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That sizeable mob of fortune-tellers in Los Angeles is now safe from unwanted government regulation. Los Angeles police commissioners have rejected a proposal designed to regulate the fortune-telling industry by requiring soothsayers, Tarot card readers, psychics and the like, to obtain government licenses. They did this, they say, because issuing licenses would have the unintended effect of misleading consumers into believing that "these people are somehow qualified to practice their trade."
Hmmm. Very much like the issuance of a patent by the US Patent Office on any crazy notion, implies that the idea, invention, process, actually exists or works? They may have a point there.
Los Angeles vice squad police report that they get about fifty complaints a year about tricks practiced by those who claim to consort with spirits, the average loss per victim being about $5,000. The proposed ordinance would have required those who traffic in the mystical-for-profit racket to get a license, and post their rates and complaint procedures.
But wait a minute. Bob Butterworth, the former Attorney General of the State of Florida went on record as being in favor of having fortune-tellers in this state licensed, but said that it would not be possible to have that carried out, because "no one can test psychic powers." That was news to me, folks. Here at the JREF we design and suggest just such procedures, on a daily basis; that's our business. And we offered our services — free of charge — to Butterworth, who didn't even trouble to respond to that offer.
It's clear: don't fuss with the need of the naïve to hold silly notions. It could cost votes, and in Florida we have a hard enough time just counting what we get in that contest....
What follows was prompted by comments sent in by readers about my observations on my late friend Richard Feynman, one of my now-deceased giants, and his intense curiosity about sometimes minor matters that became important because they might lead him to grander conclusions. Think of Fleming noticing mold in a Petri dish....
I've dealt before here with an interesting gentleman, Sir David Brewster (1781-1868) — "K.H., LL.D., F.R.S., V.P.R.S.E., &c. &c." — as he's listed on the frontispiece of his book, "Letters on Natural Magic," 1831. In my admittedly meager collection of old and rare books — ensconced in the JREF library — I have an 1842 copy of this book, listed as "No. 98" in a Harper Brothers series, "School District Library." Badly penned into the beginning of the volume is "The Property of School District City of Cobleskill (?)" (This book was also issued in 1832 as a first American edition, # 50 in the Harpers Family Library series.) Brewster rather fits the profile of an earlier Feynman.
While Sir David could be a bit naïve — almost fatally so in a very few subject-areas — he generally handled puzzling matters quite efficiently. In fact, he was a huge contributor to science in many respects. You can find an excellent profile on the man atwww.brewstersociety.com/brewster_bio.html.
Here is what he had to say about an interesting and puzzling event, the kind of thing about which Dick Feynman would have similarly had something to say:
Randi comments: Bear in mind that Brewster is referring to dark red sealing-wax, a hard, shiny, substance usually shaped into sticks, and made liquid by heating with a direct flame, unlike what we today usually think of as "wax." It tends to take a very sharp impression of whatever it's in contact with as it cools and thus hardens.
Yes, I can see Dick Feynman relating to such an investigation. Now, nothing Earth-shaking was developed as a result of this foray of Brewster's curiosity, it's true. But he found an answer, and that was enough for him. This impels me to tell you about my grandfather's "imaginary friend." Sometimes it happens that the most incredible story, too good to be true, has to be looked at a second time.
My paternal grandfather, George Nicolai Zwinge, was born in Austria in 1876. When he was only a few months old the family moved off to Copenhagen, Denmark, became citizens of that country, and settled down. The father of the family was a shipbuilder who found work on the local docks. He would leave for work very early in the morning, before the rest of the family was awake. Every day young George went off to school while it was still dark, and his mother would hand him his dad's lunchbox; since granddad went right by the shipyard on his way to school, it was his chore to drop off the father's lunchbox.
When he was less than ten years of age, shortly after Christmas, Gramps suddenly began telling fanciful tales about an Imaginary Friend that he said he met on the way to school each morning, an impressive man with a moustache, wearing a tall black fur hat, astride a fierce black horse and accompanied by other bearded men wearing swords. He also said that there were huge dogs almost as tall as he was, held on long leashes, and held back from attacking him. He referred to his Friend as, "Mr. Christian."
Little George would run on and on about Mr. Christian's interest in his family, and would report his reaction to accounts of such things as a temporary illness of his mother, invariably conveying Christian's concern and his good wishes. This imaginary man seemed harmless, as well as interested in George and the family.
The family was content to allow George to indulge in this bit of fantasy for two or three months, and then his father decided to take him aside and have a serious talk about the matter. He gently told his son that a bit of storytelling was understandable, but that he seemed to have been carried away in developing the tale far beyond an innocent and rather understandable joke — and he firmly declared an end to the fantasy.
But George insisted that Mr. Christian was very real, that the whole scenario was an actuality, and that he had not been lying or making up all the details, either. It got to the point where his father began to get angry, and simply declared that he'd hear no more of it. George was silenced on the subject, and the reports of his encounters ceased. Relationships between George and his father deteriorated substantially. This Imaginary Friend had come between them, and each one of them maintained his opposite position.
Two months passed. Seated in the living room before an after-dinner fire, the father opened the evening paper. "Father," said George, pointing at an illustration, "that's Mr. Christian." There on the front page, seated astride his black horse, with the rococo Amalianborg Palace in the background, was His Royal Highness Christian IX of Denmark, in all his glory. The newspaper was announcing the Royal birthday. There was a great silence in the Zwinge living room....
You see, without telling his family, young George had been cutting through the palace courtyard every morning on his way to the shipyard, and had encountered "Mr." Christian as he went through his early-morning ceremony of touring the Palace grounds accompanied by his bodyguards and his dogs. George's Imaginary Friend had turned out to be a very Real Monarch, and thus vindicated, the young fellow very much enjoyed his quiet victory — he told me — for a few months. When summer came to Denmark that year, George's father was particularly attentive to his son's holiday needs....
In Copenhagen, many years ago, I visited the site of Grandpa's adventure....
An unidentified reader writes:
Hey, unidentified, you're obviously not going to become a guru or charismatic leader, if you adopt this reality/truth pose! Next thing you know, you'll be obeying the speed limits and not shoplifting. Be careful!
Reader Matt Fields sends us this response received from an executive at Target Stores concerning last week's lead item here on the JREF page:
Hallelujah! It looks as if enough people cared to complain about this silly item! Ah, but there's more, from reader Stephen Nicholson:
This can all be seen athttp://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/kabbalah1.html
Gord Van Toen, in Toronto, tells us thatExtraordinary Popular Delusions & the Madness of Crowds — discussed here recently — is available free on-line at Project Gutenberg. Go tohttp://promo.net/pg/ and do a search. Says Gord,"Since this is text only, it's easier to download, search and read than the version you gave in your June 11 Commentary. Project Gutenberg is fun to poke around in for all the great books of the world.
Thanks, Gord!
An item taken from Bob Park's page, which you've been urged to get onto:
Reader Mark D. Sellner of Mesquite, Texas, relates:
Mark, don't give up entirely on that channel. They produce some good shows, too — though I can't think of one right at this moment. Write and tell them what you think!
Here's part of a typical exchange that I go through with people who ask dumb questions....
A would-be applicant wrote to me:
She also asked me how I would test her ability to predict the gender of unborn babies — without sonograms or enzyme tests, of course — followed by the tiresome, ubiquitous, denial of financial interest:
I responded:
She wrote back in answer....
Hallelujah....
As promised, here is the short video clip of our intern Jacob Spinney doing a minor miracle, a trick which is his invention. After you've decided how you think this was accomplished, consider:
1. There was no editing of any sort done to this video.
2. The fork is an ordinary restaurant-use stainless steel item.
3. No chemicals, magnets, or hi-tech means, were used.
4. There was nothing for Jacob to get rid of, following the bending, and hes standing well out from the bookcase in the background, which in any case does not enter into the procedure.
5. No special lighting was used when making the video.
6. The fork can be examined and then handed to Jacob by a spectator and immediately bent, as shown.
7. The fork is not prepared beforehand in any way.
8. The fork can be thoroughly examined by anyone before and after the demonstration.
9. The fork is immediately ready to be handed out for examination following the demo.
10. The spectator can then walk away with the fork, and be none the wiser.
That should get around some of the more obvious ideas that could be offered, but no, we're not going to give you a solution to the trick. It's a great idea, original with Jacob, and it will probably be used professionally by magicians — and maybe even by "real" psychics whose bending skills are not sufficient....
This is not an endorsement for Bryston, but it was part of Craig's posting, and I don't mind plugging a company that uses common sense rather than hype and pseudoscience in their advertising.
Reader Jaime Arbona was more direct on the same subject:
Jaime then cites the above John Dunlavy piece....
An anonymous reader:
Don't you just hate it when that happens? The reader continues:
Randi comments: This simply never happened. I've never been offered a demo of such a device. Next they deal with Emoto's silly claims, which we've handled here on former pages....
I hope Jacob will be getting good feedback from you folks on his demo shown here. It will soon be on the market, and I'm expecting a good reaction and heavy sales for him. Let us know.
As we "go to press," the sad news reaches us from colleague Massimo Polidoro that parapsychologist Dr. Bob Morris died this morning from a sudden and unexpected heart attack. As Massimo said, he certainly was a very reasonable parapsychologist. Bob was appointed to the Edinburgh University Koestler Chair in 1986. He was widely respected and trusted. I very much regret his loss.
