Sunday, August 30, 2009

Cranky Large Medium reading, 30 August

Go away.

Why am I not yet alone? Why do you still stand here before me? Did I not make myself clear that I prefer you leave? So, why do you stay were nobody makes you welcome? Are you lost? The exit is right over there, next to the abrupt drop-off. Now, run along. Why are you still here, then? Oh, you want something from me, do you? I see, said the seer. Permit me to pretend I know nothing about what it is you seek. No, ever mind, that would keep you around here for longer. Let me cut to the chase. You want a reading. And, if I give it to you, you will be happy and leave promptly? Lovely. Pack your bags and let's get cruising. Here you are:
Wow, you don't quite get the "being normal" thing, do you? You're a real original! You are mesmerizing (as are most train wrecks), brusque in your speech habits, and demonstrative in your peculiar affections. Your generosity is often commented upon... as in, "Keep it to yourself, weirdo!" Fortunately, you're not bad at keeping other people's secrets. As long as you don't try to include anybody else in it, you can have a very pleasant home life.
Are you happy, now? Of course not. But, hey, you've had years of practice at living with disappointment, ever since your first glance in the mirror, haven't you. You can look on the positive side -- you can still look in the mirror, after all. That puts you ahead of these people, all of whom, on this date in history, all got no more view of anything but the inside of a pine box: Theodoric the Great, Shōkō, Shimazu Yoshihiro, John Bell Hood, Anton van Leeuwenhoek, Christopher Polhem, Wilhelm Wien, Sir Joseph John "J.J." Thomson, Peder Oluf Pedersen, Fred Lawrence Whipple, Father Eustaquio van Lieshout, Taylor Caldwell, Naguib Mahfouz, Hans Auer, Jean Tinguely, Richard Mansfield, Charles Coburn, William Talman, David Haskell, Charles Bronson, Glenn Ford, Vera Ellen Westmeier Rohe, Wladek "Killer" Kowalski, Max Factor, Guy Burgess, Nathan Leopold, "Indian" Larry Desmedt,
and Sterling Morrison.

Yes, yes, Sunday. Day of rest. Give me a break and go, now.
Happy birthday, anyway.

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