Friday Fun: Friday the 13th Edition

Are you a superstitious lot, readers?  Do you believe in the curse of Friday the 13th?  Why is it such a terrifying date to so many people? 

Well there's Jason Voorhees, of course, and the ill-fated Camp Crystal Lake.  But you know he was created because of the already pervasive fear of Friday the 13th; the fear didn't originate with him. 

Perhaps it's because so many people suffer from triskaidekaphobia: the fear of the number thirteen.  That can be traced back to Biblical times, actually.  The thirteenth guest at Jesus Christ's last supper was Judas, who betrayed him.  Twelve is considered a complete number.  There are twelve months of the year, there were twelve gods of Olympus, twelve disciples, twelve zodiac signs, twelve tribes of Israel, etc.  Thirteen is just... one more than twelve.  It sets everything off-kilter.  Just as Judas did.  Maybe that's part of it. 

There was a mini stock market crash on Friday, October 13th, 1989. 

In Norse mythology twelve gods were invited to a banquet at Valhalla which Loki crashed, making him the thirteenth guest.  He then caused trouble resulting in the death of Balder. 


The number thirteen is a lucky number for pagans and corresponds to the number of full moons in a year. 

Alfred Hitchcock was, fittingly, born on Friday the 13th. 

A baker's dozen is thirteen and appears to originate from around the twelfth century when bakers could be penalized for selling "underweight" - they could be fined, pilloried, or flogged - and so adopted a practice of adding extra to a sale to ensure they weren't underweight.  If a dozen loaves were asked for, often thirteen or so were given to ensure compliance.   And getting more for less is not a curse.  Especially when it comes to pastry.

So.  Why do we really fear Friday the 13th?  Tradition, I suspect.  Or fun.  Or phobia, which is by definition an irrational fear.  It's safe to say just as many great things as horrible things happen on Friday the 13th but because we're attuned to looking for the bad things, those are what we find and what we commit to memory.

I say enjoy today!  Let a black cat cross your path.  Live on the edge and give it a pat on the head as it does. 

And now, to quote Monty Python, for something completely different...

What wonderful secrets are you people looking for in the depths of the internet that bring you to my doorstep, hmmm?  I do so love looking at the search queries.  

 “dude from peach pit in”
... Sharknado?  Right?  That’s the end to that query, isn’t it?  I know, friend, because he will always and forever be Steve Sanders to me too.  Solidarity!  High five.  Steve Sanders, you will always have a special place in our lives, no matter where you go or how many bizarre weather-related creature-infested disasters you battle.  May you find the Peach Pit of peace in this hectic shark-ravaged world.

“dee dee mccall photos”
Searcher, identify yourself!  I know in my heart of hearts that we’re meant to be friends.  You and I and the other person who was searching for Sergeant Rick Hunter last time.  Hunter fans of the world, unite!  Come hither to me and leave your names and Twitter handles in the comments so we can reminisce together about that time Dee Dee went undercover as a lounge singer, remember?  And sang a Buddy Holly song?  Or the time Hunter delivered a baby on the street corner so they named it after him?  

“when was lady di turned into a vampire”
The rumors I’ve started in regards to the Windsors and their collective status as immortal bloodsuckers is a point of high pride with me.  

“does lucy become a vampire”
Sorry!  **SPOILER**  Yes.
That is sort of the point of the first half of the novel, dear one.

“riddick sex slave”
Well I certainly hope you’re searching for this to edify yourself on what not to watch and how not to portray women in media, young man.  Because if this search is at all related to issues of titillation, you are in big trouble.  *smacks ruler on thigh*  Go sit in the corner!  Think about your life and the choices you’re making.  If you’re lucky I will only punish you severely.  And you will address me as “mistress” and you will insist that I make more money than you should we ever be employed together and you’d best never assume consent and don’t ask me to smile for you when we pass in the street.    

“wingspan to body mass ratio”
Well that’s a first.  I’m speechless.

- Corinne Simpson