Now, I went to college. I know you can't really catch a cold from stale Mountain Dew. Even if you could, you wouldn't get it instantly like that. I even know that Laura from work and Alice both told me in the last few days that they felt shitty, and I probably caught it from one of them. But, the symptoms manifested while I was drinking this can of ass-Dew. I'm thinking about calling it the Dewbola Virus.

***

The Dewbola Virus? Damn, I'm strange when I get sick. That was actually a pretty disgusting story. I'm not sure why I shared it with you. Moving onward.

***

I got some just plain disturbing mail Friday. First, I've gotta give you some background.

I love the Weekly World News. It cracks me up. Every few months, I'll see a headline I just can't refuse, and I'll buy one.

Maybe two years ago, I bought one. Hidden among all the fine journalistic triumphs ("Alligator Man Marries Elvis Clone!") there was this ad. Like all the other ads, it promised to make me rich, loved and happy. The difference was, it only cost two bucks. And honestly, that was just for mailing costs. If I didn't want to send money, I could send him six stamps instead.

I think it was the bit about the stamps that convinced me. I started thinking. What if this is real? OK, it's probably a scam. It's almost definitely a scam, in fact. But what if it isn't? Is two bucks really too much to pay for Happiness?

So, I sent the guy six stamps. A few months later, I got my reply. Of course, it had only cost him one stamp to mail it. It was just a letter. But he enclosed a professional-looking hexagram, filled with properly mystical symbols. I might still be carrying it in my wallet.

Then, I started getting a whole pile of funky mail. Most of it was pretty cheesy, but some of it amused me. One group ordained me. They made me a Minister of God. Of course, to properly use my new powers, I had to send them $35 for my manual and an official talisman. I laughed, and put my Certificate of Ordination on the fridge. I still have it. There's chocolate, or maybe spaghetti sauce, all over it.

I realized that what my six stamps had actually gotten me was a lifetime placement on someone's "Biggest Suckers in the US" list. Oh well. D. was on a similar list, spawned by the Publisher's Clearinghouse people, and at least my junk mail was interesting.

So, August. Somehow, the psychics knew our new address, and I was still getting mail from them occaisonally. This one named Brother Baldur wrote to me.

"Dear Ana,

You don't know me, but I have sensed a Great Evil in your home. You are in grave danger, Ana. I want to help you. I know you don't have a lot of money right now, Ana, so just print your name on the back of the enclosed Holy Seal and mail it back to me. I would appreciate any financial donation you chose to make, but because you are in such peril, Ana, I will remove the demons which are plaguing you free of charge. Ana, please respond as soon as possible."

Now, I'd been ignoring mail like this for two years. But for some reason, this one got to me. Maybe it was because instead of promising nebulous good fortune, he offered a release from bad. Maybe it was the way he used my name all the hell over the place. So I followed the instructions ("Read the following incantation out loud, Ana, then write your name on the Holy Seal, and mail it back to me") and waited to see what would happen next.

Friday, I finally got my reply. Damn. This guy is hardcore.

"Dear Ana,

Thank God you contacted me. Thank God you sent back the Saint Benedict's Cross that I sent you. As I already told you, it was successful in binding the initial evil spirit that I had seen in your home....

As encouraging as all this is, Ana, I am sorry to share some distressful news with you....Ana, the moment you leave the safety of your home, you are in the gravest danger. I can see that you are engulfed in a dark cloud of evil..."

A dark cloud of evil??? Man. That just can't be good. Apparently, in addition to the evil spirit which he banished for me, I've also got a fallen angel perched on my doorstep, a seperate dark entity (a lessor fiend, sez Brother B.) and I'm the victim of a psychic attack. (My man Baldur says it's probably someone I know. I'm watching all of you.)

Of course, this much banishment is gonna cost me. Bro. B. is willing to play Samaritan for me with the small homebody-type demons, but I've practically got the entire cast of the Necronomicon lurking in the driveway.

Of course, even if I did have an extra $35 this week, I wouldn't send it to him. There are roughly 600 things I need more than another letter from this man. I can see it now.

"Dear Ana,

I took care of that fallen angel for you, but before he departed for the nether regions, he told all his buddies where you live. Every single Evil in the world is now emanating from Cowtown. Please send me $5000, so I can begin the exorcism immediately."

I don't think I want to encourage him. It's possible that mysticism, astrology, whatever, isn't crap. I'd really like to believe. But I can't get over the financial aspect. If I had a God-given Gift, I sure as hell wouldn't be charging for it.

***

Hee. I'm poor, and I'm sick, and I'm trying to claim that my psychic friends are full of crap. Maybe that's really ironic, but I'm just too cynical to see it.

This is an interesting line of thought, but I've got stuff to do today. Maybe more later.

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