Cranky Large Medium reading, 13 June

Go away.

Why won't you be going? Is there something wrong with your feet? Have you lost track of your toes? Oh, you won't leave without getting something from me. Well, I do have some lovely pebbles of ... uh, I think they're limestone and chert, but don't quote me on it. You can have them if you want them. Yo don't want my gravel? Why not? What do you have against it? It's not what you wanted. Well, lah-ti-dah, aren't we getting particular! What in the name of all that is pickled do you want, then? Oh, a reeeeeeeeeding. I suppose I can give you a reading. If it will make you go away. It will? Swell. Here you are, then:

You are impulsive, energetic, argumentative and lack good judgment, favoring your version of intuition instead. You are a bad enemy to have, largely because you are hugely demonstrative in all your emotions, especially the ones you spell starting with "anger". When love is involved, you are careful to weigh and give no more than you get, you stingy oaf.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. I'm not surprised, though. My intuition warned me. Still, you could look on the bright side. At least you're still able to pretend you have some ability. These people, on this date in history, all ceased to be able, for anything at all, other than decomposition: Ali az-Zahir, Miyamoto Musashi, Henry Middleton, Ludwig II, Mikhail Alexandrovitch Romanov, Josef Skoda, Shibasaburo Kitasato, Georg von Békésy, Saint Anthony of Padua, Martin Buber, Ralph Wiley, Tankei, Nikiphoros Lytras, Clyde McPhatter, Matthew Garber, Lane Smith, Darla Hood, Henry Segrave, Dick Durrance, Donald Kent "Deke" Slayton, Tim Russert,

Benny Goodman,

and Fran Allison.

We owe it all to clean living.
Happy birthday, anyway.