Wish Upon A Crane

Hello and welcome back to another week of fantastic fibs and fortuitous falsehoods here at Factually Deficient! This week, I will answer a question posed by an individual best known to friends and family alike as Blurred_9L. Blurred asked:

Why do paper cranes grant wishes?

Some people – this Blurry personage among them – are clearly under the misapprehension that a paper crane is nothing but a creation of paper, folded into an amusing shape by deft and skillful hands. It is no wonder that such people marvel at the capacity of these seemingly inanimate collections of tree pulp and creases to grant unto the beholder their innermost desires.

This understanding is, of course, wildly inaccurate. And the truth will also tell you why our world’s population of cranes has been dwindling dangerously of late.

All birds are magic. Eagles can see into your soul. Herons can insert their own thoughts into your mind, and geese can move things with theirs. Peacocks cast dazzling glamours that leave unlucky victims blinded for days, while swans can kill with a thought. And as for ducks, well… Some powers are best left unsaid.

And cranes can grant wishes. They can, that is, if they choose to do so.

But the dark art of origami has found a way to subvert a bird’s sovereign will. Every time square paper is folded into the shape of a creature, it captures that creature’s soul in the paltry vessel of paper, subjugating its will to that of whosoever holds the paper, with the power to crumple or tear or burn what now houses the animal’s very essence.

By folding paper into the shape of a crane, a person holds that crane hostage to their own will, gaining the ability to force that crane, trapped in the hair-thin walls of bark and ink, to do what it would otherwise have a choice of doing: granting a wish.

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Disclaimer: the above post contains lies. Not all origami figures are hellish dark magic vessels to enslave the spirit of an innocent creature.

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Do Ants Even Lift?

Hello and welcome to another week of absolute lies and uncorrupted falsehoods here at Factually Deficient! This week, I would like to answer a question posed by a Mr. Genndy Oda. Mr. Oda asked:

How can ants lift so much?

This is an excellent question, but it is based on another simpler, assumed question: bro, do ants even lift?

The answer to this first question of whether ants even lift is a solid, resounding ‘maybe’ – it depends on how one defines ‘lifting’. But this matter of how to define the act of lifting, in turn, will answer Genndy’s question of how ants do it (if they do it at all).

Ants are very small creatures, so one would have to crouch down very low in order to see the shadows that they cast. But why, you may be thinking, is it that ants cast shadows at all? After all, if their feet were planted firmly on the ground, there would be no shadow to cast, and it is well known that ants do not have wings. Where are these shadows coming from?

Here we hit at the crux of the matter. For, you see, ants are gifted with a very small amount of telekinesis. Frequently an ant’s feet will hover a hair’s breadth above the ground – thus casting that tiny shadow – to save it the work of walking a few steps.

This telekinesis does more than allow ants to hover. Ants do not truly, physically, lift anything at all. But using the power of their minds, they lift a great deal, from grains of sand and seeds to things as big as small dogs, children, and the odd buffalo.

So do ants even lift? Hardly. But with the magic of telekinesis, they are able to move mountains.

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Disclaimer: the above blog post is based on fabrications, exaggerations, and outright lies. There are no known reports of ants stealing children.