What not to do.

Because people really do these things. 

I am constantly astounded by the things some people are prepared to do in their search for enhanced wellness. I understand that pain, frustration, desperation and fear of death are pretty solid motivators to try some out-of-the-ordinary treatments, but surely even the strongest emotions can be subdued for the few seconds it takes someone to ask themselves, "Should I really stick this enormous needle in my cock?"

So here's my advice:

Don’t smear flesh-dissolving ointment on your cervix.

Don’t squirt warm, organic coffee up your arse.

Don’t treat pain by drinking widdle.

Don’t tie magnets ‘round your middle.

Don’t let someone bleed your scalp into a glass.

Don’t push someone else’s turd through your intestines.

Don’t stick burning bits of fabric in your ear.

Don’t scull silver for infection.

Don’t inject your own erection.

Don’t drink bleach to make your tumour disappear.

Don’t inflate a small balloon inside your face-hole.

Don’t drink crushed, diluted bees to cure the ‘flu

Don’t use beads to help with teething.

Don’t quit food and drink for breathing

‘Cause they’re really rather stupid things to do.

Don’t seek medical advice by browsing YouTube.

Don’t believe what chefs and wellness gurus say.

Don’t think maybe you should try it

‘Cause a movie star stands by it.

If it seems a little dodgy, run away.

Needle vs Haystack

Because one in a million isn't always good.

You went searching for a schism in the study of autism,

‘Cause you’re certain vaccines cause it, and that needs to be explored.

And for every tract or lecture in support of your conjecture,

You found many more against, which you summarily ignored.

All the scientists conforming to the norm of global warming

Are, in your opinion, wrong, or at the very least misled;

Since an expert crunched some figures, showing human-centric triggers

Are a load of crap, so never mind what other experts said.

You’ve heard claims that every fossil ever found makes a colossal

Case for evolution here on Earth, including humankind.

But you noticed an omission in the record of transition

From bacterium to human, so you’re sure we’ve been designed.

You could search the world all over for a tiny four-leaf clover;

Or a hidden ukulele in a pile of violins;

For a prickle in a thicket, or a lucky golden ticket,

Or a silver needle buried in a haystack full of pins.

You’ll find papers reinforcing the position you’re endorsing,

So hooray for you, you clever sausage! Everybody cheer!

But the confirmation bias of statistical outliers

Doesn’t make the weight of evidence against you disappear.

Wind

Because wind turbines cause complaints.

I was stopped by a short-beaked Echidna this morning;

He seemed rather strange in the head.

He offered a somewhat discomfiting warning:

“BEWARE THE WIND MONSTERS!” he said.

“They’re enormous and pale, and swing huge chopping blades,

While emitting a terrible sound.

Which, although you can’t hear it, covertly pervades

All the air and the sea and the ground.

“They spread terror and sickness and fierce discontent

Through low frequency rumblings and stealth.

And these things,” said my new friend, “might seem innocent,

But they’re terribly bad for your health.

“They make people grow old at a much faster rate,

Skin is wrinkled and dark hair turns grey.

They make some people fat, and still others lose weight;

In a strange and unnatural way.

“They disrupt people praying and upset the Chi,

There’s teeth-grinding and crying aplenty.

And the people who used to get up for a wee

Once or twice in the night, now need twenty.

“They bring hip pain and breast pain and general malaise,

And the growth of some organs is stunted.

They give people odd spasms that go on for days

So their townsfolk assume that they’re munted.

“They cause strange, shifting rashes and retching and sores

And a notable change in one’s faeces.

But it’s not only humans who suffer, because

The Wind Monsters aren’t fussed about species.

“All the bees and the worms and the crickets have gone

Sheep deformities seem to have spiked

All the livestock are jumpy, and won’t walk upon

Bits of grass that they once rather liked.

“Dogs eat pebbles and find they can’t jump anymore;

The lifecycle of crabs is left hanging;

Lungs explode inside bats; puppies piss on the floor;

And the peacocks and peahens aren’t banging.”

“Are we safe?” I inquired, “Should we hurry inside?”

I was then quite reluctant to stay.

“Well, I’d like to go home,” the small mammal replied,
“But I can’t seem to work out the way.”

Recently, I was lucky enough to attend a talk by Ketan Joshi, who knows an awful lot about renewable energy and its opponents. In this talk he mentioned the work of Professor Simon Chapman, who knows an awful lot about... well, as far as I can tell, everything. Professor Chapman has compiled this list (PDF) of health complaints associated with wind turbines, from a range of sources around the world. I was already interested (in a busy-working-mum sort of way) in the science and not-so-science of wind turbines, but when the phrase "echidnas losing their way" came up in Ketan's talk, I knew I had to rhyme about it. Every single condition mentioned in this pome has been reported by real people who attribute it to wind turbines.

Illustration by the bestest twin sister in the universe,  Jo Thornely. See more here.

Glue.

Because we see things differently, and that's that.

When some people look at crop circles it’s absolutely clear

That they’re alien announcements in the grass.

Signs of sage, enlightened beings from an undiscovered sphere.

But to me, that’s just unmitigated arse.

When some people truly think that they can read another’s mind

And communicate with spirits they awaken.

They amaze themselves with all the psychic hits they seem to find,

But I notice all the times when they’re mistaken.

When some people see the footage of Neil Armstrong on the moon

They see someone acting out a complex fraud.

They claim lighting, sets and camera tricks, filmed earlier, in June

But I’ve seen it all debunked, and now I’m bored.

When some people listen closely and hear hoof-beats coming near

And think, “Wow! A herd of zebras! Awesomesauce!”

They prepare themselves for dazzling stripy mammals to appear,

But it is, as I expected, just a horse.

Why do some of us see magic while the rest of us see tricks?

Why do some prefer a hunch to actual data?

Why do people bother searching for ground water using sticks

When electroseismic methods are much smarter?

When a hard-core true believer has a notion in their mind

There’s no point providing rational relief.

‘Cause it seems the strongest substance ever known to humankind

Is the glue that holds together a belief.

Goodness.

Because I tried to philosophise.

Usually I try to leave philosophy to philosophers, like Patrick Stokes, a friend who shares my disdain for pseudoscientific claptrap, who introduced me to the concept of 'Unscience', and who spoke at the Australian Skeptics National Convention last week.

Given the task of writing poems for the convention that aligned with the topics of each talk, I tried my hand at rhyming about ethics and conspiracy theories.

I still think I should leave philosophy to philosophers.

For centuries, rather a lot of philosophy’s

Centred on ethics and morals and stuff.

Addressing the question of whether the measures

Of rightness and wrongness are useful enough.

It’s clear we don’t need to explain a no-brainer like

“Biting your nanna is horrible” but

Examples that cover the span of humanity

Rarely turn up so precisely clear-cut.

For instance, the good in a proper democracy

Stems from the value in freedom of choice.

But humans aren’t perfect, and choosing imprudently

Gives us Clive Palmer or Barnaby Joyce.

And what about puppies? We clearly love dearly

Their fluff and their frisk and their flop-footed stride.

But might we be keener to harm them or farm them

If puppies had chocolate and money inside?

And what about people who hear a conspiracy,

Having no doubt that the theory is true?

Are they more inclined to have virtue or hurt you?

Are they good or bad from an ethical view?

There might be no harm in believing the weaving

Of fiction and fact from which theories are wrought.

But when these tall stories have traction, and action

Turns violent, such theories need serious thought.

It’s fine to be loosely ensconced in such nonsense,

Like, “Fluoride is driving me crazy! What fun!”

‘Cause up to a point they’re just plain entertainment

And little, if any, real damage is done.

But when theorists stock up at gun shops, the fun stops.

When vaccines are shunned and small babies are lost;

When farms are burnt down to defend an agenda,

Then surely an ethical line has been crossed.

The priest and the rabbi.

Because it's time the truth came out.

So a priest and a rabbi walk into a pub.

“Have a beer?” asked the priest, “Maybe stay for some grub?”

“Oh, I’d love to”, the rabbi replied, “But I’m late

For a meeting with several corrupt heads of state

Who want in on our grand plan to run all the banks,

And insurers and large corporations, but thanks.”

“You guys run all the banks?” asked the priest, “Is that true?”

“Yes of course!” said the rabbi, “and Hollywood, too!

And the courts, universities, press and TV

And the Federal Reserve and constabulary.

You’ll find us wherever you find profiteers,

We’ve been running the world now for hundreds of years,

Since we first stole your children while sleeping in bed

To put fresh Christian blood in our Passover bread

In the early twelfth century.” “Oh,” said the priest.

“I thought our grasp on power meant yours had decreased.”

“Yes, I know”, said the rabbi, “That’s how it’s designed.

‘Cause we want you to think you’re in charge, but behind

Every Gentile ostensibly managing things

There’s a Ginsberg or Finkelstein pulling the strings.”

“I’m amazed!”, the priest spluttered, “I had no idea,

Of these ‘Elders of Zion’. Please, stay for a beer,

And explain all the hows and the whats and the whys

Of your sinister plot and its mind-blowing size.”

“It’s much simpler,” the rabbi replied, “Than you think.

I’ll explain it before you can finish your drink.

See, I know it appears that we want to be rich,

And to make humankind our proverbial bitch,

And take over control of the planet Earth, but

We just like watching Mel Gibson go off his nut.”

Therapy.

Because psychology has woo, too.

On Day Two of the Australian Skeptics National Convention last weekend, clinical psychologist Dr Garry Bakker talked about a range of treatments - evidence-based and otherwise - for depression and other conditions. Like many other areas of health care, psychology is not immune to the creeping influx of woo therapies that ebbs and flows as years go by. 

I studied just enough psychology at university to know that there's a lot more to it than most people who still think Sigmund Freud is relevant would imagine. While psychology has, historically, struggled to convince other doctrines that it is a real science, it can be scientific. But any practitioners who entertain therapies with no empirical evidence of effectiveness to back them up may, if you'll pardon the expression, get the hell off my lawn. 

Here's a wee pome I wrote about such a practitioner. 

Thank you, dear client, for coming to me

To discuss your continuing anxiety.

In a session or two, for a reasonable fee

I’m quite sure we can lessen your stress.

We can try a whole range of creative techniques

Some are new; some date back to the Classical Greeks

But I’ve tried them before, and in just a few weeks

Several clients reported success.

Now, although my advice might sound silly or wrong,

And you can’t see the purpose of playing along,

Anecdotally, evidence seems fairly strong,

So bear with me. Right, here’s what you do:

First, be mindful and challenge those negative thoughts,

While you sew a small crystal of zircon or quartz

In the hem of your jeans or a nice pair of shorts

And reprogram your neurons anew.

Have the static removed from the length of your spine

Try to keep both your feng and your shui in line

Mix with those of a fixed astrological sign

Picture me in a large purple hat.

Slow your thinking and exercise breathing control

Notice birdsong and breeze when you go for a stroll

Put three crow feathers into a platinum bowl

Give your sub-sternal chakra a pat.

Utter positive mantras and visualise calm

Wear a dove on an amulet wrapped ‘round your arm

Smear the end of your nose with olfactory balm

Drink some soothing valerian tea.

Shut your stress in a box by your bed for the night

Bathe your body in nut milk and indigo light.

Toss a mind-juggling ball right-to-left, left-to-right

Stick a needle or two in your chi.

I’m aware it seems strange to use such an array

Of unusual techniques when it’s safer to stay

With a method that’s tested by experts, but hey -

There’s a theory behind such a mixture

‘Cause I’m not very good at this therapy game

All these theories and systems, to me, look the same

But if somehow your symptoms subside, I can claim

It was something I thought of that fixed ya.

The I Don't Know Hole

Because we don't have to know everything.

Now a vacuum is something that Nature abhors.

It’s not one to acknowledge a void.

If there’s ever a spot

In which something is not

Then Nature gets really annoyed.

It will go to great lengths to fill in such a blank

With whatever approach it is able.

It will seek to replace

An unoccupied space

‘Til the balance of stuff becomes stable.

Human knowledge abides by a similar rule

When cognition encounters a gap;

We refuse to maintain

Such a gulf in our brain

So we stuff it with ludicrous crap.

So when something occurs and it can’t be explained,

Or we see, hear or feel something odd,

Then it’s aliens, ghosts,

Or it’s heavenly hosts,

Psychic powers, dud chakras or God.

What is it that makes us impatiently jump

To conclusions so clearly absurd?

Why are people so prone

To escape the unknown?

Why are flimsy delusions preferred?

What’s so hard about leaving some things unexplained?

Is uncertainty really a foe?

When our own perspicacity

Reaches capacity

Why can’t we say “I DON’T KNOW”?

Conventional

Because I went to a thing in Canberra and talked pomes at people.

I have just this afternoon returned home from the 2013 Australian Skeptics National Convention (#auskepcon) at the CSIRO Discovery Centre in Canberra. As everyone knows, these conventions consist of a room full of cranky, beardy old men sitting around hating everything and patting each other on the back for being so good at hating everything.

Except it wasn't. Thanks to everyone (especially the Canberra Skeptics) for a top notch do, and to all the people who spoke, organised, attended, made tea, drove me around, introduced themselves and didn't think I was creepy for hugging so enthusiastically. And thank you extra-specially for inviting me to be poet-in-residence.

I wrote and delivered seven pomes at the convention, all loosely based around the theme of conspiracy theories. So I'm going to post one pome a day for a week to make up for my blog-silence over the last couple of months, and then things should return to the usual pattern whereby I write intermittently about strangeness and idiots.



Poem One of Seven:  JFK

Fifty years ago, in Dallas, hatched a plan both cold and callous:

Rifle shots rang out and sped toward the presidential head.

On that day in late November, many here may still remember

When the news from Walter Cronkite came: “the President is dead”.

Then when Oswald was arrested and his innocence contested,

People thought he’d soon be tried, but something else occurred instead.

Two days later, one Jack Ruby shot him underneath his booby.

He was acting independently, alone. Or so he said.

Questions raised about the story of the book depository

Made the single shooter tale begin to look a little lame.

Soon the doubt became a series of scenarios and theories

About how Lee Harvey Oswald was set up to take the blame

To avoid the repercussions of revealing that the Russians

Working with J Edgar Hoover had been plotting with the aim

Of removing Jack from office, while a friend of Jimmy Hoffa’s

Worked with Castro and the mafia to bring about the same.

Still, distrust and obfuscation, after much investigation,

Linger on, from nineteen-sixty-three until this very day.

But this tale, though worn and dated clearly isn’t isolated;

There are many dishes served at the conspiracy buffet.

Like the fluoridation drama and the birthplace of Obama

HAARP and Roswell, GMO and Chemtrails’ evil, toxic spray.

Love ‘em, loathe ‘em or ignore ‘em, we’re all gathered in this forum

To investigate conspiracies, and why they’re here to stay.

Sorry. Work.

Because pomes don't buy as much food as other things do.

Sorry.

Work.

Lots of work.

Really great work for a top-notch client.

Designing e-learning modules from scratch

Might not be your thing

But it is mine.

And my oldest client

(The confidential one)

Sends me lots of copywriting to do.

I can’t tell you what it is, 

But it helps a lot at trivia nights.

Like the one a couple of months ago –

The hospital fundraiser.

I was on the ambo team.

We totally smashed it.

We beat the nurses, the doctors,

The admin staff – everyone.

We won chocolate and hats.

I’m also writing a weekly thing

About hot dead people.

It was my editor’s idea

But between you and me

I think she picked the right person to write it.

And I’ve only missed one

When my otherwise reliable heart

Went a bit funny in the muscly part

Of the left ventricle.

It hurt.

But having a paramedic for a partner -

Despite the night-shifts

And difficult-to-iron uniforms - 

Is pretty fantastic when your heart hurts.

Hospital was strange.

Stressful and frightening in some ways,

Relaxing and friendly in others.

It provided me with the opportunity

To remind the Emergency Department staff

How much they suck at trivia.

I’ll get better slowly.

In time to talk pomes

At a bunch of skeptics.

Lots of pomes, only half-hatched yet.

So there have been pomes

But not here.

Sorry.

Yo, Chiro.

Because chiropractors are the shizzle, so they tell me.

Every so often, a critical light is shone on the pseudoscience that is chiropractic, in particular the kind of chiropractors who claim that their brand of back-cracking can treat a wide range of conditions not even remotely related to the spine - claims for which there is no reliable scientific evidence.

The ABC's Catalyst program gave it a red hot go last Thursday night - you can watch it here for some rational and not-so-rational insight from both sides of the equation. It's worth it for spinal specialist Mr John Cunningham's epic face-palm alone.

My contribution, naturally, is to imagine what a chiropractor might say, if a chiropractor was also a rapper. Because it's high time chiropractors-who-are-also-rappers got a shout out on my diggety-dope blog thang.

Good morning, Ms O’Brien

I hear yo babby cryin’

You say she ain’t been sleepin’?

Her ear is sore and weepin’?

Don’t need no vaccination

It’s just a subluxation.

I gotta trick

Imma go CLICK

Imma go CLICK with my magic stick.

Lie down please, Mrs Proctor

You say you saw yo doctor

And gots a diagnosis

Of Endometriosis

Well put that quack behin’ ya

‘Coz I can realign ya.

I gotta knack

Imma go CRACK

Imma go CRACK on your healthy back.

I gots my awesome knowledge

When I went to a college

And studied for my final.

I learned all things are spinal,

And some joints are asthmatic,

And sickness is just static.

I gots degrees

Imma charge FEES

Imma charge FEES like da real GPs

So if you’re feelin' funny

Then gimme all your money.

Come see me every ten days

I’ll send you for some X-rays

Entrust your health to me, bro,

It works just like placebo!

You gots da ills?

Imma send BILLS

Imma send BILLS for my badass skillz.

The Equation.

Because everything minus God equals everything.

The sun would still rise and the sun would still set.

The oceans would still be enormous and wet.

The waves would still spray

In that nice splashy way.

There’d still be tornadoes and breezes.

Deciduous leaves would still turn brown and drop.

The mountains would still be quite pointy on top;

The glaciers with snow

And the tides’ ebb and flow

Would still be just so without Jesus.

Large beasts would still prey on the sick and the lame.

The number of cats would stay roughly the same.

Terrestrial signs

Of large footprints in lines

Would still show where dinosaurs trod.

There’d still be new species evolving apace

Bananas would fit just as well in your face;

And nipples on guys

Would still be a surprise

Notwithstanding a wise, mighty god.

There’d still be poor people and conflicts and drought;

There’d still be despots who are evil throughout;

And people who heal,

And who give a great deal,

And devote all their efforts to care.

There’d still be small children who suffer and choke,

There’d still be grandfathers knocked down by a stroke.

It won’t change the chances

Of dying from cancers

If nobody answers a prayer.

Freeman-on-the-land

Because contributing to society is so hard.

Money troubles? Bills piling up? Parking fines? Got the government on your back to do stuff you don't really feel like doing?

Never fear! The Freeman On The Land movement is here! 

Become a Freeman On The Land and you can suddenly decide that the government, contracts, banks and the legal process all work differently for you, and you don't owe them anything. Your debts will be cancelled! Your financial responsibilities will be nil! You can tell police officers, magistrates and government departments to shove it! All based on the erroneous and ridiculous idea that governments are corporations; that laws only apply if you consent to them; and that people are contracted to the 'powers that be' unless they send them a letter saying they're not. 

Although it's been around for decades in one form or another, I came across the Freeman On The Land movement in the last couple of months, with thanks to experienced conspiracy theorists like Leon Pittard of Fairdinkum Radio (have a listen - if you can last longer than ten minutes without your jaw dropping open, you're stronger than me) and South Australian parliamentarian Ann Bressington. 

There's an extremely good run-down of the Freeman On The Land movement over at RationalWiki - I recommend it for some well-researched detail and a few hilarious examples of Freemen in the wild - but in a nutshell, followers of the movement believe:

• The government is a corporation, and all citizens are contracted to that corporation
• Each individual consists of a 'legal person', to whom laws, acts and monetary matters apply, and a 'flesh-and-blood human being', who is free and good and lovely and created by God.
• When a birth is registered, the child is effectively an employee of the government corporation, and has agreed to be governed and abide by laws.
• If you write a special kind of letter called a 'Notice of Understanding and Claim of Right' and send it to the Prime Minister or the Queen or Someone In Charge, you can remove your consent to be governed and abide by laws; and separate your legal person from your meat person. 
• Governments and lawmakers use language designed to make people inadvertently subjugate and obligate themselves to corrupt higher powers, but knowing your way around such language can save you from accidentally agreeing to be a government/corporate slave.

I find the whole concept so deliciously and outstandingly ludicrous that I simply had to try and make it rhyme.

I am a Freeman on the land, I wander wild and free;

The laws of corporate governments do not apply to me.

They try to trick all humankind;

So they can have their pockets lined;

The circumstantial evidence is there for all to see.

I am a Freeman on the land, combating the machine;

I signed a piece of paper and I sent it to the Queen.

It details what I understand;

And all the rights that I demand

Effectively, it wipes my slate of obligation clean.

I am a Freeman on the land, I don’t give my consent;

To statutes, acts or laws, or paying tax or fines or rent.

The bastards use their legalese

To try and trip me up with these,

But I use special words to dodge, evade and circumvent.

I am a Freeman on the land, my language is my craft;

Though corporations stalk me, port and starboard, fore and aft;

I say “Sovereign” and “Natural Law”

And “Court De Jour” and “Man of Straw”

And people know I’m free (that is, the ones who haven’t laughed).

I am a Freeman on the land, my name is not my name:

My legal person’s moniker and I are not the same.

What’s on my birth certificate

Is narrow and specific. It

Does not apply to me, despite what courts and judges claim.

I am a Freeman on the land, I want an easy ride;

I wear my social irresponsibility with pride

I won’t lie down and pay my dues

But I will nonchalantly use

The water, roads and hospitals that governments provide. 

Thank you Meryl Dorey

Because she finally did something right.

Yesterday, NSW Health Minister Jillian Skinner introduced suggested amendments to the Health Care Complaints Act to NSW Parliament (Go read Reasonable Hank and Dr Rachie for more thorough treatment). 

In a nutshell, these amendments make it easier for the NSW Health Care Complaints Commission (HCCC) to respond to complaints about dodgy health service providers. Previously, a complaint had to be backed up by evidence that a health service provider had directly affected the care of an individual. If this bill passes, a complaint can be acted upon if the health of an individual is likely to be affected. 

A subtle difference, perhaps, but the wording of the current Act provided a loophole large enough for Meryl Dorey of the Australian Vaccination Network to slide through when she took the HCCC to court last year. And it was precisely that case that prompted the change. 

That's right. Thanks to Ms Dorey and her AVN, the government has taken a lot of notice of how easy it is for "health" "service" providers such as herself to spread misinformation and endanger the health of families without penalty, and it sounds like that's all going to change. 

I'd like to express my gratitude. This one's for you, Meryl.

If you hadn't thrown your toys at the Health Care Complaints Commission;

If you’d not made special pleading your relentless, lifelong mission;

Then our leaders might not know of your intention to mislead;

So thank you, Meryl Dorey. Thank you very much indeed.

If you’d done the thing that public health officials said you ought:

And just changed your site a bit, instead of taking them to court;

Then the legislation wouldn’t need to change the way it’s lettered.

So thank you, Meryl Dorey. We are very much indebted.

If you’d never bitched and moaned ‘bout how the government’s a farce;

If you’d not said Tanya Plibersek was talking out her arse,

Then they might be more inclined to let you do the things you’ve done.

So thank you, Meryl Dorey. Thanks a lot. I owe you one.

If you’d never drawn attention to the way you run your show;

If associates of yours weren’t just as dangerous and low;

Then they wouldn’t soon be answering to summonses and such.

So thank you, Meryl Dorey. Thank you very, very much.

While we're on the topic, go see the good folk at Stop The AVN, without whom there'd be a lot more anti-vax bollocks in the media. Go on. They're not nearly as nasty as Meryl says.

Fair.

Because when you dilute logic, it becomes bollocks.

Something very simple and straightforward has been happening over the last few months. So simple and straightforward that I can sum it up in a numbered list like this:

1. Homeopathy Plus! claimed on its website that homeopathy was an appropriate preventative measure and treatment for Whooping Cough, and preferable to the Whooping Cough vaccine;
2. Nobody in the history of everything has ever proven that homeopathy has prevented or successfully treated Whooping Cough, a highly contagious disease currently circulating and killing babies in Australia;
3. The Whooping Cough vaccine, whilst not perfect, has been shown to be much more effective at preventing Whooping Cough than not having the vaccine;
4. Somebody complained to the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission about Homeopathy Plus!'s claims, because they sounded a little bit like "misleading claims", or as I like to call them, "big fibs";
5. Homeopathy Plus! is currently facing Federal Court over its claims. 

So, company tells fibs. Company gets called out on fibs. Company goes to court. Shelley makes popcorn. Simple, right? 

Not according to Homeopathy Plus! and my old favourite harpies of hand-flapping, the Australian (Anti-)Vaccination Network. 

According to Fran Sheffield of Homeopathy Plus!, this chain of events steals away people's "right to freely access alternative health information".

According to the AVN, 

"the ACCC appears to be openly saying that Australians are not allowed to dissent from accepted opinion" 

...and the situation is:

"outrageous and not what we expect from a democracy such as Australia."

So on one hand, there are laws about how companies are allowed to promote their goods and services, and breaking those laws can result in penalties and punishment. On the other hand, some people don't like obeying the law and think they should be able to say whatever they believe to be true without any consequences whatsoever (or as I like to call it: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!").

In other words:

It’s not about liberty, rights or democracy,

Power or hatred or pointless bureaucracy,

No-one’s “attacking” your business or you;

You’re merely expected to stick to what’s true.

Although you spruik freely your tonics traditional,

Freedom to do so is not unconditional;

Anyone listening is equally free,

To call out your bullshit legitimately.

So go right ahead and sell potentised fallacies,

Tout anecdotes as objective analyses,

State your opinions as though they were facts,

And contravene various government acts.

But don’t think your self-stated superiority

Makes you immune to a proper authority.

If what you’re doing is breaking the law,

You’re going to get busted, ‘cause that’s what it’s for.

Crock.

Because honestly people.

You’re quite sure your back shed’s haunted, but the ghost is rather civil;

And your auntie’s prayer group made her ductal carcinoma shrivel;

Since you saw a reiki therapist your chakras have improved;

And a feng shui master helped you plan your lounge room when you moved;

When it’s Friday the 13^th you chuck a sickie, just in case;

And you’re certain that your night cream’s taken decades off your face.

You stick candles in your ears to clear out toxins. Sounds legit.

Now excuse me please for saying so, but what a crock of shit.

How You Know You're Not Doing Science

Because there's a right way and a wrong way.

Your opinions are eternal,

You call Nexus mag a “journal”,

All your papers have inadequate citation;

All your reasoning’s fallacious,

And your error margin’s spacious

You extrapolate a cause from correlation.

When the tests that you’ve completed

Come out different when repeated;

By researchers from another institution;

When your confirmation bias

And statistical outliers

Make you think you’re on the edge of revolution.

When you claim your measly sample

Of apologists is ample

To substantiate your derelict conjecture;

When you think, with pompous speeches,

You can obfuscate the breaches

In your study’s fundamental architecture.

You use paid search engine rating

And theatrical debating

To create a sound and ethical illusion;

Something suss is underlying;

Many big red flags are flying;

Your research is subsequent to your conclusion.

A Day in the Life of a Scrupulous Woo Pedlar

Because I'd rather sleep well than be rich.

From a fitful, restless slumber wracked with troubled dreams, I woke;

With my stomach grumbling loudly – I was hungry, I was broke.

When I looked into my larder

I found nothing. Bupkis. Nada.

My abysmal dearth of food and funds had gone beyond a joke.

Then a gleam from something shiny drew my succour-seeking gaze.

Could it be a tin of kidney beans? A jar of mayonnaise?

Fish with olive oil anointed?

I was quickly disappointed.

Just an empty jar left over from more lavish, food-filled days.

Then the realisation hit me - I began to understand;

I was holding the solution to my problem in my hand.

This was not an empty vessel!

Soon my mind began to wrestle

With the idea that my future lay within, and it was grand.

For this little jar of nothing, full of wonderment unseen

Was to make the kind of riches that could disconcert the Queen.

Though I couldn’t see or smell it,

I could bottle it and sell it!

It would be the greatest miracle that there had ever been.

I could see the sales pitch – “Scientists don’t want me to reveal;

How this quite amazing product helps the human body heal!

Ancient shamanists have known it

Since the dawn of time. Now own it

For a couple hundred bucks. We’re talking wellness. That’s a steal!

“But is it safe?” I hear you ask, “I’m sensitive, you see.”

Don’t you worry! It’s non-toxic, dolphin-safe and gluten-free!

There’s no mercury or dairy;

It’s all natural! There’s no scary

Added hormones, sugar, trans fat, BPA or MSG.

It can take away a migraine in a single day (or two);

It can help your body rid itself of chicken pox or ‘flu;

Using frequencies and quantum

(they’re quite complex, but you want ‘em!)

There’s no end to all the health-promoting things this stuff can do.

I don’t need a lot of evidence, ‘cause I can just surmise,

That without it, every single person suffocates and dies.

Sure, there’s stuff like “trials” and “testing”

But let’s focus on investing

In the health of every person, and how much each person buys.

Then I had to stop and check myself, and wonder: is this fair?

Is it right for me to make a profit selling people air?

Could I really justify it

Just ‘cause gormless fools would buy it?

Could I callously defraud them and pretend I didn’t care?

No. I couldn’t trade on stupid lies, deceit and baseless fear;

I could never be so heartless, mercenary and cavalier;

No. I’d rather forgo eating

Than get rich from tawdry cheating;

And that night I slept a dreamless sleep, my conscience crystal-clear.

Skepticamp Sydney 2012

Because I haven't cacked my dacks yet this year.

Regular readers of this blog (Hi family members and Christian singles!) may recall my New Year's Resolution for 2012. I wanted to do something that really scared me, and I decided that getting up in front of an audience and trying to be funny into a microphone would achieve that goal nicely. 

But it was not to be. I chose Raw Comedy for my forum, which happens to be one of the most publicised, and therefore populated, open-mic competitions in the country. I was put on a waiting list for a heat, and there I sat until the waiting list petered out into nothing. 

But a deliciously superior alternative has presented itself in the form of Skepticamp Sydney 2012.

"What is Skepticamp?" you may ask, unless you're one of Australia's intellectual elite. And it is, according to the online home of Skepticamp:

"...an informal, community-organized conference borne from the desire for people to share and learn in an open environment. Everyone from casual skeptics to the experienced participate, give talks and get to know each other."

In other words, a big, cosy, critically-thought-out group cuddle. Nice. And it's all un-organised by some amazing people like Jason Brown, @tinydalek, Dave the Happy Singer* and a host of others that I plan to wrap my arms around in a non-creepy way** on the day. 

And yes, I plan to speak. If I can haul my tired bottom from the Central Coast to Sydney in time to pop my name on the speakers' list, I will step up to the mike and deliver a short speculative piece entitled 'A Day in the Life of a Scrupulous Woo Pedlar'. 

And yes, it rhymes. It's what I have instead of a science qualification. 

Now here's a revolutionary idea: WHY NOT COME ALONG? It's this Saturday 26th May at 10am at the University of Technology on Broadway in Sydney. Go here for free tickets and more words. 

Here are some statements in support of my revolutionary idea:

It's free. It's fun. It has very nice very smart people at it. You'll learn something. THERE ARE CUPCAKES. There is lunch. It is not dangerous. It will give you some exciting ideas. There are (probably) no zombies going. There will be drinks afterwards. If you've ever been to a sciencey skeptically conferencey thingy before, you'll enjoy it. If you've never been to a sciencey skeptically conferencey thingy before, you'll enjoy it. Because I said so. Because you can do a talk if you want. Because you have nothing better to do. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bounce up and down with anticipation. 

*dot com

**unless otherwise requested

Homeopathy plus what?

Because dodgy, without evidence to the contrary, is dodgy.

There’s a business in my neck of the woods called Homeopathy Plus! run by Fran Sheffield, a long-time devotee and sometime spokesperson for homeopathy, or as I like to think of it, the centuries-old art of flogging questionable remedies for nebulous and subjective concerns.


Homeopathy Plus! was found in breach of the Therapeutic Goods Advertising Code in 2011 for claims made on its website about the effectiveness of so-called ‘homeoprophylaxis’ as an alternative to proper, tested, scientifically plausible vaccines. The TGA ordered Homeopathy Plus! to publish a retraction on their website, which the company promptly ignored before continuing to sell vibrated water as an impossible remedy for deadly diseases.

This situation, to me, epitomises the of attitude of so many complementary and alternative practitioners - that what they do and sell is far more important that whatever “science” has “proven”; or what the TGA considers "unlawful"; or what the ACCC considers “misleading”; or what the Advertising Standards Board considers "deceptive".

Now I have a particular question for Homeopathy Plus! regarding their business name.  I need to ask, plus what? Homeopathy is nothing more than plain water that’s been through a complex process of imaginary magicking and potentisation and behaves precisely the way any other, less expensive placebo behaves. In essence, Homeopathy is nothing. Presumably, Homeopathy Plus! sells more than nothing, or else they’d simply be charlatans and rip-off merchants. I suspect that the clue lies in the “Plus!” part of the moniker. So I’m really curious – what does Homeopathy Plus! sell besides nothing?

Plus what? Pray tell Ms Sheffield,

Homeopathy plus what?

Homeopathy plus everything that medicine is not?

Homeopathy plus praying?

Homeopathy plus lies?

Plus a principle to which no law of chemistry applies?

Homeopathy plus water?

Homeopathy plus air?

Homeopathy plus molecules of stuff that isn’t there?

Homeopathy plus smiling?

Plus a nice pat on the head?

Plus rejecting proper science ‘til your patient’s nearly dead?

Homeopathy plus sugar?

Homeopathy plus fraud?

Homeopathy plus bottles whacked against a leathered board?

Surely “Plus” applies to something

In your little online shop.

Otherwise you’re simply dodgy, and it’s time for you to stop.