This Just In! It’s All In Your Head.

A new report issued by Scientists Under Control of Kooks and Assholes found that it really is all in your head.  And by “it”, I mean the big It.  The world. The Universe. Reality.

“It’s true. Nothing but a figment of the collective imagination,” affirmed Dr. Norman Peabody, lead SUCKA scientist for their Department of Quantumly Physical Thingies and Whatnots and chief egghead on the project.

When asked about the specifics of the experiment, Dr. Peabody took on a very defensive and aloof air.  “Those processes are far above the comprehension of the normal masses.  Suffice to say, the evidence was there.”

But journalistic integrity demanded that I press further.  Finally, Dr. Peabody relented a few of their top secret methods.

“What we did was we took a lot of blind people and put them in a big room.  Then, we told them to point to a poster we had on the wall.  Only, we didn’t put a poster on the wall in the room.  But that didn’t stop everyone from pointing.  Some people even claimed to see it! Can you imagine? Describing a poster that doesn’t exist?  That’s when my team and I realized that if people want to see something bad enough they will conjure it up out of thin air. Literally.”

“How does that prove reality is all in your head?” I had to ask.

“Because they couldn’t see and they saw a poster anyway! Don’t you get it?”

I admitted that I didn’t.

“Small-minded flagellate spoor,” mumbled the good doctor.  “Here’s another example.  We put a bunch of deaf people in a room and told them to listen to a recording and repeat it back to us.  They couldn’t do it.”

“Not too surprising. They’re hearing impaired.”

“Exactly! They couldn’t hear it, but the sound was there! That’s when my team and I realized that just because you can’t hear a tune doesn’t mean there isn’t one on the juke box.  But to them, see, sound doesn’t exist. So in their world, there really is NO sound!  Are you getting how deep this is?”

“I’m starting to. Give me the deepest thing you’ve got. Let’s get to the heart of the matter.”

“Alright. But this one is off the record.”

“Of course.” I put down my notepad, but left the recorder in my pocket running.

Peabody looked around and leaned in close before revealing, “We interviewed several comatose patients,” in a hoarse whisper.

“You what?” I shouted. “What good could that possibly serve?”

“Shhhh! Calm down! It served plenty of good! We asked them basic questions about their surroundings. Asked them to describe the rooms they were in, what the interviewers and doctors looked like. What sounds and smells they noticed.  Not one of them could answer a single question.”

“No shit, Sherlock! They are comatose!!” At this point my journalistic patience was being tested to its limits. I took a deep breath and said, “Really? This is scientific integrity?”

“It certainly is,” said Peabody adding a curt tone to his elitist smugness. “The reason they couldn’t answer is because this world isn’t real to them. They are getting absolutely no sensory input from their environments. Sensory input, as we know, is taken in via our sensory organs and processed in our brains. Without sensory input to construct a physical world, the physical world doesn’t exist. Do you see the profound implications this has on psychology and spirituality?”

“For sure. You’ve profoundly implicated that blind people can’t see, deaf people can’t hear and comatose people are perpetually asleep.”

“No. We’ve proved that nothing exists outside our own perceptions of it. This includes God, Santa Clause, social equality and soccer in America.”

I wasn’t convinced. “There’s soccer in America?”

But Dr. Peabody didn’t hear me. “If you think this is great, wait till our next experiment. The final nail in the coffin of all idiots who believe in things paranormal or supernatural.”

“Do tell. Just a tiny hint for our readers.”

Dr. Peabody was obviously conflicted, but he was so proud of himself that he couldn’t help but blurt out, “We’re hanging pictures facing the ceiling in operating rooms.”

“What the hell for?”

“That way, when patients claim to have out of body experiences, we can ask them to describe the pictures to us. If they can’t then the OBE was obviously false.”

I had no words. I know that as a journalist this shouldn’t happen, but my jaw was slack with disbelief for so long that I started drooling. Finally I croaked something about “Absurd and irrational rationality” and fled to the nearest bar where my great friend Captain Morgan assured me that the “real world” spun and lurched uncontrollably, walking in straight lines is for pussies not pirates, and that waking up without heaving your guts out really isn’t waking up at all.

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About Universal Shift

I am the Sonata Unusual. I coat myself with some obtuse angle too far below zero to become any warmer. I create motivation, activate schemas, moisten gardens with scents of natural honeydew. Construct this meaning, you sleepy flock. Silence your singing—despairing contortions out of tune. Shatter the brittle butterfly glass with your hideous wailing. I am born of my god’s imagination. When I die I shall meet him. For there are many things to discuss over tea…or scotch.

Posted on January 10, 2013, in Author, Fiction, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

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