I still think Bill Sparkman was a strange bird, but it turns out I was mistaken in my suspicion that his death was a sex crime (or auto-erotic slip). It was a suicide, staged to look like an anti-gubmint lynching so that his son might cash in on the insurance booty. That's the conclusion of state investigators, and I see no reason to doubt their diligence. In my defense, I never dismissed the possibility of suicide, though I did scoff, along with the Malkinite right, at the tea-party rage angle. It seemed ludicrous, and now we know why.
If you want to go double or nothing, I still think that Sarah Palin faked a pregnancy. I'm also calling bullshit on this story, which is obviously propped by facilitated communication hokum — and I'm disposed to doubt every grisly detail of the Pishtaco fat hustling caper. Set your Google alerts.
Not exactly what Robin Hanson has in mind, but I really wish there were a betting market for this shit.