Sunday Newscape Magazine

When I published my Miss Cleo column, I figured most people would know the column was a joke. I even braced myself for the possible argument from a Miss Cleo fan, some woman who would tell me that if it weren’t for that gifted psychic, she never would have guessed that her husband had left her for good just because he never came home and had in fact moved out and was living with his new wife and their six kids in Nebraska. One just can't jump to conclusions just because of divorce papers and a restraining order.

 

But I was unprepared for the messages from people who really thought I was Miss Cleo’s assistant. Here’s one of them (with all spelling/grammar intact and the names deleted because I am a total wuss):

DEAR JENNIFER HI! MY FRIEND AND I WANT TO KNOW IF WE WILL BE HOMECOMING MAIDS FOR OUR SCHOOL...(DON’T WORRY WERE IN DIFFRENT GRADES)SO E-MAIL ME!!!!! THANK YOU LOTS...P.S. MAYBE CYOU CAN ALSO TELL US MORE THAN JUST YES OR NO!!!!!!

 

I wrote back, “Maybe.”

 

Then there was the e-mail from the woman who wrote: “I would like to see if you can do a tarot reading on me and see how accurite it is???!”

 

Okay, I’ll give it a shot. Even without Tarot cards, I get the feeling that you didn’t win many spelling bees when you were a kid. How accurite is that?

 

But here’s the one that had me spewing my Lucky Charms onto my monitor:

 

Okay. I want all men to read that e-mail carefully. Ask yourself if this sounds like your girlfriend. If it does, check to see if you’ve got two brothers living next door. You do? Don’t panic. Get up from your computer right now, get into your car, and just drive away. Do not waste time gathering your possessions. Just drive. Drive until you run out of gas. Then abandon the car and walk. Walk until your shoes are in tatters and your face is fried from the sun and you’ve crossed a highway with a sign saying “Welcome to Mexico.” Take work on a small farm, feeding the sheep and goats in exchange for one meal a day and a place to sleep next to the town well. Do this until you die. Trust me. It's the only way out.

 

Just as I was getting ready to change my e-mail address, I got a response from an internet psychic named Magic Maxi. Maxi works for Celebrity Psychic (www.celebritypsychic.com) and used to work for the company that brings us Miss Cleo. Maxi got a huge kick out of my Miss Cleo column and said, “I have to say that I feel greatness from you - like I just met someone very important.”

 

You know, maybe there’s something to this psychic business after all.

 

Maxi told me she was available for interviews in case I ever decided to write a follow-up to the Miss Cleo column. I could have asked her how she got into that line of work. Or how she handles some of the desperate people who call in and if she’s ever had to deal with stalkers. I could have asked why, if she knew that people needed her advice, she didn’t just pick up the phone and call them since she’s so psychic. But no, I copped out and asked her about my own future.

 

Me:
I’m thinking about taking saxophone lessons. Given my failed attempts at guitar and piano, should I just go ahead and set fire to my money instead?

Maxi:
Well, blowing air into a saxophone would help to fan the fire....try another form of expression. Music is not your thing.

Me:
My Great Aunt Odena passed away a few years ago. Can you ask her why we found her bifocals in her microwave and 500 cans of tuna fish in her garage?

Maxi:
The bifocals were in the microwave because she knew she was going fast. The tuna in the garage was in memory of her days on the open sea. She was also a cat in her past life.

Me:
My aunt was a cat on the open sea?

Maxi:
Yes.

Me:
Okay...one last question. You know Lou Perlman, the guy responsible for setting off this whole teen-pop explosion with The Backstreet Boys and NSYNC? He’s going to hell, isn’t he?

Maxi:
Oh my, this question really makes me laugh. I think he is already in hell.

 

That settles it. I don’t know about Miss Cleo, but internet psychics are brilliant. And way more qualified to be answering your questions than I am. So if you want to know about your future, your next-door neighbors, or how to spell “accurate,” go to www.celebritypsychics.com and look up Magic Maxi. DO NOT E-MAIL YOUR QUESTIONS TO ME.

But before I completely leave the psychic business, I do have some final advice for the guy fleeing to Mexico: Don't ever have kids again. Your new vocabulary word is “celibacy.” Or “celibato,” as they say in your new home.