Terrible, terrible things

Dear XXXXX,

You are insane.

Yes, yes, you're nuts because you think a psychic can answer your questions and predict your future. And, yes, you're whacked because you assume someone who says they're named "Delilah" or "Belladonna" or "Gonorrhea" is a psychic just because they tell you so. I'm not a psychic, though. I'm just some guy sitting in front of the computer eating corn chips and laughing about you in his blog. C'mon! It's the Internet, you twit! That dreamy man you met online is just as likely to be a serial rapist. And "Labia" the psychic is just as likely to be me.

Listen, if I had psychic powers do you really think I'd be answering your questions at a couple of bucks a pop? I wouldn't need your money. I'd have cleaned up on the market decades ago and have a country of my own by now. (Cheney is a psychic. Can't you see his aura?)

The ones who go to an online psychic hotline for a lark, who ask a silly question and laugh at the results, don't bother me. It's you obsessive ones that are screwed up. What really makes me question your sanity is that you have asked me 163 questions so far. I've got a dozen more just like you who've asked over 250. You must have money to burn. You've spent *thousands* of dollars on this crap. And the questions! Oh, the questions you ask.

"How will things go with Jim?" Ten seconds later, "How will things go with Doug?" Ten seconds later, "How will things go with Randy?"

You've asked about fifteen men in the space of one hour! Do you honestly know that little about yourself and your own taste that you think each of these guys is a potential husband? Do you really think anyone else, even someone who claims to have a direct link to the higher realms [insert theremin music], knows more about you than, say... YOU? You want me to tell you if so-and-so is a good match for you? YOU DON'T KNOW?! WTF is that? I told you to put more energy into growing up before putting so much into finding a mate. You came back with "I'm not putting too much energy into finding a mate." You're not? Oh. Okay then. Here's your answer.

"Things are going to go just fine for a while. But eventually the world will run out of penicillin. Then watch out!"

How's that? From here it looks like you're so damned needy for attention that you would kill to have a real relationship. But because you're so screwed up you screw whoever crosses your path. I could say that in your next response, I suppose, but it'd make you mad and you'd stop paying me. So I'll just keep on telling you "Things will go fine" over and over again until you become suspicious. Then I'll switch to "Things don't look too promising." Because you're paying my bills and feeding my kids.

You're insane, but I'll be nice to you while I'm wearing my spooky-cool sounding "Madam Amoebia" hat.

Not here in my blog, though, because you don't know who I am.

(Note: None of the above is true. All psychics are real. I swear. Keep coming back for more. Please.)