What is embodied cognition, and did it survive the replication crisis? This episode of The Psych Files examines the famous embodied cognition and social priming studies — power posing, the hot coffee study, the Macbeth effect, the facial feedback (pen-in-the-teeth) study, elderly priming, and the action-sentence compatibility effect — and the large-scale replication studies that failed to reproduce them. Learn how small samples, publication bias, researcher degrees of freedom, and experimenter expectancy effects produced findings that later evaporated, and how psychology responded with pre-registration, multi-lab replications, and adversarial collaborations like the Many Smiles project. A clear, sourced guide to the replication crisis in psychology for students, teachers, and anyone who watched the power posing TED talk and wondered what happened next.

This episode looks at why comic timing works, using a 2026 study from Yuxi Ma, Yongqian Peng, and colleagues at Peking University, presented at the Cognitive Science Society. The researchers analyzed 828 professional stand-up sets from Chinese comedy competitions, about 86 hours of material, and measured what actually predicted the laughs: the content of each line, or the delivery. Timing won, and not by a little. The length of a comedian's pauses and how much those pauses varied beat every content measure, and slower delivery helped rather than hurt. The reason comes down to how the brain handles expectations: a setup builds a prediction (assimilation), the punchline breaks it and forces a fast mental revision (accommodation), and the pause gives you time to encode the setup so the twist lands harder, with the payoff running partly on dopamine. The most useful finding is that top comedians stretch the pause before a big laugh far more than weaker ones do, which means timing is a trainable skill, not a mysterious gift. The practical takeaway for anyone telling a story, giving a toast, or teaching a class is simple: set your best line up clearly, then stop, and let the silence sit a beat longer than feels comfortable, because that pause is you loading the spring.

Most of us who use AI tools live with a quiet contradiction: the tools are genuinely useful, and using them raises real ethical problems — work that might have gone to a person, the energy and water that data centers consume, and models trained on creators' content that was never paid for. This episode of The Psych Files sits in that uncomfortable middle and asks what psychology can tell us about it, drawing on Festinger's cognitive dissonance, the trivialization research of Simon, Greenberg, and Brehm, Bandura's moral disengagement, and Kohlberg's stages of moral reasoning to show how we quietly talk ourselves into staying comfortable. Along the way Michael turns the lens on himself — as someone whose own YouTube videos have been scraped to train these systems — weighs whether local AI models actually resolve any of the ethical problems, and lands on the idea that the discomfort may be worth keeping rather than rushing to explain away.

Why did more than a dozen people walk past Steven McCluskey as he lay trapped in a Boston subway escalator? On the surface it seems to refute the newest research on bystander intervention — Richard Philpot's cross-national CCTV study showing that at least one bystander helps in roughly nine out of ten public conflicts. In this episode of The Psych Files, Michael Britt explains why this tragic case doesn't contradict that finding at all. The key is ambiguity: Philpot studied public conflicts, which are loud and unmistakable, while a still figure in a transit station is exactly the ambiguous situation where the classic bystander research — John Darley and Bibb Latané's work on interpreting the emergency, pluralistic ignorance, and diffusion of responsibility — predicts that helping breaks down. Michael also unpacks why a larger crowd raises the odds of help in clear situations but can lower them in ambiguous ones, why the situational explanation is more useful than blaming bad character, and the specific, research-backed steps that make you more likely to act. A content note: this episode describes a real death. A social psychology episode for students, teachers, and anyone who has ever wondered whether they would step in.

Why would anyone step out of an airplane — and why, after a fatal accident, would they go back up the very next day? In this episode I talk through that question using a recent New York Times feature on a brutal weekend in extreme sports, paired with my own interview with Dr. Kenneth Carter of Emory University, author of Buzz. It turns out "adrenaline junkie" mostly gets it wrong. The trait at the center of this is sensation seeking, and high sensation seekers actually process risk differently — running on less of the stress hormone cortisol and more dopamine — so the moment that floods most of us with panic gives them clarity instead. I break down Marvin Zuckerman's four components of the trait, explain why it's tied to openness but surprisingly not to extraversion, share my own (low) score on Carter's scale, and land on the practical point Carter made to me: the danger usually isn't the activity itself, it's doing it impulsively — so look before you leap, especially if you're leaping off a bridge.

We hear the word "closure" everywhere — in true crime shows, in news coverage of trials, and in the well-meaning advice of friends after a loss. But where did this idea come from, and does the research actually support it? In this episode I trace the surprising history of closure, from the Gestalt psychologists of the 1920s, to Arie Kruglanski's research on the "need for cognitive closure," to its takeover by talk shows, the victims' rights movement, and even the funeral industry in the 1990s. Along the way we look at what the science really shows: the craving for answers is real and measurable, and confirming the reality of a death does help people grieve. But sociologist Nancy Berns, family therapist Pauline Boss (who coined the term "ambiguous loss"), and a striking study comparing homicide survivors in death penalty and life-sentence states all point to the same conclusion — grief doesn't have a finish line, and expecting one may do more harm than good. And then there's my cat. After I brought one of my cats to be euthanized, several people asked whether I'd brought my other cat along "so she could have closure." That question sent me into the research on animal grief: recent studies show that surviving dogs and cats really do change their behavior after a companion dies — seeking attention, eating less, even searching the house for their missing friend. But the one study that looked directly at whether viewing the body makes a difference found no effect at all. So is pet closure real science, or are we projecting a contested human concept onto our animals? Listen in and decide — and then ask yourself who that goodbye ritual is really for.

I've worked from home for about fifteen years, and I like it. I'm a writer, I'm fine being on my own, and I've got the cats for company. But there's one thing I miss, those little water-cooler conversations with colleagues, and a new study published in the journal Science speaks to exactly that. Economist Natalia Emanuel and her colleagues at the Federal Reserve Bank of New York set out to answer a deceptively simple question: what does remote work actually do to our mental health? The catch is that you can't ethically grab a thousand workers and order half of them to stay home for two years, so they had to get clever about how they studied it. In this episode I walk through that workaround, comparing "remotable" jobs to "non-remotable" ones, and what they found about isolation, anxiety, and well-being.

I also put my skeptic hat on, because there's a real question hiding underneath the findings. Maybe working from home makes people lonelier, or maybe people who are already a bit more solitary are the ones who gravitate toward jobs they can do alone, in which case it's personality doing the work, not the office setup. That's the self-selection problem, and it's the reason random assignment matters so much in research. Along the way we get into why losing daily human contact can affect not just your mood but your immune and cardiovascular health, why I think community theater is part of what keeps my own solitude from tipping into isolation, and what both employers and remote workers might do about all of this.

Do you catch yourself saying "I'm getting old" more than you'd like to admit? Turns out, that habit might be doing more damage than you think. Psychologist Becca Levy of Yale has spent decades studying how our aging mindset — the beliefs we hold about what getting older actually means — shapes how we physically and cognitively age. In a study following more than 11,000 older Americans over twelve years, nearly half showed improvement in either cognitive or physical function, a story that gets completely buried when you only look at averages. Her earlier research found that people with a positive aging mindset lived 7.5 years longer on average than those with negative views — a bigger effect than the difference between having high or normal cholesterol. The mechanism behind this is a process called stereotype embodiment: the cultural messages we absorb about old age become self-fulfilling prophecies through three pathways — psychological, behavioral, and physiological. That last one involves chronic stress and elevated cortisol levels that, over time, actually shrink the hippocampus and accelerate biological aging. I also look at Ellen Langer's famous Counterclockwise study, one of psychology's most striking demonstrations of the mind-body connection, and what the concept of neuroplasticity tells us about our capacity for growth at any age. Plus, I talk honestly about my own complicated feelings about getting older — and what the research suggests we can actually do about them.

Why do some people remember things effortlessly while others repeat information over and over and still forget it? In this episode, Michael looks at what research on actors reveals about how memory really works. Drawing on studies by psychologists Helga and Tony Noice and the remarkable story of John Basinger — who memorized all 10,565 lines of Milton's Paradise Lost starting at age 58 — we look at why understanding something beats repeating it every time. If you're a student, a performer, or just someone who wishes they could remember things better, this episode will change how you think about learning.

In this episode of The Psych Files, I explore anthropomorphism—our tendency to attribute human characteristics to non-human entities—drawing from Justin Gregg's new book "Humanish." I discuss both helpful and harmful examples of anthropomorphism, from Soviet dolphin-assisted births to Japanese raccoon imports inspired by anime, and explain how this connects to Theory of Mind, our ability to attribute mental states to others. Gregg, an expert on animal cognition, argues that anthropomorphism isn't necessarily bad if used reflectively, citing Jane Goodall's approach of using intuition as a research starting point rather than proof. I examine surprising findings about animal cognition, particularly in reptiles like crocodiles who display play and social relationships, and discuss the important distinction between biological consciousness in animals and non-conscious AI processing. The episode addresses the fundamental question of animal consciousness and Gregg's precautionary approach: when uncertain about whether animals can suffer, we should assume they can rather than risk causing harm. I also talk about the latest research on the use of puzzles and their effect on dementia.