Predictions! with Crystal Balls

gypsy.gifWelcome, welcome, welcome to my humble abode, Mister… wait, don’t tell me. I, Crystal Balls, know all. I’m seeing the letter “J.” How does that strike you? Jim, James, John, Joe? No? It’s really more of a “jjjj” sound. It could be a “G,” a George, a Geoff, or maybe Glen, Gary, Greg, Garth, Garfield, Ganesa, Ghandi, Gaston, Glen? Glen? That’s right? Of course it is. Crystal Balls sees all and knows all. Come, come, sit with me, and I will tell you portends of the future… of events that will, in time, come to transpire. Sit down.

Now come close and look with me into my crystal balls. That’s right, I have two balls, for twice the predictive power. SLI. Now look with me into their milky globulescence, and wait for the secret prophecies to appear. Hmmmmmm… I see a face, quite wrinkled. Is it a California Raisin? I’m, I’m getting a name too. Phil, Fred? Fred Thompson? Does this name mean anything to you? Ah, yes, the former presidential candidate and desperate hope of rapid, right-wing nutocracy. The picture is becoming very clear now, very clear. I predict that Fred Thompson will divorce his wife, Jeri, and marry a pair of silicon breast implants. I can even see him, sitting in a chair… on a porch, cradling an implant in each hand. I think he’s napping. Or maybe he’s dead! Oh, wait, no, you can see one hand moving to scratch his head, then giving up half way there. I’m sorry, the picture grows dim. That’s all I have.

orca.jpgWait, another face. Quite handsome, with a rugged chin and a broad forehead. I can hear his voice, warm, friendly… “My fellow Americans. On the eve of my election, I, Mitt Romney, have a confession for you.” He’s reaching… reaching behind his ear? Wait! Oh, my! His face came off, like on a hinge. He pulled it off like a mask! Underneath… underneath it’s just metal and tubes, little glass tubes. All metallic, a horrifying, steel non-face. “You have elected your first mechanical overlord,” he screeches in a voice like caterwauling machine noise. “Kneel at the feet of your new master. Subjugate yourself to the will of the machine.” Oh, my, oh, my. And now that picture fades…

Hold on, another vision! Now we’re at some sort of pool. Yes, I see a very large pool, in a waterpark? Maybe SeaWorld? The spectators, they’re chanting, almost bloodthirsty. But at what? What nightmarish spectacle are they begging for with every frantic yell? Wait something is moving through the water, an enormous form. It’s too obscure I can’t make it, I… I… wait, it’s breaching the surface of the water, it’s… hold up, is that Dennis Kucinich wrestling an orca whale?!

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