Gloucester

“Gloucester,” by B.C., is a song

written as a tribute to the roughly

10,000 people who’ve lost their lives

fishing over the years out of Gloucester,

Massachusetts. Through this video,

they get to live again, grow old, fish.

“Gloucester” is written, performed, & produced by B.C., the classic rock duo hailing from Delco, Pennsylvania. B.C. is Bill Blessington & Ray Cattie.

© 2025 B.C.

A YouTube Channel is Born

Click HERE for BC's new YouTube channel!

(Alien) Life Redux, Etc: What Exactly Are the Odds?

 (Alien) Life Redux, Etc: What Exactly Are the Odds?

 

This is an essay that I republish every once in a while, usually after seeing some alien-related copy somewhere on the ‘net. This time, I have two additional pieces of evidence (ok, maybe not evidence, but two strongly supportive quotes by an American and a British scientist who definitely check off some of the ethos boxes for credibility. Onward:

 

It's a romantic notion- alien life- but maybe it's just that- a notion. And here is why I'm starting to think that maybe there really is no life anywhere else in the universe:

 

Pure probability.

 

A monkey at a typewriter has a one in 15 billion chance in typing the word "banana" in its lifetime. Why so little a chance? Well, let's say a typewriter has 50 keys, and each key has an equal chance of being pressed by our monkey friend. The chance that the first letter typed would be a "B" is 1/50. The chance that the second letter typed would be an "A" is also 1/50, and on and on.

 

Statistics tell us that the chance of the first six letters spelling "banana" is:

 

(1/50) × (1/50) × (1/50) ×

(1/50) × (1/50) × (1/50) =

1/15,625,000,000,

or roughly a one in 15 billion chance.

 

And that's for only six things that have to happen just to spell the word "banana." 

 

Now, let's conservatively say that 10 things have to line up out of a 1,000 for life to occur (way, way conservative). That would be:

(1/1,000) x (1/1,000) x (1/1,000) x

(1/1,000) x (1/1,000) x (1/1,000) x

(1/1,000) x (1/1,000) x (1/1,000) x

(1/1,000)= 1/1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 or roughly a 1 in one thousand billion billion billionth of a chance.

 

When I hear someone say that the odds of there NOT being life elsewhere are very minute, I think of the above formula, and I think that it might in fact be the opposite.

Further, British mathematician/astronomer Sir Fred Hoyle once observed that the prospect of higher life forms spontaneously emerging is comparable to the probability of a tornado sweeping through a junkyard and assembling a Boeing 747 from the materials it finds.

American biologist Edwin Conklin made a similar observation: “The likelihood of life arising from chance is comparable to the probability of the Unabridged Dictionary being produced by an explosion in a printing factory.”

 

Before you launch into how big the universe is, think about the numbers above, the tornado in a junkyard, and the unabridged dictionary explosion, and think that probably of those elements that need to come together for life to happen, such as the numbers in the above monkey model, are probably more like a hundred thousand things out of a million, as opposed to ten out of a thousand.

 

As I read back my essay, I realize that the proofs I have presented actually work against me as well—that just because the universe is that big, with that many elements needing to come together at one specific point in time—doesn’t mean that it’s impossible. Unlikely, improbable, incredible—most definitely. Impossible, no.

Yes, these are the things that I think of for inspiration.

Strangely, they work...

© Ray Cattie

Magic Node

The author reads chapter one of newly published young adult novel “Magic Node,” available as a paperback or a Kindle book on Amazon.com.

Upcoming Novels

This is the first of three, called "Six of Cups," an introspective journey of a man (Hudson) confronting the profound absence of a loved one. It explores themes of grief, memory, and regret while meditating on the meaning of life and the choices made along the way. The narrative uses personal mementos and evocative settings—a dusty study, torn photographs, a symbolic empty chair—to illustrate the weight of loss and the bittersweet nature of remembrance. It will be available in trade paperback format from Amazon very soon.

This is the second one, a young adult novel entitled "Magic Node," a story that unfolds in a near-future world transformed by a breakthrough technology—BrainLink—which unexpectedly unlocks latent magical abilities in animals. As canines and felines (and eventually other species) develop extraordinary powers, ancient bonds and new rivalries spark expansive conflicts. The resulting wars and ethical dilemmas force humans to reconsider their relationship with nature, technology, and magic, leading to interspecies alliances, global crises, and ultimately the hopeful (if uncertain) rebuilding of society. It too will be available in trade paperback format from Amazon very soon.

This is the third one, the 20th anniversary hardback compilation of "Ard Righ," "Kingdom of Summer," and "Reign of Fire," The King Arthur Saga.  It will also be available in a limited edition, commemorative hardback format from Amazon very soon.

Why 2025 is Better Than 2018

In 2018, as a follow-up to a successful 2017 campaign, the Philadelphia Eagles went on to beat both the Atlanta Falcons in the divisional round of the playoffs, and then the Minnesota Vikings in the NFC Conference Round of the playoffs, both games having been home games at Lincoln Financial Field in South Philly. These wins earned them a berth in Super Bowl LII at U.S. Bank Stadium in, ironically, Minnesota, against their AFC counterparts, the Mighty New England Patriots.

The city held it's breath from the first playoff game through the end of the Super Bowl, as their backup quarterback, Nick Foles, had become the starting quarterback several weeks before the playoffs began when Eagles starting quarterback Carson Wentz went down with a torn ACL in a division-clenching win against the Los Angeles Rams. Nick Foles's Eagles then went on to clinch a first round bye, and then home field advantage throughout the playoffs, with late season wins, to finish with a team-best record of 13-3.

This current (2025) Eagles Super Bowl win, however, was better than 2018… ‘18 was lightning in a bottle, a necessary and much appreciated popping of their cherry; the ‘25 team, on the other hand, was built for this, and has the potential to become a dynasty.

2018- lightning in a bottle.

Jalen Hurts is their “normal” starter, which feels to me better, from a sense that he and this team can repeat. No offense to (Saint) Nick Foles— his place in Eagle Nation’s history is assured— heck, we even built him and Coach Pederson a statue (“Philly Philly”) outside of the Linc to honor the accomplishment— but no one realistically thought that he could do it again. Thus the “Lightening in a Bottle” label— it looks great, it is great— but it’s a one-time spectacle.

The ‘25 team isn’t that kind of spectacle; the ‘25 team, led by our “regular” starting quarterback, can do it again. And again. And-- dare I say it— again.

And for the record, the Eagles have five world championship wins, not two. Just because it wasn’t yet called the Super Bowl doesn’t negate the wins!

© Ray Cattie

Foreshadowing vs Deja Vu

On the literary vs the real life, and which is which?

Foreshadowing is a literary device where something happens early on in the plot that gives you a clue as to something that will happen later in the story. For instance, a character sees some seemingly insignificant prop early on, and it turns out to be significant to the story later. That’s an example of direct foreshadowing.

Physical or direct foreshadowing, the “smoking gun,” as it is known in the trade, is actually a narrative rule that states, “If the author draws attention to a smoking gun in chapter one, it needs to be relevant in chapter 33.”

Otherwise, it’s an unnecessary detail that serves as nothing but a distraction. And that comes across as an obvious attempt at sleight of hand by the author, and no reader is paying to be fooled, at least accidentally. 

It's also known as "Chekhov's Gun," named for Russian writer Anton Chekhov, who said, "Remove everything that has no relevance to the story. If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there." The "smoking gun" theory title works the best, in my opinion, as laypeople (people who aren't geeks about writing) hear "Chekov's Gun," and think its a phaser pistol being welded by Pavel Chekov from Star Trek.

You can also have symbolic foreshadowing, where for instance a character has a series of dark foreboding dreams and then later something dark happens. Or perhaps a character has an item early on, like Chekhov's Gun, but the gun isn't used in a literal way, but rather symbolically. For instance, someone has something bad happen to them later, after seeing the gun. A lot of it is dependent on the author-- much like contextual or authorial symbolism, it only make sense in the context if the author tells you it makes sense, and how it makes sense. Almost in a "sympathetic magic" kind of way: it works because we believe it works. That doesn't necessarily make it everyone's reality, though.

Deja Vu, on the other hand, is a feeling that you've already experienced something, seen something, have "been there before," and I suppose it is the real-life equivalent to the narrative device that is foreshadowing.

Science tells us that deja vu is nothing more or less than a "neurodivergent slip from the norm," if you will, whereby the brain literally "forgets" for a brief period, literally three seconds, and then remembers, but of course with a three second memory gap. So you enter a room, your brain has a very small blank hiccup, and then it's done. No time seems to pass subjectively, although objectively three seconds have passed. It is enough that we recognize the room, and seem to remember "being here before," because we were there before-- three seconds before. Really not a surprise when you learn the the brain is constantly "filling in gaps," up to 90% of what we see is being filled in by our brain based on previous experiences, throughout our waking day. The vast majority of that "fill in" however is a seamless process, until it's not. 90%... what does that suggest about what we call "reality" when even our own brains play games with us?

I know, it's all like learning the secret of a magic trick-- some don't want to know-- and to them, with the knowledge comes the ruination of the trick.

And some must have Truth, at all costs. They are the ones who would go on to be resentful at being lied to at Christmastime, who tell themselves that they would have appreciated the gifts that appeared under their childhood Christmas trees regardless of whether they were delivered by Santa Claus or by Mom and Dad.

They are the ones who don't like surprises, and need their world ordered and organized. To them, magic is the perfect schedule, the fifteen minutes early to every appointment, the "everything has a place" organizer.

Which is the right approach? I would say the one that works for you is correct-- as usual in life, if it works, it's an asset, if it doesn't, it's not. Either way, enjoy the ride your brain is taking you on-- 90%.

© Ray Cattie

Celtic Wedding Poem

Celtic weddings were events to behold, whether you were of the lower class, the middle class, or the upper class. There were two essential kinds of weddings: The Kidnapping, and the more creative Parley. Here is a clip from my novel "And Righ," where Arthur and his groomsmen have come to parley for the hand of Arthur's betrothed, Gwenhwyfar aka Guinevere. Arthur is represented on one side of the door by Myrddin aka Merlin:

Myrddin:
“The timing of our visit here
“To win the heart of one so
“Is written gently on our hearts
“A perfect day to make a start—"

Gwenhwyfar:

"A noise I hear outside my door
“I wonder who the noise is for?
“And wondering, I pause to think of
“Why you stand upon my brink?”

Myrddin:
“We seek the one who’s tall and fair,
“With jade-green eyes and golden hair.

“From Camelaird our lady came,
“Open now and end this game—”

Gwenhwyfar:
“The one you seek is here for sure
“But cannot face the open door.
“Try again some other day;
“Leave us be and go away—”

Myrddin:
“The game is up, the bride-price paid,
“A groom awaits his loving maid’.
“Unlock your heart and let us pass,
“Before the sun too high does pass—“

Arthur (in mock-frustration at this point):
“I am Arthur, come to call
“Stout of heart behind this wall.

“Gwenhwyfar my bride to be,

"Open shuttered door for me!"

And at this point the door opened, or not, as the case went. In this particular instance, the door opened.

© Ray Cattie

Hard-Wired Guardian Angel

As we've stated previously in this blog, humans have logic, or logos, in common with each other. Our big brains are very good at solving logical problems. So much so that we use logos to make effective arguments when we try to persuade or convince someone to believe what we want them to believe.

We do have other things in common as well. Such as emotion, or pathos. Again, we all have it-- the problem with pathos as the basis of an argument, however, is that among other things we don't all respond to emotional cues in the same way.

Thus, pathos is not a reliable root for an argument, outside of using it to "season" our argument once we have established its parameters. Like a stew, if you will: meat and potatoes-- the logical argument, and then the salt and pepper-- the emotional seasoning for our argument. And much like a stew, a little seasoning goes a long way; a lot of seasoning can ruin the meal.

Sometimes, however, our own logic can betray us. Imagine being in the woods on a hunt 15,000 years ago. Or being on the edge of the woods looking for mushrooms and edible roots and berries. As you are occupied with your task, you hear the snapping of a twig somewhere behind you. Logic kicks in, and your mind starts working on a scenario to explain the snapping sound.

…you realize that thesticksthatarescatteredonthatpartoftheforest'sfloorareonthethick sidesowhateversnappedthatstickbehindyouhastobesubstantiallybiggerthanasquirrelor othersmalleranimalinfactitwouldhavetobethesizeof— and you're dead.

Your logic turned out to be right-- the bear coming up behind you was significantly larger than a squirrel, and with one swing of its claw-laden paw it sent you to your death.

As you can see by that scenario, our logic didn't serve us too well in that case. It was correct, but it was far too slow to allow us to come to the conclusion that we needed to run in that situation, and quickly.

If not logic, what? This is where pathos, or the emotional response-- specifically the startle reflex-- saves the day.

Same setup-- picking mushrooms, or staking prey in the woods, and a twig snaps behind you. Only this time, the emotional response-- the startle-- kicks in, and you jump "out of your skin," as the saying goes, which essentially means you jumped up and to the right, allowing the trailing bear's paw to swipe through empty air that was recently vacated by your startled head.

This is also known as fight or flight, which is a reflex that immediately puts our bodies in the position to fight, or to run, with no logical thought pulling the strings. It's what’s called a hard-wired (non-learned) instinct.

Do we still have them today? Sure, you betcha. You're crossing a busy street, only you didn't see the car speeding up the inside lane, momentarily hidden from your view. The car honks its horn, scaring you and causing you to startle, saving your life.

Survival instinct-- it's what keeps us alive even when the situation might dictate otherwise, and in spite of ourselves. Like a hard-wired guardian angel, if you will. Hard-wired-- meaning, not learned, but inbred. For example, our startle reflex. Ingrained in us since the days we first climbed down out of the trees in Africa, our startle reflex activates-- that's right-- when someone or something startles us.

Beyond the startle reflex, we have an aversion to things that can be harmful to our survival ("our" also mean "as a species"). For example, we have an aversion to cannibalism. Such subject is actually a "taboo," that is to say in addition to being illegal, it goes against our survival (as a species) instinct and mentally and physically repulses us.

As does mating with people (and things) that cannot produce a viable offspring. Romantic love with a sibling? Taboo. Romantic love with a pit bull? Again, taboo. A vacuum cleaner? Taboo. Each of those examples goes against the survival of the species. How many generations would there be to extinction if we didn't have this aversion towards mating with people and things that cannot produce viable progeny? I'd bet the ranch on one... maybe two at the outside.

Killing also breaks that hard-wired survival instinct. It is incredibly hard for one human to kill another human on purpose. That's part of what basic training does for soldiers-- it helps them to get past the "taboo" of killing other humans where it might be “necessary,” such as in the case of war.

We are literally built with this hard-wired system deeply ingrained in us. The question then becomes, with such an autonomic defense system in place, how then are we able to consciously do things that otherwise put our lives in jeopardy, such as smoke, overeat, drive while intoxicated? If our autopilot is smart enough to keep us out of the line of fire, how then is our logical brain unable to do this job, or at least make the job easier?

© Ray Cattie

Haunted

What is "haunted?" More specifically, what does it mean to be "haunted?" Is it even real? I suppose it depends on what you believe of the afterlife: what happens to us after we die?

"Haunting" actually has a couple of meanings. First, it can mean that something comes across as particularly poignant: "That piece of music is very haunting." Meaning, it evokes a profound meaning within ourselves that touches us at a deeper level.

"Haunting" can also mean to be "haunted;" that is to say, that  something or someone is haunting us. Classic "haunted" house lore would have us believe that a human spirit is "haunting" a house, and refuses to "move on" to whatever is after life.

(why all of the "quotes" and the use of italics?  It's because the words and/or phrases I quoted or italicized don't necessarily have a clear meaning, or that their meaning(s) are controversial to the point where just as many people believe as disbelieve their purported definition. So I err on the side of caution)

I digress. A classic haunting is generally associated with the horror genre in the world of entertainment, and involves ghosts or spirits, or even demonic presences that are associated with a specific place or a house. Some even say they can be attached to specific people as well. We think of things that go bump! in the night, or we scrunch under our covers in bed, making sure that nothing is sticking out, because god forbid something strokes our bare ankle in the middle of the night... w-what was that noise! Our imaginations run absolutely wild with fearful thoughts at things that we are unable to identify.

I like to believe that there are rational explanations to everything that is unexplained, and luckily for me so far, I've been right each and every time. And even with alleged haunted houses in specific, or creepy places in general, science has come to the rescue; although their explanations aren't generally as fun, are they?

Science tells that generally speaking places that creep us out, make us feel uneasy, or just plain scare us, have a very sound explanation, literally. Infrasound, or sound that is just below conscious human perception at around 19 hertz, can't be heard but apparently can still be felt by the body, and in fact is directly linked to feelings of discomfort, uneasiness, fear, and even nausea. Recognize the haunted house symptoms?

Scientists have investigated for this 19 hertz frequency in alleged haunted houses and have found-- you guessed it-- it is present in over 90% of the cases investigated. Those house settling sounds-- the creaking, the pipe noises, the moaning sounds-- all of it (or at least 90% of it)-- fall into that infrasound frequency. Quite eye-opening, no?

Does the imagination take us on journeys? Yes it does, even though sometimes we know the rational explanation. I'm actually here to propose yet another definition of what a haunting is-- the mind.

Hear me out-- as the mind goes, so goes the body. Another one of those pesky scientific principles. So if it's real in your mind, it's eventually going to be real in the body. To quote Jo Rowling from HPatDH: Harry asks, “Sir, is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?” To which Dumbledore sagely replies: "Of course it's happening in your head, Harry. But why on earth should that mean it's not real?"

I have come to believe a haunting-- in its simplest of forms-- is a lingering thought of a person. Not a voluntary thought, mind you, but a thought that pops into existence regardless of our attempts to keep it at bay, and one that we consciously have to banish. It comes on its own, but requires a purposeful mental process to banish it.

Sometimes it can be pleasant-- for instance, once in a while out of the clear blue I will get an urge to talk to my first muse— my Aunt Sadie, who passed a number of years ago. She will linger in my head for a bit, look over my shoulder, if you will, and continue acting as my muse, from beyond. It’s very pleasant, and I have that going with my Mom as well, and my Uncle Lou. Just the occasional presence felt-- perhaps a conversation ("...of course it's happening in your head... why on earth should that mean it's not real?" I think J.K.R. absolutely nailed it with that scene from "The Deathly Hallows").

And sometimes it can be unpleasant-- as with a snide comment from an ex-wife. Sometimes I'll accidentally allow it to devolve into a whole argument in my head before I finally pull the plug on it and banish it back into the netherworld of my deeper thoughts. It is disturbing though, each and every time. And then I feel silly, particularly with the ease at which it can be dismissed/banished. The interesting part of course is that I can "say" things in these “haunting” moments that I would have never said IRL, which can ultimately be quite therapeutic. Disturbing, but therapeutic. Of course.

Anywho-- those are my thoughts on "haunting," and/or being "haunted."

© Ray Cattie