Fortune Telling
So it’s Chinese New Year this week, which for me means a lot of interesting crap, especially since I live in Chinatown. Some extra hustle and bustle in my future, and lots of food, red lanterns and Mandarin being screamed in my ear as I walk around the neighbourhood. This of course all comes in a package with a huge upswing in fortune tellers peddling their wares, as Thais and Chinese (most Asians actually) are extremely superstitious.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit that there’s tons of shit about the universe we don’t know and even more that we can barely comprehend, but I have to say that fortune tellers - to me - are no better than the asshole taxi drivers who rip off gullible tourists as they flail their arms for a bit of direction. They’re both high-swindlers, packs of greedy pricks who flaunt a non-existent commodity and take advantage of the natural insecurity that we all have.
My girlfriend, bless her heart, is as sharp as a tack, well-educated and very street smart - but she and her friends visit psychics on a monthly basis and take their advice very seriously. If I try to explain what I think, we just end up arguing, so we’ve come to an agreement: she doesn’t tell me what they say and I don’t try to explain that if someone was really a gifted seer, maybe they wouldn’t be sitting on a dirty blanket outside a public park with a hand-written sign saying “Fortune” and a pack of ratty second-hand cards.
But it’s rife in Thailand, and no one is above their superstitions. There’s an obviously insane woman, about 250 lbs, who sits in a lawn chair on Silom Road every night, dressed in gypsy rags and white face paint, with a sign that says “Goddamn you bad man who say bad thing about me, fuck you” - and she’s always got someone listening to her! In another recent case, an army commander in southern Thailand ordered all the men in his unit to wear a particular amulet after several soldiers who were attacked by rebels didn’t die - and happened to be wearing the amulet in question.
A few years ago I wrote an article for Big Chilli Magazine wherein I told of my visit to three different psychics - tarot, palm and numerology. Unsurprisingly, each one gave me very different and very broad advice; the only thing specific I was told was that I should live near water. Hey, give me $20 and I’ll tell you anything you want. My friend Trevor Ranges had a similar experience when he wrote about his Mor Doo (fortune teller) visit.
I’m always shocked at how much faith people have in these charlatans. Maybe the seeds of my distrust were sown when my friend Shauna, who can’t work in an office due to serious migraines, told me how she used to work as a phone psychic. For $12 an hour, she sat at home and listened to the saps on the other end blather on while she read them pre-written scripts that were arranged in such a way that she could give you an answer for nearly any question.
But hey - I’ve stepped into buildings for the first time only to remember a dream I had years before about the exact same place, so there’s obviously something up with the universe. The trick is to let the universe tell you, not Grandpa Skeezy with the crystal ball.
If you enjoyed this post, please consider to leave a comment or subscribe to the feed and get future articles delivered to your feed reader.
Comments
No comments yet.
Leave a comment