Brazilian werewolf alert

Every once in a while, I'll run into a story that just gives me the shudders, despite my generally rationalistic approach.  All this does, of course, is to highlight a truism about the human condition; when it comes to a fight between logic and emotion, emotion usually wins.  We like to flatter ourselves, and think that our highly-developed prefrontal cortices make us smarter than our non-human cousins, but when it comes to a real throw-down match between the parts of the brain, I'm putting my money on the limbic system every time -- the part of the brain that, along with the hypothalamus, governs the "four F's" of behavior: feeding, fighting, flight, and... mating.

A story this week out of Brazil highlights the third "F" -- which stands for the flight response.  It could also stand for "fear," because that's what usually motivates an animal running away.  The story, which comes out of the town of São Gonçalo de Campos, near Feira de Santana, in the state of Bahia, is about a rather terrifying cryptid that has been sighted more than once in local neighborhoods.

Even the government officials are taking it seriously.  Apparently, for the last two weeks there's been a curfew in the town; no one is to be outside after 9 PM.  It started when a man identified only as "Pingo" described seeing a five-foot-tall black monster, which ran at him; Pingo turned and fled, escaping (he said) only by the narrowest of margins.  At first, the other villagers made fun of him -- until others had similar encounters.  Locals are calling it a "werewolf."

All of this would have been nothing more than another tale of "I saw something real, really I did" if it hadn't been for the footage captured on a home security camera.  Watch it for yourself:

Here's a still:

Okay, yes, I know.  There are no such things as werewolves.  There's no reason why this couldn't have been faked.  It probably is a guy in dark clothes jumping around in front of the homeowner's security camera, in order to keep the whole scare going.  Who knows?  Maybe it's even "Pingo," who dreamed the story up to have his fifteen minutes (or in this case, more like two weeks) of fame.

But I have to admit that watching this video gave me some very irrational shudders right up the spine.  There's something about the way the creature moved that just doesn't look... human.  I'm probably being suggestible, I realize that; our fight-or-flight responses have been programmed through millions of years of evolution to shriek at us, whenever we see a shadowy shape in the dark, "DEAR GOD IT'S A PREDATOR RUN FOR YOUR LIFE OR YOU WILL BE MESSILY DEVOURED."  The chances of it being anything other than a hoaxing human are very small.

Even so, if I lived in São Gonçalo de Campos, I would definitely abide by the curfew.  I probably would also deadbolt my doors shut at night.  Maybe it is only Pingo playing a prank; that's what my prefrontal cortex is telling me.  But if I lived anywhere near where this thing had been seen, my limbic system would outshout my prefrontal cortex without even breaking a sweat.

End of the world, episode #452

I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but we're all gonna die.

Again.

I mean, what is this?  This 452nd time this has happened, or something?  Between Mayan apocalypses and Christian End Times predictions and the planet Nibiru and plagues and pandemics and the Harmonic Convergence and the Yellowstone Supervolcano (which is still overdue for an eruption!), it's kind of surprise we're all still here.

This time, the world is going to end because we're going to be destroyed by a rogue planet that is hurtling in toward the inner Solar System at a speed of 200 kilometers per second.  So says a report on Turner Radio Network, which claims that "Dr. Kaplan, a Professor in the Astronomy Department at the University of Texas at Austin" has discovered a large object that is heading toward us -- and that even if it doesn't hit us directly, "the gravity will affect the Earth in terrible ways long before it gets here."

[image courtesy of NASA and the Wikimedia Commons]

Dr. Kaplan made a video (linked on the website) wherein he projected the planet's arrival time as August 2014, which is the only thing I find that is cheerful about this prediction.  It gives me the summer to recover from the progressive hypothermia I've experienced this winter, so at least I'll finally be comfortably warm by the time I get vaporized.  And it also means that whatever else happens, I won't have to endure another upstate New York winter, because interaction with the planet will cause "shifting of the tectonic plates on a massive scale."  I can only hope that our tectonic plate will shift toward the equator.  If that's an outcome of a planetary collision, then all I can say is, bring it on, because I have had it with the snow.

Of course, the other predictions are more dire.  "(I)f Kaplan's scenario is true, the problems Earth will experience would begin with weather anomalies and tidal anomalies, will increase to earthquakes then volcanic eruptions as Earth's magma is pulled by the gravity of the approaching planet," the Turner Radio Broadcast report said.  "The experts went on to tell us the troubles would increase further to horrific tsunamis 1000 meters high, moving at 1200 kilometers per hour striking coastal regions around the Earth...  One expert even claimed that depending upon the size and gravity of the planet, and its angle of approach, the gravity of this other planet could actually STOP the Earth from rotating on its axis.  He likened it to a vehicle traveling at 1,000 miles per hour, and having the brakes slammed on; the resulting inertia of all objects on earth would cause them to continue moving while the earth was stopping; sort of like what happens in a car wreck when the car suddenly stops, but the passengers fly forward from their own inertia."

So that kind of sucks.  And after the article goes into all of that, they ask a few pertinent questions, such as "Could a planet be moving this fast?" (Yes), "Can gravity affect things at large distances?" (Yes), and "Isn't all of this pretty damn scary?" (Yes).

But then, after all of this terrifying talk, Turner Radio Network posted an update that suggested that a few teensy details about the foregoing story might be factually inaccurate.  First, (Kyle) Kaplan is a graduate student, not a professor of astronomy.  Second, he posted a second video in which he retracted what he'd said in the first, saying it was "a joke."

The most amazing part of all of this is that Turner Radio Network printed Kaplan's retraction, and posted a link to the video, and then said that they didn't believe his retraction.  Yes, you read that right; given the choice between (1) there being a huge rogue planet heading toward Earth, which was only observed by one graduate student amongst all of the astronomers in the world, and (2) some dumb college guy decided to play a prank and it got out of hand, they decided that scenario #1 was more likely.  "Who would want it retracted and why?" the TRN writer said, his eyebrows wiggling in a significant fashion.  "Well, if people think they're doomed, they may stop paying their taxes and their bills; there may be widespread panic and a breakdown of social order to the point of chaos.  The powers that be can't have any of THAT, can they?"

No.  They can't.  So our only other option is that a giant planet is going to hit the Earth this August.  q.e.d.

They end, though, with asking the right question: "Is this a HOAX?????? That's easy for all of you to verify: Grab a telescope and look at the coordinates yourself.  If there's a planet there, and you see it getting larger (i.e. closer) over a few nights, then this is real and we've got potential problems."  They give the planet's position -- at least as of a couple of days ago -- as Right Ascension: 04 hrs. 08 Min. 08 Sec.; Declination: 60 degrees 56 arc min. 43 arc sec.  So it should be easy enough to check.  It's sort of like the joke:  "I asked myself, 'Why is the baseball getting bigger?'  Then it hit me."

Me, I'm not losing sleep over it.  If there really were a planet heading our way, one or two other astronomers would have had a thing or two to say about it by now.  I'm just adding this as line #452 on the list of End of the World Predictions Wherein the World Did Not End, and sitting back and having a beer and waiting for #453.  I think the next one is gonna be zombies.  We haven't had a good zombie apocalypse lately.

The error of their ways

I recently started teaching the unit on evolution in my introductory biology class, and that always gets me thinking.  The conflict between evolutionary (i.e. scientific) views of the universe and young-earth creationist (i.e. unscientific) models can cause a great deal of stress in students' minds.  Children of evangelical parents are often put in the intensely uncomfortable position of either having to contradict a teacher they may like and respect, or else betray the ideals by which they were raised (and in that view, perhaps jeopardizing their standing with god in the process).

Of course, it's not the only subject I teach that is controversial.  Climate change is at least as hackles-raising as evolution is, these days, and there is a small but highly vocal minority in our community that bristles at any mention of the value of vaccination.  And therein lies the problem; to what extent is it incumbent upon a science teacher to be straightforward about his/her stance with regards to controversial topics about which the scientific world is at consensus?

It's different for teachers of politics and government.  There, the fairest of us strive to keep our own views out of things, because (in the words of a former principal I worked for) we need to remember that children are a captive audience, and the line between teaching and proselytizing can be crossed awfully easily.  I have no difficulty keeping my opinions to myself when I teach the ethics unit in my Critical Thinking class; my stock line is that my views on the questions we discuss are irrelevant.  It is my job instead to needle everyone, and get all the students to consider their stances in a thoughtful manner regardless of whether or not they resemble my own.  "If you are really that interested in what I think," I tell them, "I'll answer any question you like... after you graduate."

The situation is different in science.  Science is, at its basis, not about opinions, it's about facts and inferences.  When an anti-vaxxer says that the MMR shot is linked to autism, (s)he is making a statement that either lines up with the available evidence, or else not.  And in this case, it clearly does not.  So to what extent should I respect a student's right to persist in an erroneous belief out of a desire to keep the peace, and to abide by my long-ago principal's dictum to keep in mind that we are not supposed to proselytize?

As I've grown older, I've become less and less cautious about this -- due, in part, to a feeling of "I've done this job long enough to know what I'm doing," and in part to a sense that to allow false beliefs to go unchallenged is exactly the opposite of what a science teacher should be doing.  I have no doubt that if our chemistry teacher was faced with a student who thought that atoms were made of tiny balls of cream cheese, she would not hesitate to say, "I'm sorry, but you're wrong."  Why are we so afraid to do this in the case of evolution, climate change, and the efficacy of vaccination?

The answer, of course, lies in the deep emotional charge that these topics carry.  There's a feeling that by so doing, we've crossed the line into dictating a student's politics and religion.  And while I do my best to keep my political beliefs to myself -- I steadfastly refuse to get into political discussions with students -- I'm well known in my school and community as being an atheist, and the last thing I want is to be seen as having some kind of axe to grind apropos of tearing down some poor kid's dearly-held religious beliefs.

But still.  The statement "the Earth is 6,000 years old" is simply factually incorrect.  So is "the Earth's climate is not warming up."  Is my reluctance to come out and say that to my students, to leave those erroneous beliefs unchallenged, effectively allowing them to remain willfully ignorant?

[image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

Well, yes.  Yes, it is.  There are probably kinder and gentler ways to say it, but in these cases, "I'm sorry, you're wrong," is a literal statement of fact.  We're not doing kids any favors by pretending along with them that they can hold a counterfactual worldview without being challenged.  It does put them in a bind, though; most of the kids I've known who were young-earth creationists, climate change deniers, and anti-vaxxers have learned those beliefs from their parents.  But consider: if these kids can't be steered in the right direction by science teachers -- on topics where scientists have come to near 100% agreement -- haven't we failed to do the job we have been entrusted with?

It is not our responsibility to convince those children who won't be convinced, just as it is not our responsibility to ensure that every child studies and does his/her assignments.  That same principal I mentioned earlier also used to say, "Every kid has the right to fail."  It applies just as well here.  Faced with facts, logic, and rational argument, kids are perfectly within their rights to reject them.  But science teachers have to be brave enough to present those facts, logic and arguments, and weather the backlash that might result.  What I say to my Critical Thinking students could well apply to every student entering every science class we teach: "You may leave this class with your ideas unchanged.  You may not leave this class with your ideas unchallenged.  After that, it's up to you."

Flipping over "Flappy Bird"

I am astonished, sometimes, at how little it takes to generate a conspiracy theory.

Of course, at the bottom of it always has to be someone who is (1) delusional or (2) lying.  Or possibly (3) both.  In some few cases, we are able to figure out where the whole thing started (and as I mentioned in yesterday's post, it's frequently either The Daily Mail or The Weekly World News).  But more often, it's a random comment, claim, tweet, or Facebook posting by a random person, which somehow... improbably... gets picked up, is considered to be true, and goes viral.

That seems to be the case with the most recent conspiracy theory -- one that is only days old.  And wait till you hear what this one is about.

"Flappy Bird."

Yes, Flappy Bird, the new app that induces you to waste inordinate amounts of time trying to maneuver a deformed-looking bird through a set of steel pipes.  The game that generates nearly homicidal rage in completely ordinary, mild-mannered individuals when they almost complete level 8 only to run smack into a pipe because they tapped one too many times on the screen.

Flappy Bird was, for some reason, wildly successful, at its peak bringing in $50,000 of revenue a day.  This, by itself, caused suspicious narrowing of the eyes amongst the serious conspiracy theorists, who see dastardly plots wherever they look; but the real crazy talk didn't start until the news two days ago that Flappy Bird's creator, Vietnamese game designer Dong Nguyen, had removed the app from the market.

Within hours, rumors started circulating about why Nguyen had pulled such a lucrative game.  After all, having a blockbuster app is to game designers what having a bestseller and a movie contract would be to us novelists; "success."  It seemed impossible to believe that Nguyen had done it for the reason he stated, which was that he was overstressed by the game's wild success and "needed some peace."  Another suggestion was that "a major game manufacturer" had put pressure on Nguyen because the game resembled apps that they owned the rights to -- also possible, but at this time unsubstantiated.

But that was only scratching the surface, and both of those read like scientific text, plausibility-wise, compared to the claims currently zinging around the internet.  Here are just a few rumors I've seen:

• Flappy Bird was a Trojan Horse; while you are focused on guiding birds into steel pipes, it's stealing personal information from your computer.  Nguyen pulled it when Interpol realized what he was doing, and he's now on the run from the law.
• Flappy Bird has code in it that includes subliminal messages, rendering you a mindless automaton.  Given some of the behavior I've seen of students playing it, I'm not sure this is far off the mark.  But the game was withdrawn because the Illuminati threatened Nguyen, apparently because we can only have one set of Evil Brain-Stealing Overlords in the world at a time.
• Flappy Bird is a coded message having to do with the apocalypse.  Nguyen was trying to warn us of the arrival of the Antichrist, for some reason using a bizarre bird and pipes.  The order of the heights of the pipes can be decoded to tell us the date of the opening of the Gates of Hell.  Nguyen withdrew the game when he realized that the Minions of Satan had figured out what he was up to.

Then, the whole thing took an even more surreal turn when the rumor started flying about that Nguyen had not only withdrawn the app from the market, but had withdrawn himself as well, via a self-inflicted pistol shot to the head.  I was told this by some students this afternoon, and already there is an International Business Times article declaring that the story about his suicide is untrue, and further tweets and Facebook posts stating that either (1) yes, it is so true, or (2) okay, so it isn't true, but he's on the run so it could be true soon, or (3) Nguyen has disappeared, so we don't know if it's true or not.

And the whole time I'm reading this, I'm thinking: what the hell is wrong with you people?  How about let's see if we can find out some facts before we make pronouncements about why Nguyen withdrew the app, and whether or not he's still alive?

But as to Flappy Bird's purpose: as far as I can tell, it mostly exists to irritate the bejeezus out of everyone who attempts to play it.  I have yet to hear anyone say, "Wow, that is a fun game!"  Mostly what people say after finishing a game is unprintable, and is often followed by a wireless internet device flying across a room and crashing into a solid object, much like the bird did on the second pipe of Level 1 during my one and only attempt to play the game.

So I doubt if any of the other stuff is true, and my intuition is that Dong Nguyen is probably still alive.  But myself, I'm willing to wait to find out.  And until then: just calm down, okay?

And next time, can you spin a conspiracy theory around something more plausible?  Because this one kind of sucked.  If you people are right, and the Illuminati and/or the Antichrist have sunk to communicating via coded messages in idiotic computer games, then I'd just as soon throw my lot in with InfoWars and have done with it.

R.I.P. Nessie

I have sad news for anyone who is, like me, considers cryptozoology to be one of their favorite guilty pleasures:

Nessie is dead.

Yes, Nessie, a.k.a. The Loch Ness Monster.  That coy pleisiosaurid, featured in countless blurry photographs, many of them outright fakes.  That long-necked Scottish dinosaur who has starred in movies, has been the basis of a huge tourist industry, and was mentioned as a disproof of evolution in a biology textbook used in some Louisiana charter schools -- a textbook that turned out to be written by "Accelerated Christian Education, Inc."

R.I.P., Nessie.  In so many ways, we hardly knew ye.

The claim that Nessie has gone to that Big Jurassic Park in the Sky originated, as so many dubious claims do, in The Daily Mail.  The Daily Mail is, honestly, second only to The Weekly World News in providing the public with prizewinning journalistic coups running under headlines like "Miley Cyrus Pregnant With Bigfoot's Love-Child."  (Okay, I have to admit that I've never actually seen an article with that headline, but if there was one, I bet it would be in The Daily Mail.)  The Daily Mail is so often wrong that its numerous detractors call it The Daily Fail.

So, why, you might ask, are we mourning Nessie's untimely demise?  Did someone find bones?  Did a giant carcass wash up on the rocky shore of Loch Ness?

Of course not.  That would constitute hard evidence.  The reason that people have come to the conclusion that the Loch Ness Monster has joined the Choir Eternal is...

... that nobody has seen her lately.

I'm not kidding.  Gary Campbell, a "veteran Nessie spotter" who keeps a register of sightings, says that her death is the only possible explanation of the lack of sightings.  "It's very upsetting news, and we don't know where she's gone," Campbell said, in a quote that I'm not nearly creative enough to make up.  "The number of sightings has been reducing since the turn of the century but this is the first time in almost 90 years that Nessie wasn't seen at all.  Pretty much everyone now carries a camera with them in their Smart Phone - this allows then to snap what they're seeing and means that we don't just have to rely on eyewitness evidence.  As last year has shown, all the pictures and videos taken can prove to the expert eye that it wasn't Nessie that was being filmed."

Right.  The fact that since digital photography has improved, along with the ability to detect faked digital photography, we haven't had a single photograph of Nessie, means that she died?  You can't think of another reason, such as the possibility that in our day of everyone carting around cameras, it's becoming increasingly difficult to create convincing fakes?

Another Nessie enthusiast, Rupert Adams, added that it's not that there have been no photographs submitted for consideration:  "Although we had three entries, one was a wave, one a duck and the other wasn't from Loch Ness."

Whooo.  That certainly leaves me feeling the need for an explanation.  The Truth Is Out There, y'all.

 Skeptical Dog is unimpressed by your argument.

And if that wasn't enough, the article in The Daily Mail went on to suggest, in all seriousness, that maybe Nessie wasn't dead, she was just "on holiday in Australia," because someone took a photo of a bay in Queensland showing a creature in the water that screams "Fake!" so loud that my ears are ringing.  (The photograph is copyrighted, so if you want to see it, you'll just have to throw caution to the wind and go to the story in The Daily Mail, linked above.)

So that's our venture into deep water, both literally and figuratively, for today.  Me, I'm wondering what they'll come up with next.  I hope that it's about Bigfoot's Love-Child.  At least that's more cheerful than a cryptozoological obituary.

Starchild skulls and "The Boy Who Cried Wolf"

Today's question is: at what point has a person made so many absurd claims that we are justified in no longer listening to anything (s)he has to say?

It's the skeptic's version of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf."  There are people who have repeatedly trotted out wild stories, stating that they have proof -- and then the proof turns out to be faked, misinterpreted, or just plain nonexistent.  Unfortunately, though, this doesn't impel them to do what most of the rest of us would; apologize, issue a retraction, retreat into an embarrassed obscurity.  No, many of these people become belligerent and combative, and back off for a short time only to issue further bizarre claims, stating that this time it'll be different, this time they really have hard evidence.

I ask the question because of an article that has been making the rounds lately about the so-called "Starchild Skulls," a collection of elongated skulls that were discovered by archaeologist Julio Tello in Peru in 1928.

The skulls are odd-looking, there's no doubt about that.  But the ancient peoples of western South America are known to have practiced frontal skull flattening, by attaching two flat boards to the front and back of an infant's head.  So that should have been that.

That probably would have been that if it hadn't been for Lloyd Pye, who declared that the skull was of a human/alien hybrid (he's the one who nicknamed it the "Starchild Skull").  Pye was an author and lecturer who frequently expounded on this topic and other fringe-y areas of science/pseudoscience, speaking with great authority despite apparently having only a bachelor's degree in psychology and no other particular qualifications as an expert.  But Pye died of lymphoma last December, and it seemed like the whole thing was dying down.

Enter Brian Foerster, who has jumped the "Starchild Skull" back into the news with an announcement that there has been genetic analysis of the skull and the results show that it is "clearly not human:"

It had mtDNA (mitochondrial DNA) with mutations unknown in any human, primate, or animal known so far. But a few fragments I was able to sequence from this sample indicate that if these mutations will hold we are dealing with a new human-like creature, very distant from Homo sapiens, Neanderthals and Denisovans.

Then Foerster says that he's not releasing the results of the DNA analysis quite yet, but he will do so "soon."  This was when my eyes started to narrow suspiciously, because it reminded me of... someone... someone who'd pulled the same trick before...

So I started to try to find who it was that Foerster gave the samples to for genetic analysis.  And guess who it turned out to be?

Melba Ketchum.

Yes, dear old Dr. Melba Ketchum, she of the genetic analysis of Bigfoot, whose results were so abysmally bad that she refused to release them for months, issuing periodic tantalizing press releases about how groundbreaking they were -- only to have them labeled as bogus during the peer review process when she finally did submit them.  Undaunted, she created her own scientific journal specifically to publish the rejected paper.  Then, when the paper was published, it turned out that amongst her source citations were one that actually demonstrated the opposite of what she claimed it did, one that was about hoaxes... and one that stated, outright, that it was written as an April Fool's Day prank!

My general feeling is that Dr. Ketchum has effectively used up all of the benefit-of-the-doubt she deserves.  The fact that she is still at the whole "we have the data, and it's convincing, but we're not going to show it to you" illustrates to me that there is no particular reason we shouldn't laugh right in her face, and by extension, in Foerster's.

I think we need a corollary to Carl Sagan's ECREE Principle (Extraordinary Claims Require Extraordinary Evidence).  Let's call it PHRREE -- Proven Hoaxers Require Really Extraordinary Evidence.  It may be that this time, finally, Melba Ketchum has the goods, and she'll be vindicated.  I think I'm to be excused if I am inclined to doubt it.  And given her track record, it is incumbent on her to prove herself -- using the time-honored and reliable road called "peer review."  And until such time as she does that, and has her and Foerster's "research" published in a reputable scientific journal, I think we're well within our rights to ask them both to shut the hell up.

A planetary pirouette

Well, you know what time it is, at least if you are of an astrological bent.  Me, I had to have it pointed out by a friend and loyal reader of Skeptophilia.  Now that I know, I'm all in a tizzy.

Mercury is in retrograde.  Time to head for the hills.

Of course, the whole thing is a completely natural occurrence that happens because the planets are moving with a different angular velocity than the Earth is.  The phenomenon has been known since the time of the ancient Greeks, and is in fact what gave rise to the name "planet" ("planetes" means "wanderer" in Greek).  The planets are all actually traveling in nice, neat ellipses; the whole thing is a trick of perspective because we're also in motion.  The outer planets go into retrograde when the (faster moving) Earth "overtakes" them in orbit; the inner ones, when they go around the outer curve of their orbit and appear to go into reverse as they curve back in toward the Sun.  (For an excellent discussion of why this happens, with diagrams, go here.)

The apparent retrograde motion of Mars [image courtesy of NASA and the Wikimedia Commons]

So we've moved one step past the astrological silliness of our lives and fates being controlled by the positions of the planets relative to the stars; now we have to factor an optical illusion of backwards motion that isn't even actually happening.

The complete wackiness of this claim is, apparently, not evident to the astrologers, who consider a Mercury retrograde to be a calamity of the first water.  Consider the article that appeared over at Elephant called "13 Ways to Avoid Getting 'Mercury Retrograded,'" wherein we find out that at least we'll have almost a month's worth of excuses for fucking up everything we try:

How Mercury functions in our birth charts explains a great deal about how we formulate ideas and how we share them. It indicates how we make sense of the everyday world we live in. During these three weeks when Mercury is retrograde, our mental faculties are not functioning well; in fact they go on vacation.

When this unique event happens (three times this year), communications of all types go haywire!

Suddenly, normal communication becomes unreliable, filled with misinformation where important data is missing or misunderstood. The passage of information from one person to the other seems to be unintentionally cloudy or confused in some way.

Well, this sounds like the way my life usually is, but that may be because I'm a high school teacher.

Then we hear some guidelines regarding how to avoid the problems implicit in this event, which include:

• Don't argue with your spouse.  My wife will be glad of that one.
• Don't purchase computers or install software.  I'm afraid that's a rule that may have to be broken, because my computer is on its last legs, and I get the Spinning Beachball of Death whenever I expect it to do anything complicated, such as loading a website, scrolling down a page, or typing at a rate of more than three characters per minute.
• Don't make changes to your appearance.  Well, it's not like I was considering dyeing my hair green, or anything, so I think I can manage that one.

Other than that, we have prohibitions against buying new cars, a new home, or starting a new job, all of which I wasn't planning to do in any case.

But then, we find out the much more alarming news that this time, Mercury is traveling retrograde in Pisces.  *gasp of horror*  Think I'm being sarcastic?  You'll be gasping, too, when you read the article called, "The Return of Past Lovers as Mercury Retrogrades in Pisces," wherein we find out the following:

All Mercury retrograde periods tend to stir up people from your past. You'll perhaps run into an old colleague on the street, get a call from a friend you haven't heard from in years or suddenly get an email from someone you met but never fully connected with, many Moons ago. Retrogrades are all about returning, going back to something that we started but never quite finished. And when you factor in the magical Pisces energy, it's all about the return of past lovers.

Whether you're single or attached, you can bet that "the one who got away" will pop up in your mind in the coming weeks. And he/she is probably thinking of you too, perhaps at the exact same moment. Will your lost love call you? Will your amazing lover from last year suddenly reappear with a middle-of-the-night sext? Mercury Retrograde in Pisces will stir your emotions and make you question romantic decisions made long ago. What's done is not necessarily done -- yet.

All of which makes me respond as follows:  AAAAAAUUUUGGGGGHHH *hides under coffee table*

Can I just say that the lion's share of my former romantic entanglements are "former" for a reason?  I actually want what's done to be done.  I'm perfectly happy with my wife, and can think of one former girlfriend, in particular, a call from whom would make me hop the next plane to Madagascar.  Not to imply that I had a knack for dating wackos, exactly; but let's just say when I see those Facebook things that ask you to describe your love life using a book title, the one that always comes to mind is All's Well That Ends Well.

What I find funny about all of this is that the starry-eyed types are wiggling their eyebrows significantly about something that happens for weeks at a time, three times a year.  So, basically, what we have here is a giant blob of confirmation bias, wherein we are encouraged to attribute any weirdness during twelve weeks of 2014 -- almost a quarter of the year -- to the fact that one of the planets appears to be doing a little pirouette in the sky.

Me, I think life is just weird, and it's got bugger-all to do with the stars.  But if any of my former girlfriends thinks that this would be a fine excuse to look me up, allow me to state, for the record, that I have an unlisted phone number and live in Madagascar.  So sorry I missed you.