There is a very smart, sensible woman in my office, with whom I share amusing news stories and shake my head over moronic things that happen at our magazine. I saw an article about “psychics,” Tarot cards, astrology, et al, and was talking with her about it. Oh, yes, she agrees—Tarot cards are nonsense, and so is astrology. “But I had this GREAT PYSCHIC READING,” she says, and all of a sudden I feel like Kevin McCarthy in “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”
I tried to tell her that the “insight” (that she had two men in her life, one a blond and one a redhead) was NOT THAT bizarre, but she insists, “oh, no—she was ‘seeing’ something.”
How can intelligent people be this gullible? How can I keep the top of my head from blowing off through the ceiling (thereby ruining my hairdo) when this happens?! WHY does this annoy me so much?
I think at some level we all want to believe in something greater than ourselves. We want magic to exist. Sometimes we want it so badly that even the brightest among us skip over obvious realizations and jump to the belief that we have found what we sought.
Is it possible the psychics exist? I dunno, it’s a big universe. Is it likely that actual psychics actually answer your calls for $3.99 a minute instead of playing the stock market and buying lots of lotto cards? No. But beliverers will argue that the pyschics don’t work for money but to help you. Sure. Which is why they charge $3.99 a minute to tell you things that you already know.
You get ticked off at your coworker because these things are obvious to you and she has the intelligence to grasp these same simple concepts but does not. It’s painful to see folks get scammed or worked up about something that isn’t true.
People tend to believe waht the want to believe. that, coupled with the lack of critical thinking of most people, leads to the proliferation of superstition in America.
Have you ever watched “Crossing Over with John Edward” on Sci-Fi? He performs the classic carny midway cold reading, using lots of leading questions and fishing: John Edward:“I see a man and the letter M. Does that sound familiar to anyone?” Woman: “Oh, yes, that’s my father-in-law, Mike. He died ten years ago.” It’s pathetically easy to con people into believing in the supernatural.
We all have our foibles. As others have mentioned, sometime even intelligent people will skip critical thinking in order to suspend disbelief on certain issues.
You can try to show her how she is mistaken. If she’s not willing to listen or seems upset when you do this, you may just have to accept that she is not willing to budge on this. Perhaps try to change the conversation when this comes up.
Because you are not willing to suspend your critical thinking in order to believe in this silliness (kudos to you!). It probably bothers you even more to see the inconsistencies in your freind’s thinking.
Ordinarily I don’t try to reason with these people, but she caught me up short, as she’s one of the few people in this office I’d had [past tense] some respect for intellectually. When I tried to explain all the tricks that “psychics” use, she didn’t get angry, she got SMUG! “Well, you weren’t there—it really worked.”
Aauugghh! There went the top of my head, startling people on the floor above ours.
Here is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
Alright, Ike . . . You have managed to come up with some bizarre reference from out of left field that I do not have the slightest idea what the hell you are talking about.
Happy? Got a smile on your smug little face? Just wait’ll after school . . .
Poor Eve. During my salad days I was once faced with a most unpleasant man who asserted that no one who liked rock music could possibly be bright enough to read “The Wasteland”. I countered by saying that I had indeed read “The Wasteland”, and spit out a couple of quotes to prove it.
Of course, I was bluffing. I’d never read “The Wasteland”, I had only read books which contained the odd quote from it. But I decided then and there that no one would ever shame me with that poem again! I read the whole bloody thing that night out of spite.
No shit! I mean, don’t tell me I date a blond named Janice with inverted nipples. I already knew that! Tell me when is the best time to dump her. Then that call was worth the money.
[sub]The above was a totally fictional example, used to illustrate a general principle. I am not dating someone named Janice who is blond with inverted nipples. I have never even met such a person. If I had, I would hang onto them, because inverted nipples are hard to find.[/sub]
Heck, you don’t need to be bright to READ “The Waste Land” ! As I was saying to my ol’ pal Harold Bloom the other day, over chip dip and schooners of Pabst Blue Ribbon, “I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.”
