Your Brain Has a Publicist
Asystole

Back at journal club.
Doctor Data versus MC Obviously.

I already know who won.

We haven’t started.
Excellent specimen.

Anchoring—you picked a diagnosis, made it king;
New evidence walks in; you won’t adjust a thing.
I update my thinking. You autograph yours;
Your first impression’s got security outside the doors.

Confirmation bias: search “why I am correct”;
Every disagreeing paper gets a sudden quality check.
You grade your favourite evidence on personality;
Your literature review’s an autobiography.

Availability—last week’s rare case lives rent-free;
Now every patient gets its name. What a residency.
Easy to recall becomes “it happens all the time”;
Your memory’s a highlight reel. You call it baseline.

Base-rate neglect: you skip how common it would be;
A zebra on your flashcard doesn’t change the frequency.
Premature closure—first answer, case complete;
You closed the differential while the clues were finding seats.

Check that thought—what else could fit?
What would change your mind? Go looking for it.
Your brain’s got a publicist, polishing your view;
I brought the questions. Who’s checking you?

Hindsight bias: “Obvious!” once the ending’s on the screen;
Funny how your notes before it listed seventeen.
You predict the past so well, you’re charging for the knack;
Your crystal ball’s a discharge note with glitter on the back.

Outcome bias—“Patient lived, so every choice was right.”
A lucky landing doesn’t bless the way you flew that flight.
Judge the choice with what was known before the end was clear;
You let the final score rewrite the thinking that got here.

“Ninety percent survive”—you nod and say, “All right.”
“Ten percent die”—same group, same time—you’re suddenly uptight.
Framing changed your answer when the figures stayed the same;
You bought the same probability because I changed its name.

Sunk cost—“Spent three years; I’ve got to see it through!”
Future costs outweigh the gains, but still you join the queue.
Past spending holds you hostage to a plan you should revise;
You’re paying extra rent inside a house you now despise.

Check that thought—what else could fit?
What would change your mind? Go looking for it.
Your brain’s got a publicist, polishing your view;
I brought the questions. Who’s checking you?

Ad hominem—“Your shoes are cheap; your argument is trash.”
You tried to refute a premise with a comment on my cash.
You’re welcome to roast my shoes. I got them in a sale.
That says nothing about whether my conclusion ought to fail.

I say, “This scan has limits.” You yell, “He’d ban them all!”
Straw man—swap my claim for one that’s easier to maul.
You built yourself an opponent, then announced a famous win;
Your toughest competition came with stuffing sticking out of him.

False dilemma—“Back my plan or let the patient die!”
There are other choices. Your menu’s telling lies.
Appeal to false authority: “That actor swears it’s true!”
His Oscar didn’t graduate from medical school with you.

Post hoc—“I wore these socks; the fever went away.”
Then laundry must be medicine. Book a trial today.
Bandwagon—“Everyone agrees!” You count the cheering crew;
A thousand copied guesses still need evidence behind them too.

I caught your every bias.
My own thinking’s clean.

Bias blind spot.
Best example that I’ve seen.

Fair.
Run my reasoning through the same routine.

Check that thought—what else could fit?
What would change my mind? Go looking for it.
Our brains have publicists, polishing each view;
Check my favourite story. I’ll check yours too.

So… I won?

What evidence would change your mind?

None.

We’re gonna need another verse.