Irrational fears

“Do you ever wonder about the metal ships that are intentionally sunk in the ocean. What if some bacteria learns to eat metal? Then it might mutate into a lifeform that would move onto land. There it could eat automobiles and steel skyscrapers the same way as termites eat wood. Skyscrapers could suddenly without warning collapse the way the twin towers did.”

“Ever hear of the Formosan Termite?”

“The bacteria would eat your foil hat first.”

“Good point, gordon. Then without foil lined walls in our homes, the aliens can read and control your mind... another fear.”

“I am one of the many who have been hounded, stalked, and hectored by Miss Cleo and the nutty flying monkeys who work for her. Actually they work for Access Resources Services Inc. and Psychic Readers Network—the companies that pay Miss Cleo—and as a result, these companies are defending at least 11 lawsuits alleging all sorts of fraud and harassment. Since Miss Cleo is hectoring and hounding me, I thought I'd try to get in on the action. I'm mad about these psychic calls I didn't make. But while the claims against these companies range from false advertising to customer harassment, no lawsuit is charging her with the real scam: She's not a psychic.

Miss Cleo's meteoric rise, from alleged Seattle theater-scene deadbeat to television's most recognized telephone psychic, is one of those uniquely depressing American rags-to-riches stories. After the fashion of Jay Gatsby, Miss Cleo—whose real name is Youree Dell Harris but whose aliases allegedly include such creative variants as Youree Cleomili, Youree Perris, Rae Dell Harris, Cleomili Perris Youree, Cleomili Harris, and Ree Perris—transformed herself from an L.A.-born actress/playwright into a Jamaican-born shaman with unrivaled psychic abilities. Plastering herself across late-night TV screens and slithering down your phone lines, Miss Cleo is the turbaned face of an empire that allegedly nets $400 million a year.”

“if G.D. Weevilscrewer continued screwing weevils and eventually created a mutant hybrid weevil that ran amok wearing their little tinfoil hats attacking cotton fields until all of the earths cotton was gone and poor G.D. Weevilscrewer would no longer have anything to wear on those rainy hiking trips.”

“Spock read "Mutant 59: The Plastic Eaters" too?”

“I did not have sex with that.....woman.”

“I did not have sex with that.....metal eating vegan bacteria”

“Did GDE forget to take his meds today?

You are way out!

8|”

“You should kleetn....

she raking in $400 million a year. She might need a gigolo. Then again she may be psychic and already know your weenie size.”

“Cleo and Kleetn,

sitting in a tree...

K-I-S-S-I-N-G”

“What? 400 lb psychics aren't your type? Think of the possibilites. She would never ask what you were thinking after sex!”

“SICK!!!!!

8|”

“i'd have sex w/ her”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO WAY!!!!!!!

8o”

“Aren't they all 10's at closing time?”

“Far from it!

8|

Be afraid BE VERY AFRAID!!!!”

“Miss Cleo has been floating outside my window for two days turning my skin into thorny warts and my furniture into snakes.”

“At Mass MOCA (Museum of Contemporary Art), they had a piece of videotaped "performance art." This artist called up a bunch of psychics asking them about the future of his artistic endeavors. What cracked me up was that they were all engaging in empty platitudes about his future projects and not one of them had any clue that they were in his art! Some of them were even saying "you can't fool me about anything" and he was fooling them all.

BTW, the museum is in North Adams and if you happen to be visiting the northern part of the Mass AT, its worth a visit. The stuff is fun, even if most of it doesn't fit my definition of art. I kept on wanting to ask one of the guides. "hey man. could you tell me where they keep the art at?"”