These are troubled times in our little frontier town called Psytown. The priest keeps telling us that deep down we’re all p-hackers and that we must atone for our sins. If you go out on the streets, you face arrest by any number of unregulated police forces and vigilantes. If you venture out with a p-value of .065, you should count yourself lucky if you run into deputy Matt Analysis. He’s a kind man and will let you off with a warning if you promise to run a few more studies, conduct a meta-analysis, and remember never to use the phrase “approaching significance” ever again. It could be worse. You could be pulled over by a Bayes Trooper. “Please step out of the vehicle, sir.” You comply. “But I haven’t done anything wrong, officer, my p equals .04.” He lets out a derisive snort “You reckon that’s doin’ nothin’ wrong ? Well, let me tell you somethin’, son. Around these parts we don’t care about p . We care about Bayes factors. And yours is way below the legal limit. Y...