Cranky Large Medium reading, 28 February

Go away.

Why am I still seeing you before me? When are you going to get thee gone? Won't somebody relieve me of this pain? What will it take for you to leave? Ah, yes. A reading. Permit me. Here you are:

If you weren't already greatly enamored of the concept of logic, you might be a fine member of a religious community. Come to think of it, your obsession with science and reason border on religious fanaticism. You should work on finding a reasonable balance between your nutteries. You are fond of the out-of-doors, and should stay away from comfortable rooms -- especially mine.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. That would require a reasonable, balanced mind. Still, even without that, you still have your life, which is more than can be said for these people, who, on this date in history, went to sleep in Abraham's bosom: Cuauhtémoc, Cosimo II de' Medici, Thomas Cushing, Guillaume Bigourdan, Rajendra Prasad, André Dumont, Charles Nicolle, Roger Michael Needham, Owen Chamberlain, Alphonse de Lamartine, Henry James, Maxwell Anderson, Eric Frank Russell, Daniel J. Boorstin, Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. John Gwynn, Chiquinha Gonzaga, Bobby Bloom, David Byron, Ray Ellington, Billy Thorpe, Ishiro Honda, Eddie 'Rochester' Anderson, Pil Lip "Philip" Ahn, Dermot Morgan, Zara Cully, Ruby Keeler, Mary Stuart, Juan de la Cosa, Henry Luce, Arkady Shevchenko,

and Mike Smith.

Bits and pieces... is that your cake?
Happy birthday, anyway.

The best reason to get out of the UN

Censorship.

Screw the bigots.

(And, no, I do not agree with the comment posted in the lower corner of the screen. Not entirely, anyway. I have met more than a few Muslims who have a sense of honor and decency. But, apparently, they have no influence, politically.)

Cranky Large Medium reading, 27 February

Go away.

Go on, then. What's keeping you? Did anybody invite you to stay? I think not! (And don't go all Descarte on me, here.) I would not invite a total stranger to interrupt my blissful solitude. So you've come with the intent to disturb me, to what end? Ah, the reading. If I give you this, you will go, correct? My fingers do the happy dance for this. Here you are:

You have an acquisitive nature which will cause your house to become dangerously overpacked with embarrassing crap. You are restless, but methodical in your habits. Still, there is now fairly reliable medication available to treat your Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you know. You need to have your family around you, and they don't often express objections.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. But think how good you really have things, regardless of what the reading gives. At least you have your life. The same cannot be said for these people, all of whom, on this date in history, Jacob H. Gilbert, Henry Cabot Lodge, Samuel Ichiye Hayakawa, Ivan Pavlov, Paul Oswald Ahnert, Konrad Lorenz, George H. Hitchings, Nahum Norbert Glatzer, John Arbuthnot, Kostis Palamas, John Dickson Carr, Otis Chandler, George Orry Kelly, Alexander Borodin, Robert E. "Pat" Brady, Bobby Rosengarden, George Tobias, J. T. Walsh, Joan Greenwood, Lillian Gish, Jacques Plante, Myron Cope, Nicholas Biddle, Louis Vuitton, Harry 'Breaker' Morant, Peter Handcock, Joshua W. Alexander, Marie Dionne, Spike Milligan, Fred Rogers, Robert Lee Scott, Jr., William F. Buckley, Jr.,

and Frankie Lymon.

You had it comin' to ya.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Wendy Richard, "Miss Brahms" R.I.P.

For those who were fans of the Britcom "Are You Being Served," today is another sad day. Wendy Richard, the voluptuous young thing Miss Brahms, has passed away at 65.

"Ever wish you had SONIC hearing?"

What a great line for opening an advertisement directed at selling useless gadgets at high prices to people who have no brains!

Duuuuuuude, I hate to break it to you, but unless they're stone deaf, everybody who's watching your ad has sonic hearing. That's what "hearing" means. That's what those little parts inside the ear are in there for: picking up sonic waves and transmitting them via neural pathways into the brain. Give me a few more years before I surrender my sonic hearing to the ravages of old age and genetic disorders. We'll discuss the digital substitutes then. If technology continues to improve, and if socialized medicine doesn't arise in this country and kill the tech solutions' availability.

Sonic hearing.

Duh.

I SO have to move this little computer out of the room where Mom is watching sports.

Philip José Farmer, R.I.P.

One of the most imaginative minds of the already rarefied science fiction community, Philip José Farmer, is no longer with us. According to his official website, he passed away in his sleep, at the age of 91.

Now, he has his own place in Riverworld.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 26 February

Go away.

Why won't you leave? Don't you have some traffic to go play in? Why? Why? Why? Why won't you go? Oh, right, you just got here, and you want that dratted reading. Well, then, I'll give it to you and then you'll go, right? Spiffy. Here you are:

Your ego gets in the way of your entertainment value. You have a brain, but waste it by being hyper-sensitive. You are overly-cautious and touchy-feely; you take your own sweet time coming to conclusions, and, while they may have applied to the situation when you first approached it, they're so last year by the time you reach them.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. Being happy over that would take a true Maverick, and there aren't any of those, today. They're like these people, all of whom, on this date in history, faded away (most rather abruptly): Esek Hopkins, Robert Livingston, Louis-Hippolyte Lafontaine, Levi Eshkol, George L. Street III, Claude Gaspard Bachet de Méziriac, Richard Jordan Gatling, Carl Menger, Otto Wallach, Karl Jaspers, Theodore Schultz, Jef Raskin, John Still, Robert Aickman, Heinrich Faber, William Brade, Giuseppe Tartini, Felix Draeseke, Sir Harry Lauder, Cornell Gunter, David Doyle, Lawrence Tierney, Constance Ford, Christian Goethals, Theodor Eicke, Bill Hicks,

and Roy "Little Jazz" Eldridge.

Sunday came on Thursday, this year.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Corrections: The medium got so cranky we posted tomorrow's deaths today. Apologies to anybody who was reckless enough to think this was a professional-quality work site. We're hermit with gift, and sometimes the "Gift" turns German. Again, apologies.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 25 February

Go away.

When will you go? It isn't as though I've rolled out a red carpet for you, so why won't you get a clue and wander off? Oh, right, you came here with a purpose. And that purpose is...? Ah, of course, the reading. Well, then, here you are:

You have a gift of quick and very keen perception with you should use intelligently and to the greatest advantage. Note, I said you should. Naturally, you won't. You have a have a vivid memory, in your imagination. You are impulsive and will marry after a brief courtship -- and then understand what they meant when they said, "Marry in haste, repent at leisure."

Are you happy, now? Of course not. Happiness is for those who are not proudly dysfunctional. Still, you should consider how much better off than these people, all of whom, on this date in history, ceased to function: Dafydd ap Llywelyn, King Frederick I of Prussia, Daoguang, Daniel "Chappie" James Jr., George Minot, Sergei Winogradsky, Theodor Svedberg, Glenn T. Seaborg, Donald Hings (over and out), Chauncey Allen Goodrich, Friedrich Maximilian Klinger, Thomas Moore, Grace Metalious, Tennessee Williams, Sir Christopher Wren, Mark Rothko, Marco da Gagliano, Alessandro Stradella, James Coco, Edward Constantinowsky aka Eddie Constantine, Dr. Haing S. Ngor, Darren McGavin, Eliza Haywood, John McGraw, Jersey Joe Walcott, Ashley Cooper, Hirate Masahide, George "Bugs" Moran, Elijah Muhammad, Peter Benenson, William R. Anderson,

and Stephen Ellis Garrett aka Static Major.

Stop Breezy buses.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 24 February

Go away.

Please, will you get out? I'm asking politely, and I won't even brandish my weapon (so an old broom doesn't look like much of a weapon. Haven't you seen Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan? They could kill with an old broom straw. Not that I'm comparing myself to them, but I have the whole broom). So, won't you go? Why not? Oh, right, you came here for that dratted reading. Make a successful forecast once, and everybody beats his way to your doorstep. Sigh. Here you are, then:

You are a complete and utter mouse, with no real spine at all. You are apt to marry the first somebody who steamrollers over your heart. Neither of you will be happy, but opposites often make the most entertaining marriages for us to watch, don't they? You would like to grow accustomed to serenity and luxury, as would we all. The caves on the other side of this hermit's mountain are quite posh -- they have running water and some even have bearskin rugs. If you fight well. If not, they'll have some nice carved bone sculptures. I'm betting on bones.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. Happiness takes courage. I get mine from a bottle, sometimes, and sometimes from just plain being too bored to realize there's trouble afoot. Then again, it doesn't take much courage to recognize how good you have things, being alive, as opposed to these people who all, on this date in history, turned yellow, then chalky, then all sorts of other fungal colors under the surface of the green: Ethelbert of Kent, Joseph Jenkins Roberts, Joshua Chamberlain, Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, Henry Cavendish, Etienne-Louis Malus, Robert Fulton, Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevsky, Claude E. Shannon, Johann Weyer, Thomas Bowdler, Malcolm Forbes, Octavia Butler, Nicholas Lanier, Matthias Weckmann, André Messager, Johnnie Ray, Dinah Shore, Arthur Lyman, Larry Norman, Conrad Nagel, John Randolph, Don Knotts, William Dennis Weaver, Harold Herman Brix aka Bruce Bennett, Virginia Bruce, Sparky Adams, Tony Conigliaro, Lamar Lundy, Damien Nash, Colonel Francis Charteris, George Gobel, Henny Youngman,

and Webb Pierce.

You're not the first and I don't care.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Is the media worm turning?

From the AP today:

Obama pledges to slash deficit — after increase

Is this a sign that the MSM are waking from the enchantment, is the honeymoon over? Can it be?

Or is it just a single voice in the wilderness they call "journalism"?

Maybe it's only a tease, to make us believe the MSM can be unbiased about their Saviour...

Cranky Large Medium reading, 23 February

Go away.

Will you be going, please? Why are you still here? Did the bus leave without you? -- because if it did, I can arrange for its hasty return. Oh, you're still here on purpose. Might I be so bold as to ask what that purpose is? Ah, yes, the reading. I have one of those, if today is the anniversary of your birth. It is? Guh-ROOvy. Here you are:

Aren't you just the picture of health? Since you don't have much, mind if I give you a few of my aches and fevers? Ah, but you will need reading glasses. Even when you stubbornly refuse to stagger under the influence of the weekend, most people won't exactly hate you. Still, since it's important to you, you should probably stay home and take care of the house and all its occupants, so nobody notices how annoyingly undamaged you are and tries to do something about it.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. It would take somebody of keen perceptions to be happy, here. But then, you could just look on the bright side – at least you're still able to come consult a medium, as opposed to all these people, who, on this date in history, stopped looking and settled for permanent shuteye: Zhezong, Zhengtong, Stanislaw Leszczynski, George Taylor, John Quincy Adams, Tomoyuki Yamashita, Saud bin Abdul Aziz, Janez Drnovšek, Andrea Cesalpino, Carl Friedrich Gauss, Albert Victor Bäcklund, Leo Hendrik Baekeland, John Robert Gregg, Dickinson W. Richards, Willigis, Peter Damian, Saint Isabel of France, Pope Eugene IV, Pope Benedict XIII John Keats, James Alfred Wight aka James Herriot, Joshua Reynolds, Pierre Certon, Georg Muffat, Helen Porter Mitchell aka Dame Nellie Melba, Edward Elgar, Tony Williams, Carl Anderson, Luigi Francisco Varlaro aka Don Cornell, John Dee Abohosh aka Donnie Brooks, Stan Laurel, Hirsch Jacobs, Carl Liscombe, José Napoleón Duarte, Robert K. Merton (talk about your unintended consequences!),

and Melvin Franklin.

Outta sight and out of mind.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 22 February

Go away.

Will you be going, please? I don't think I can beg hard enough. What prompts you to remain in my company, anyway? Oh, right. You came here for your reading. Day after day, the same stuff. Well, I must tell you, this being a medium has its downside. Perhaps I could consider giving it up for lent. Of course, my not being a practicing Catholic does put a damper on that idea. But if I give you what you're asking, then at least I'll be left alone for another day, right? Then, swell, here you are:

You are too apt to be pessimistic. Stop trying to copy me and find your own path. You are capable of great things if you will accept the present happiness and not worry about the future. Fat chance of that, eh? Maybe you could just buy some worry beads... stop in at the gift store on your way downhill. You are generous to a fault – did I suggest you stop in at the gift store already? – and can love deeply, if you find the right person. That's a very big "if."

Are you happy, now? Of course not. Happiness takes practice. Heck, though, you ought to at least appreciate how much better you have things than these people, all of whom, on this date in history, without lent, gave up the ghost: Roger Borsa, David II of Scotland, Felix Frankfurter, Jean-Jacques Bertrand, Amerigo Vespucci, Olivier van Noort, Frederik Ruysch, Francis Atterbury, Adam Ferguson, Sir Charles Lyell, Jessamyn West, Charles Le Brun, Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot, Carl Heinrich Bloch, Peter Arno, Andy Warhol, Chuck Jones, Francesco Gasparini, Hugo Wolf, Dominic "Nick" LaRocca, Efrem Zimbalist, "Papa" John Creach, Anthony Burger, Alexander Scourby, Ed Flanders, Angela Baddeley, Simone Simon, Andy Seminick, Dennis Johnson, John Jacob Astor III, Kasturba Gandhi, Daniel Pearl, Howard Verne Ramsey,

and Florence Ballard.

What? I can't hear you over the symphony.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 21 February

Go away.

Why won't you go? This isn't an eighties' pop-tune quiz moment; even if it were, the answer would still be "go". But you still stay. Egad, the torment! If I give you something, though, you may leave, correct? What is it you want? Ah. A reading. Easy enough. This for my solitude, yes? Wonderful. Here you are:

You have acceptable reasoning powers, but are far too critical in your opinions. We can't have you looking hungrily at my job, can we, now? As far as scholarship goes, you're an uptight, bookish snob with a taste for expensive things. Nobody else around you will, but you will have a pleasant home life, you selfish appendage!

Are you happy, now? Of course not. If you were, your imagination might never take flight and you'd have never toddled over to my place. Still, you should take it as a good thing that you're here and still fantasizing, while these people, on this date in history, went on instead to join the great dream: James I of Scotland, Emperor Ninko, Hieronymus Bock, Johann Georg Palitzsch, George Francis FitzGerald, Heike Kamerlingh Onnes, George Ellery Hale, Frederick Banting, Howard Walter Florey, Gertrude B. Elion, Harold Furth, Pope Julius II, Robert Southwell, Baruch Spinoza, Pope Benedict XIII, Jacinta Marto, Charles Beaumont, Helen Hooven Santmyer, Dame Margot Fonteyn, Murray "the K" Kaufman, Ara Berberian, Jacques Becker, Louis Hayward, John Thaw, (without reMorse), Ben Chapman, Eric Liddell, Tim Horton (doughnuts, anyone? Yummmmmm), Wilmer David Mizell, Sunny Lowry, John Thurloe, Eugène de Beauharnais, Augusto Nicolás Calderón Sandino, Malcolm Little aka El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz aka Malcolm X,

and Morton Gould.

Salute!
Happy birthday, anyway.

Let's tax drivers by the mile

By all means, let's follow the idea our new energy czar has put forth, of taxing drivers by the mile. I can guarantee it will absolutely kill all businesses in rural and semi-rural communities. I will never again be able to afford to take my car across the river to Burlington, IA to shop at Hobby Lobby for my art supplies, and my friend and I will no longer try to sell our little tchatchkes at the little antiques mall... mostly because nobody else will drive to the little town to buy the little tchatchkes. Mom will not drive to Galesburg, IL to have her computers cleaned and repaired by the regional professionals. Dad will not go to Macomb, Bushnell, Galesburg, or any of the other places in the region to attend auctions (where he regularly buys his toys at a fairly not-cheap rate).

We will mail-order what we need, from gigantic warehouse companies based in cities overseas. That should really help the national economy, shouldn't it?

Cranky Large Medium reading, 20 February

Go away.

What's keeping you here? Lead in your boots? Something worse in your shorts? Just why won't you leave? Oh, right. You came here for something in particular, and you won't go home without it. You want a reading. As if this will change your life in any substantive way. Still, it's what I see, and what you want, so, here you are:

You are emotionally unstable in the extreme; your passions are deep and you love and hate with intensity. You lose control of your emotions and act hastily when excited, and spend long hours apologizing and trying to make up for your abominable behavior. You are bossy and domineering, with an ego the size of the government's perceptions of the depth of its working citizens' pockets. A double-wide trailer isn't sufficient to house your head.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. Your double-wide sense of self won't allow it. Still, you should consider how much better off you are than these people, all of whom, on this date in history, permanently settled into singles below ground: K'inich Kan B'alam II, Conan IV, Henry Percy, Tecún Umán, Lachlan McIntosh, P.G.T. Beauregard, Chester Nimitz, Tobias Mayer, Jean Jacques d'Ortous de Mairan, Laura Bassi, Henri Moissan, Maria Goeppert-Mayer, Paul Dirac, F. Albert Cotton, Saint Wulfric, Joseph II, Kathryn Kuhlman, Frederick Douglass, Sophie Treadwell, Hunter S. Thompson, Paul Kane, John Dowland, Percy Grainger, David Monrad Johansen, Tōru Takemitsu, Zachary Breaux, Pam Bricker, Anthony Asquith, Max Schreck, Fred Immler, Clarence "Ducky" Nash, Dick York, Burt Lancaster, John Raitt, Rosemary DeCamp, Sandra Dee, Harry Jacunski, Curt Gowdy, William Wallace Lincoln, Robert Peary, Walter Winchell, Gene Siskel, Ferruccio Lamborghini,

and Ty Longley.

Consider yourself rocked.
Happy birthday, anyway.

In other news: Science proves the Obvious

It's what you mother told you when you first tried on that skimpy thing: a bikini will stop a man from thinking of an attractive woman as a human being, and turns her, in his mind, into an object.

It's normal, it's natural, and it's not something they expect women would do when confronted with pictures of Chippendale's men. Women look at men, the say, as potential partners in wealth and power, or, at a baser level, as means to an end. But men look at shapely women and stop thinking beyond "Ooooh, shiny," and they mentally begin to grope.

Or, as paragraph 3 puts it, men are

more likely to associate images of sexualized women with first-person action verbs such as "I push, I grasp, I handle," said lead researcher Susan Fiske, a psychologist at Princeton University.

and (graf 5)

these men see women "as sexually inviting, but they are not thinking about their minds,"

But, as I was reading this aloud to my sainted mother, this was the part, right near the beginning, which got her snickering:

Brain scans revealed that when men are shown pictures of scantily clad women, the region of the brain associated with tool use lights up.

She wondered about "tool use."

Mom has a very dirty mind. Guess which side of the family I most resemble?

Latest big Dem supporter served papers

According to FOXNews, Sir Robert Allen Stanford, the man suspected of having swindled buzillions of dollars from investors, thus making Bernie Madoff look a piker, has been found in Virginia and has been served. The Feds are ordering him to appear, to a'splain wha' hap' to $8 billion in certificates of deposit.

But the best part of the article is the third graf, where it says this:

The 58-year-old holds duel citizenship in Barbuda and Antigua (where he was knighted in 2006).

Note: he has duel citizenship. Do we have anybody else in this country who can challenge him, then? I mean, it would be quite another thing if he had dual citizenship, because then he'd have a second country to flee to. But, no! It would seem by this language he's going to be required to defend his position, either at fifteen paces or with the sword, instead of in court. And I didn't think we had such citizenships here, at least not since before Aaron Burr's day.

Nevertheless, it's nice to see the Feds are on the ball, at long last. Next, we get to see if the MSM mentions his close ties to and support for the Democratic Party's high Muckamucks. I'm betting it will be on the same day Roland Burris voluntarily steps down from the Senate because he truly recognizes it's the right thing to do. That will be a few months after they start cross-country skiing in hell.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 19 February

Go away.

Why have you not gone? What is it about me that causes you to torment me? Is it my beauty making you envious? Let me put a little mud on my nose. Is it my wealth? Ha! somebody tricked you, there. Oh, it's that voodoo that I do so well. Well. Let me offer you a piece and let you then find the exit. Your reading, if you were born on this date, goes something like this:

You are conscientious, reliable and plod along in your work faithfully and blindly. You like travel and a change of scene, but have no clue why. You are painfully honest and whole-hearted in your love. In other words... YAWN! At least you're living a safe life -- how could anybody do you harm if you put them all to sleep with your mere presence?

Are you happy, now? Of course not. And, yet, I don't give a flying fig. At least you have your dull little life to interest yourself, which is more than these people have, after having, on this date, become interesting to nothing but worms and archaelogists: Clodius Albinus, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, Nicholas Van Dyke, Billy Mitchell, Deng Xiaoping, Erasmus Reinhold, Jean-Charles de Borda, Karl Weierstraß, Ernst Mach, Georgios Papanikolaou, Elizabeth Carter, Georg Büchner, Knut Hamsun, Leo Rosten, Tedd Pierce, Orazio Vecchi, Luigi de Rossi, Louis Marshall "Grandpa" Jones, Derek Jarman, Stanley Kramer, Madge Blake, Alice White, Janet Blair, Mike González, Harry Tanabe aka Tojo Yamamoto, Sir Henry Savile,

and Ronald Belford "Bon" Scott.

Dirt naps done dirt cheap.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 18 February

Go away.

When will you go? Yesterday isn't soon enough. Please, if you have an ounce of decency, you will leave.... Apparently, you have no decency. Otherwise, why would you still be standing there? Oh, you came here for something. A reading. How nice. And I suppose you expect it to come from me. How nice. As if you couldn't have sent me a postcard, instead of taking up space in my retreat. Well, if it will make you leave any sooner, let me give you what I have:

You are a plodder, not allowing anything to get in your slow, steady path to what you view as success. You're like the tortoise in Aesop's fable, except that you haven't a clue that you're in a race, or where the finish line might be. Under those circumstances, the rabbit will always win. You miser, you could pinch a penny until locomotives became jealous of how thin you got it. It's amazing that you haven't been abandoned by embarrassed family and friends.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. That would require something you lack: swiftness of uptake. Well, try to look on the bright side -- at least you've still got your life, which is more than we can say for these people, all of whom, on this date in history, got caught in the intake of afterlife: Tarasius, Kublai Khan, Thabit ibn Qurra, Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa, John Whitehurst, Carl Gustav Jakob Jacobi, Henry Norris Russell, J. Robert Oppenheimer, Angilbert, Pope Gregory V, Martin Luther, Antonio Francesco Grazzini, Jean-Louis Guez de Balzac, Albert Payson Terhune, Dame Ngaio Marsh, Guido di Pietro aka Fra Angelico, Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Nicolaes Pieterszoon Berchem, Charles Lewis Tiffany, Gustave Charpentier, Bob Stinson, Robert Rossen, Andy Devine, Noam Pitlik, Maggie McNamara, Jacqueline Hill, James J. Corbett, Harry Caray, Dale Earnhardt, Eddie Mathews, Richard Bright, Anna Maria Luisa de' Medici, John Chapman aka Johnny Appleseed, John Batterson Stetson (with a tip of the hat to him), David King Udall, Joseph-Armand Bombardier, John Knudsen Northrop,

and Johnny Paycheck,

You're not the only hell YOUR mama ever raised, but don't ask your daddy about it.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Out of the mouths of babes

I received this message today from my younger sister, expressing a truth which is, I believe, universal:

Tonight I broke out the last of our frozen cherries because I wanted some pork tenderloin with cherry sauce. Mmmmm. It war good. I used the other portion of the tub to make a cherry tart using a previously frozen pie crust. It wasn't pretty but it was good.

As [my nephew] was on the verge of licking the plate - and I know you can picture that without difficulty - [his father] suggested the boy try to show some dignity. His response: "with pie there is no dignity."

I found that to be true later in the kitchen when I used a spoon to scrape after some of the drippings from the catch pan. It was good.

With pie there is no dignity is now our family motto.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 17 February

Go away.

Are you gone, yet? Why the heck not? Was I too oblique in my request, that you didn't understand it? I said "Go away." It's plain enough English, isn't it? Sheesh. Oh, right. You came her after something I had. You want my wisdom showered down upon you like snowflakes on Mount Baker. How about I give you something closer to rainfall on Mars, like, maybe, a reading of your life? Here you are:

You are fortunate to have been born. You have exceptional opportunities to rise to the top in love, business or a career, but aren't terribly likely to seize those opportunities, as the last great chance you took was in being born. You are most considerate to those dear to you, but that isn't saying much. You love with vigor (and far too many accessories) and you should stay home more often.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. There wasn't a snowflake's chance of that happening, was there? the least you can do, though, is think how much better you have it, being as you've still got your life, while all these other people, on this date in history, went the way of the snowman in Springtime: Emperor Jovian, Ferdinando I de' Medici, Arthur Onslow, Goyathlay aka Geronimo, José López Portillo, Jan Swammerdam, Antoine Galland, Lambert Adolphe Jacques Quetelet, Christopher Latham "QWERTY" Sholes, Saint Mesrop Mashtots, Giordano Bruno, Jiddu Krishnamurti, Friedrich Sylburg, Jean-Baptiste Poquelin aka Molière, Heinrich Heine, Hugh McCrae, Shmuel Yosef Agnon, Ernst Jünger, John Martin, Louis Marchand, Ferdinando Carulli, Claude Antoine Jean Georges Napoleon Coste, Armand J. Piron, Bruno Walter, Alfred Newman, Bob Merrill, William "Billy" Cowsill, Lee Strasberg, Ernest Sharpe aka Erik Rhodes, Dan O'Herlihy, Nita Naldi, Lefty Gomez, Clarence Henry "Hap" Day, Michael Lee Alfonso aka Mike Awesome, Randy Shilts, Khalid Abdul Muhammed, Maurice Papon,

and Thelonious Monk.

If you don't like your life, Don't Blame Me.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 16 February

Go away.

Why won't you go? Was it something I said? No, it couldn't be that. I only said "Go away." So it must be some other reason you're lollygagging at my retreat. Ah, of course, you're one of those seekers. You want your reading, and if you get it you'll be leave happy and make me happier? Swell. Here you are:

You are a bossy so-and-so, expecting everybody to follow your lead. At least you are retentive enough not to lead them over a cliff, unless that was your plan, all along. You try to surround yourself with expensive and ornate objects, spoil yourself when you can (usually when you shouldn't), and fancy you understand what people mean when they use words like "integrity" and "honor," trying to apply them to yourself. You might get lucky in love, if you apply yourself to it. Which means, you probably won't.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. Lollygaggers seldom are. Look on the bright side, though. You're still able to choose to lollygag, whereas all these people, on this date, were forced into a permanent loll: John V Palaeologus, Nematollah Nassiri, Johannes Stöffler,Richard Mead, Erich Hückel, Herman Wold, Chien-Shiung Wu, Jean du Bellay, Saint Nikolai of Japan, Thomas Bracken, Giosuè Carducci, Octave Mirbeau, Angela Carter, Keith Haring, Norman Treigle, Walter Brown "Brownie" McGhee, Eddie Foy, Antonio Moreno, Roger Bowen, Marceline Day, Lila Kedrova, Nicole DeHuff, Morgan Taylor, Bob Buhl, Michael "Mike" Durham aka Johnny Grunge, Ernie Stautner, Joseph Crosfield, Sir Edgar Speyer, John Garand, Karsten Solheim, Eleanor "Sis" Daley,

and Lester Alvin "Smiley" Burnette.

Feast all you want. Dinner is served, Tantalus.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 15 February

Go away.

Why haven't you left, yet? Did some joker tell you I was lonely for your company, or something? Sorry, no. Did you not even notice how the rocky trail was washed out in several places, just as I planned? Oh, no. You climbed past all that, and risked life and limb, so to speak, for what? Ah, you came for a reading. And, if I give you this reading, will you then pack yourself up and head back whence you came? Wonderful! Here you are, then:

The satisfaction of your own whims and fancies, is paramount in your life, so reality has no bearing. Obviously, you are in politics. You have talent and ability, but it will not show until some crisis brings it out. I take that previous comment back. If you're good in crisis, you're definitely not in any political office I know of. Or, maybe you are in politics, and you just haven't recognized a crisis when it bit you on the... where was I? Oh, right. That reading thing. You have few outside interests, but your family is very dear to you. Definitely not politics. Just a fantasy-obsessed, family-dependent dullard.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. You couldn't find happy if it bit you on the... where was I? Hey, at least you have your life, which is more than I can say for these people, all of whom, on this date in history, packed up and packed it in: Ferdinand II, Herbert Henry Asquith, Germinal Pierre Dandelin, Pierre François Verhulst, Theodor Escherich, Owen Willans Richardson, Richard Feynman, Henry Way Kendall, Pope Lucius II, Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, Amnon Netzer, Matthias Braun, Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin, Michael Praetorius, Mikhail Glinka, Michael Bloomfield, Wally Cox, Tim Holt, Tommy Rettig, McLean Stevenson, Kevin Tod Smith, Walker Edmiston, Minnie Maddern Fiske, Ethel Agnes Zimmerman aka Ethel Merman, Jan Miner, Louie Spicolli, Howard K. Smith, Samuel Francis,

Raymond Bernard Evans


and Nathaniel Adams Coles aka Nat King Cole.

Life is just the stardust...
Happy birthday, anyway.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 14 February

Go away.

Will you get out of here? Get out! Well, why are you still dawdling at my doorstep? So, you want something from me. Sorry , kid, I gave up Girl Scout cookies when they started promising "healthier" options. I like my cookies dead. If they're healthy, they're not cookies. Oh. It's not the cookies you're doing, it's the search for yourself thing. You want a reading. Jeepers, why didn't you say something from the get-go, instead of wasting my time on Girl Scout cookies. Here's your reading:

You are independent to the point of extreme selfishness. You'll take credit when things go right around you, even when credit is due others as well, and when things go wrong, you're the first to point the finger of blame at everybody else, instead of manning up and taking responsibility for what you screwed up. Men might like you for your masterful nature, but if you're interested in having a woman care about you, it's a lost cause. They see you for what you are.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. Happiness only comes over Samoas. But you don't have to get all crumbly. After all, you're still alive and cooking, unlike these people, all of whom, on this date in history, pushed away from life's banquet: King Richard II, Timur, William Blackstone, William Tecumseh Sherman, Rafik Hariri, John Hadley, Henry Maudslay, Eugène Charles Catalan, David Hilbert, Karl Guthe Jansky, Julian Huxley, James Bond, St. Valentine (hello, young lovers), Saint Cyril, P. G. Wodehouse, Abraham Bosse, Warren "Baby" Dodds, Edmund Rubbra, Buddy Knox, Michael V. Gazzo, Dora Gerson, Tom Burke, Mordecai Brown, Captain James Cook, Yusuf Salman Yusuf, Vito Genovese, John Ehrlichman,

and Frederick Loewe.

Mmmm. I can handle that.
Happy birthday, anyway.

Cranky Large Medium reading, 13 February

Go away.

Why are you still here? Did somebody say you could stay? Certainly not I. So, whoever it was you heard tell you, you need to adjust your meds so you can't hear those voices again. Oh. You just came for a reading, and then you'll skedaddle? Tee- freakin'-riffic. Here you are, then:

You are irritatingly bubbly and golly-gee-whiz unceasingly upbeat, and, yet, surprisingly, concerned for others' rights. You need to believe you are cultured, so you expend much energy on art and literature, without fully comprehending what it is your eyes are taking in, and still manage to fool people into thinking you have good taste. In love affairs, you are fickle and inconstant. Why don't you try growing up?

Are you happy, now? Of course not. That would be the mature response. But look on the bright side of things: at least you're better off than these people, all of whom, on this date in history, quit maturing and began to go ripe: Kenneth I of Scotland, Minamoto no Sanetomo, Andronikos II Palaiologos, Elizabeth Stuart, George Rogers Clark, Dame Christabel Pankhurst, Jan Łukasiewicz, Werner Heyde, Nikolay Bogolyubov, James Cooke Brown, Emilios T. Harlaftis, Pope Honorius II, Cotton Mather, Jean Baptiste Lamy, Lúcia Santos, Stephen Gosson, Rafael Sabatini, Lloyd C. Douglas, Josephine Tey, Benvenuto Cellini, Jacopo Bassano, Gian Paolo Lomazzo, Konstantin Savitsky, Albert Gottschalk, Richard Wagner, Waylon Jennings, David Janssen, Martin Balsam, Andrew C. "Andreas" Katsulas, Mae Marsh, Kid Gavilan, Nelson Briles, Dick Weber, Catherine Howard, Miles Sindercombe, Robert Klark Graham, Charlie Norwood, Richard Gordon Wakeford,

and Lily Pons.

Hell's bells! Isn't it just Lakme to stick this in here?
Happy birthday, anyway.