The Telemedium website had me hooked right off the bat. To start they were only going to charge me $1.69 per minute. Sixty-nine is hilarious on the Internet, I’m sold! Plus, there’s a long list of psychics I can choose from, it’s not even some random wahoo with specialized knowledge of unknowable events, it’s my choice. And what choices!
Tim there looked promising, and if anyone has seen the astral plane it’s gotta be this guy but alas, he was offline. Luckily they have about 90 psychics to choose from so I also ran Costanza here up the flagpole;
My final choice was this charming looking lady, because I was hoping for some psychic phone sex as I assume she already knows what I like (mostly degradation and threats).
Unfortunately she too was offline, so I had to settle for a middle-aged lady whose picture wasn’t even available. Great. The Test: My new psychic friend was named Claudia and she spoke as slowly and deliberately as any drunk I’ve ever met. I couldn’t decide if this was because she was trying to milk my $1.69 a minute or because she had stroked out just before I called. I didn’t really want to ask. Honestly, she should have known I wanted to know, but that’s neither here nor there. Since I didn’t have time or finances to beat around the bush, I cut to the chase. In my hand was the one item I always have handy when I’m doing research: a boxed set of the RoboCop trilogy. I asked Claudia to tell me what I was holding.
He’s a cop and a robo? This movie really speaks to me.With only a minor stumble that I think was the beginning of a “wha?” Claudia quickly changed directions and explained how she connects with my spirit guides to glean information from me and they show her what I need to know, not always what I want to know. You crafty bitch. I tell her it was all three RoboCop films on DVD, including the subpar third movie and for a second I’m met with silence before she asks me what has been concerning me lately. Is there something that’s being weighing heavy on me? Something I’m stressed over? Damn right there has, what did I have for breakfast? As though I’m talking to an even-tempered and potentially medicated wall, Claudia continues as though I have said nothing at all. She’s getting that I have some concerns about money. Have I had some expenses lately that are troubling to me? Yes. My breakfast.
I haven’t seen this many greasy meat tubes since I was an altar boy (ba dum bum).The clock is ticking and I refuse to question this woman about my sausage any longer (I had sausage for breakfast, incidentally). I jump right into the big guns by explaining to her my beloved uncle Jeremy was lost at sea two weeks ago while out tuna fishing. Is he OK? Inexplicably this question slows her down even more and I’m positive I’ve wasted over $10 at this point. She tells me she sees water and darkness and it feels cold. She tells me my uncle was definitely in the water and now, wherever he is, he’s lost. He’s partially crossed over but she isn’t sure if that means he has died or possibly in a coma. The Verdict: I cut Claudia off before I’m in to her for a full on case of beer or anything by triumphantly explaining that not only has my uncle Jeremy never been lost at sea while fishing for tuna, he doesn’t even fish. Also, he doesn’t even exist. Psychic your way out of that!
This is how they finally canceled Crossing Over with John Edwards.She attempts to explain how the guides are showing her water in a desperate attempt to not have to do an about face to account for my fictional uncle’s fictional demise. I scream “fraud” into the phone and hang up, about $12 poorer but so much wiser.
At the psychic center you can apparently get 10 minutes worth of psychic insight for only $1. How do these guys stay in business? The website features a very Twilight looking girl with a crystal ball which I feel is a good sign. Even if they can’t answer my questions, maybe they can explain to me why anyone watches those terrible fucking movies.
They have 11 pages of psychics to choose from so I pick a woman who not only does humans but pets as well, because it seems appropriate for the Internet and, read out of context the way I wrote it there, looks all kinds of dirty. Bet she didn’t see that coming.
I learn quickly that, while you may think being both a pet and human psychic would maximize someone’s awesome superpowers, it in facts seems to make you borderline retarded. When I question her about the object in my hand, which is now my Chihuahua which I felt was appropriate to the situation, I get some cock and bull story about how she needs to use Tarot cards which will start giving her impressions about blah blah, sentence that goes on for like three more fucking minutes.
Once she finishes the jibber jab, I hit her with the breakfast question. I think she literally, word for word, says the same goddamn thing she just said to me when I asked about Mojo--who I named prior to Transformers coming out making him original and Michael Bay even more of a hack, thank you. She must have this shit written on the back of the tub of Haagen-Dazs I assume she’s eating on her sofa.
My dog’s dink is now on the Internet.My pet psychic hasn’t instilled a lot of faith in me yet but it all rests on the money shot. She missed the bus on Mojo but maybe she can redeem herself with this little gem: My kitten fell into a box and floated down the river behind my home and my pug ran after him and I haven’t seen either since. Are they OK? The Verdict: The savvy amongst you will have recognized my conundrum as the set up for the epically awesome kitten-and-pug movie Milo and Otis. Of all the kitten and pug movies I’ve seen, it’s the only one.
It’s a fraud, you silly bastard!Ace Ventura takes it at face value and explains how the two animals have a real connection with each other which is why the pug followed and they know I will be OK without them but that other people needed their love and guidance so that’s why they left. Even though the kitten was in the water he got out OK and the two are together and safe and they’re sending me a message to not worry. This shit’s deep. I mention how I forgot one detail, that I don’t have a kitten or a pug and that’s actually a children’s movie. Immediately the tone becomes icy and she explains how if I provide false information she can’t read the cards properly. I think that’s pet psychic for “you’re an asshole.”