I believe that subtle differences in magnetic fields at different times of the year have subtle effects on developing fetal brains, and that there are, in fact, slight personality tendencies that are common among people born at the same time of year… so that’d be kind-of sort-of astrology.
There have been too many coincidences in my life to be ignored. I seriously dated five guys before I met my husband, and they had two birthdays between them, and those two birthdays were two weeks apart. There were six “nice guys” who wouldn’t take no for an answer and got explosively angry when I didn’t cooperate, and they were all born in the same month. My husband’s ex-wife and I share a birthday. All my gay guy friends were born in the same month–four of them. All my close female friends have birthdays in one of two (widely separated) months.
I believe in Hanlon’s Razor. “Never attribute to malice what can easily be explained by incompetence.”
But that’s not the fallacy. I believe that people can and will equate Hanlon’s Razor with common sense. Then I read about the Sandy Hook Deniers and realize such belief is folly.
That a host of medical problems plaguing us these days, from peanut allergies to ADHD to cancer to high cholesterol are the fault of the processed food industry, with an emphasis on the processed grains, and that if people bought their own ingredients, made their own food, and saved the sugar for dessert, we’d all live to be… well, healthier and older.
That every piece of information we send via the internet is being monitored, scanned and tracked by somebody. The vast majority of somebodies don’t give a rip about the vast majority of what we send, but the potential for abuse is out there.
There is a giant wheel somewhere that is spun daily to determine the amount that a gallon of gas will rise or fall in price.
If you dream about falling and hit the ground you will actually die.
When you dream of someone at the same time they dream of you, you share the same dream.
In restaurants that refill the ketchup bottles on the tables, there is a layer of sludge at the bottom of the bottles that is hardened ketchup dating back to when the restaurant opened.
People in “native” cultures actually speak perfect English in their homes and put on the whole native act when tourists are around.
As a culture, we are as weird about food as the Victorians were about sex, and future anthropologists will write books deconstructing our weird food fetishes, obsessions, phobias, and rituals.
ISTM that some people are confusing this thread with this one.
For me, off the top of my head, it would probably be my belief that most of the supposed characteristics of the “finer things in life”, whether art (including classical, and not just modern), fine wine and other expensive liquors, cigars, and so on, are either non-existent or widely blown out of proportion and are almost entirely delusions and hype.
