Taking the Mysticism Out of Palmistry

Gah! My colon gets rather strained when people sit down, throw their hand in my face, and ask if their love life is going to happen or not. My usual answer to this question is “I don’t know, I’m a Chiromancer, not a fortune teller.” What I can do is tell you about your strengths and weaknesses. I can call you out on hoarding, bitchiness, over-eating, depression, insensitivity and not having the personal will power to follow through on your own desires when you are certainly helping other people achieve theirs.

The decisions you make show up on your hand like writing in a book. I can see the points where your life became complicated and changed how you think and feel about certain aspects of your life. All those lines (or lack thereof) speak volumes to me about you as a person. Often, delivering this information can give the appearance of mysticism, but it’s really not. The mystical part is when you sit down, as the last person in your trio to get a reading, and before we even begin I smile and say “Ah, now here is the left-hander of the group,” then proceed to explain how my own left-handed mother taught me to knit and crochet by turning her own work around backwards to show my right-handed brain how to make the movements. That particular trio consisted of a mother and her two daughters, all of which stared at me with their jaws open. Evidently they had been trying to learn those very things and banging their heads on the wall because of the left-right problem. This sort of illumination rarely happens though, and can not/should not be classified as palmistry.

I went to see a palm reader a while back and was rather disappointed. She gave my hands a cursory look and proceeded to inform me that I would receive two letters in the mail, one good and one not-so-good. That made me angry. I hadn’t gone for a psychic reading, I had gone for a palm reading. I really wanted her to tell me something about me that I was too thick to read for myself. We’ve all got our soft spots, and calling myself out on the right thing is not easy. I want to think the best of myself, so my lines and mounts get viewed through rose-colored glasses instead of the bare light of honesty. I don’t mind the mysticism, obviously I’m not immune to the illumination myself, but don’t screw your customers out of an honest palm reading just because you are moved to deliver other information as well. Had the palmist told me about the letters, then actually read my hands I would have come away from the experience feeling much better. Instead, she shrugged off the palm reading and pocketed my twenty bucks. I didn’t leave her a lousy review or anything, but I’ve filed away the behavior in my collection of things not to do.

This week I’m off to Michigan to visit my family. Wish me luck. We’re not the tightest knit group, but we hold on because we’re all the family we’ve got. I predict a few arguments, hurt feelings, and probably a cat fight. Real cats. My big, orange, tabby travels with me, and my mother’s calico princess tends to view him as a usurper. I get my revenge on the stalking little b#@%h by taking photos of her and doodling on them in a rude manner.

Safe travels everyone!

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The Original Question

Everywhere I turn these days I’m finding something about time travel. It’s probably just me, but I can’t get away from it. The other night I fired up my RokuTv and launched the YouTube channel to see what I could find. Naturally I found everything! I’m lazy when it comes to YouTube videos, I’ll let the autoplay feature run and just live with whatever comes up next until it turns out to be something so dumb that I shuffle off to the kitchen to scrub my dishes because that is way more interesting. Autoplay was onto me though. Eventually I found myself meeting the Annunaki for the first time. Yup, here I am, nearly 52 years old, and just now finding out about this delightful, alien race that, by some, is credited with our creation.

The particular video that I watched first actually snared my interest when it talked about DNA experiments by the Annunaki, then showed the Egyptian pictographs of Anubis. There was a shot of a couple manlike creatures with the heads of lions as well. Normally this kind of information would leave me chuckling and making rude jokes about certain family members being part rat (or worm), but this time I actually sat there and paid attention. I don’t know that I believe everything the video wants me to, but I’m rather intrigued by the DNA thing.

One of my own, big questions about human evolution is shared by many others, so I don’t feel particularly clever about it, but still deeply curious. If humans evolved from Apes, then why aren’t the Apes evolving with us? Why are there still Apes at all? According to YouTube (I know this is funny) humans were created specifically by the Annunaki as workers. Their own slaves had revolted and, the resulting civil war decimated their ranks so deeply, that the Annunaki needed to replace them. Naturally they eye-balled the animals of the planet and tried splicing their slave’s DNA with them to see if they could create an intelligent beast that would obey, yet still be capable of independent problem solving, thereby enabling the Annunaki to wander off for a bath and a beer, secure in the knowledge that the work would be done.

My mind keeps showing me the figure of Anubis. Then it shows me a griffon, a phoenix, and a dragon. And bringing up the rear is the faked image of Big Foot.

Speaking of Big Foot… I don’t believe the beast exists. I’m sure there are a few, hard-core Sasquatch supporters out there who just black-listed me, but I can’t help that. I find more evidence verifying the origins of Santa Claus than I do of a giant, missing link that nobody can actually photograph properly.

Back to the DNA stuff. It almost makes sense to me. One of the most notable things between humans and the other animals of our planet is our massively accelerated evolution. As a species, we have made enough progress in a mere two thousand years to put every other animal on earth at risk of extinction. And the apes are still apes; dogs are still dogs, and birds are still mocking us from the skies. Chalk this up to God or an alien if you like, but I find it very thought provoking. And a bit clever in its foresight. Our human brains are a mixture of amphibian, reptile and mammal. Earthbound workers with minimal regenerative capabilities. Did the Splicers ignore the winged creatures on purpose? Had they given us wings we might have been far less docile, and much more likely to have just flown off, throwing shade as we went.

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A Convoluted Definition

Dystopian fiction is _____. I feel like I’m in grade school having to write a test with ‘fill in the blank’ style questions.

Q: What does the word ‘dystopia’ mean to you?

A: Well, Mrs. Hag, it means a lot of things to me, but since you have only given me one line to write on I’m forced to assume that you don’t want an essay answer here.

I can’t tell you when the last, physical copy of a dictionary left my life. Or a thesaurus, for that matter. Now everything is built-in and STILL people don’t don’t spell check! My wife bought me a Grammar Nazi t-shirt. My wife is correct. When I ask the Great Oracle of Google what the word means, this is what I get:

adjective: dystopian

  1. 1. relating to or denoting an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad, typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one.

That is rather ambiguous, don’t you think? It leaves a lot of room for personal interpretation. My goal here is to make a distinction between the words dystopia and science fiction. Somewhere inside my mind, these two words have merged and, it’s not a viable offspring for me. I get that a future world will probably have different technology, but Sci-fi enthusiasts seem to have decided that the future technology will be better than what we have now? That chances are, it will be, but for the sake of selfish indulgence, let’s humor my thinking here. What if the technological advances are simply the software, and not really the hardware? Software developing has become a major focus in our society. Things are forever being upgraded and reworked, but the hardware that runs it has fallen far behind in terms of stability.

One of the things I notice the most about life in 2018 is that nothing is built to last anymore. Back in the day, companies took pride in stating that their product would outlive you, and that it would still be working when the cemetery workers were shoveling dirt over your coffin. Your children would be stuck with your ‘still functioning watch’, or the washing machine with the elusive and, completely unnecessary repairman on the company’s payroll. Now everything is made to break. Somehow, the idea that you can make a product that was designed to fail became the driving force behind nearly everything. This is why I swear by my cast iron cookware. Go ahead bitches, break that shit! That handle isn’t going to just drop off because the rivets are worn out. There aren’t any rivets!

Where was I? Oh, dystopia. Ha, that sounds like the beginning of a poem, doesn’t it? O Dystopia, how I long for the sound of your gritty voice– Anyway, my thinking here is that a future dystopian society isn’t necessarily a more advanced one. The biggest problems I see in our society today is that we are dumbing ourselves down in the areas that are really important. I’m talking about survival importance. What good is being able to develop brilliant, 3D animation software if you’re just going to starve to death because you don’t know the first thing about growing food or storing it? Life doesn’t really come from a store. Once upon a time, growing, canning, sewing and other basic skills were necessary to just stay alive. Now our society takes them for granted. We buy food from disreputable companies with disreputable employees who we don’t want to pay proper wages to. We focus on the Next Gen of everything, and we go into massive debt to obtain it. Our world now runs on theoretical money as opposed to actual, touchable commerce. We can’t get a job, or rent an apartment without a decent numerical score that indicates our ability to handle imaginary money. Every single person is now tied to a credit system that makes no sense. And the word credit means debt. Don’t kid yourself. Everything is debt. Your credit rating is really a rating about how you manage your debt. It always was, and it always will be.

To me, dystopia isn’t a society where the government controls every citizen through disreputable means (much like our current state of affairs) but rather a society where the government gives us exactly what we want. It gives us the ways to meet our basic needs, and thrive as a species. But once we have that, our time is no longer an empty string of hours that we can fill up however we wish. Go ask a homesteader how much time he/she has to just sit down and read a book, or watch a program on television. At this point, a lot of people are going to be changing the word in question to Utopia. If this is your ideal, then we have a lot in common, but don’t look me up on Facebook just yet. I’m not done.

Now toss in a single, unlooked for element, say… the government wants one thing in return for granting all your ignorant, selfish wishes. This is where the ‘dys’ part of things comes in. The Almighty Government wants to judge your children and remove the ones it doesn’t like. How do you like your utopia now?

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Holiday Schmoliday

When I was a kid it seemed like Halloween was a single day of the year preceded by a week, maybe ten days of my mother making my costume and really messing up my play time by forcing me to try it on at various stages. Now, right after school starts, the big, round, orange tents of temporary stores starting erupting like asphalt-pox in parking lots everywhere, conveniently located for all my Halloween needs. It’s a sign, folks, pay attention. The fifth dimensional natives are planning a feast of our souls, and they’re taking the time to properly season us with cheap, mass-marketed costumes and glitter. Taking an Uber to an adult Halloween party dressed as a Playboy bunny crossed with a garbage-eating-tarantula-with-a-toothache, and arthritis in two of your eight appendages, might be the last decision you ever make. Your body will return home (also via Uber) but your soul will be absent (having been plucked out the second you downed that last Cement-mixer and crossed the boundaries of our reality) and finely shredded into a deeply fermented, living kimchi, seasoned with the sadness of beings everywhere who were also trying to get their pre-Yule going. Enjoy!

On the flip-side, Happy New Year!

Wait, what?

The actual New Year is definitely open to interpretation, but for me, Samhain (Halloween) is the eve of my New Year. It just makes sense to me. October is the month where the weather really changes, taking us from the dog days of Summer into the true Autumn of an ending cycle. The veil between this world and that of those who have passed on is at its thinnest, and many cultures are making a point to honor this by putting out offerings to their ancestors. Here in the US our sense of culture is exceptionally fractured, making our spiritual holidays questionable to many, but regardless of what practice you follow, or even if you follow no practice at all, the passage of time is something we all feel and acknowledge. Starting now, we are all switching to our internal mode, looking at our Winter projects with a planning eye, and checking what’s due to come out on Netflix for the next few months. I don’t know about the rest of you, but the new season of Doctor Who starts this Sunday and I’m looking forward to that. I’ve got my popcorn ready and the lapghan I’ve been working on for three years all set to get its next rows. Maybe this will be the season I finish it, eh? I’m also gathering candy for the masses because I truly love Halloween!

The steady stream of costumed people ringing my door-bell, begging for treats is the highlight of my year. This is when I get to really fly my Freak Flag and greet them with a blood-stained bowl of candy and a screaming, flaming cat while blasting Werewolves of London through my computer speakers. I’ve got my audio clips all set up and ready to go. Screamers, check! Howlers, check! Creaking doors, check! Thunder and lightening, check! Growling monsters… (Hey! Git yer scaley asses back into the line-up! Nobody gets out until Yule!)… CHECK!

Oh yeah, and the sign Children Left Unattended Will Be Tasted. That goes on the door. See? Perfect! I can’t think of a better way to ring in the New Year than this. I might have to grab a bottle of Butterbeer and celebrate.

While you’re deciding how you want to celebrate the upcoming holidays, don’t forget to slide on over to my Patreon and consider becoming a Fan. It would mean so much to me.

Happy Halloween!