Cellar Door Skeptics is back again with another timeless episode. This week the duo take a break from a solely political episode to talk about the book How to Change Your Mind. They journey through some of the studies that talk about psychedelics and how they can affect us and what the sciences are saying about them. They also review studies about micro dosing and how those affect how people perceive “alternative medicines”. They do touch on how trump might not be good for himself in the midst of the 2020 election looming over us.
The show ends as usual with Tanner and Hanna’s quick save selections for the week.
As the video says, this is about life and what makes me hurt. It was recorded in a basement session that I just hit record on. Forgive the lack of editing and raw nature of the audio but I think it matters when it is just from within. From the people ill never meet who deserve better to the tiny dancer right here at home, I love everyone and we can do this. We CAN change the world, you just have to dream.
Thanks for watching
EDIT: Yes I know the gay marriage was upheld by the SCOTUS earlier today but this was recorded earlier…
For those philosophically minded, William Ockham will immediately engender various degrees of analytic glee, the name synonymous with logical parsimony or simple explanation. The more user-friendly phrase concerning parsimony is: “Don’t multiply entities beyond necessity.” Then again, perhaps the phrase isn’t as friendly as it may be to some. Thankfully that’s rather the point here, simplicity being, like beauty, in the eye of the beholder. Consider a rose possessed of a particular color and a certain number of petals arising out of a stem. To the average person it is a thing of beauty. To a botanist there will be an entire history of breeding involved. To a chemist there will be a litany of compounds and scents included. Which one is more simple? Is that even the right question? For Ockham, the answer to the latter is most certainly not.
As human beings, possessed of a surplus of intelligence and imagination, the need to offer explanations is not only a seeming necessity, but the source of a great deal of social fracas. Some of the earliest childhood memories are related to giving explanations for behavior in a manner to deflect guilt, as when explaining a broken window or why there’s chocolate on fingertips despite being told not to eat dessert before dinner. Such stories certainly continue into adulthood, though the ramifications of our explanations become exponentially more. Issues of social policy will take into account explanations for human behavior, the American justice system being predicated on the offering of behavior being intrinsically free. Matters of geopolitics rest on explanations of human interaction and the role force plays in building and maintaining countries. Environmental concerns run through the sieve of explanations concerning biological diversity and origins, including the age of the earth and the cosmos. None of the offered explanations for these matters come without consequences, often beginning during the battle of determining which explanation is better than another. Continue reading “Simplicity As Confirmation Bias”
We, as social animals, do not typically enjoy saying goodbye. I have never met anyone who was excited to say goodbye to someone they love. What makes this inevitable event more bearable is the fact that we will be able to see them again. What happens though, when this promise of reunion is taken away? A religious person never truly experiences the feeling of losing someone with no hope of ever seeing them again, but for an atheist, losing someone to death is a very final thing.
Since embracing my atheism, letting go of the delusion that my deceased loved ones are: “watching over me” or are “up in heaven talking to Jesus” has been the biggest struggle. It is a reality, however, that I was ok to accept in theory. Recently though, my willingness to accept a harsh reality over a kinder lie has been put to the test.
On May 13th, 2015, my dad died due to lung cancer. He had only been diagnosed about 3 months earlier, so it happened pretty quickly. My relationship with my father was not your typical father-daughter relationship, I was raised by my grandparents and did not even know who my father was until I was 13. At that time, we began writing letters. I still have every letter that he ever sent me. When we were able, we spent quite a bit of time together. Being around him when he was sober, was a very enjoyable experience. For a while though, I did not see him, he was addicted to drugs and alcohol and I refused to bear witness to him stumbling all over himself. After he was diagnosed, I had a choice to make. I could have stayed away and then losing him would have been much easier. It still would have hurt, but not near as severely as it does now. I decided that I wanted to reestablish our relationship. I wanted to use the time that was left to get a better understanding of who exactly my father was underneath the drugs and addiction. Some (including myself) may think that is was a stupid thing to do. In a way, it was setting myself up for a fall. I felt that it was the right thing for me to do though. Continue reading “Saying Goodbye Instead of See You Later”
A lottery winner of the standard six ball setup wins against the odds of one in 14,000,000. A last minute decision to play followed by the knowledge that your numbers beat every other ticket in the nation is rather overwhelming.
I would imagine…
More often than not winners thank God. Rightly so? Looking at the above stat it isn’t hard to feel a certain priveledge has been granted. When something out of the ordinary impacts our lives we can’t help but evaluate the incredible odds against us that we seemingly defied.
I open my eyes and my first coherent thought is, “It is Monday. My dad’s been dead for three days.”
I need to email my professors. Let them know what happened. Be sure to use the word “unexpectedly” so they understand. So they can more accurately calculate my allowable allotment of grief. Let them know I didn’t complete the homework they assigned over the weekend. Let them know I won’t be on campus today. I won’t be on campus tomorrow either. Ask for more time.
I had 41 of his 62 years… but I’d kill for more time.
I wonder how long I’ll measure the passing of time in days since his death. He would have been amused by the thought that his death might spawn the birth of a new calendar. Just like all those people who think A.D. means “After Death”; Jesus crucified to kick off the Gregorian calendar.
I should really write this shit down.
Is staccato a thing that thoughts can be? Mine are. Staccato. Sharp and subtle and brief. Pizzicato. Plucked from the air for a flash and them gone. No… pizzicato was Friday. Sitting at the bus stop. Screaming into the phone.
Christianity’s most outrageous and ruinous conceptual coup has also been its most brilliant, and has positioned the church for success in perpetuity by poisoning the well of humankind until the end of time. In a single stroke, this odious religion has enslaved a large portion of the human species by implanting the following malignant, two-headed brainworm into a hundred generations of potentially reasonable people:
a) Instead of being an integral and necessary part of the way the universe works, death is a curse (hence dreaded – not simply feared, as our biology would have it) incurred by “sin”(hence “a shame,” especially if self-inflicted).
b) Christianity offers a way to avoid that curse even as one appears to succumb to it.
The latter an inconvenient datum that is rationalized to insignificance (Granny didn’t really die, she just went home to be with Jesus), a way into eternal life. And it indoctrinates children with that nonsense before they’re old enough to recognize the difference between fantasy – especially of the wishful thinking variety – and reality.
I met this woman a couple days ago in a debate group. She was defending the pro-choice position and she happened to agree with some of my arguments and statements. So I thought I would request to be her friend on facebook. Today, she posted what is below, I read it and was genuinely moved. I think this story, as raw as it is, paints a great picture of a life that even through hardship has come out strong. She has a desire to fight, a desire to love, and she has endured loss as well as tragedy. This story is about her life and what she has overcome. She was responding to a 30 year old who happened to call her old and told her that she was unbelievable. This woman told her that she was old enough to be her grandmother and that there was no way she could get her facts straight because of this.
When I read the post I was in awe that someone would use age as a reason to dismiss what another individual had to say. So I asked her if she would share her voice with us.
Below is the short story of Karen Zimmerman, a warrior for justice, a mother, a lover, and someone I am glad to have found. Her story has touched me and I hope that it touches you as well. This is unedited and raw; please understand the poetry of her words. Thank you Karen for letting me share this with my audience.