Last night, I was in the shower and I came up with a perfect AI for today. It was fucking brilliant. I laughed and laughed as conditioner ran into my eyes. I thought about how great the discussion was going to be. You were going to LOVE this question. And I was going to love moderating the discussion. It was going to be fun and intelligent and silly and insightful.
But now all I can remember about the question was that the only words above the <–more–> tag (the part you see on the main page) were “Warning: Anus”. That’s it. And I have no idea anything that came after that. I warned you about anuses, which was apparently important, but then forgot everything I was going to say that required me to warn you about. I’m sure it was great, though. My shower memories rarely lie… at least not about things as important as anus discussion topics.
Now here I am. Under deadline. And the only thing I have to offer is the promise of tons of anus talk… and I have to somehow link it back to skepticism or science or feminism or… really I just need to link it to anything besides just a plain old anus. What about this anus is interesting? Is it interesting at all? Does it involve zombie Fleshlight dildos? (NSFW Warning: zombie dildo) Is it about hemorroids? Butt-plug-inspired astronomy-themed dog toys? And how something called the “Extra Large Galileo Bone” is genuinely safe for work? Was it something horribly personal and embarrassing?
I also remember thinking about scents triggering memories but I think that was unrelated… at least I hope that was unrelated. I don’t even know. All I’m left with is writers block and a butthole opener.
This is why memories are the worst. You’d think something as wonderful as bringing together the entire skeptic community to laugh together and agree on sphincters would be something a brain would work extra hard to store. But it doesn’t. Instead, it replaced my brilliant question with a memory of shaving my armpits… except in my mind’s playback, I didn’t miss all those spots. So even that’s a lie. Why even lie about armpit stubble? It’s not like the evidence isn’t scratching the hell out of my arm as I’m typing this. I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, BRAIN. YOU DON’T HAVE TO PROTECT ME FROM THE TRUTH. I AM NOT ASHAMED.
So I guess we have to move this discussion from butts to brains. And memories. And the fallibility of those memories… and maybe shaving techniques.
Memories are strange creatures. We can forget things that did happen while vividly recalling things that never happened. And as we experience more things in life worth remembering, the harder it gets to remember things.
How good do you think your memory is? Do you know you remember things that didn’t happen? Are there things you wish you did remember? Have you ever played a scenario over and over in your head to the point where you weren’t even sure if it happened or not? What kinds of things do you always forget? What things do you think you always remember? Is the moral of the story here that I should just wax my armpits because then I would remember what the anus thing was about?
The Afternoon Inquisition (or AI) is a question posed to you, the Skepchick community. Look for it to appear Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays at 3pm ET.