I make predictions. I’m pretty good at it, or so my friends tell me; I don’t like to brag. They’re not big predictions. You wouldn’t want to trust me if I told you tomorrow’s lottery results, and you would never want to listen to me ramble on about this or that politicians’ career; that’s just my opinions.
But if I tell you to go home and take your clothes off the line, or that you should probably check the toaster tomorrow morning to avoid burning breakfast I’m probably spot on.
People sometimes come up to me and ask if their newborn is going to be born right, or if they should bet on their business succeeding the year after. But I have to turn them down. I get it. I understand why they come to me. Stories got around about my soothsaying after I joked once at a party, “I know this sounds crazy, but you need to call the cops, something bad’s going to happen.”. Really I don’t know why I said it, at the time I kind of thought I was just screwing around and so did everyone else. But half an hour later there was a some shouting …