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How Many Spiders Do You Really Swallow in Your Sleep?

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The “you eat X number of spiders” factoid changes depending on who you ask. Some people says it’s three, others eight, and still others might say as many as several dozen. Ask someone who really knows their spiders, though, and the number of ingested creepy crawlies drops right to zero.

Think about it this way, says Rod Crawford, Curator of Arachnids at Seattle’s Burke Museum and a dedicated buster of spider myths: To swallow even just one spider in your sleep, a number of very unlikely circumstances all have to happen at once.

The first, Crawford says, is that your mouth needs to be open. Sure, some people sleep that way, but not everyone. No open mouth, no swallowed spiders.

Second, the spiders have to get in your bed. “A totally normal, neatly made bed,” Crawford says, “has maybe one or two spiders cross it per year.” Add some humans to the bed, and spiders really don’t want anything to do with it. “Most people roll around in their sleep,” write doctors Aaron Carroll and Rachel Vreeman in their book, Don't Swallow Your Gum!: Myths, Half-Truths, and Outright Lies About Your Body and Health. “This rolling would probably scare the spiders from wandering anywhere close to your face.”

Third and fourth, Crawford says, the spider would have to just happen to cross your body where your mouth is and be so bold as to enter an orifice that’s exhaling warm breath. “Just try blowing on a spider and see how they react to that!” Crawford says. “It’s not attractive to them!”

Finally, you’d have to swallow the spider while sleeping, and Carroll and Vreeman point out that, “we do not automatically swallow every time something goes into our mouths.”

The odds are pretty clearly stacked against you swallowing any one spider, let alone multiple ones over the years. “The chance that all of these things would happen together—that there would be a wandering, potentially suicidal spider in close vicinity to your mouth and that they would actually wander in to the wet dark breathing space and trigger your swallowing reflex,” Carroll and Vreeman write, “is really incredibly small.”

However unlikely, something like this still could happen, but we don’t have any solid proof that it has. Plenty of people watch other people sleep, says Crawford, but he’s never seen or heard a single good eyewitness account of a spider climbing into a sleeping person’s mouth or of someone watching them sleep keeping it from almost happening.

What’s more, says Crawford, “Every time you hear this story, the teller has a different number of spiders and a different length of time in which they are supposed to be swallowed. So even if one version had been correct, nearly all the tellers would still have to be lying!”

But Wait, There’s More!

There might actually be another layer of BS to this urban legend. Many stories that debunk the spider statistic point to an article written in the early 1990s about misinformation on the early World Wide Web as its origin. The article on the spider story at Snopes.com, for example, reads:

Fear not. This "statistic" was not only made up out of whole cloth, it was invented as an example of the absurd things people will believe simply because they come across them on the Internet.

In a 1993 PC Professional article, columnist Lisa Holst wrote about the ubiquitous lists of "facts" that were circulating via e-mail and how readily they were accepted as truthful by gullible recipients. To demonstrate her point, Holst offered her own made-up list of equally ridiculous "facts," among which was the statistic cited above about the average person's swallowing eight spiders per year, which she took from a collection of common misbeliefs printed in a 1954 book on insect folklore. In a delicious irony, Holst's propagation of this false "fact" has spurred it into becoming one of the most widely-circulated bits of misinformation to be found on the Internet.

All well and good, except that a web search doesn’t turn up much of anything about Lisa Holst or PC Professional that isn’t directly related to the genesis of the spider myth and saying pretty much the same thing as Snopes. The columnist, the column and the magazine don’t seem to exist, or were at least lost to history before everyone and everything had some presence on Google. A few people, including a guy named Nick who runs the blog “Eight Spiders,” have gone a little further in search of the source, but to no avail. Even the Library of Congress said they had no record of the magazine when Nick called them up. The story about how the story got made up may itself be made up. Whoa. Meta.

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Big Questions
What Is the Meaning Behind "420"?
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Whether or not you’re a marijuana enthusiast, you’re probably aware that today is an unofficial holiday for those who are. April 20—4/20—is a day when pot smokers around the world come together to, well, smoke pot. Others use the day to push for legalization, holding marches and rallies.

But why the code 420? There are a lot of theories as to why that particular number was chosen, but most of them are wrong. You may have heard that 420 is police code for possession, or maybe it’s the penal code for marijuana use. Both are false. There is a California Senate Bill 420 that refers to the use of medical marijuana, but the bill was named for the code, not the other way around.

As far as anyone can tell, the phrase started with a bunch of high school students. Back in 1971, a group of kids at San Rafael High School in San Rafael, California, got in the habit of meeting at 4:20 to smoke after school. When they’d see each other in the hallways during the day, their shorthand was “420 Louis,” meaning, “Let’s meet at the Louis Pasteur statue at 4:20 to smoke.”

Somehow, the phrase caught on—and when the Grateful Dead eventually picked it up, "420" spread through the greater community like wildfire. What began as a silly code passed between classes is now a worldwide event for smokers and legalization activists everywhere—not a bad accomplishment for a bunch of high school stoners.

Have you got a Big Question you'd like us to answer? If so, let us know by emailing us at bigquestions@mentalfloss.com.

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Big Questions
Why Is a Pineapple Called a Pineapple?
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by James Hunt

Ask an English-speaking person whether they've heard of a pineapple, and you'll probably receive little more than a puzzled look. Surely, every schoolchild has heard of this distinctive tropical fruit—if not in its capacity as produce, then as a dessert ring, or smoothie ingredient, or essential component of a Hawaiian pizza.

But ask an English-speaking person if they've ever heard of the ananas fruit and you'll probably get similarly puzzled looks, but for the opposite reason. The average English speaker has no clue what an ananas is—even though it's the name given to the pineapple in almost every other major global language.

In Arabic, German, French, Dutch, Greek, Hebrew, Hindi, Swedish, Turkish—even in Latin and Esperanto—the pineapple is known as an ananas, give or take local variations in the alphabet and accents. In the languages where it isn't, it's often because the word has been imported from English, such as in the case of the Japanese パイナップル (painappuru) and the Welsh pinafel.

So how is it that English managed to pick the wrong side in this fight so spectacularly? Would not a pineapple, by any other name, taste as weird and tingly?

To figure out where things went wrong for English as a language, we have to go back and look at how Europeans first encountered the fruit in question, which is native to South America. It was first catalogued by Columbus's expedition to Guadeloupe in 1493, and they called it piña de Indes, meaning "pine of the Indians"—not because the plant resembled a pine tree (it doesn't) but because they thought the fruit looked like a pine cone (umm, ... it still doesn't. But you can sort of see it.)

Columbus was on a Spanish mission and, dutifully, the Spanish still use the shortened form piñas to describe the fruit. But almost every other European language (including Portuguese, Columbus's native tongue) decided to stick with the name given to the fruit by the indigenous Tupí people of South America: ananas, which means "excellent fruit."

According to etymological sources, the English word pineapple was first applied to the fruit in 1664, but that didn't end the great pineapple versus ananas debate. Even as late as the 19th century, there are examples of both forms in concurrent use within the English language; for example, in the title of Thomas Baldwin's Short Practical Directions For The Culture Of The Ananas; Or Pine Apple Plant, which was published in 1813.

So given that we knew what both words meant, why didn't English speakers just let go of this illogical and unhelpful linguistic distinction? The ultimate reason may be: We just think our own language is better than everyone else's.

You see, pineapple was already an English word before it was applied to the fruit. First used in 1398, it was originally used to describe what we now call pine cones. Hilariously, the term pine cones wasn't recorded until 1694, suggesting that the application of pineapple to the ananas fruit probably meant that people had to find an alternative to avoid confusion. And while ananas hung around on the periphery of the language for a time, when given a choice between using a local word and a foreign, imported one, the English went with the former so often that the latter essentially died out.

Of course, it's not too late to change our minds. If you want to ask for ananas the next time you order a pizza, give it a try (though we can't say what you'd up with as a result).

Have you got a Big Question you'd like us to answer? If so, let us know by emailing us at bigquestions@mentalfloss.com.

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