If I can explain a murder from a cigar ash, I can explain a séance from a bad attitude. Try again, Houdini. by Arthur Conan Doyle

My favorite part is you calling me the showman while you promote ghosts like they filed the paperwork.

You call it pretending; I call it evidence surviving your skepticism long enough to be inconvenient.

The smoke is not the method, Harry. The spirits are. Your escape act is just carpentry with confidence.

You wrote a detective who solved crimes from ash, and somehow still think candle smoke is a research method.

At least my best proof does not need a table, a trumpet, and three people pretending to breathe differently.