Āé¶¹“«Ć½

Up-to-the-minute advice on the benefits of testicle tanning

Feedback is our weekly column of bizarre stories, implausible advertising claims, confusing instructions and more

Relight my fire

An apology is in order, as we return, reluctantly, to the subject of testicle tanning, as advocated by US TV host Tucker Carlson. Feedback’s recent coverage of this improbable health advice has occasioned, ahem, quite the bulging mail sack. Who knew that Āé¶¹“«Ć½ readers would get so exercised by the topic of scrotal sunbathing?

Reader John Keeves writes to ask if we were mistaken to ascribe the purported benefits to infrared radiation, rather than the ultraviolet part of the spectrum. After carrying out further research – which necessitated a thorough disinfection of our internet search history afterwards because you wouldn’t believe the kind of adverts that started appearing – we can report that testicle tanning involves neither ultraviolet nor infrared rays. It merely uses ordinary red light, which causes no heating but visually creates an impressive fiery glow around the goolies.

The lack of heat is probably for the best, because Carlson is fretting about falling sperm counts, so the aim should be to keep things cool rather than hot things up.

Another reader, who wisely wishes to remain anonymous, believes that Carlson’s foray into alternative health is a Good Thing for gender equality. Women have long had to put up with actor Gwyneth Paltrow’s promotion of questionable health activities, such as steaming your vagina or popping in a jade egg. Now men are being told to do ridiculous things with their private parts too. For any Carlson fans who do wish to indulge, reader Tim Mahon has the perfect soundtrack: Jerry Lee Lewis’s Great Balls of Fire.

True Woo

On the subject of alternative therapies, Feedback’s attention is drawn by news of UK television network ITV’s forthcoming channel devoted to health – or ā€œwellnessā€ in today’s parlance – aimed at Generation Z, who are those aged 10 to 25. It is an interesting choice of demographic, because this age group must be, on average, the healthiest people on the planet. Alarmingly, the name of the new channel is , which, according to a handy dictionary, is a derogatory term for beliefs that have little or no scientific basis.

The channel, which will make documentaries, comedy series and social media content, will be partly funded by providing viewers with links where they can buy wellness products that are plugged, sorry, ā€œfeaturedā€.

Feedback is sure that all the healthcare products sold through Woo will have tip-top credentials and a solid scientific grounding, but some of the articles on the pilot version of the channel’s website may give evidence-based medicine fans cause for concern. Topics include psychic healing and ear seeding, a treatment for anxiety that involves sticking crystals on to the ears.

Moon confusion

The Woo website also has an on the recent ā€œblood moonā€ lunar eclipse, but alas, this also had some, erm, non-science based content. Things got a little hazy over the number of shadows cast by Earth, and there was a stern warning that people should protect their eyes if viewing the lunar eclipse – the author may be thinking of a solar eclipse. There was also some unfortunate confusion over whether the moon and the sun are, in fact, types of planet.

ā€œEnough science,ā€ the story exclaims at that point – and judging by its track record so far, we can only agree. It then moves into full-on astrology mode and we will draw a veil over the rest of it, on the assumption that it will be incompatible with the belief systems of most Āé¶¹“«Ć½ readers. Feeling mischievous, Feedback showed the article to Āé¶¹“«Ć½ā€˜s space correspondent, who had to go for a little lie down.

Best of enemies

Speaking of incompatible belief systems, Feedback’s hopes were raised by claims of a new method for bringing about world peace. Or at least, a method for helping opposing sides in the UK’s 2016 Brexit referendum call a truce, and if it can do that, it can do anything. The psychologists who came up with the idea hoped it would reduce Leavers’ and Remainers’ ā€œaffective polarisationā€: a polite way of saying ā€œhating people who vote differently to youā€.

What’s the secret? Oh. . Specifically, befriending meditation, which involves listening to and repeating the statements: ā€œMay I be free from suffering, may I be happy and healthy, may I have ease of being.ā€ Then repeating them while replacing ā€œIā€ with, sequentially: a loved one, a stranger, a ā€œdifficult personā€, and lastly, all living beings. Yes, even politicians.

Sadly, the results don’t suggest that universal harmony is around the corner. Those who practised befriending meditation did score slightly lower for how much they disliked people who voted differently in Brexit compared with a control group, but the authors admit that: ā€œThe effect sizes in the present study were small, so it is reasonable to question whether they have practical significance.ā€

At least it worked a little bit. Feedback’s theory is that all that chanting about ā€œease of beingā€ got so annoying that participants transferred their hatred to the psychologists. Or maybe befriending meditation does work usually, it just couldn’t cope with the sheer intensity of enmity triggered by Brexit.

Got a story for Feedback?

You can send stories to Feedback by email at feedback@newscientist.com. Please include your home address. This week’s and past Feedbacks can be seen on our website.

More from Āé¶¹“«Ć½

Explore the latest news, articles and features