I hate when people say "I don’t believe in [aliens, psychics, angelic visitations, immuno-crystal-thought therapy], but this particular [kidnapping of my Aunt Rhonda by Little Gray Men, prediction that I will meet the man of my dreams while in the hospital recovering from West Nile virus, apparition of a heavenly figure hovering above my Weber grill, miraculous recovery from anal fistulae whilst being massaged with chunks of energized amethyst] really has something to it."
But anyway. I don’t believe in numerology, but my personal discovery of the Song #7 Phenomenon has something to it.
The seventh song on an album is Always Good, and it is quite frequently the Best Damn Song on the Record.
Cases in point:
- "And It Rained All Night" is the 7th song on The Eraser (Thom Yorke, duh).
- "Chicago" is the 7th song (if you don’t count the weird little sub-one-minute snippets) on Illinoise.
- 7th song on The White Album? "While My Guitar Gently Weeps."
- 7th song on Sigur Ros’ Ágætis Byrjun: "Viðrar vel til loftárása." (And you can’t tell me that song doesn’t ROCK the freakin’ HOUSE. If I ever have a band, I’m TOTALLY going to make up lyrics in an unknown language.)
- On the Pixies’ Doolittle: "Monkey Gone to Heaven." Verily, if the devil is six, then God is seven. And this song is also seven.
So you see, this truism holds true. And therefore numerology is true. And since numerology predicts (through the mysterious forces of Psychic Knowledge!) angelic visitations and the like, then psychics, angelic visitations and the whole shootin’ match are also true.
Phooey. There goes my rationo-skeptic view of the universe. Gotta go burn a sheep on an altar and read the future in the cracks on its scapulae now. Whee! (I’ll let you know if anything big is happening in the next week.)