I’ve never had an incident with a ghost. Never been bothered. Never a pinch on the butt while I’m sleeping.
They’ve never trolled me by moving picture frames or sentimental trinkets from place to place in my house.
It appears ghosts respect my boundaries to the point that I’d never even believe they exist, if there weren’t a lot of people I trust deeply who are convinced otherwise.
And these are levelheaded people. Credible people. People who you wouldn’t think twice about babysitting your kids, people who have had lucid, vivid, *sober*, experiences with spirits or entities.
Now, I have to offer a disclaimer: Like many Americans I am sick and tired of the tendency in this country to invoke race into everything.
Sometimes the issue is relevant, say, in a discussion about police brutality, for example.
Increasingly often it seems like it’s not, as in race has nothing to do with airplane meltdowns.
So, to be clear, I didn’t arrive at my theory without taking great pains to make sure that I’m not guilty of doing the thing I criticize in others, but here it is: The ghosts are not screwing with me because I am a straight white male.
Yeah. Now, those friends I mentioned earlier, the ones who are normal people who would swear on their lives that they’ve had an experience with a ghost, none of them are white.
There’s no data on the subject, but think about it: Who is more likely to have a believable ghost story, a white chick from Newport Beach or an elderly black woman from the 5th Ward of New Orleans?
I know what you’re thinking: “Matt, are you saying that ghosts are racist? It was one thing when you started talking about boats all the time, but now I’m growing concerned for your mental health.”
Well, let’s think about it.
What do we think ghosts are? The prevailing theory is that they are dead people who are extremely attached to, and overly protective of, a house they used to own.
We could do a quick deep-dive on the history of the demographics of home ownership in this country, but suffice to say that whites have always been much more likely to own a house than any other racial group, and especially the type of house people are gentrifying.
We’d now have to look at the age of your average ghost.
Estimates vary widely, but most people well versed on the subject believe the average American ghost died sometime between 1750 and 1952.
That means the standard political beliefs of a ghost — having clearly refused to accept changes since the time of their death, hence their refusal to leave a house other people have bought — are somewhere between highly questionable and burning crosses.
Frankly to believe you should be allowed to continue owning a house after you are dead, and resenting people who have no idea of your existence and are just trying to move up in the world, is a level of whiny entitlement I can only see coming from white Middle America.
So, yeah, I think the ghosts are not offended at my presence because I’m white, and I think they’re pretty resentful of minorities.
But, there’s another level to it still.
What percentage of ghosts are women? Again, the official statistics are murky, but they always seem to be wearing dresses when they make an appearance.
Many have speculated that even if one were upset about the circumstances of losing their house, a woman may be less likely to drop the issue than her male ghost peers, and continue holding a grudge for tens or hundreds of years.
(Many speculate the male ghosts would simply move on, and use their powers of invisibility for perverse voyeuristic purposes, not simply to cause a scene.)
So, assuming most of the ghosts in these homes are women, who are they most likely to torment?
Just like in the real world: They’re going to have more issues with other women, things like, “Hey, take your heels off on my wood floors, bitch! She think she all that.”
Further, I’m not saying I’m an Adonis by any stretch of the imagination, but perhaps some of these long dead women find it comforting to have a younger man around the house, maybe it reminds them of a son, or of their youth.
I don’t know. All I know is I can apparently do no wrong.
They’ll look the other way when I bring a gang of Thai hookers and a golf ball of blow to the house. Nary a peep is heard from them. But they seem to throw snifter glasses across the room when other demographics do nothing more than sign a lease.
To state the obvious, all of these ghosts are going to be deeply homophobic, especially because one-hundred percent of them are fundamentalist Christian zealots.
Lastly, ghosts, being extremely entitled, petty, and vindictive white people, can probably recognize one of their own, and know not to mess with me.
They can likely tell that I’m not going to lose a ton of sleep over some cabinets banging around. I’m not going to hire a priest or smudge the place with sage.
No, what I’ll do is to calmly inform the ghost that I can look up the records of all of the people who have formerly owned this house, and purchase an op-ed in the local newspaper explaining how they and their entire extended families were former participants in a bestiality ring.
I’ll also start sitting outside of their grandchildren’s’ home in an unmarked Crown Vic, blasting George Michael, eating bologna sandwiches, and making menacing facial expressions.
If the noise continues I’ll hire Scientology’s PR firm to start a convincing rumor that their high-school aged great grandchild is a Ken doll with no genitalia.
As a last resort I will, without bluffing, explain to them that I can easily burn down this house, collect the insurance money, and move across town, and now you will not have anywhere to haunt.
So, I don’t know what privileges I’m afforded as a straight white male, I know there are some, but ghosts don’t mess with me. That has to count for something.
"A golf ball of blow" is wonderful writing.
"Sometimes the (race) issue is relevant, say, in a discussion about police brutality, for example."
I'd guess who resists arrest is way, way more relevant here than race.