So I was smoking a bowl/s with Nostradamus, Edgar Casey, Jimmy the Greek and Miss Cleo the other night. You’ve never had a fun night until you get high with the spirits of dead psychics and the greatest football prognosticator of all time. As the conversations ebbed and flowed we got on the topic of predictions. I got a few personal tips. Want to know who wins the super bowl this year? That story is coming soon.
We were hitting a nice Sativa. It’s called Neutral Off Grey Dream. You might know it by it’s old name. Blue Dream. Some people got offended. So they changed it. Things started to get a little spacey. And a little scary. So here are some things we came up with.
Covid 19, Quarantine and Vaccines
Our experts were united in general outcome. Nothing good will come of it. It will get out of control and we will be lucky to live through it. But they kept giggling when they said it. So who the fuck knows. Jimmy the Greek let me in on a secret. Between 49% and 51% of the people will support whatever happens. Duh! This is Amurica. Dat’s how we roll. Equally divided. It’s all about equality!
Nostradamus seemed to be channeling Nosferatu, he was all fire and brimstone. He is difficult at best to understand under the best of circumstances. Stoned and drunk? Give it up.
Miss Cleo kept muttering “they are so fucked. Gimme the light and pass the ‘dro” over and over in that crazy Jamaican accent she has. I do love a woman with a Caribbean accent. Hers gets worse when she drinks.
Edgar passed out. Typical.
The State of Race Relations in the US
Generally optimistic.
“The open wound has begun to heal. We need to keep it clean so it doesn’t get infected while it heals. This is very important. Others may try to throw dirt, salt or even poison in the wound. Pretending to help. Pretending to know how bad it hurts. The huge gash right through our heart. The one they put there? They know our pain?”
“They want it to fester and destroy us. We the People know about wound care, a lot of us are in the medical field. We will be ok. We take care of our own.”
Like the guy at every party, Mr. Caycee shoots up off the couch and starts babbling some crazy bullshit and fucked up everyone’s buzz. They grabbed all the pretzels and rolled out. Or poofed out, really.
So , that’s pretty much what we got. I have some other spirits I’d rather smoke up before I go delving into the future again. It’s tempting but I have this thing about pre-conceived notions. They tend to fuck things up.
My story about Jimmy the Greek’s prediction for this year’s Super Bowl winner is in the works.
We the F%#n' People 