Setting: A cozy living room in Toronto. Snow is gently falling outside. Two friends, Raj (the superstitious one) and Emily (the rational thinker), are drinking hot chocolate after watching a Raptors game on TV.
Raj:
Did you see how close that game was?! Man, I knew they were gonna win the second I knocked on the coffee table during that timeout.
Emily:
chuckles Raj, you really think your knuckle made a three-pointer?
Raj:
Hey, don’t mock the wood! I’ve been knocking on tables, desks, even tree trunks since I was a kid. It works. Every time I say something that might jinx things—boom! Knock, knock, no bad luck.
Emily:
So you’re like the Gandalf of sports outcomes now? “You shall not pass… unless I knock thrice on mahogany.”
Raj:
Laugh all you want, but remember last month? I said, “I hope it doesn’t snow during our Niagara trip,” then knocked on the dashboard. Clear skies all weekend. Coincidence? I think not.
Emily:
Okay, but you know how weather systems work, right? You didn’t bend the jet stream with your knuckles. You just got lucky—and luck isn’t magic. It’s randomness.
Raj:
Randomness you can’t control. That’s why I knock. It’s like… a cosmic insurance policy.
Emily:
laughs Raj, it’s more like paying premiums to a company that doesn’t exist. There’s no scientific evidence that knocking on wood influences outcomes. It’s a psychological thing—a way to ease your anxiety, not affect reality.
Raj:
Maybe. But isn’t easing anxiety kind of valuable in itself? Even if it’s just a placebo, it keeps me calm.
Emily:
True, placebos can have real effects—but I’d argue it’s better to understand why you’re anxious than to develop a reflex to thump furniture.
Raj:
So you’re saying I should start journaling every time I feel a jinx coming on?
Emily:
grinning Not necessarily. But think about it: every time you knock, you’re reinforcing a false cause-effect link. One day, you might make a real decision—like investing money or turning down a job—based on superstitions instead of evidence.
Raj:
I’m not that irrational. I don’t flip a coin to choose stocks.
Emily:
Yet. But it starts small. First, you’re knocking wood. Next, you’re refusing to fly on Friday the 13th or adopting a black cat just to “reverse your karma.”
Raj:
Okay, fair. But explain this: My cousin Vishal didn’t knock on wood when he said, “I never get colds.” The next day? Boom. Flu. Coincidence?
Emily:
Correlation, not causation! That’s classic hindsight bias. You only remember the hits. What about all the times you knocked and still had a bad day?
Raj:
Ugh, I hate when you logic me.
Emily:
It’s a gift. Passed down from generations of skeptical ancestors who burned sage ironically.
Raj:
laughing Alright, alright. Maybe you’ve got a point. But I’m still knocking when I say, “I hope I don’t spill this hot chocolate.”
Emily:
Fine, knock away. Just don’t blame me if the table leg breaks and then you spill it.
Raj:
Touché. But if I don’t spill it now, I’m taking full credit.
Emily:
Of course you are. Just promise me this—next time you get the urge to knock on wood, also ask yourself: “Is there a logical reason I feel uneasy?” You know, like a mental double-click.
Raj:
Deal. And you promise to humor me when I tap the steering wheel during a playoff game?
Emily:
Only if we win.
[They clink their mugs and smile, knowing they won’t change each other overnight—but at least the conversation is open, honest, and respectful. Just like a good friendship.]

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