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March 6, 2012 - Skeptoid
16:32
Skeptoid #300: The Secret of the Gypsy Queen

A little girl saves her kingdom when she is the only one who does not fall for the pop pseudoscience of the day. Learn about your ad choices: dovetail.prx.org/ad-choices

Transcriber: nvidia/parakeet-tdt-0.6b-v2, sat-12l-sm, and large-v3-turbo
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The Secret of the Gypsy Queen 00:14:51
Today's episode number 300 is a 50th show.
And you know what that means.
It's time for a special lavish musical.
Today's fairy tale features Rachel Bloom singing the role of Ilse, a little girl in a Bavarian village, who ends up saving the day when she turns out to be the only one who doesn't fall for the pop pseudoscience of the day.
Please enjoy The Secret of the Gypsy Queen.
That's coming up now on Skeptoid.
Hi, I'm Alex Goldman.
You may know me as the host of Reply All, but I'm done with that.
I'm doing something else now.
I've started a new podcast called Hyperfixed.
On every episode of Hyperfixed, listeners write in with their problems and I try to solve them.
Some massive and life-altering, and some so minuscule it'll boggle your mind.
No matter the problem, no matter the size, I'm here for you.
That's HyperFixed, the new podcast from Radiotopia.
Find it wherever you listen to podcasts or at hyperfixedpod.com.
You're listening to Skeptoid.
I'm Brian Dunning from Skeptoid.com.
The Secret of the Gypsy Queen.
I'd like to take you far away, far up into the hills, and introduce you to a girl whose story gives me chills.
T'was long ago that her adventures saved her little town from turning to a path that all too often we go down.
The little town was prosperous and all its people happy.
The scissor maker's name was Opa, German for grandpappy.
His little Ilsa loved him so, she ran his grinding mill.
One day she came into the shop and found him standing still.
Opa, you've got a scarf tied o'er your eyes.
Opa, you cannot see, you realize.
Dear Opa, what's the point of that?
You cannot see a thing.
You've done no work, you also look just like a ding-a-ling.
I'd say the shop's a mess if I were one to moralize.
Please, Opa, won't you tell me why that scarf's tied o'er your eyes?
It's called an uber scarf, it is.
A wondrous new invention.
It makes things go away, the things that cause me hypertension.
If stocks are low, the uber scarf will hide that from my sight.
If I can't see a problem, well, then everything's all right.
When the shop's untidy or the pantry shelves are bare, my splendid uber scarf will keep me blissfully unaware.
Of all I've heard, that is the most ridiculous today.
Who told you covering your eyes makes troubles go away?
Why, Ilsa, dear, I'll tell you, just a moment to recount it.
A friendly rat was selling them at market, all discounted.
He told me how it works.
He said my troubles would be banished.
And once he tied it round my head, well, sure enough, they vanished.
But one thing more convinced me of the uber scarf's cachet.
It's not made here.
Exotic scarves are crafted far away.
The gypsy queen of grocer cop creates them in her castle.
Her servant rats distribute them to spare the buyer hassle.
The gypsy queen.
I've heard of her.
So she's behind this mess.
The gypsy queen, that swindler.
I'll find her nonetheless.
I'll ask her what these uber scarves are really all about.
She sold my upper rubbish.
She and I will have it out.
The grocer cup is far away, but in my line of sight.
The journey's long, but off I go.
I'll try to make things right.
So Ilse packed a satchel and she started on her way.
Though Opa told her not to, Ilse chose to disobey.
She hadn't gone a furlong when she came upon a gent whose hard-earned money also on an uber scarf was spent.
He couldn't see, and so he made his way along the road by holding to a fence, and step by step was how he strode.
The mayor has an uber scarf tied all around his head.
The mayor has an uber scarf.
How far has this thing spread?
Oh mayor, please be careful, for you cannot see the lane.
We cannot have you falling down and ending up in pain.
Please, sir, may I ask you why you're covering your eyes?
Are you sure it helps you govern?
Are you sure it's very wise?
It's the greatest thing, the mayor said and groped to find the rails.
I see no beggars wanting food, no outlaws in our jails.
I see no trash or disarray.
My vision's been unleashed.
This uber scarf has opened up my eyes and shown me niched.
I'm going now to make a brand new city proclamation.
An uber scarf for every single person in the nation.
The problem's spreading far and wide.
Much farther than I knew.
The mayor has a level head, but he has bought one too.
It seems that everyone in town has bought the silly hoax.
Hello, what's happening at the home of these nice village folks?
And there they were, a man and wife, doing naught but standing there, wearing uber scarves and with their house in disrepair.
Their cottage doors were open and the upstairs windows too.
And into waiting wagons, rats tossed bags of revenue.
They walked right past the family as they carried away their swag and tipped their hats and waved and simply told them, Guten tag.
So that's the gypsy queen's design to make the folks content.
Then send her rats to clean them out of house and home and rent.
Call the crier, raise alarms from every house and tower.
It must be fast, it must be soon, for late no is they're I'm headed now for Grosser Cork to tell the gypsy queen exactly what I think of her and her disgusting scheme.
She ran along the road until she reached the edge of town.
But then she struck a roadblock manned by soldiers from the crown.
I'm sure you've guessed it, uber scarves were what the soldiers wore.
One spoke, you shall not pass this gate, but there was something more.
A group of rats came out and gathered round the little girl.
One well-dressed rat stepped up and did an uber scarf unfurl.
My charming Ilsa, said the rat, don't knock it till you've tried it.
I know you love your uber scarf.
Your worry is misguided.
You keep your uber scarf, you rats.
I will not buy your scam.
I'll not add to your sales.
That's for skeptical I am.
My business isn't here with you, so let me make this plain.
I'm headed for the grocer cop.
Good day, Alpha Sane.
Ilse sprang away.
The blinded soldiers bonked their heads.
Through the trees she ran and dashed through groves and riverbeds.
The soldiers tripped and stumbled and the rats all fell behind.
So Ilse got away, and then the grocer cop she spied.
A grueling journey brought her to the mighty mountain's feet, and up she climbed until she reached the gypsy queen's retreat.
Into the castle's dark she crept and came upon a scene.
A great stone hall all full of rats at work with sewing machines.
And then as Ilse watched, a fearsome presence soon appeared.
The gypsy queen herself was there, but Ilse only sneered.
Then she leaped into the hall and vaulted across a stone ravine.
She dodged some rats and ran right up to face the daunting queen.
So you are she, quite a spree, quite a sales jamboree.
New meaning you have given popularity.
You say it's great, worth the weight, you say it sets the whole world straight.
But all it really does is hide reality.
Oh, that's not all it does, my dear.
So spake the gypsy queen.
You've seen just the iceberg's tip of my corrupt machine.
Then giant gates swung open, and at least a hundred score of her illicit, dirty, thieving rats came marching through the door.
They pulled great wagons piled high with booty, loot, and plunder.
For all across the kingdom, every fortune lay asunder.
It's a trick, it's a trick.
Your whole plan was just a trick.
You gave them uber scarf so you could rob them blind.
You must stop, you must stop.
I am going to make you stop.
I will stop you anyway that I can find.
Oh, I think not, the queen remarked and very wryly smiled, as half a dozen rats lunged out and grabbed the little child.
Ilse saw the world go dark as something masked her eyes.
Her uber scarf was fastened tight when someone yanked its ties.
Take it off, take it off.
Do you hear me?
Take it off.
Take it off and let me go.
You've had your fun.
Let me go, let me go.
Are you going to let me go?
Let me go or you'll regret what you have done.
So tell me, little Ilse, asked the queen, what do you see?
You see no rats, you see no strife, you see no thievery.
Is not my uber scarf the finest thing you've ever worn?
But Ilse wasn't buying it.
No, Ilse wasn't torn.
She reached into a pocket with a hand that still was free.
Tell me, Ilse, asked the queen again, what do you see?
I see all I can.
Out came Opa's scissors with a single snippet fell.
Her eyes flashed bright, the rats jumped back, the gypsy queen as well.
She jumped to where some soldiers stood on guard across the way, and with a flash of steel, she cut their uber scarves away.
I see all, big and small, I see everything you do, and I'm going to make sure everyone sees too.
With this pair of scissors fair, I'll make everyone aware.
Gypsy Queen, your termination's over, due.
The soldiers chased the rats who scattered, jumbled, and afraid.
And every uber scarf that Ilse saw fell to her blade.
She found the road to town and took it, cutting left and right.
A hundred uber scarves were sliced.
A hundred saw the light.
Throw your uber scarves away.
See what they have done.
Witness now this expose.
See the smoking gone.
Your pantry's all are empty and your valuables are gone.
Drive these rats away because the uber scarfs are con.
And every person rubbed his eyes and saw the horrid rats.
They chased the rats away from town with sticks and brooms and bats.
They saw their empty cupboards and their tempers were unbound.
They followed Ilse shredding every uber scarf around.
Ilse made it home and found her Opa underweather.
Oh, Ilsa, I'm so frozen, for I cannot find my sweater.
I'm nearly starved as well because I couldn't find the bacon.
My uber scarf is all I have that hasn't me forsaken.
Ilse gently raised her scissors, snipped that scarf away.
Opa blinked and looked around, and all was a-okay.
Opa, you had a scarf tied o'er your eyes.
Opa, it never worked, you realize.
When someone promises you magic and they want your cash, and all they give you is a trinket, it's just bouldered.
Whether junk or juice or jewelry or a hologram, there's always someone selling something that is just a sham.
Opa, you only lost a little bit.
But Opa, you never will lose me.
The Scissor Maker's Diligent Craft 00:01:37
Now once again, the village scissor maker works his craft.
His diligent assistant grinds a blade on every shaft.
But Ilse and her Opa make up quite the crafty pair.
Just try to rip them off.
Come on, try it.
I dare.
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