They effectively support Shermer’s “Why Smart People Believe Weird Things” theory. It seems that focused minds are very good at filling in the gaps with a host of different dreamscapes. It’s like watching someone wield a chainsaw for fun. You might want them to stop, but ultimately, there’s very little you can do about it.

Now, I’m quite certain that there’s a spattering of genuine mental illness at play here as well, but to have to wade through, and even expect these rampant mutterings on such a well nuanced site really breaks my heart.

I consider it grafitti.

I was once a student of yours, as I took three of your class offerings at Glendale Community College. I was working my way through school as the Groundskeeper there in the 80′s. I remember telling you back then I would one day return to debate in favor of the paranormal; that day has now arrived.

You were personally a witness to my strong skills as a psychic detective, in the infamous case of the College Hills Arsonist. I was considered a suspect in this arson investigation, and was interrogated by Glendale Fire Captain, John Orr. I immediately intuited that John Orr was the very criminal he was looking for! I sought your help as my mentor, as I feared being railroaded by a crooked cop who might try to pin his own crimes on me. Your reaction at the time was to dismiss my claims as paranoia.

Now that all the facts are in, and John Orr sits behind bars for torching a housing complex where people died, my original fears have been given validity. NOVA did a one hour documentary special on the subject, and noted author Joseph Wambaugh wrote a biography on the man, titled: Firelover.

I’ve familiarized myself with the tactics of Skeptical argument you employ, and I imagine I may have to argue against the ‘lucky guess’ hypothesis. I have found this to be near impossible, as no comprehensive record exists of all of my predictions, be they correct or incorrect.

However, my most prominent prediction defies any and all attempts to be debunked via statistical method, as it was so spot on as to be completely off the statistical charts. I’m speaking of my prophecy regarding the 9/11 terrorist attacks, as documented in the fictional TV show, known as the pilot episode of The Lone Gunmen. I gave this story to my childhood friend, Chris Carter, creator of The X-Files. He has dedicated a namesake character to his having known me: Gibson Praise, the twelve-year-old psychic chess player.

On a hot summer’s day in August of 1974, I spun a tale of future misery, describing it as the planting of the seeds of World War III. I titled my tale: “2001: a Spaced-Out Oddessy. I claimed terrorists would hijack airliners and crash them into the tallest buildings in the land, as poor man’s guided missiles.

I further as asked Chris Carter to please turn this story into a teleplay, to produce it, and air it on the exact date of March 4th, 2001. He did just that, and now it’s all history. I choose the date of March 4th as a simple code, as it is the only date of the calendar year which can stand alone a full and complete sentence: “March forth!”.

Regarding our shared hometown of La Crescents, CA — I also had a remarkable experience with the home grown serial killer known as The Hillside Strangler. I walked right up the driveway of Angelo Buono in Glendale, asking him advice on installing auto carpeting. My presence was annoying him, and he politely suggested he needed to get back to work. I ignored him, and tabled a new topic by asking him: “So, how about that Hillside Strangler?” His demeanor quickly changed from aggressive and controlling, to passive and visibly disturbed. He no longer would make eye contact with me, and he acted like he had his tail between his legs. I responded by giving voice to my deepest inner thoughts by asking: “What, are you the Hillside Strangler?” I was only 19, and had yet to learn to disguise my motives through the art of deception. He continued to behave in a fearful manner until he laid his hand upon a crowbar wedged behind a fire block two-by-four in the open wall of his garage, whereupon he gave off an eerie, icy calm. I distinctly got the impression he wanted to bash my brains in, so I nervously excused myself and quickly walked away.

Statistically, this means I had successfully ferreted out two mysterious headline grabbing psycho criminals in the town I grew up in. I told three people about this; my mother, my neighbor, Rob Bowman, and years later, my friend Bernard Brady at GCC. I also called the police, but was quickly dismissed as a crank, the officer saying there was no way I could know what the man was thinking.

Rob Bowman’s name is also found on the TV production of the pilot episode of The Lone Gunmen. Rob Bowman is also a personal witness to two other tale of my psychic abilities. In 1977, I predicted he would one day direct Star Trek. He laughed at me and called me ‘crazy’. He voiced his personal opinion that Star Trek would never be produced again, because it was stupid, and no one liked it. I then dared to bet him $10,000 that he would one day direct Star Trek, and work with Gene Roddenbury before he died. I told him this would take place in ten years time. In 1987, he did direct Star Trek: The Next Generation.

A less notable story involved my telling a room full of people, including Rob Bowman, that young Dennis, my personal nemisis, would one day die in a motorcycle accident, from not wearing a helmet. Sadly, this did come to pass. The other witnesses to this event were the large extended family of Italians who lived in almost all the other units in our twelve unit apartment complex.

My dire prediction arose from a most unpleasant conversation. A large and bossy young woman nicknamed ‘Rocky’ told me that the young Dennis was going to “kick my ass!”. I had already had several unpleasant run-ins with this boy. I once took his knife away and threw it into a rocky vacant lot. Another time he shot out my truck’s tail light with a BB gun.