Psychics
Keith Sullivan
Keeps shaking black "crystal ball," then saying, "Ask again later."
Every time you draw the Death card, she yells "Go Fish!"
Looks suspiciously like that guy who fixed your muffler last week.
His idea of an "out of body experience" involves whipped cream and
women's clothing.
His spoon bending requires two pliers.
Sign in window: "As Seen on '60 Minutes.'"
During card-reading, asks if you want to "hit" or "stand."
Insists that your astrological sign is "The Armadillo."
Psychics Magazine rates her just below fortune cookies, just above your
mom.
Repeatedly attempts to read your palm with his genitalia.
Shakes her crystal ball, then predicts a large snowstorm.
Ms Kitty <[13]msk...@katscratch.com>
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PUT A SOCK IN IT
By Ian Wolff
I was watching one of these psychic mediums on television recently; she
took a young girl from the audience and reduced her to tears by
convincing the girl that her recently deceased Grannie was standing
beside her, with a hand on her shoulder.
Personally, had this been my daughter, I would have grabbed this medium,
blindfolded her and walked her to the edge of the nearest high-rise
rooftop. "Hang on," I'd say, "I'm seeing a very large man, and I'm
getting something about horns, and a pitch fork. Does this sound like
anyone you know?"
"Vaguely," she'd say, "Is he standing next to me?"
"No, but he will be in a few seconds." Whoosh!
"Don't be afraid," I'd shout, as she plummeted to her death. "Grannie
will catch you!"
Splat! "Oooop's, I guess your Grannie's still alive."
Don't get me wrong, these conjuring phonies don't piss me off simply
because I don't believe in them. They irk me because they're using the
dead to prey upon the living, and claiming in the process, that it's
because they were given this benevolent gift from a higher order, and
they'd be selfish if they didn't share this precious gift with us.
Right, at $75 dollars an hour.
It's not only these psychic mediums I find annoying; I'm also getting
tired of these people who write about their so called "Near Death"
experiences. For example, the guy from Florida who was hit by lightning
and wrote a book about visiting a heavenly place and being told many
wonderful things, which he wanted to share with us (in bookform of
course, because God would have wanted him to make enough to cover the
return airfare from Heaven.) I mean it was God's mistake, after all.
He claims to have had a religious conversion. I don't blame him. If
The "Big Guy" sent me a 20,000-watt RSVP and then turned my
charcoal-broiled ass away at the door I'da had a conversion too -- I'd
be worshipping Satan. But not this guy, he called it a "gift" from
above. How's that a gift? He gets Zapped by a 20,000-watt lightning
rod, shows up in heaven and gets:
"Ooooops sorry," says God, "I wasn't aiming at you. I'm afraid I'll
have to ask you leave now. Here, take this staff and lean on it for few
years, just until you learn how to walk again, then I want it back. And
do me a favor, as soon as you get your sight back and they've grafted
the skin back onto your fingers, write a book telling everyone how much
fun you had. Now get outta here, you're getting ashes all over the
rug."
According to this guy, he used to be a violent person before this
experience. "They taught me to love and respect my fellow humans," he
says, "and how to get along with everyone."
Gee, I got that from kindergarten; no one had to microwave my noogies to
teach me that. Apparently this guy's a slow learner and God was simply
helping him catch up.
"They told me I had to go back, and asked me to tell you all about
them," he says.
Sure, they would have done it themselves, but the kids had a cold, the
dog needed feeding, and they were expecting a phone call at any minute.
"Besides, they'd never believe it, coming from us! That's why we chose
an ex-felon with a history of violent tendencies."
Another thing I find annoying are these "Angel" fanatics. According to
these people, there are Angels in your hair, food, carpet fibers, dog's
dish.... They write books that define the entire Angelic corporate
structure, from the CEO to the mailroom Angels. They claim we all have
Angels hovering around us. Mediums claim our loved ones are always next
to us, watching over us, others claim we have a special Guardian Angel,
etc. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starting to feel a
little cramped.
I've got dead relatives lounging all over the house, Angels hovering
aimlessly over my head, an Aura, bad Karma, a disabled third Chakra and
a Partridge in a freaking pear tree. It's like living in Quentin
Tarantino's head. I think I need a bigger house.
I'm not saying I don't believe in "anything." I just don't believe that
any living person can say with absolute certainty what that "anything"
is. I'm just afraid that if I listen to all this babble, I'll be
terribly embarrassed when I truly do die.
"Where's the tunnel with the warm white light?" I'll ask the guy with
the clipboard.
"Oh no," he'll reply, "not another one of those tunnel people. Look,
you want a tunnel? I'll make you a tunnel. There, did you see it?
Okay, great, let's go."
"Where are all my relatives?" I'll ask. "I thought they were supposed
to greet me when I arrived?"
"How the hell should I know where your relatives are," he'll say. "I
don't even know where all mine are right now. Besides, you hit a
semi-truck, they couldn't all get here that fast. Just relax, we'll get
you processed first, then you can use the computer at the office and do
a people search."
"You have computers?" I'll ask.
"Sure do," he'll say, "and they're almost as good as the ones up in
Heaven."
Blarney Stone <[14]http://members.tripod.com/~iwolff/sock.html>