Category: Stories


Bassoon-O-Matic

(Submitted by friend of the site, and our sound engineer, Brian Hart)

A while back I was listening to a George Hrab podcast, and he related a joke about bassoon players.

 

The joke itself is not too funny, the gist is that it is not a sexy or practical instrument to learn as a career choice in music.

The next day I randomly chose to listen to a 3 month-old WTF Podcast hosted by Marc Maron, this one featuring The Office’s Rainn (Dwight Shrute) Wilson.  A few minutes into the show Wilson mentioned that he played bassoon in High School.

In a Universe this large, and vast, and old, this must happen occasionally, bassooner or later.

 


 [EDITOR: This was submitted by Brian Hart. Brian submits a lot of our stories and is our producer and sound engineer for our podcast. It’s for this reason that we’ve chosen to post his story and not flog him publicly for his awful, awful pun.]

(Submitted by friend of the site, Ross Blocher, of the Oh No, Ross and Carrie! podcast)

I’d been invited to a friend’s kickball party, and before the game a bunch of us were sitting around in the shade catching up and talking about random topics. One such subject was that of secret codes and safe words between friends and family in the event of an emergency. My friend said, “If I were being held at gunpoint and had to call my boyfriend, I’ve got a secret safe word I can insert into the conversation to let him know I’m in trouble.”

I laughed and then mimicked a conversation on my thumb-and-pinky phone, “Hey Nick, I’ve got to go to the store first and pick up some… WATERMELON.”

There was an awkward silence as my friend looked at me quizzically and a little taken aback. Finally she said, “Wait, how did you know that? I didn’t tell you that. Watermelon was my safe word. Now I’ve got to come up with a new one.”

Now if only I had said I was psychic before that: I could have really cashed in.


Below are the extended notes provided by Barbara Drescher for use in Skepticality Episode 193. Take a look and leave your comments below.

I could not even begin to calculate the odds of this and I can’t explain my own reaction, either, but I will try. My first thought was, “That’s a guessable safe word.”

I think that when we try to think of passwords and safe words, we are trapped by the availability of words in our vocabulary. You want a word obscure enough that it wouldn’t normally be used in conversation, but one that can be worked into a conversation without too much trouble. “Watermelon” seems to me to be a good level of obscurity, but if the story omitted the safe word, then asked readers to predict what the word was, would I have guessed it? No way to tell, really.

(Story submitted by reader David Buck)

I work on contract in the software development field and I specialize in Smalltalk programming – a relatively obscure programming language these days.  I normally have a full time contract but one day, my project leader told me that there would be a gap in the contract and it might be several weeks or months before they could get me back in.

I went into “find work” mode and thought about companies I’d done business with in the past.  I decided that I’d contact one insurance company first. I hadn’t heard from them since Nov 18, 2003 (some five years earlier).  The last I heard, they needed to do an upgrade and I thought that if they hadn’t done it yet, I might be able to help them out.

I frequently do this work under a subcontract for the Smalltalk vendor, so I decided to email my contact there – a fellow named Jim. On the morning of January 28, 2010, I emailed Jim to suggest that we contact the insurance company to see if they needed any work done.  I mentioned that I last heard from them in 2003.  Jim agrees and asks me to send him the email address of the contact person.  I don’t have that email address on my smart phone so I tell Jim that I’ll send it to him after I get home a few hours later.

Well, less than a few hours later (before I got home), I got an email out of the blue from the senior manager of the insurance company.  He wanted to know whether I still did that kind of work and whether I was available to do the upgrade work for them.  At no point did Jim or I communicate with them about this work.  They just sent the request on their own on the very day that we were planning to contact them.  I forwarded it to Jim and we started contract negotiations.

I ended up getting a contract with them for six months and successfully completed the upgrade for them.

So, what are the odds that in the three or four hours between Jim and I agreeing to email them and actually emailing them that they would email me instead after five years of no contact?  Weird.  The Law of Large Numbers works in mysterious ways.


Below are the extended notes provided by Barbara Drescher for use in Skepticality Episode 192. Take a look and leave your comments below.

First, I have to question the reliability of the timing this author outlines, because his (assuming the author is male) numbers don’t add up. The timing is not particularly relevant, but it does demonstrate a possible fallibility of memory or documentation.

Setting that aside, it sounds a lot more unusual than it is. The author not only knew the manager and had worked for him in the past, but knew that he’d done a good enough job that the manager might be interested in working with him again. So, it’s not unusual at all that the manager would call the author when he had work to be done.

This leaves the probability that the manager would need to hire someone on the day the author needed to find work. That is difficult to determine without a good understanding of what was going on in the industry at that time. I think we can all agree that it is an interesting coincidence, but not a shocking one.

I’m a big fan of classic ghost stories and read at least a few pages from a book every night to help bring on sleep. I recently bought an excellent tome “Antique Dust” by Robert Westall. Without going into too many details, it’s a wonderfully bizarre short story collection about haunted British antiques in the style of the master of the antiquarian ghost story, M.R. James. For about ten days, I have been savoring a creepy little tale called “The Devil and Clocky Watson,” about a haunted mantle clock with a sinister background.

In the meantime I have also been working steadily on my own collection of mini-tales, “An Absence of Moonlight” which concerns various supernatural goings on in my imagined transmundane family. Although I hadn’t thought about the legendary “Hell Fire Club” of 18th century London for many years, my interest in it had been piqued during research for a section I was writing about. I Googled and read the real details about the club’s ribald members and history including its evolution into a much darker enterprise and their chief leader in that incarnation: Sir Francis Dashwood. I was fascinated, having had only a brief faux introduction to the “Hell Fire” mythos from watching an old episode of the “The Avengers” television series entitled “A Touch of Brimstone,” which featured Emma Peel prancing about in an unforgettable black leather fetish outfit – complete with spiked collar.

Anyway, I went to work spending the afternoon weaving my newfound tidbits of sordid weirdness into my writing. That’s nothing special so far. Just a completely random direction my writing took from off the top of my head. Now it gets weirder. Forward to last night: The Clocky Watson story was progressing really well, with Clocky himself having several sensual encounters with a lady ghost who climbs into bed with him, clinging to him for reasons later revealed. I got near to the end of the story and saw the word about a place called “Wycombe,” momentarily reflecting while reading that that name suddenly “rang a bell” although I didn’t attach must significance to it alone. I kept reading. Later at the very end of the story, it turned out that the haunted clock was portrayed as a relic belonging to Sir Francis Dashwood which was prominently displayed in the Hell Fire Club’s Medmenham Abby caves in West Wycombe, UK during the 1750s. The very words I had read a few hours earlier in the day. I stopped reading, took off my glasses, and felt a delightful chill run down my spine.

For a few moments, my own bed seemed haunted by something weird and unexplainable. What are the odds these two instances of the obscure Hell Fire Club would come up in two spontaneously unrelated places in a seven hour stretch of time?


Below are the extended notes provided by Barbara Drescher for use in Skepticality Episode 190. Take a look and leave your comments below.

The odds are excellent; there is nothing spontaneous, unrelated, or unexplainable in what happened here. The readings were chosen by one person and they were related in that the author was reading a ghost story and became interested in the location while doing research for a story about the supernatural. The connection may seem obscure, but it likely isn’t. What comes to mind when you read the words “ghost story”? Perhaps gas lanterns in the fog and horse-drawn carriages? Old mansions with giant staircases? Gathering places of London’s upper-crust sound like a great location for a ghost story or a component of one. The author was probably so surprised by the second incident simply because he had taken such an interest in the club’s history after not thinking about it for some time.

We’ve got a special three-story set for you guys this time. Enjoy. Or don’t. We’re not going to force you.

(Submitted by reader Tracy McFadin)

In 1972 I was driving along a major street in Dallas, TX. and saw two young girls, maybe 17 or 18, hitchhiking (a rather common sight in those days) and stopped to give them a ride.

They were headed to one of the girls’ homes, and said it wasn’t too far from where we were. Having grown up in that area of Dallas myself, I said “Well where is it, because I know this neighborhood?” But the one giving me directions didn’t really know the street names, so she just kept saying “Turn left here, now go a block…take a right” etc. etc.

Well, amazingly, where she ended up directing me to, was the house that I had grown up in for the first 10 years of my life! My family had moved from that house some 11 years earlier.

Of course I was completely blown away by the coincidence, and excitedly was telling them how I had once lived there, and how crazy that was, but they totally thought I was full of it, and that I was making up some wild tale to somehow impress them.

Maybe one of them will read this, and say “Hey! That was me! That is so amazing!” Of course, no one will believe her ; ) …But crazier things have been known to happen.


(Submitted by reader Dave)

I grew up in Moses Lake, WA on the eastern desert side of the state. A couple blocks from us lived one of my best friends Adam. Our families were also close as his dad was our family doctor.

When I was about 5 years old Adam moved away out of state, and shortly after my dad got a job in state government and we moved to the capital Olympia on the other side of the state. Several years later we moved into a new house and I started going to a new school. When I entered my new fifth grade class I recognized a kid but I couldn’t place him. We found out we live a couple blocks away from each other so we started hanging out.

It wasn’t until our parents met and remembered each other that we found out that Adam and his family had settled in a new house the same distance from ours as our houses were back in Moses Lake!  What are the odds?


 (Submitted by reader R L Fletcher)

I was driving my grandchildren back home to Birmingham, AL after a week long visit at our home in a suburb of Dallas, TX.  About 200 miles into the 650 mile journey, we stopped at a Starbucks in Shreveport so the grandson and granddaughter could use the restroom and I could grab a cup of joe.

As we were walking back to my car, someone yelled out my grandson’s name. It was my wife’s brother and his wife! Unbeknownst to me they were driving from their home south of Dallas to Chattanooga, TN, and we just happened to cross paths at that Starbucks!


Below are the extended notes provided by Barbara Drescher for use in Skepticality Episode 189. Take a look and leave your comments below.

I don’t find the first story remarkable at all, although I am sure it felt that way to the author. While a lot of houses fit in a reasonable radius for hitchhiking, they number in the hundreds, not hundreds of thousands and the author probably frequented the area.
The second story is eerie, but it would be more impressive if the distance both families moved was much greater.
The third story seems less coincidental, given that there are a limited number of routes between major cities, but there is an additional element which makes it much less likely to occur: timing. A Starbucks pit stop is very short, so crossing paths there is indeed crazy odds.

(Submitted by anonymous reader)

I was living in Santa Fe, NM and was dating a boy who lived in Boulder, CO.  He usually came to visit me but one spring weekend, I decided to drive up and surprise him.

I’d never driven to Colorado before.  I was 18 years old and the year was 1997, so there were no Maps apps or iPhones.  I have no idea if cars had GPS systems at this point, but mine certainly didn’t.

All I had to find him was an address.  The plan was to follow highway signs to Boulder and then ask gas station employees for directions until I found it.

I arrived in Boulder at dawn.  I drove down the main highway, hoping the street he lived on intersected it.  It looked like I’d passed all of the gas stations in town so I pulled over in an apartment complex so I could turn around and look again at the address I’d written down.

I glanced down at the paper and then up at the building directly in front of me…the addresses matched.  I had somehow driven directly to my boyfriend’s apartment without ever having been there before.  The main highway actually was the street he lived on, it just changed names once you get to town. (Something I never saw on any of the street signs.). I drove straight to him.  Amazing.

[EDITOR: I love this. We passed this one by Barbara who noted how many missing details and unknowns (including how much information she might have remembered, even subconsciously, that helped get her pretty close) make it difficult to quantify. But I can’t imagine how startled she had to be when she ended up in exactly the place she needed to be with no apparent guidance. Talk about what seems like an amazing sense of direction. Do that a couple more times and there’s no doubt you’d start to feel like you had some sort of superpower. – Jarrett]

Uncommon Roots

(Submitted by friend of the blog, Jerry Buchanan)

Many years ago, I started a new job in a small company in Hollywood with only eight employees. One of the other employees had the same last name (not a particularly common one) as mine.

Since we had this bond, we spent several lunches together. We eventually learned that we were both from Indianapolis, Indiana!

Interestingly, we had both had our family trees researched, and there were no common ancestors between us.

[EDITOR: Before you say anything, I know this is a rather simple story compared to most. And some might not even find it that big of a coincidence. I personally have known several Buchanans (including Jerry), which made me not even initially accept that it’s an uncommon last name.

But the reason we chose to share this story anyway is because it highlights a thought process that a lot of people go through. What’s mundane or simple to you might be startling to me. What I shrug off as irrelevant or barely a blip on the radar is startling and telling to someone else. And it’s often these little events that mean the most to people. And for someone who’s already on the edge of superstitious, these events add up.

Do you have any friends who claim these things ALWAYS happen to them? That they’re constantly surrounded by strange events, coincidences, numbers that follow them, etc.? Odds are you know or have met SOMEONE with this mind set, and to them a little event like this isn’t something to be shrugged off. They plug it into the greater tapestry of what they believe to be a pattern, and signs, and it informs their life views.

So recognizing and tracking even these small events and realizing what they can mean to people is an important part of understanding the overall phenomena. If it’s important to someone, it should be important to us, too, even if it’s not for the same reasons. – Jarrett]

(Submitted by reader, Tamara Rousso)

Spring 2001 found us as members of a very liberal, free thinking, support-you-where-you’re-at kind of spiritual fellowship in Southern California.  We were new to the area and had made friends with a local family that homeschooled just as we did and also attended the fellowship.

The dad, Patrick, was a stay-at-home dad, I was a stay-at-home mom, our kids were close in age, and we found ourselves getting together for play dates quite often. Barbara, the mom, along with my husband, Mo, were in the trenches supporting our life style choice of a stay-at-home parent, and when we got together for family functions we all very much enjoyed each others company.

One day at the fellowship Barbara wished me a happy birthday.  I thanked her and she told me it was also Patrick’s birthday.  I didn’t give that much thought as it is not so uncommon to share a birthday with another person. A couple of weeks later found us at their home, along with Patrick’s father (his mother was deceased), having dinner. Patrick mentioned us sharing the same birthday, and asked what year I was born. I had always assumed Patrick was a few years older than I because he was completely gray. But, no, it turned out that he had grayed prematurely and was born the same year I was.

Then Patrick asked where I was born, to which I replied “Denver, Colorado.”  Patrick said “I was born in Denver, Colorado!”  Now it was getting a little weird. I grew up in Wyoming, and Patrick grew up overseas with a traveling engineer father. We had both ended up settling in Southern California, and here we were at the same table finding out that not only did we share the same birth date and birth year, but also the same birth city far away.

“What hospital were you born in?” was Patrick’s next question. “I don’t know,” I replied, “but I was adopted out of St. Joseph’s Orphanage”.  Patrick’s father piped up and said “I do remember an orphanage not far from the hospital”.  Chances are that we were born at the same hospital.

“What time were you born?” asked Patrick.  He continued, “I know I was born at 1:12pm because a friend did an astrology chart for me once and needed to know the time.”  I replied that I really didn’t know, but I thought it was in the evening.

Not too long after that I had reason to get my birth certificate out, and decided to check the time of birth.  (Insert the music from the Twilight Zone here.) Imagine my surprise to see that it stated 1:12pm!

That began the very long search to find some meaning to this bizarre series of coincidences.  Maybe Patrick’s mother had brought us together from the grave because we were twins separated at birth?  We were very similar in personality and, also shared certain physical characteristics.  I decided to search for a birth mother, and if I didn’t find one we would do DNA testing.

A few months later a birth mother was identified, but she was deceased.  Maybe it wasn’t true then.  Maybe she was just a shill for the Catholic Church, a cover if you will, so they could carry out a maniacal social engineering plot.  But a half-sister was found and while I look nothing like the birth family I do share many personality traits.

Okay, so if not a Catholic Church conspiracy maybe there is some truth to astrology the thinking went. Maybe that explains why we were so similar – not related but destined to be similar by virtue of our birth dates!

In the end we accepted the inevitable. Random coincidences that made for an interesting story.  But it does make one wonder – what are the odds?!


Below are the extended notes provided by Barbara Drescher for use in Skepticality Episode 188. Take a look and leave your comments below.

The “cosmic twin” kind of coincidences in this story are reminiscent of the classic Kennedy/Lincoln connection. When human beings notice two or more things occurring together which appear to be related, we use a cognitive short cut and assume that they are related (illusory correlation). When we look for relationships, we tend to notice more, remember more, and assign more weight to the “hits” than the “misses” (the confirmation bias).

Discovering common features is easy – just look for them. This is how “data mining” reveals meaningless anomalies which scientists mistake for real relationships.

The best way to determine if an apparent relationship is meaningful is to develop a specific hypothesis and test it. In this situation, if the author suspected that the friend was a long-lost twin, DNA testing could be done. Otherwise, this is a set of interesting coincidences, some with crazy, but not unheard of odds, which were noticed only when the participants when looking for them. Imagine how many of these kinds of coincidences could be found if we took detailed inventories of all of our friends?

Horn-y

(Submitted by our friend of the blog, and our producer/sound engineer, Brian Hart)

I was in line at Costco, listening to a new episode of The Skeptics Guide To The Universe. My friend, Derek, was being interviewed on the show for the first time, and was discussing his investigation of a Swiss UFO cult.

He got to the part where he mentions the name Michael Horn, the American rep of this cult.  I looked in line ahead of me and saw a girl wearing this sweatshirt that says “Fear the Horn”.


I whipped out my camera phone and took this picture. Me so horny???

[EDITOR: The above story is presented unedited, and its puns do not represent the views of the TOMBC staff. Although we didn’t help any by perpetuating them in the title. We’re only human.]

Keep your motor running…

(Submitted by friend of the blog, Dave R)

Recently I was going to have lunch with a friend. I drove to his house to pick him up because he doesn’t have a car.  I’d already sent my friend a 1~minute warning text message so he’d be ready. I pulled up in front of my friend’s house. My radio was on a pop station, Billy Joel’s “Only the Good Die Young” was playing. I texted my friend just two words “come out” as I frequently do when picking up friends to let them know I’m outside their house.

Just as I pressed ‘Send’ to my message “come out”, the radio blared, “Come out, come out, come out, Virgina don’t let me wait,” — I kind of did a double-take and then got a nice chuckle from it!

[EDITOR: Wendy had noted recently that we’ve had a few radio-related stories. This might be ripe for a special feature. Anyone else got some good ones?]