This time around for 48th Meeting of the Skeptics' Circle, a skeptic by the 'nym of decorabilia presents his Last Will and Testament to the Circle, and bequeaths his worldly possessions to his fellow skeptics:
I am old and tired, my son. I feel the creeping chill of death in these creaking bones. I smell the heather of heavenly meadows and hear the distant strains of Gabriel's flugelhorn. Listen as I croak out my last will and testament. Lean in close. No, not that close. Your breath stinks.
Next up to host is Dad of Cameron over at Autism Street on December 7. Start getting your skeptical blogging entries ready to submit to him, and join us back here then. If you're interested in hosting a Meeting of the Skeptics' Circle yourself sometime, then drop me a line at oracknows@gmail.com. The schedule and a description of what the Circle is about can both be found here.
In the meantime, to everyone in the U.S., have a happy Thanksgiving. And don't overdo it chowing down on turkey.
More like this
A discussion in the comments section of the recent Skeptics' Circle reminded me of something I learned only after years in the skeptical movement.
As the person entrusted with the skeptical bloggy goodness that arrives every other week in the form of the Skeptics' Circle, how could I refuse to hawk something like this e-mail:
It's that time again, time for the 38th Meeting of the Skeptics' Circle.
Thirsty?