Calling the Psychics Hotline:

W_W: *getting impatient while trying to ignore ghostly Muzak*

Female presence from Beyond: “Yessssss, hello there, dear caaaaaaller. I am now in connection with your earthly sphere. How maaaaay I help youyouyou?”

W_W: *Earthly sphere?*

Female presence from Beyond: “Hello? Are you—"

W_W: "Yeah, I’m here, lady. Say, what are you wearing?”

Female presence from Beyond: “White lacy stuff, and gossamer veilsssss.”

W_W: “Oh my; allow me to contemplate that for a while.”

Female presence from Beyond, aka Woman in White: *breathes deeply (not of the asthmatic sort)*

W_W: “I suddenly remember it’s three dollars per minute, which strikes me as rather expensive even for a psychic call. We must hurry. More breathing please, and insert some moaning as well now and then. While you do all that – you following me still?”

Woman in White: “Ohhhhhhh yessssss.”

W_W: “Right. That’s the stuff. Now tell me what veils and stuff you discard -- slowly. Do rustle them lacy stuff so I can hear quite clearly with my pointy ears.”

Woman in White: *moans, sighs, slaps her thighs*

W_W: "Hell, yeah; that’s it. You sounded a bit corporeal to me, though. You coming through a supernatural wormhole now into this reality?”

Woman in White (shifting her mind into the "thinking" mode for the first time this night): For fuck’s sake, what a goddamn creep. I hope he gets off soon. What the fuck is corp, corporsomething anyway?

W_W: “… Are you now all nude?”

Woman in White: *moans affirmatively (after all, this caller does have one helluva voice, so much so that she hopes he wouldn't use these weird words all the time), and wistfully looks out the window of her cheap apartment that overlooks dilapidated office buildings, a neon-lit 7-Eleven, and a bunch of winos who yell lewd words at the huge full moon overhead*

Suddenly, she hears glass breaking in the bedroom. Her heart shoots up her throat and she mumbles a “sorry” into the phone and hears glass shards crunch as someone – or something – walks over them. She glances wildly around. Her living-room offers nothing. The TV is broken, but it's too heavy; and the can't very well throw the damned sofa, now can she? Something, something she can throw. There has to be something. Knives. The kitchen. No, too late. Something heavy pushes open the bedroom door. She can—There is no one. Hiding behind the wall. Fucker. A musky odor envelops her.

“G-g-get away from me, you hear me," she cries out, almost in the throes of orgasm. "Before I call the police.” The phone she clasps to her breasts: beep beep beep beep.

***

The moonlight washing over her milky skin and its sheen of sweat are stupendous to lay eyes on, especially to these big eyes of mine, and my long teeth are revealed through a wide grin. My paws bleed a little and leave big marks on the bare floor. These prints will be a tremendous mystery to the cops before the day breaks. I look once more at her, and nod at the gentle rise and fall of her breasts and their pink nipples, rise and fall, rise and fall. Very hypnotic. I shake my head and lope off.

(Pulitzer, please.)

06:36 is that Leno in the audience?

I know it's sort of an older clip, but you just wish Randi would stick with a more non-descript conservative mode of dress and shave off the beard. In and of themselves there is nothing wrong with them, of course, but they make it easier for his detractors to dismiss him as an eccentric crackpot. Sorta like that other guys awful ponytail. So many people with a good cause make this mistake. All the great social and cultural efforts of the sixties went by the wayside for the same reasons (long hair, "earthy" clothing, drugs, Strawberry Alarm Clock - goddamn hippies! Who needs their social awareness and environmentalism! Question the status quo, will they??)

I digress...