Strasburgin tappio 1518 Julka 1518 Sumsia Strasburgissa (nykyinen Itä-Ranska) ilmasto on lämmin kallioiden pohjaan asti, melkein kuin jalka, tuuli on tuulannut vanhan puukaupan läpi, nainen nimeltä "Frow Trophée" lähti kadulle ja alkoi tanssia huonosti ilman musiikkia, tanssiaisia ja mitään syytä (Euroopan historia-kirja 1800-luvulla):https://shopee.co.th/SH4AVxWc) Aluksi ihmiset katsoivat häntä hämmästyttäen, mutta muutamat ihmiset kuolivat, koska muutamat ihmiset olivat joutuneet tanssimiseen, mutta muutamat ihmiset eivät olleet valmiina.Kaupungin järkytys ja katoamat kuvat, jotka hallitus ja papit uskoivat silloin olevan Jumalan rangaistus, järjesttivät uskonnollisia rituaaleja, järjesttivät tanssit, joiden avulla ihmiset tanssivat niin, että he olivat sairas, toivottavasti parantaisivat sairautta, mitä enemmän tanssivat, sitä enemmän tanssit, jopa satoja tanssijoita muutamassa päivässä, ja sitten koko kaupunki lähes lopetti. Jotkut teoriat myöhemmin ehdottivat, että sen aikakauden viljelystä aiheutuva orgootti voi olla syy, koska se aiheuttaa taudin, joka on kuin AED, kun taas jotkut historian tutkijat pitävät sitä virkkyttävänä. https://www.jw.org/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en/en