Magician and most excellent friend Jamy Ian Swiss comments on the recent "Secrets of the Psychics — Revealed!" program on NBC. This farce purported to show viewers how the psychics flim-flam their victims, but was only a low-budget imitation of "The Masked Magician" programs that Fox-TV ran some time back. Sensing that money was to be made from such nonsense, NBC gave a producer and director — the same ones who did the "Masked Magician" shows — a budget to buy simple tricks right out of the magic shop, and present them as the tools of the psychics. Those "psychics" were delighted, since nothing they use was used or exposed. Says Jamy:

According to reports (and as per my distinctly non-psychic prediction), this was essentially The Masked Mentalist — i.e., exposure of the methods of legitimate mentalists, with very little on the subject of psychics other than a bit on cold and hot readings.  Prurience over education.  Please do not consider this material to be information about methods and effects psychics use — it is not.  It may, however, lessen your sense of mystery the next time you try to enjoy the work of a professional mentalist. 

Some of those "exposures" were hilarious in their ineptness. For example, a confederate seated directly behind a victim in the audience, peeks over his shoulder to see what he's drawn on a pad the size of a table-cloth, and then casually describes it to the performer on stage via a microphone concealed in his cupped hand! And no one, either beside him or around him, notices or hears that he's talking to his hand! Subtle!

Ron Saarna of Toronto, Canada, asks:

With the SARS scare hysteria whipped into a frenzy, we need all the help that we can get here in Toronto. So why would faith-healer Richard Roberts [son of Oral Roberts, and in the same racket] cancel or postpone his planned visit to Toronto? It seems he was concerned for the potential health risk to his traveling entourage of students. Is it just me, or is there some kind of irony here?

Reader Luigi Novi caught a Jay Leno show that I missed — not that I'm a great fan. I recall that when we offered input to the appearance of Uri Geller a couple years ago, so that there might be more balance in the material presented, we were told that they just didn't care. Like Larry King and Montel Williams, Leno is only interested in the entertainment value, and that's certainly his right. We feel that he might decide to employ a bit of responsibility as well, but his motive is his decision, not ours. Luigi tells us:

I have enjoyed your site for some time now, particularly the material you've provided on Uri Geller. I was very pleased with the clip from "The Tonight Show" I once saw that proved what a sham Geller was. The reason I'm writing is because it seems that "The Tonight Show" has come a long way from that eye-opening segment. Two weeks ago, they featured a segment spotlighting Dick Frymire, a "doctor of barnyard science," who was promoting his two books on home remedies.

Frymire is from Irvington, Kentucky, and claims to have been a practitioner in this home remedy field for 37 years. When Mr. Leno asked him if he invented his remedies or if he got them from somewhere, Frymire said that some were his inventions, but most came out of his great-grandfather's medical journals. I wondered just much of what was in his great-grandfather's journals was based on science, and how much was the usual folklore flummery. Frymire went on to say that his great-grandfather was a medical doctor who graduated from the University of Louisville of Medicine in 1867. Leno, not too caustically, retorted, "Wow, 1867, well, that was certainly the golden age of medicine, certainly." The audience laughed lightly at the absurdity of this. After all, we are constantly reevaluating knowledge from all fields today, including medicine . . . but Mr. Frymire didn't seem to pick up on the joke, appearing to take Jay's comment literally.

Jay asked Frymire about his cure for memory loss. Frymire picked up half a lemon, and said to — get this — rub the lemon on your fingertips. This, according to Frymire, will help your memory. Jay good-naturedly asked him how this helped memory, commenting that the only thing he'd end up remembering is that he had lemon on his fingers. Frymire replied, "Well, that's what it does." Well, that argument certainly convinces me! He added that he has a lot of students take a lemon to class. Well, I must've gone to a different school than the ones Mr. Frymire teaches at, because my classmates and I usually just brought a notebook to write down notes, or better yet, a tape recorder, though I admit my portable tape recorder sometimes malfunctions during playback. I wonder: Would rubbing lemon juice on the tape improve the sound? But it didn't stop there. Frymire then said that if you were nosey, what you would do is put rub it on the end of your nose, and proceeded to rub the lemon on Mr. Leno's nose. It wasn't clear to me if Frymire was saying that this was for nosey people to help their memory, or to cure their nosiness.

Jay then asked about Frymire's hangover remedy. Frymire again pulled out two halves of a lemon, again turned to actor Seann William Scott on his right, and told him to put each one under his armpits. That's right. You read that right. Under his armpits. Frymire told Scott that if he was "about to have a hangover," he should put the lemon halves under his pits, and after two hours, he would "sober up." What wasn't explained was how one is supposed to do this when people are generally "about" to have a hangover not the night that they drink, but while they're sleeping before the next morning. Does one get up, put the lemon there, and then go back to sleep? Presumably, whenever you wake up, you will have the hangover. Moreover, Frymire said that you'll "sober up." A hangover isn't the same as drunkenness, it's the headache and other unpleasant physical effects that you have the next day. One doesn't "sober up" from a hangover.

Then came the most colorful demonstration when Jay asked Frymire about his headache cure. Frymire picked up a banana, got up, walked behind Jay, and proceeded to peel the banana, and apply the banana peel to Jay's forehead and the back of his neck, and secured the peels in place with an Ace bandage. Jay came right out and asked, "Now what does this do? How does this cure a headache? Is there any scientific basis for any of this?" Frymire, perhaps a bit annoyed, replied, "Now if you'll shut up, I'll tell ya." Apparently, asking Frymire if there was any scientific basis for this quackery, was going over the line, because his only response was to tell the person asking to shut up. And did Frymire in fact tell Jay what the scientific basis was, as he said he would? Nope. He merely stated, "Now this'll cure a headache of any type, in 85% percent of cases, in thirty minutes or less." How he came up with this precise figure, was of course not explained. When Jay asked him if anyone actually uses this remedy, Frymire's only response was, "I imagine they do." He imagines? What, he doesn't have any students coming to class with banana peels on their heads? Hell, even the lemon trick was at least popular with the students! Frymire then asked Jay, "You don't think I'd put it on you if it didn't work?" Jay, with his usual understated sarcasm, replied, "Nawww!"

I'm sure it was entertaining, Jay. I only wonder how many folks out there will be slicing up lemons and peeling bananas for medical use, because they saw it on NBC. Serves them right, for being naive. Right, Jay? Har, har, har! And "Dr." Frymire will sell lots of books, so it's in a good cause. Even better, I'd be hugely surprised if he hasn't received an offer from a major publisher wanting to cash in on this opportunity. Gotta run now and feed the leeches, and bleed Linda for her headache... She's not reacting well to the calomel — mercurous chloride — I gave her yesterday. Got these remedies from a folk-medicine book. Nothing but the best for us!

Reader George W. Maschke of http://AntiPolygraph.org reminds us that there are other spies apart from the notorious Aldrich Hazen Ames who are publicly known to have beaten the polygraph. There were Karel "Karl" Frantisek Koecher — a Czech double agent who penetrated the CIA, Larry Wu-tai Chin — a Chinese double agent who also penetrated the CIA, Ana Belen Montes — a Cuban double agent who penetrated the Defense Intelligence Agency and rose to become DIA's top analyst for matters related to Cuba, and Marcus Klingberg — an Israeli scientist and Soviet double agent who passed multiple polygraph tests. And, says Mr. Maschke, in the first documented use of the polygraph in an espionage investigation, the FBI's reliance on polygraph results allowed Theodor Ignatz Griebl, the main suspect in a Nazi spy ring, to escape to Germany in 1938.

Go to http://antipolygraph.org/articles/article-027.shtml for an interesting run-down on the design and operation of the polygraph.

I have a friend in China, Steven, from the UK but now residing in Shanghai. That city, as I've said before, has a skyline that looks like the set of "Bladerunner." All that modern profile doesn't mean that superstition and quackery are absent, however. Steven's observations of life there have always interested me, and he's agreed to share some of those with us. Enjoy….

Isn't life the most wonderfully illogical and confounding thing? I guess if it wasn't, it wouldn't qualify as "life." Perhaps life itself is the universe's way of relieving boredom (as good a theory as any). Perhaps a religion based upon a "Cosmic Giggle" is in order, since maintaining a sense of humor about it all is patently essential.  

And, it's never very hard to find something amusing in literally anything you care to look at — or in this case — listen to. For instance, right now the class bell is ringing at a Lu Wan District Middle School, 22 floors below me and three blocks away, here in central Shanghai. But instead of a ringing bell, it is a recording of "Camp Town Races," and I hear the refrain "Doodah, doodah, all the doodah day..." broadcast at a thousand watts each and every day. Ever try to get one of those tunes out of your head after hearing it nine times a day, seven days a week? "Camp Town races five miles long, all the doodah day.... (sorry)  

Today's missive is an apt example of the principles of chaos and disorder as promulgated and perpetuated by cosmic humor which, were this essential attribute of life absent, life in the universe would no doubt perish for want of a good, hearty chuckle....

For sure, there is only one city like Shanghai, and it is unique in its own very special way. Most expats who get sent here on business, find themselves inventing the silliest reasons to renew their visas. Most tourists, once having visited here, leave all thoughts of Disneyville behind. Where else can one sit in a Starbucks while watching a double-decker bus shaped like a giant dragon and filled with a 60-piece Chinese orchestra drive up and down the streets to ward off the evil plague demons? Or watch a Buddhist monk in a thousand year-old temple invoke the holy Google via his laptop and wireless modem? This amazing place is also one of the very few cities on Planet Earth where one can walk down any street at 3:00am without needing a Glock 9mm "comfort weapon" or a can of mace. And all the amazing types of incredible food.... Wowee! Even so, with all its beautiful smiles and stoic-happy acceptance of modern Chinese life, some of that special Shanghai uniqueness takes a little getting used to.  

In the hotel on the floor above me, as in virtually every similar building in Shanghai, people are always banging and thumping on something. I have grown used to this and it really doesn't bother me anymore. Like the ticking of an old clock or a leaky water tap, you get so used to it that it simply seems to disappear after a while. One day I watched in awe from my window as two bang-bang men threw several fifty-pound blocks of concrete into an empty dumptruck from a fifth floor balcony. Other than an uncontollable wince as each huge block exploded onto the truck's empty steel bed, fifty feet below, rattling windows for miles and nearly shattering mine, I remember thinking: "Cool."  

As any good citizen, to add my contribution to the proper maintenance of Shanghai's celestial sonics, I have installed a sound system with enough decibelic power to simulate a force-9 earthquake, both in accuracy of reproductive truthfulness and thundering, Herculean wattage. It also doubles as an alarm clock. Over this system I play, twenty-four hours a day, a faithful digital reproduction of the crashing surf beneath the verdant cliffs of Maui — a relentless pounding of the mighty Pacific against the rugged, beautiful shores of Hawaii. It even has faint seagull screeches to add authenticity. Close your eyes in my house, and you'll swear you're on the beach. My neighbors have been seen purchasing life jackets. Once I played a favorite Led Zeppelin song on it and I could swear the bang-bang men's hammers were keeping the beat....  

Along with happily providing my concussive contribution to that of my dutiful neighbors, my super-sonic, artificial seaside has the added benefit of drowning out most other sounds of a never-sleeping, super-energized city, and I often drift away in blissful dreams of sunning on — for instance — Jacksonville Beach (in Florida, where I grew up) or Manly Beach (in Sydney, where bikini tops are optional).  

On the floor below me, they have started doing major renovations, so the banging, thumping and grinding below goes on all day from about 6:30am until about 7:30pm (with the usual one hour break for lunch and siesta around noon). Although this is a new noise for me, I am now used to it as well, having cranked up the volume on my "beach" a bit. Indeed, I have learned that, as I become more and more a real Shanghai-ren, it is important — an obligation — to assert oneself in the cosmos by frequently making loud bangs and other appropriately deafening noises during the day (and often night). I assume it keeps demons and other things (maybe guests) away, as well.  

Add to this the thousand or so M-80 firecrackers and powerful incendiary rockets that my neighbors blow up during every conceivable excuse for a holiday, wedding, house blessing or the myriad other special occasions, and it's easy to see we have a merry old time in my 'hood. You can actually see the Great Wall of China from space. You can hear Shanghai on Mars.  

However, the conundrum is that I cannot discern the difference between my twenty-four hour beach, the bang-bang men cosmically asserting themselves above and below, or when someone is knocking on my door. Last night around 6:00pm, a good Shanghai friend, Professor Gu, came to visit for his usual tea and chat. After knocking on my door until his hands were bruised (as he usually does), he gave up and rang me on his cell phone (as he usually does). He said:  "Steven, I can always tell you are home because I can see the lights, as usual. Why don't you ever answer the door? Why must I call you every time, as usual?"  

I apologized and attempted to once again explain (I go through this at least twice a week with someone) the reasons why I can never hear him, or anyone else, knocking on my door. While trying to explain all this to Gu (as usual), suddenly the bang-bang people's cosmic cacophony reached a crescendo — in concert with that of an eighty-foot wave breaking on the sands of Waikiki (as usual). A frustrated Gu blurted into his cell phone, "What? I can't hear you!", as usual.  

Obviously then, I am not yet a true Shanghai-nese. I am not yet able to tell the difference between a knock, a bang, a thud, a thump, an explosion, or a crash. So I still have a ways to go, as Professor Gu is eager to acknowledge. Similarly, since all of the kitchens in Shanghai apartment buildings seem to be magically interconnected, if the grocery store in our basement caught fire, I wouldn't be able to smell any difference between its charred fish and vegetables and my neighbors' cooking.

Ah, but you love it, don't you, Steven?

Reader Michael Draper tells us:

I live in the small Pennsylvania community of Peckville and lately we've been having some Virgin Mary sightings on, of all places, the backboard of a driveway basketball hoop! This "sighting" is causing quite a brouhaha in our small, mostly Catholic borough. Hundreds of people show up each day to glimpse this "miracle" and the crowds grow bigger every week.

My wife and I tried to get an up-close look, but the police have cordoned off the immediate area because of the carnival-like atmosphere of this obvious hoax. There has been some damage to other people's property since this began over a month ago. The local news has covered this story and the image of Mary is indeed seen on the backboard. In fact, it looks a lot like those Christmas projections that have become popular in recent years.

This is obvious hokum of the first kind. My question is how could they do this? There is a parking lot for a bank right across the alley from the "Holy Hoopset." Could a projector of some kind be set up inside one of the security cameras? Could someone be using mirrors to project this from a side location? I would seriously like to expose this before it gets out of hand. There are people already claiming on TV that they've been cured of various ills. This is disruptive and potentially dangerous.

I agree, Michael. Just two weeks ago, in the company of Richard Dawkins at the Atheist Alliance International conference in Tampa, Florida, I visited the famous "virgin" figure on a bank window in nearby Clearwater. The bank sold the entire building to a religious group who decided to make the window a shrine — for one-and-a-quarter million dollars. I call this miracle "Our Lady of the Dirty Window." I'll have more about all that in a later report, but I'll clue you in on this: by surreptitious means, I obtained a sample of the ground-water from the sprinkler system there, which is going in to a chemist friend for an analysis. There's much more to be told about this "virgin," believe me. It's a racket and a blatant, calculated, farce. But I think you guessed that.

Still more comments about Susan Kawa's letter of two weeks back, this time from reader Brian Makepeace:

I wonder whether Susan would have had such a hard time evolving away from myths if her parents had not misled her in her childhood. Her son's disappointment in learning the truth about Santa Claus et al, seems to mirror her own. Why did she create those lies for him?

I speak as a father of four who succumbed to spousal and cultural pressure and allowed my children to fall into the fantasy/materialism trap of Christmas, Easter, the tooth fairy, etc. I had sworn to myself that I would never lie to my kids, yet one of the first things I did was create these extravagant myths "for them." Having to tell them when they were eight, that I had been lying to them, has made me feel that my trustworthiness has been forever undermined, and that for me to now expect complete honesty from my kids, is unrealistic and unfair.

My own childhood awakening to the truth of Santa Claus was as traumatic as Susan's seems to have been for her, except that although I was disappointed that Santa wasn't real, I was more disappointed that I had been lied to. I suppose that that knowledge aroused my innate skepticism.

As early as I can remember, I had been doubtful of Santa, the Easter Bunny, and God — it just didn't make sense to me how these things could exist — but despite all my doubts and questions to my parents, I was always led to keep believing.

Parents have a vested interest in their child's belief in these myths. Aside from the obedience you get through the proverbial threat of "coal in the stocking," there is, at root, a need for them to relive their own childhood, and frankly, a need to be entertained. My continued belief provided much entertainment for my older siblings and parents, and made Christmas what it was for them; without the children's awe, there was no fun. When I finally learned the truth, I became quite incensed that I had been deceived, and that my mind, my heart, and my hopes and dreams, had been co-opted.

This may sound like an overreaction to what was intended as just good, clean, family fun but there was an external factor in my life at that time that magnified the effect. My awakening to the truth of Santa occurred during the days of "duck and cover" drills in school. Crawling under my desk for these drills was when I began to doubt that the adults knew what they were doing. I think our duck and cover drills may have been a bit scarier than most because the morons in charge of our school never seemed to take into account the fact that we were on the flight path to the local airport. Consequently, and more often than not, a plane would fly over just as we were preparing to get bombed by the Russians.

I stopped "believing" in Santa, teachers, the military, the government, doctors, priests, and God, all at the same time. And, to sum up this rant, I think that the main reason adult people still believe in GOD and all the other nonsense, is because when their parents finally admitted to them that there was no Santa Claus, they didn't include the rest of the myths too.

Reader Eric Carpenter also comments on the Kawa matter, though he says he doesn't want to "turn this sort of discussion into a group witnessing session."

At one point in my life, I was on a path to becoming a fundamentalist preacher in the midwest. By age 18, I'd preached regularly, worked every summer as an instructor for a Bible camp, and had a scholarship to a Bible college all set up. The problem was that I had been raised to be open-minded and to question things. My parents are both deeply religious, but also very open-minded. They told us that we had to make our own decisions concerning religion and philosophy, and while they would provide guidance, they wouldn't stand in our way.

For a period in my teen years, acceptance and adulation overcame my better sense and I didn't question what I was taught. It wasn't until our 'college bound' seniors had our own class in church concerning how to deal with the real world. In it, we were taught how to stay focused and never-wavering once we left our homes. This was primarily taught through acting out biased scripts of various types--the instructor would pick two or three students and we would all read various parts in a 'play' that would instruct us in how to deal with various situations.

One day I was assigned one of the parts in a little performance called simply "How to Refute Science." Since I was playing the disbeliever, I ended up reading the various lines concerning the science that was going to be refuted...but I found the arguments presented to be so completely illogical and the science so completely misrepresented that I woke up a bit. The sort of thing they were teaching us wasn't fair; it was closer to brainwashing.

That single event did start me off. I spent the next ten years researching every religion I could. I couldn't find anything that made sense to me. Then, quite suddenly, I had the thought, "Why does there HAVE to be anything?" I realized I was looking for a religion that fit science and the world, and couldn't find any that did.

Ms. Sawa mentions how she was depressed by this sort of realization. I had the opposite reaction, I was completely freed. My religious experience had taught me (in very broad strokes) that every bad was man's fault and everything good was God-given. Suddenly, I realized that everything bad was our fault...but we also get credit for the good stuff as well. And there's a LOT of good stuff.

When I have discussions about religion, I've been told I should be pitied because I must live in a very small, lonely universe. Quite the opposite! I live in a world and universe where there is a chance to do anything we strive to. Our level of achievement and what we can accomplish isn't limited by God telling us the game's over and we have to come in now.

Furthermore, discussions have come up concerning ethics and good behavior...and I'll admit to feeling morally superior in the arguments. I'm moral because I choose to be...not because I'm under threat of eternal punishment or because God is making me behave. I make a choice to be what I am and I don't blame any external force for putting me in that position.

Sorry to go on so long, but I felt I had to give some testimony concerning the positive aspects of becoming a non-theist. It's not all dark and depressing. It's quite freeing, actually.

Yes, Eric, I get the "your world must be very small and sad" condescension, too. The deluded are expressing their pity that I'm not deluded like they are! I think we can all afford freedom, though the price is often high...

The poll taken in France that we mentioned last week, provides additional data for us. Under the heading, "Do you believe in…." these were the results, in 1994 and in 2003:

	2003	1994
God	58%		down 3%
Answered prayers	58%	61%	down 3%
Miracles	42%	57%	down 15%
Astrology	37%	60%	down 23%
Fortune tellers' predictions	23%	46%	down 23%
Sorcery	21%	57%	down 36%
Speaking with the dead	22%	37%	down 15%

Yes, going down, but still suggesting that at least the French have a lot of rational thinking to do.

Quoting Danish astrologer Karen Boesen, who commented on my participation in the recent Øyvind Kyrø TV series, we find:

The whole course of events has been profoundly unethical, and I will, together with my attorney, see if there is any basis for a claim of compensation. Of course, I know already that it is a lost cause, from my point of view, but, nevertheless, I feel compelled to react.

I also cannot comprehend why DR1 (Danish National Radio and Television) lets a person like James Randi speak.

Of course, you could say that James Randi dovetails neatly with the goal of the shows. But James Randi is notorious in the USA, not just among so-called alternative and astrologers, but also in the academic world, where he is excluded from several fora because of his unethical behavior and cheating with data. His tactics, when people pass his tests, are also well known.

This is a great revelation to me. Pray tell, from what academic — or any other — fora am I excluded? We'd all like to know, so please tell us. What "unethical behavior" and "cheating" do you refer to, please? And just what person — just one — has managed to pass the test? And to whom are these tactics of mine, "well known"? Hello? Press here to hear the astrologer's answer...

Karen, if anyone here has a just cause for a lawsuit, it's I. The words, "notorious," "unethical," and "cheating," are slanderous, in American law, though I cannot tell if that applies in Danish courts. Accusing me of slander, and saying that I called you criminals, is also applicable here.

The frantic Danish astrologer continues:

I have discussed with my attorney if [it] was proper to include the first show in our claim of compensation, where James Randi is allowed to call us criminals. Later, in the second and third show, he expands his slander to also include mentally [sic] deviants.

I have asked among those other participants in the shows, and none of us have been convicted of criminal activity. My attorney thought that it would be difficult to do anything about such a statement, since it is futile to file a lawsuit against a person living in the USA. So we have to put up with [the fact] that DR1 has shown these unopposed and undocumented accusations.

Karen, I have video tapes of those programs. I've listened carefully to them, and not once did I state or even imply that you or your other deluded practitioners were in any respect, criminals. Either you have a very erratic imagination, or you are simply lying.

Well, I have a happy solution to this dilemma. Though I don't intend to pay my own expenses to travel to Denmark just so I can be sued, if we can arrange a lecture or two over there, and I can have my costs covered, I'll visit those shores long enough to allow you — or anyone else — to sue me. I'll be all a-tremble, of course, at these dreadful accusations! For the reaction to this offer, return above and press that button again...

To learn more about just how successful this astrology group is, and how dependable Ms. Boesen is, go to www.skeptica.dk/mw/astrologi/randi.htm and read the record.

It's not only this frustrated astrologer who bad-mouths me as a result of the TV series. One André Corell, a "face reader" who claims he can spot how much sex drive you have, from the shape of your neck — among other things — bleats:

Randi, the magician, who has promised one million dollars if anyone can prove something supernatural, will most likely never pay [that] money. Like a true magician, he will always cheat in the end. It is known, among other things, that one of the most recognized American mediums did not get the money, because he said it in a way that Randi didn't like.

What a rich fantasy life these folks lead! This is pure fiction, an outright lie, and the strident André knows it, but he also knows that if you say it often enough, some will believe and repeat it…. As for his attempts on the Øyvind Kyrø TV show tests, he had claimed he could tell how many (at least 9-10) out of 12 people, had diabetes. He found four of them that actually had diabetes, and wrongly identified five who didn't. He later claimed that the five misses "could" really have undetected diabetes. A medical checkup showed no sign of the disease in any of those five.

Now, had I designed and conducted those tests, that lame "undetected" claim would have been removed from consideration from the very start by having all of the group examined medically before the test...

The above shows just how easily these people can lie and fabricate, when they think the victim won't actually go to the source and face them. I'm an up-front guy, and I'm prepared to go to Denmark and confront these fakers with the million-dollar prize, and tell them they're liars.

Here's Part Two, the final part, of Cornelis de Jager's piece on Erasmus, "Our Delightful Delusons," that we began last week:

Jesters and Skeptics

At the other end of the multidimensional spectrum of our society we find rational man, institutionalized in science with therein a role for skeptic movements that stand for the defense of rational thinking. The latter is badly needed, both at the "top" as well as for public education.

The broad spread of a public anti-scientific tendency may seem strange: our world is one with a highly developed scientific technology that dominates our lives. Science is deeply integrated in the community. Why then do we witness so many societal trends against a scientific approach? A computer is now found in many a modern household, but in the case of illness, one seeks recourse in homeopathy, acupuncture, foot-sole reflex therapies, and the like. A possible cause may be that the rapid developments of science and technology of the past century could not be followed by the broad public. One hides or flies away. Fear of the atomic bomb leads to turning away from peaceful applications of nuclear energy. One sees the cloned sheep and turns away from medical genetic studies. This rejecting attitude is in part based on suspicion about the application of scientific research, mostly based on lack of information, an attitude that leads to a doom scenario.

We also observe this attitude in some examples of environmental concern. There, the enthusiasm of the supporters, often fed by ignorance, makes them sometimes overshoot the mark, and so their well-meant concern may ultimately end in dogmatic fundamentalism. Some politicians, aiming at short-term success, tend to strengthen that attitude. Under the mask of the "precaution principle" they pursue costly plans, while a little more intelligent thinking might have resulted in more efficient and successful projects that really protect the environment. For the environmental movement a skeptical, scientific approach would be more efficient in the long run. The financial proceeds may be less, but the credibility will win.

Public Information

Public information is needed to advance towards a society with an improved understanding of the benefits of a rational approach to mankind. It is also a task for skeptical organizations. Hence it is important that the skeptic thinks and argues in a balanced way: going to the extreme leads to extreme consequences. And that, as we know, leads to the devil. Against the absolute skepticism, as formulated by the Dutch 19th century writer Multatuli — "nothing is certain, not even this statement" — we advance the modern balanced skepticism. In brief: we know a great deal and much is even very well known; but there is a transitory frontier area in the fields of our knowledge, where much is uncertain or even completely unknown. In that area, skepticism, i.e. a critical scientific attitude, is appropriate. A good scientist doubts much, not the least his or her own results. But at the same time, that scientist bases his or her research on the vast body of knowledge that is well-known and has been rigorously tested and checked.

In our public information, it would be incorrect to place our "absolute truths" against those of others. Rather, look at the mediaeval jester: teach people to think critically by sowing doubt where necessary, and thus introduce a counter-force against unscientific and incorrect information. Show them "how unnecessary it is to make up fantasies when the truth is so much more fascinating" (Kaler, 1994).

Summary

This paper has two aspects. The first is the question of the reality of the mirrored reality. The second is that of the adverse consequences of good principles that are pushed to the extreme. I illustrated this with a few examples.

I close with the final sentences of Erasmus:

I see that you are expecting a peroration, but you are just too foolish if you suppose that after I have poured out a hodgepodge of words like this I can recall anything that I have said. There is an old saying, "I hate a pot-companion [drinking buddy] with a memory." Here is a new one: "I hate a listener that remembers anything." And so farewell . . . applaud . . . live . . . drink . . . 0 most distinguished initiates of Folly!

Thank you, Erasmus and Cornelis!