consistent with what the bible says.  So, honestly, it's not Jacobs that needs to explain why she said what she did; the reason for that is obvious.  The ones who have some explaining to do are the devout, bible-believing Christians who say she's wrong.

In any case, the whole thing makes me want to scream, so I think I may turn back to dealing with less high-blood-pressure-inducing topics, such as how anyone can really believe that there is a guinea pig loose on Mars.  But I will leave you with one last thought about today's story, a quote from the wonderful author Terry Pratchett:

"The company of those who seek the truth is infinitely to be preferred to the company of those who think they've found it."

Satan, politics, and yoga

As I've mentioned before, I tend to avoid purely political topics, both in Skeptophilia and also in face-to-face discussion.  I simply don't know enough about most politically-based issues to comment intelligently, and if there's one thing the world needs less of, it's people bloviating on topics about which they are essentially ignorant.

Still, there are a couple of things that strike me as interesting about political races in general.  The first is that a lot of elected officials are evidently elected on the basis of being Average People -- the folksy, I'm-one-of-you-guys approach is wildly successful, creating an environment where "Vote for Joe Smith!  He's just as dumb as you are!" becomes a viable campaign slogan.

The second is how many people are one-issue voters.  As long as the candidate agrees with you on that issue (common ones are abortion, gay marriage, tax reduction, and immigration policy) (s)he can have wildly bizarre opinions on other topics and still get elected.  In fact, as long as the candidate has the right line with respect to the one issue, (s)he can be crazy as a bedbug and no one seems to notice.

Which brings us to E. W. Jackson, who is a candidate for lieutenant governor of Virginia.

Jackson is a minister-turned-politician who is the pastor of Exodus Faith Ministries, an evangelical Christian sect.  He's also a published author, with a book called Ten Commandments to an Extraordinary Life: Making Your Dreams Come True that was excerpted in an article for the National Review Online by Betsy Woodruff called "From the Pulpit to the Ticket."  And these excerpts, along with direct quotes from a political rally/prayer meetin' that Woodruff attended, make Reverend Jackson sound like he might be, not to put too fine a point on it, batshit crazy.

He clearly thinks that his political success is one of god's most pressing priorities.  At the rally, he got a little agitated when he considered the possibility of losing the election:

One of the questions they’re asking now is, are they going to be able to shut E. W. Jackson?  And the answer is no, because there’s a fire in my bones!  Our hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ love and righteousness!  You try to build this nation on anything or any other foundation, and it will fall!  Glory to God!

Predictably, his stance is "pro-life" and against gay marriage -- hardly unusual for a conservative Republican.  What sets him apart is his attitude toward his intended constituency.  Here's a quote from his book:

[M]ost people are dead spirits. As such they have the nature of Satan who does not want to have anything to do with God or anyone related to Him. Of course they are not aware that they are imbued with the nature of Satan. They would be mortified by the idea of becoming Satanists or devil worshippers. Satan benefits far more from people who do not know they serve him than from those who knowingly bow to him. Your spirit was made for attachment. It is either attached to God or to Satan, but it is not neutral, no matter how much people think themselves to be.

And, in Jackson's mind, it's easy to get "attached to Satan."  Even doing yoga is enough:

When one hears the word meditation, it conjures an image of Maharishi Yoga talking about finding a mantra and striving for nirvana. . . . The purpose of such meditation is to empty oneself. . . . [Satan] is happy to invade the empty vacuum of your soul and possess it. That is why people serve Satan without ever knowing it or deciding to, but no one can be a child of God without making a decision to surrender to him. Beware of systems of spirituality which tell you to empty yourself. You will end up filled with something you probably do not want.

Yes, people, Jackson believes that Satan latches onto people while they're doing yoga.  Here I just thought that yoga was good for making you less stressed and more flexible, but apparently I was wrong -- Satan just waits till you go into the Lotus Position and then leaps on you while your legs are all tangled up.

What's worse, apparently the people at his church just kind of sit there and nod when he says this stuff, a reaction I find frankly baffling.  I mean, if I told my students that they shouldn't eat pineapple,  because pineapple is the Devil's Fruit (you can tell because it's spiky), and that they'll become possessed by Satan if they eat it, I would quite rightly be escorted off the premises after being given a horse tranquilizer.  But Jackson, evidently, can babble this kind of nonsense, and no one objects.

You have to wonder how the interests of Virginia will be best served by having a lieutenant governor who thinks that most of the people in his state are dead souls who have the nature of Satan, and who seems, frankly, to be a raving loon.

If I owned a yoga studio in Virginia, I'd be thinking of other options right now.  Maybe switching over to PraiseMoves, which bills itself as "the Christian alternative to yoga."  The founders of PraiseMoves would agree wholeheartedly with Reverend Jackson:

Yoga is always destined to fail miserably in its fundamental purpose. Yoga practices can be very harmful as well. Physically, spiritually and emotionally harmful. Yoga was always meant to be imparted by a teacher that stayed with the student for long periods of time. Constantly monitoring, constantly instructing, constantly observing the student. The Indian gurus that teach yoga are always in a disciple/devotee relationship with their students. This is because yoga can be a very dangerous practice...  The exact opposite happens in a typical PraiseMoves class. At the end of class, the participants feel connected with fellow Believers. They have had a real encounter with the God of the Bible, through His Word, and His Holy Spirit.

So that clears that up.

Anyhow, despite my being generally apolitical, I can't help but hope that Reverend Jackson loses this fall.  I haven't yet gotten over my elation that Michele Bachmann isn't seeking reelection -- I was hoping that there'd be one less wacko in an elected position this November.  But if Reverend Jackson wins, it'll come out a wash, which seems to be a pretty common occurrence.  Maybe there's a Law of Conservation of Elected Wingnuts, or something.

Welcoming in the witch doctors

Whenever I think that the battle over teaching creationism in the public schools can't get any more bizarre, it does.

The smarter anti-science types -- and I know that may sound like a bit of an oxymoron, so you'll just have to believe me that there is a spectrum -- are people like Michael Behe, who adopt a bait-and-switch technique to claim that because there are facets of evolutionary biology that haven't yet been explained, the whole thing is suspect.  These folks write massive tomes with names that seem to indicate that there's all of this doubt about the mechanisms of evolution, often invoking the name of Charles Darwin in the title, such as Darwin's Dilemma or Darwin's Confusion or Darwin Scratching His Head In Puzzlement or Darwin Sits There With A Dumb Look On His Face (Behe's contribution was Darwin's Black Box).  After stating that we still don't understand everything, as if this wasn't true of every scientific field, they just sit down and say, "Ha.  We win," despite the fact that scientists do understand most of these systems pretty well.  In that way, they're a little like Bill O'Reilly.

Of course, just saying "You don't know about that" never stops scientists; finding out about things they don't yet know is what science is.

Then, you have your Wendy Wright-style creationist.  Wright, you might know, is the former president of Concerned Women of America, who engaged in a "debate" with evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins that caused many of us to repeatedly slam our heads into a wall.  Wright's technique was simply to stonewall.  It's the creationist version of "la-la-la-la-la, not listening."

Dawkins, I think, showed admirable restraint by not screaming "ARE YOU A MORON?  OR WHAT?" at her.

This week, however, we saw a new technique, which had the effect of silencing me entirely out of utter bafflement.

You have probably heard about the Louisiana Science Education Act, a piece of legislation that was passed in 2008 and which allows teachers to use "supplemental materials that challenge existing science" in their classrooms.  While it never explicitly mentions evolution, it is pretty clear to its opponents that this was the intent (with climate change being a secondary target).  Every year since its passage, there have been attempts to repeal it, with the most recent failing this month.  Governor Bobby Jindal, who signed the legislation into law, defended the LSEA as follows:

We have what’s called the Science Education Act that says if a teacher wants to supplement those materials, if the school board’s OK with that, if the state school board’s OK with that, they can supplement those materials.  I’ve got no problem if a school board, a local school board, says we want to teach our kids about creationism, that some people have these beliefs as well.  Let’s teach them about intelligent design. I think teach them the best science.

But even this -- the labeling of creationism and intelligent design as "the best science," as if this was actually what scientists think -- falls short of what happened in the Louisiana legislature last week.  In the hearings on the LSEA (which ultimately resulted in its being upheld), Senator Elbert Guillory (R-Opelousas) stated that we needed the LSEA in place so that science teachers could teach...

... about witch doctors.

I couldn't make this up if I tried.  Here's the exact quote:

I'm concerned that we might shut off the presentation of ideas... by declaring one science, or another as pseudoscience...  I can tell you about my experience with a doctor, this doctor practiced in an open circle in a dusty spot, he wore no shoes, was semi-clothed, used a lot of bones that he threw around.  I bet that all of us would agree that his science is a pseudoscience, that we would not have respect for his science and the practice of his science.  That would concern me, because if we were able to declare what I have verified as something that has some validity to it, I mean, the stuff the man told me about my history... If I closed my mind when I saw this man in the dust throwing some bones on the ground, semi-clothed, if I had just closed him off, said, 'That's not science.  I'm not gonna see this doctor,' I would have shut off a very good experience for myself, and actually would not have known some things I needed to do when I got home to see my doctor.

Right.  Okay.  What?

Let me get this straight, Senator Guillory; you want the LSEA in place so that when I teach human physiology in my AP Biology class, I can say things like, "When someone is diagnosed with diabetes, it is critical that they receive insulin injections to bring their blood sugar back down.  Or else they could just throw around some bones, which should accomplish the same thing."

Now, I suspect that Senator Guillory was being disingenuous, here; it's pretty common to characterize the battle as "teach the controversy," as if there is a controversy about evolution outside of religious circles.  More than once I've heard proponents of creationism and ID argue that "all we want to do is teach students to think critically about science by presenting them with other viewpoints."  It may be that the whole witch doctor thing that Guillory was describing was a feint, a way to claim that the kerfuffle over science education was about open-mindedness (or multiculturalism) and not about religion.

On the other hand, maybe he's just a loon.  I dunno.

In any case, it illustrates something that I've commented upon before in this blog; these people are damn near impossible to argue with.  They always have a ready answer, even if that answer makes no sense whatsoever.

It reminds me of a quote -- variously attributed, but which seems to come originally from Christopher Hitchens -- that seems a fitting place to end.

"You can't reason yourself out of a position that you didn't reason yourself into."

Builders of the lost ark

New from the "I Wish I Were Kidding" department, today we have a story that as much as $37.5 million in taxpayer-funded rebates could go to the building of a theme park in Kentucky called Ark Encounter whose goal is to prove that the story of Noah's Ark is "plausible."

You may have heard about this before.  In fact, regular readers of Skeptophilia might recall that I mentioned it in a post a year ago, but in the context of a project that seemed doomed to fail because of lack of investment.  Well, to misquote Twain, rumors of its demise were great exaggerations.  A story in Reuters yesterday indicates that plans for the theme park are indeed going forward, and the application for the tax incentives -- set to expire if they are not claimed by May 2014 -- will be refiled if good Christians don't step up to the plate with donations.

Patrick Marsh, the design director for the park, says that the point of the attraction is to show visitors that Noah could actually have had two of each terrestrial animal on Earth on a 500-foot-long wooden boat for forty days.  (Well, actually, it may not have been two.  Genesis 7:2 says that Noah needed seven of each "clean beast" and two each of the "unclean beasts;" only six verses later, we're told that it was two of everybody.  Since both verses are the unchanging, infallible word of god, we're forced to the conclusion that 2=7, which should definitely be worked into public school math classes next year.)

The current estimate for the number of animal species on Earth, just for reference, is (at a low estimate) five million.  That's ten million animals, if you believe Genesis 7:8 and not Genesis 7:2.  Idealizing the Ark as a rectangular solid, 500x100x100 feet in its length, breadth, and height respectively, that comes to five million cubic feet.  So each animal on the Ark, including the giraffes, gets exactly 0.5 cubic feet in which to stretch its legs.  Oh, yeah, and don't forget that these people believe that the dinosaurs were on there, too.  You'd think that just having one brachiosaurus on board would be enough to kind of cramp things, wouldn't you?

Remind me again about how this is plausible.  I keep losing that point.

Marsh says that there could be some ways of getting around this objection, however.  "If you start with a wolf, you can basically generate all of these dog-like kinds," said Marsh. "As for large animals like dinosaurs, Noah could have brought them on as eggs or juveniles, to save room."

Wait, now, hold on just a moment.  From wolves, we could "generate dog-like kinds?"  I.e., starting with a wolf, and given some ecological selective pressures, we could eventually end up with a hyena, a fox, a chihuahua?  Hmm, Mr. Marsh, I think there's a name for this process.  I've forgotten what it is just now... give me a moment, I'm sure it'll come to me.

Oh, but a giant wooden boat is not all Ark Encounter will have!  Since the whole message of Noah's Ark was that the all-knowing, all-seeing god produced humans who became so unexpectedly wicked that he had to press the "Smite" button and start over, the theme park will also have a mock-up of a pagan temple, with pagan ceremonies done in a "Disneyesque" way, whatever that means.  There will also be a "Ten Plagues" ride.  ("Hey, Dad!  Let's do the 'Ten Plagues ride' again!  I loved when the rollercoaster cars slowed down in front of the 'Killing of the Firstborn Children' display!")

I know you think I'm making this up, but I'm not.  In a direct quote that I am not nearly creative enough to fabricate, Marsh said, "You want everyone to have fun and buy souvenirs and have a good time, but you also want to tell everybody how terrible everything (was)."

What I can understand even less than I get why anyone believes that this obviously mythological nonsense is true, is how the public tax incentives for this project don't violate separation of church and state.  How are the ACLU and various atheist and secular humanist organizations not challenging this in court?  Maybe there are actions going forward which I haven't heard about, but at the moment, most secular legal groups seem to be just watching and waiting.

As for Marsh, and Ark Encounter senior vice president Michael Zovath, they are completely unapologetic about what they're doing.  "If somebody wants to come into Kentucky and build a Harry Potter park and teach all the fun things about witchcraft, nobody would say a word about it - they'd just think it was so cool," Zovath said.  "But if we want to come in ... and build a Biblical theme park, everybody goes crazy."

Yes, Mr. Zovath, that's because everyone knows that Harry Potter is fiction, whereas you seem to be under the mistaken impression that the bible is fact.  My guess is that if someone tried to set up "Hogwarts" in Kentucky, and was making claims that they were actually teaching kids to cast spells and to ride brooms, there would be a bit of a hue and cry.

So, anyway, that's the latest from the Bronze Age mythology = literal truth crowd.  I keep thinking that people have to come to their senses eventually and realize that these folk-tales-become-fact are no more plausible than the idea that earthquakes are caused by Midgard's Serpent having bad dreams, but the biblical literalists just won't go away.  In any case, I'd better wind this up.  I've got to finish up the drawings of my suggestions for the "Cattle Disease" and "Rivers Turning to Blood" features of the "Ten Plagues" ride.

Red shirts and widow ghosts

One of the best arguments against superstitions is how variable they are across cultures.  For example, if a rabbit's foot is lucky for anyone except the rabbit, it shouldn't matter if you're from the southeastern United States (where the superstition seems to be the most common).  Rabbits were lucky animals in some cultures -- but not among British sailors, for whom a rabbit dashing on board would prevent a ship from sailing that day.

Throwing a pinch of spilled salt over your shoulder originated with the Romans.  In traditional Chinese folklore, you'll ruin your family's prosperity if you build your house facing north.  In Jamaica, you shouldn't feed a child cooked chicken before (s)he can talk, or the child will be mute.  In Spain, you should eat twelve grapes at midnight on New Year's Eve -- one month of good luck will follow for each grape you've eaten.

And so on.

None of these superstitions are known in cultures other than the one where they originated -- which should indicate that they are nothing but folk legends, with no basis whatsoever in truth.

Which brings us to Tha Sawang, Thailand, where there have been some unexplained deaths of young men -- caused, the locals say, by a "widow ghost" who is strangling them as they sleep.  [Source]

Now first, it needs to be established that there actually is a pattern of young men dying, here.  And it appears that there is; Sudden Unexplained Nocturnal Death Syndrome has been known in Southeast Asia since 1977, where it was first observed amongst the Hmong of Laos.  It has since been recorded in Thailand, mostly in populations of Laotian ancestry, and the cause has been identified as a gene that results in cardiac fibrillation during sleep (called "Brugada syndrome").

But knowing the scientific explanation for something doesn't usually stop the superstitious from clinging to their own answer, and the "widow ghost" idea has been spreading.  As has the solution.  How do you keep away a "widow ghost?"  Simple, the people of Tha Sawang say.

Hang up a red shirt in front of your house.

 

Red shirts, they say, repel the evil spirit, because red is a lucky color.

I find this particularly amusing, given the fact that in certain other circumstances, a red shirt has quite the opposite meaning:

 "So, men, you've been selected for a mission on which you're all going to die horribly.  But I want you know that as your captain, I'm proud of the sacrifice you're about to make."

The downside of some superstitions, of course, is that it prevents people from seeking rational answers (and potentially solutions) to their problems.  In the case of SUNDS/Brugada syndrome, it's especially problematic, since the fibrillation strikes young men who previously showed no sign of disease -- fostering the belief that the deaths are due to some random, unseen force, and giving credence to the superstition.  In point of fact, there's no good medical answer to SUNDS yet, short of hooking every young male in northern Thailand to a heart monitor every night, so the "widow ghost"/red shirt response is going to be hard to combat.

It's easy to laugh at all this, but the fact is, we're all subject to such phenomena as correlation/causation error, where we use the fact that two things happened simultaneously (e.g. wearing a particular t-shirt and your favorite sports team making an unexpected win) with the first causing the second.  It's especially prevalent where we don't understand what the cause of the second event actually was, and most common of all where education in science is lacking.  Put those three things together, and you'll usually end up with a long list of items or actions that are considered lucky -- and an equally long list of unlucky ones.

That said, there are superstitions that persist even amongst rational, well-educated people, who presumably should know better -- something I find frankly mystifying.

So I'll wrap up here, because I'm almost out of time, and have to get myself ready for school.  Got my clothes all picked out.  No red anywhere.  So if I suddenly drop dead today, just blame the "widow ghost" paying a visit to upstate New York.

Woo-woos and Wawas

Woo-woo ideas, like many things, are subject to fads.  There are a few things that seem to be "in" at the moment (conspiracy theories, mermaids, anti-vaxxer nonsense) and a few that are "out" (Ouija boards, Tarot cards, the Loch Ness Monster).  These fads create a positive feedback effect on the media, both on (supposed) non-fiction documentaries and on movies and television (in fact, a current discussion on the r/skeptic subreddit is, "Were alien hybrid theories popular before The X Files?").

Bigfoot is big now, and has been for quite some time.  This has led to sightings of our alleged hairy cousins, once confined to the Pacific Northwest, a swampy bit of Arkansas, and the Himalayas, coming in from just about everywhere -- there have been reports of Sasquatches (Sasquatchi?  Sasquatchim?  Surely there has to be a better plural) showing up in places as unlikely as heavily-populated southeastern England.  And more new ones come in daily, as other places jump on the bandwagon as having their own version of the world's most popular cryptid.

A recent extension of the range of proto-hominids was brought to my attention last week by a regular reader and frequent contributor to Skeptophilia, who sent me an article from Cuenca (Ecuador) High Life called "Another Monster Sighting in the Cajas Mountains: British Hikers and Guide Debating Whether to Release Photos."  In it, we hear about the rather amusingly named "Wawa Grande" -- which translated from Quechua and Spanish, respectively, means "big baby."  Wawas (Wawae?) apparently live exclusively in the high peaks of the Andes, which explains why they're so seldom seen, unless there's another explanation, such as that they don't exist.

Of course, that's not what Cuenca High Life would have you believe.  "A Quito television station reported three weeks ago that two British hikers and their tour guide spotted the elusive creature in Cajas National Park during a three-day trek," the article states.  "The trio claimed to have observed the over-sized humanoid animal for several minutes in a remote area of the park in early April."

We then get to hear from Sean Worthington, one of the hikers who made the report.  "I have no idea what it was other than to say it was quite large, with light colored fur and had human characteristics. It was able to stand on two legs but also came down on all fours," Worthington told reporters. "I am a scientist by training and not prone to make fanciful claims, but I cannot deny seeing the thing."

The return of Blobsquatch.

Apparently, like our own Bigfoots (Bigfeet?  Dammit) of North America, the "Wawa Grande" has been around in legend form for some time -- two hundred years, the article says.  It became more widely known in 1988 when a Scottish hiker, who is named (I am not making this up) Robert Burns, was "mauled by Wawas" when he took shelter in a cave while on a hike.

If I ever start an alternative rock band, I'm going to name it "Mauled By Wawas."

And of course, you can't have a cryptozoological claim without allegations of a coverup.  An unnamed "retired park service biologist" is quoted in the article as stating that the powers-that-be in Ecuador are engaging in a policy of denial.  "It does not exist," the biologist said, when asked about the official policy regarding the Wawa Grande.  "That is what we told anyone who asked about it.  There was a U.S. television show called Monster Quest that kept asking for help, but we refused.  We told them there was nothing up there and no reason to do a TV show." Nevertheless, the biologist said, he knows the Wawa exists -- because he's seen one.

The current popularity of Bigfoot probably explains why he's made his way not only onto shows like Monster Quest and Finding Bigfoot (which, thus far, has not lived up to its title), but onto commercials.  Jack Link's beef jerky, in particular, has made use of the hirsute hominins in its advertisements, using the tag line "Messin' With Sasquatch," in which humans play various practical jokes on Bigfoot (all the while eating beef jerky).  The practical jokes never end well, and in various iterations of the commercial, the jokers end up thrown through the air, having their cars and boats smashed, having their arms ripped off, and getting pissed on.

Despite the fact that the Sasquatch always gets the last laugh in the commercials, last week this series of ads was roundly criticized by a Canadian anti-bullying group as "promoting bullying."  Because, presumably, children who are dumb enough not to notice that the practical jokers in the commercials always get violently dismembered are also dumb enough not to know that Sasquatch doesn't, technically, exist.

So, anyway.  That's the latest on our furry family members, who are apparently damn near everywhere.

A coincidence?  I think not.  (And I have to point out for the record that this store is in Mahwah, New Jersey, making this the "Mahwah Wawa," which is fun to say.)

Some thoughts about demons

C. S. Lewis' famous book The Screwtape Letters chronicles the tempting of a young British man (known only as "The Patient") by a junior demon, Wormwood, who is under the guidance of a senior devil named Screwtape.  The Patient experiences pulls and pushes from various sides, some (in Lewis' worldview) positive, i.e. toward god; others negative, toward hell and damnation.  A particularly interesting passage comes in Letter #10, where Lewis throws a barb at us skeptics and atheists (if you haven't read this book, recall that it's from the devil's point of view, and therefore "The Enemy" is the Christian God):

MY DEAR WORMWOOD,

I was delighted to hear from Triptweeze that your patient has made some very desirable new acquaintances and that you seem to have used this event in a really promising manner. I gather that the middle-aged married couple who called at his office are just the sort of people we want him to know - rich, smart, superficially intellectual, and brightly sceptical about everything in the world. I gather they are even vaguely pacifist, not on moral grounds but from an ingrained habit of belittling anything that concerns the great mass of their fellow men and from a dash of purely fashionable and literary communism. This is excellent. And you seem to have made good use of all his social, sexual, and intellectual vanity. Tell me more. Did he commit himself deeply? I don't mean in words. There is a subtle play of looks and tones and laughs by which a Mortal can imply that he is of the same party is those to whom he is speaking. That is the kind of betrayal you should specially encourage, because the man does not fully realise it himself; and by the time he does you will have made withdrawal difficult.

No doubt he must very soon realise that his own faith is in direct opposition to the assumptions on which all the conversation of his new friends is based. I don't think that matters much provided that you can persuade him to postpone any open acknowledgment of the fact, and this, with the aid of shame, pride, modesty and vanity, will be easy to do. As long as the postponement lasts he will be in a false position. He will be silent when he ought to speak and laugh when he ought to be silent. He will assume, at first only by his manner, but presently by his words, all sorts of cynical and sceptical attitudes which are not really his. But if you play him well, they may become his. All mortals tend to turn into the thing they are pretending to be. This is elementary. The real question is how to prepare for the Enemy's counter attack.

It is clear that Lewis, although he meant The Screwtape Letters as a fictional allegory, believed in the reality of demons and their capacity for tempting humans into sin.  In the preface to Screwtape he writes,

There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. They themselves are equally pleased by both errors and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight.

What I find interesting about all of this is two things; first is why, if demons actually exist, they don't tend to bother atheists like myself -- wouldn't we be easy targets for possession?  (Lewis, I suspect, would respond to this objection that I am so far gone in my disbelief that the demons have already added me to their Ledger Book -- there's no further need to tempt me, as I'm already damned.)  Be that as it may, it's interesting that the only people who seem to be troubled by demons are Christians who already thought they were real beforehand.

The second interesting thing is how generally embarrassed Christians seem to be by the idea of demons, although it is clearly scriptural in origin (recall the passage in Matthew 8 where Jesus casts some demons out of a couple of guys, and the demons possess a bunch of pigs, who proceed to drown themselves in a lake).  Despite this, and with the exception of the fundamentalist sects of Christianity, a lot of Christians kind of turn red and change the subject when you bring up demons and possession.

As evidence of the latter, look at the dithering that came from the Vatican last week after Pope Francis did an impromptu exorcism on a guy in St. Peter's Square.  A television station showed a video clip that had captured the incident, and the announcer stated that it was "certainly an exorcism" given that the man had opened his mouth wide, convulsed, and then slumped to one side when the pope put his hands on his head.  Vatican spokesman Federico Lombardi responded with some apparent unease that of course the pope hadn't performed an exorcism; "rather," Lombardi said, "as he frequently does with the sick or suffering who come his way, he simply intended to pray for a suffering person."

Not everyone shared Lombardi's trepidation on the topic.  After the incident in St. Peter's Square, and the media flurry that followed, Father Gabriele Amorth of Rome stated that despite Lombari's claim, the pope had clearly performed an exorcism.  How does Amorth know?  Because he is the head of the International Association of Exorcists, and over his career has expelled 160,000 demons.

That, my friend, is a crapload of demons.

Amorth himself is completely convinced that it works, and went on record in 2010 as saying that "bishops who don't appoint exorcists are committing a mortal sin."

So it's clear that there's some disagreement here, which only got weirder yesterday when the man Pope Francis either did or did not exorcise told the press that it hadn't worked, he was still possessed.  "I still have the demons inside me, they have not gone away," the man, who was identified as a father of two from Michoacán, Mexico named Angel V.  Angel V. has been possessed, he says, since 1999, and has had thirty unsuccessful exorcisms, including one...

... by the head of the International Association of Exorcists, Father Gabriele Amorth.

I couldn't make all this up if I wanted to.  The Mexican priest who accompanied Angel V. to Rome said, in all apparent seriousness, "the demons that live in him do not want to leave."

Or, maybe, it could be that Angel V. has a mental illness that could be treated by modern medicine.  There's always that.

In any case, that's our odd story of the day.  I still have to say that I wonder why the demons aren't after me.  I've been a non-believer for close on twenty years, and I've had nary a single demon come up and shake my hand in congratulations.  (It must be said that I never saw one before that, either, not even during my church-going days.)  So my general conclusion, given the complete lack of evidence, is that demons don't exist.

But I'm sure that Father Amorth would disagree.  "The principle responsibility of the exorcist is to free man from the fear of the devil," he told reporters.  Well, I guess that's a second reason I don't need him.  I'm not afraid of the devil at all.  There's no reason to be afraid of something that doesn't actually exist.