At the 2012 CSICON (a conference dedicated to science and skeptical inquiry), psychologist James Alcock gave a presentation regarding belief.  He showed how the "feeling of knowing" is linked more to emotion than knowledge. 
Furthermore, he explained that people tend to "automatically believe new information before {they} assess it."  The brain, apparently, has separate processes for dealing with content and truthfulness. So a person will hear something, decide if it's true, then (hypothetically and often unlikely) will go looking for verification of this new truth.

I recently purchased and read No One Left To Lie To, a vitriolic polemic by Christopher Hitchens.  It's a book designed entirely to show how vile a person Bill Clinton is... excuse me, how vile a person Christopher Hitchens believes Bill Clinton to be.  And there are copious examples of ever rising grotesquery which easily map out why one should agree with this demonic portrait of the 42nd President.  That is, assuming all of them are true.  
 
Christopher Hitchens is a fantastic writer.  I have the utmost respect for his abilities as a journalist as well.  Ass kissing aside, No One Left To Lie To is a prime example of what James Alcock said.  As the March/April Skeptical Inquirer summarized, "Some beliefs are based on reason and carefully assembled evidence, but many are based on social constructs (we rely on the perceptions and reactions of others we trust) and feeling."  
  
There are many who take Hitchens at his word.  Plain and simple.  His body of work almost supports this kind of dogmatic position:  Hitch wrote it or said it, so it must be true.  I even confess to inclining towards such foolishness.  However, after reading this particular tome I was kindly reminded by my friend, Bryan Miller, that not everything should be taken as absolute truth.  It's vital to foster doubt because it prevents blind following.  But then, isn't a person left with nothing in which to believe?  No, because eventually it becomes necessary to exert that most terrify of human abilities choice.  
 
Louis Menand of New York Times Magazine is quoted on the back of my edition of Hitchens's book.  It should have been my first warning.  He says, 
             
"You don't buy Christopher Hitchens's book because you want to find out whether Bill Clinton is really as terrible a liar as some people say he is.  You buy it because you know he is a terrible liar... {confirming} every prejudice you ever had on the subject, plus a few you might not even have known you had, is an invitation you cannot resist."
 
I certainly couldn't.  Let's be plain:  I don't like Bill Clinton, mainly for the same reasons I despise all politicians, however, I recognized the reality I didn't have many facts to back up that dislike. My distaste was more visceral than rational, so I selected a book by a journalist whose opinion I respect -- "we rely on the perceptions and reactions of others we trust" -- in order to have an informed loathing.  Consequently, I accepted the reality presented by Hitchens as fact instead of argument.  There is a difference there many in this country have intentionally forgotten.  
  
Bryan pointed out to me that several of the book's sources had, over time, become less than reputable.  He also reminded me of Hitchens own notorious blind spot when it came to the Clintons. In essence, a good reporter swayed by his intense hatred may have allowed debatable facts to enter into the discussion.  This means, simply, certain events portrayed in No One Left To Lie To can be called into question.  The responsibility (as I should have kept in mind the moment I opened this book, as I like to think I do with most other nonfiction) then falls to the reader to confirm the historical narrative put forth.  This is where most people (and on this occasion myself) falter.  
 
It's like giving yourself homework after finishing your homework.  No one wants to do that.  Wasn't getting informed the purpose of reading this or that nonfiction? Yes, however, an informed opinion does not emerge by reading that with which you are already likely to agree. In that regard one simply becomes the proverbial choir nodding in the background.  Informed opinions emerge by engaging contradictory material as well as verifying, as best one can, the statements, or in this case accusations made.  Granted, eventually a choice has to be made as to who is telling the "truth," however, it's important to recognize which truths are facts and which are merely emotionally satisfying. 
  
For example, Hitchens is at his best when tackling elements of the Clinton era which are difficult, if not impossible to deny.  I'm speaking specifically about things like the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Act as well as the Defense of Marriage Act.  Since the adoption of the PRWOA the number of households with children living on $2 per person per day has doubled, more than 1.5 million low income single mothers are without jobs and cash aid; and to call this mere hindsight is to ignore the fact that people like Peter B. Edelman, a Georgetown University law professor, resigned from the Clinton administration in protest of the law.  Several liberals at the time foresaw how the PRWOA would further disenfranchise the poor.  As Jason DeParle recently observed in the New York Times:  
           
"The old program, Aid to Families with Dependent Children, dates from the New Deal; it gave states unlimited matching funds and offered poor families extensive rights, with few requirements and no time limits.  The new program, Temporary Assistance for Needy Families, created time limits and work rules, capped federal spending and allowed states   to turn poor families away."

Hitchens criticism of this type of so-called reform is scathing and no holes can be punched in it... till he postulates the Machiavellian scheming behind it.  
 
He makes the distinct insinuation that Clinton's welfare reforms produced:  "a large helot underclass disciplined by fear and scarcity, subject to endless surveillance, and used as a weapon against any American worker lucky enough to hold a steady or unionized job." Basically, Clinton backed the poor into a corner turning them into virtual slave labor for major corporations, particularly those like Tyson Foods who donated to his campaign.  It's all part of the book's overall theme concerning triangulation.  Triangulation is a political maneuver which involves promising things to one side then delivering to the other -- promise the Left and pay off to the Right. Clinton's welfare reform is such an example since it mainly pleased the Right.  The Defense of Marriage Act takes this even further.  Clinton promised an expansion of homosexual rights as president. Yet, he signed into law a bill that defined marriage as a union between a man and a woman.  
  
Again, the facts are simple and incontrovertible:  these acts exist, Clinton passed them into law, and their effects are fairly plain.  Where Hitchens falters, unfortunately, is the supposition that Clinton made promises he intended to break.  That implication runs throughout No One Left To Lie To:  Bill Clinton is willing to do anything to seize and hold onto power.  I hate to be cynical, but he's a politician, so such a conclusion feels like a duh moment until one sits back to consider how does Christopher Hitchens know what Bill Clinton thinks?  Wanting to believe this is true doesn't make it a fact.  
 
And I think a part of Hitchens may have felt the same because the structure of the book is very leading in and of itself.  The opening observations on Clinton's triangulations seem like nit picking, but they are then followed by material such as the abovementioned.  Bolstered by more concrete conclusions, Hitchens brings on the big guns.  He almost seems to say, "If you aren't buying this by now, let me begin the atrocity exhibition."  I'm referring primarily to Chapter 6, Is There a Rapist in the Oval Office?.  This is a difficult chapter to read from any standpoint.  I actually get nauseous at the (I fear all too likely) prospect of some adamant Clinton hater drooling over the details of Clinton's alleged rapes. I have no desire to be lurid, so I won't go into the explicit details.  Suffice it to say allegations were made which have Bill Clinton throwing women down and biting their faces as he rapes them.  The problem is determining the truth of these claims.
 
The most public accusation was made by Juanita Broaddrick.  She appeared on Dateline NBC and was featured in a Wall Street Journal article.  However, Joe Conason and Gene Lyon's book Hunting the President dispute the credibility of her story.  As does Jack Nelson of the Los Angeles Times, who said, "This is a story that's been knocked down and discredited so many times, I was shocked to see it in the Wall Street Journal today."  I hate to sound cold, but there is no proof of the event.  I am not saying the story is false, merely that from a legal standpoint it is Mrs. Broaddrick's word against Mr. Clinton's.  (Consider what people might have thought of Monica Lewinsky if she had not had a dress stained with the President's semen.  It doesn't make the story untrue, but it makes the truth a matter of choice.)  Hitchens contends that the story is so obscene no one would possibly want to make it up, and I am inclined towards that same opinion.  Unfortunately, without tangible proof one is left to choose what to believe.  This is what makes the use of the Clinton rape allegations so shamelessly provocative.  It sets things up so that the reader is forced to either call a potential rape victim a liar, which no decent person desires to do, or accept at least the possibility of the event occurring in which case what else about the President might be true?  In a way, it's emotional blackmail.  What makes it worse is that Hitchens primary proof is that Clinton never vociferously denies the allegations.  His contention is that most men when confronted with such accusations immediately, loudly deny them.  Again, I'm partially compelled to agree with this line of reasoning, but am I doing so because I don't like Bill Clinton or because the facts prove the truth?
 
I think Bill Clinton turned welfare into a mechanism that ground the poor deeper into poverty, and I also think he betrayed gay rights advocates with the one two punch of DOMA and the pathetic compromise known as Don't Ask, Don't Tell (Truman used an executive order to desegregate the army, why not do the same for gays Mr. Clinton?).  And I think there are myriad other matters which are harder to dispute if one wants to jab at the Clintons.  The allegations of Clinton's abuse of the military to distract from his own political scandals, for instance, hold more water than stating presumptions about his Machiavellian machinations as fact.  What works best in No One Left To Lie To is the arousal of one's curiosity regarding the Clinton era.  It was a surprisingly divisive time considering the extensive peace and prosperity which occurred.  In many ways, one could easily make the case that the Clinton era is a precursor to the times we inhabit now.  However, that's not the point of this book.  This is the closest anyone has ever come to a written assassination attempt; and what's worse is that it could have worked.  Tragically, Christopher Hitchens allows too much of his passion to get in the way.  Normally, that works to his benefit.  On this occasion, it puts him on shaky ground.  Many of the claims put forth are ones that a person chooses to believe.  But isn't that the basis of all reality?

And now, a word from Titan Canned (OPEN YOUR SUCK HOLE & SWALLOW!)
 
Not many people can handle the full on TASTE IN YOUR FACE of Titan Canned.  Yes, it may contain enough caffeine to kill a large dog, and it is true only half a can holds enough alcohol to cause kidney failure, however, this is fucking America goddammit.  If a person wants their beverage to treat them like a pussy that's a choice the consumer has to make.  It's not up to manufacturers to worry who is ingesting what when they can't.  After all, there's a label on every 96 oz. can that reads:  Don't Drink If You're Weak.  Some people have argued this sounds like a dare which is why so many young people (age 16 - 23) tend to die guzzling Titan Canned.
 
Interesting fact:  there are directions on the side of every can advising how to responsibly consume Titan Canned.  All one has to do is take the first letter of every word comprising a can's 6th featured slogan:  Dominate Outstanding Normless Traits.
 
For years critics have pointed to the colorful design of Titan Canned suggesting the wild neon camouflage, besides blatantly impractical, is an attempt to lure in children.  The manufacturers of Titan Canned scoff at such implications. Why? because one mouthful could conceivably kill a small child, or at least put them in a coma.  Maybe fat kids could hold out for a few sips, however, it would only be a matter of time before they too SUCCUMB TO THE AWESOME INSIDE.
 
See, Titan Canned isn't a part of some company's greedy scheme to produce a whole new generation of rabidly, albeit subtly, addicted consumers.  We at General Global Consumption believe corporations have a responsibility to the world, and like the tobacco industry, we believe one of the planet's biggest problems is overpopulation.  However, forced sterilization is a grotesque concept so foul we punch ourselves in the face for even mentioning its existence.  And asking people to be reproductively responsible is apparently just as foul.  People have the right to have as many children as they want, regardless of whether they can support them or if the world can handle the population growth.  Just because we inhabit a finite space doesn't mean everyone isn't entitled to take up as much room as they want. So, if you can't count on people to do the right thing, you can count on an exploitation of the surplus population. 
 
As such, after hundreds of case studies, General Global Consumption realized the simplest route to population control is letting people be who they are.  Throw in enough alcohol to murder a cat combined with stimulants capable of raising the dead, and it's only a matter of time before a kind of social entropy begins.  In other words, give people enough stimulants to make their reactions practically reflexive, whereby they simply act instead of performing even the slightest bit of thought then degrade whatever remaining second guessing they might possess with the alcohol content of an Irish baby's blood, and soon enough people will be making the kinds of decisions that only result in death.  (Still too complicated to understanding?  Then relax with a Titan Canned because you're probably our target demographic.)  That said, there is
always a probability of survival.  Sure, this probability was built in for legal reasons, but it's existence means we can sell our product; and what you do with our product is none of our concern, even though we suspect it will in all likelihood kill.
 
Because in the end, this is all about freedom, and freedom means the ability to choose whatever the fuck you want.  Choice: it's what makes America great.
 
This message brought to you by Titan Canned, the Dinosaur Slayer of beverages, OPEN UP YOUR
  SUCK HOLE & SWALLOW!

When it comes to historical oddities there’s none better than William Henry Slater.  The first instance of his existence dates to about August 1782.  In it, he doggedly tries to convince a Dublin pub he has not yet been born.  The story is commonly known as The Bender Begins, and it is the first of an over 300 year old series of alcohol soaked fables.  Over an extensive whiskey soaked night, William Henry Slater regales the pub with the declaration, "I ain't from all this shit, man.  I ain't even real yet, ya feel me?  And that means I don't get old, I don't get sick, I don't get shit-all muthafucka till I'm like back in my time, yaknowwhaumsayin'?"  
              
For those who believe in the veracity of the Slater stories, this direct explanation accounts for how one man can be the main character in a series of stories spanning over 300 years.  Even those who can't possibly believe one man, let alone a rabid alcoholic such as Slater, could live 300 years are hard pressed to explain certain oddities such as the modern idioms with which Slater tends to express himself.  For instance, in the story London Fog, Slater is threatened with bodily harm after referring to a tavern owner’s daughter as a “tasty, fine ass bitch.”  In unabridged versions, this quote expands to:  “I’d choke that tasty, fine ass bitch with my King Kong dong.” William proceeds to elaborate he was simply using idioms familiar to him.  He is under the impression he'd complimented the girl in some fashion.  However, recognizing the ensuing misunderstanding, at knife point William professes regret for the statement, especially once he realizes his counter threat to“smoke all y’all muthafuckas with my 9” is unlikely to occur in 1843.  Slater accounts for such misunderstandings simply by saying his behaviors only seem odd because they're not contemporary to the time periods he inhabits.  (Although, one is hard pressed to find even a modern occasion where wanting to choke a young woman with one's penis is a compliment.)          
             
Historians used to find this explanation hard to swallow.  After all, it would mean believing Slater is a real person.  Yet, despite many historians writing him off as a kind of Orlando, this has by no means diminished the amount of historiographers tracking stories about him. In fact, several Ph.D’s have made careers, or at least devoted hobbies, out of collecting William Henry Slater stories. 
             
The next several hundred years feature Mr. Slater in some form or another traveling around the globe.  What seems to make his legend enduring is that he rarely, if ever, encounters historically significant persons.  For instance, typical fiction involving immortal characters such as Mr. Slater often has them becoming a part of significant developments across time or interacting with and perhaps even inspiring globe shaping individuals.  It would therefore be expected and in no way outside the bounds of reason to find Mr. Slater rubbing shoulders with Thomas Jefferson, meeting Nietzsche for a beer, inspiring one or more of Gogol’s characters, or even giving advice on brevity to Lincoln before the Gettysburg Address.  However, there are no such encounters.  
             
Slater stories read more like a collection of bar fables featuring a radically similar individual throughout time.  Professor George Tomlinson has put forth the idea these stories are actually more akin to Grimm’s fairytales insofar as they seem like the cautionary tales one learns while acclimating to tavern culture. Case in point:  William Slater is driven from a tavern in Munich after a two day bender/debate on what makes a good meat pie.  The moral here being never argue with drunk people told in an allegorical fashion.  Here Slater and the dissenting German embark on a heated debate for a time longer than any human being could reasonably be expected to consider any topic much less one so frivolous.  Yet, the point is clear, especially when one considers the end of the story in which Slater wins the day by being able to piss farther than the German.  This, incidentally, happens to be the first recorded instance of a literal pissing contest.
            
Based on Prof. Tomlinson’s studies, many accepted this idea of Slater as not one but several individuals who have over time been amalgamated into one character.  Still, this did not explain the profoundly predictive nature of certain story elements.  In The Parisian and the Pussy Slater encounters a local Paris police officer.  This is one of the oldest written Slater accounts, the bulk being handed down orally till their first written collection in 1890.  The Parisian and the Pussy takes place in 1801.  In it Slater is drunk, as usual, and attempting to solicit the location of a brothel from locals.  He comes across a morally inclined member of the constabulary who attempts to redirect Slater to somewhere more wholesome, or at the least home to bed.  An argument ensues.  Many historians tried to explain away the nature of the following exchange by claiming the content absorbed contemporary elements over time -- the story transmuting to fit a contemporary era.  This argument held water till a collector named Alexander Mahalovich discovered a folio containing the oldest copy of this particular story ever found. It has been confirmed that the manuscript dates to 1802.  The dialogue it contains is as follows.
             
Paris Police:  “Perhaps, monsieur, would prefer home to debauchery?”
             
Slater:  “No.  I want to bang on a dirty skank like a drum that moans.  Get my dick wet.  I’m all about getting gashtacular tonight.  You feel me?  Can you just be coolio for a minute and direct me to some booty-cooz.”
            
Paris Police:  "I'm afraid I do not entirely understand."
            
Slater:  "What I need, a fuckin' Speak 'N' Spell to make it plain?  Where the bitches at?"
             
How did a 19th century story teller come up with dialogue like this?  
              
It’s a question to which we may never really know the answer.  Granted, Slater stories continue to surface, though given the fact his antics are less distinguishable given our modern atmosphere it’s hard to track the origin of these new tales.  Retracing one to a ground zero, as it were, might provide insight into the development of such stories.  However, it won’t answer the burning questions.
             
Like in the Slater exploit known as William’s Slippery Fist in which he escapes from a choke hold thanks to being slicked by “cunt butter.”  That being said, the sexual element in this story has very little to do with its ending.  This is a story about how drunkenness can result in poor gambling decisions.  As such, it’s interesting to note that based on this story William Henry Slater is accredited with the invention of Texas Hold ‘Em.  Myriad explanations might suffice for such a thing if it were not for one line in the story. Here William is addressing a crowd assembled in a Spanish tavern to watch his new game:  “You think this is wild, you should see this shit on TV.”
             
The specific reference to television has baffled historians for some time.  Many have endeavored to find corollaries implying William is here referring to having witnessed the game in some city.  In other words, TV in this instance is believed by many to be a reference to locations such as Tra Vinh in Vietnam, Finland’s Tuupovaara, or Thanjuvar, India, the initials being abbreviations familiar to the story’s era, roughly 1895.  Some collections of William Slater tales even go so far as to include footnotes which read, “the initials of an as yet unidentified locale.”  The simple fact of the matter being any other interpretation of the text raises a possibility no one wants to embrace:  the likelihood these stories are real.
            
Ever since Troy was discovered the veracity of myths has come into play.  Regardless of what kernels of truth give reality to Arthurian legends, without credible facts everything is just speculation.  Yes, it would be nice to know certain aspects of fiction are real.  What animal inspired the dragon, what actual things are a part of the Arabian Nights, who was the real C. Auguste Dupin?  It would be nice to have some truth at the base of fiction.  That might mean fantasy is not so removed from reality; The realities in fiction make it possible for us to be the heroes of fiction.  So what does that say when people hope that a 300 year old debauched alcoholic is real?  More importantly, what does his existence say about us?
             
Granted, William Slater is entertaining.  For example, while traveling through Russia he enters into a drinking contest with a wheat farmer.  This takes place in about 1886.  There he bets he can drink more shots of vodka than the farmer, however, each man can only drink shots balanced on a saber.  What ensues is a contest of distractions more than balance as each man attempts to throw the other off with vulgar statements.  
              
The farmer:  “You cowardly muzhik.  May dogs eat your manhood at your mother’s request.”
             
Slater:  “Yo momma’s pussy is so big we’re in it.  Now. She must be getting excited too because it looks like rain.  Probably why it smells so bad around here too.  No, wait. That‘s the death.  The ever present death.  I forgot I was in Rus.”  
              
The farmer:  “You are nothing but a jellied mass of weakness and fear.”
             
Slater:  “I hope the next time you’re fucking your wife your penis splits open and angry bugs flood her pussy then eat up both ya junk.”  
              
Needless to say the competition ends in a sword fight. Slater wins the day after being punched in the stomach by the farmer.  The punch causes Slater to projectile vomit in the Russian‘s face. Blinded, the farmer is unable to defend himself from Slater’s killing blow.  The exact moral of this story has never been nailed down.  As such, it’s being used here to illustrate how William Henry Slater is vulgarly entertaining yet the idea of such a person being real is an unsettling prospect to say the least.  Still, more and more historians have begun to wonder:  what’s the truth behind William Henry Slater?  Although, those who go looking for it often find themselves saying, “I don’t think I want to know.”
             
Sometimes stories should just be stories.
 
 
Bibliography:
 
Albrecht, Carson and Mary E. Chalmers.  At the Bottom of the Bottle:  a collection of William Henry Slater Fables.  Toronto: Gilson Brothers.  2003.
 
Brooks, Wendy and Sean McClay, comps. and eds.  Lessons in Liquor:  a compilation of critical essays examining William Henry Slater fables.  New York:  Goodman Greers, 1975.
 
Hollander, Elizabeth.  A Passion for Scoundrels.  London:  Albershot Press, 1899.

Lennehan, Devin.  The King of Princes:  Slater fables and their historical context.  New York:  Harps, 1963.  
 
Mahalovich, Alexander.  "An Authentic Alcoholic:  the reality of William Henry Slater."  Journal of Global History 43.2 (1991):  50-69.
 
Prince, Thomas L.  "Who Cares if It's Real?"  Skeptical Inquiries vol. 13 (1999): 27-32.
 
Tomlinson, George.  William Henry Slater:  a many faceted diamond in the rough.  New York:  Ridale Press, 1979.