So I’m at the gym yesterday, sacrificing my cellulite and sweat to the Evil Stair Stepper Machine (sometimes I have dreams it’s chasing me in a giant vat of olive oil) when I catch a glimpse of the television that’s strategically hung from the ceiling (how do they do that?). And it’s none other than America’s talk show sweetheart, Katie-What’s-Her-Name.

What caught my eye was Katie-What’s-Her-Name’s guest, who saunters out on the stage looking like Paula Deen did back about 1976 (before she got her hair professionally colored, mind you). The woman was wearing black lace nylons from the same era.

Katie-What’s-Her-Name explains to the anticipating audience that this Retro Paula Deen person is a medium.

My first thought is, no way, she’s at least a large or I really do need to stop smoking crack so early in the morning (wine is okay though, right?). Then I realize that Katie is not discussing skirt sizes, but psychic skills. Oh, that kind of a medium. Duh, I knew that. Leave me alone. So basically, she talks to dead people (unlike the little pasty-skinned boy who only saw them). This gal has conversations; sans cell phone coverage…canyou hear me now? with the deceased people. Dead. Gone. Buried. Burned. Mummified.


Katie explains that Retro Paula speaks to spirits (Ohhhh, duh, who doesn’t? Pass the whiskey, monkey-face)—oh, wrong kind of spirits? Sorry…she meant like ghosts, gremlins and people on the other side of the drive-thru window (that one’s really scary).

Suddenly, Retro Paula has a vision!  She wants to know if anyone in the audience had pasta last night.

Now wait just a minute.

This show is being taped in New York City, where um, half the state is Italian. The audience of 200 or so Italians gasps when a man shoots up his hand. Oh my! He had pasta last night! She’s amazing! I take a long swig of water and wonder how I can apply for her job. Our bleached blond medium (I still say she’s a large) pulls the mesmerized man up on the stage. I am wondering where she got her nylons.

Next, she tells the pasta-eating man that he’s been worried about a family member.


Isn’t everyone worried about a family member now and then? You obviously haven’t met my Uncle Chester who’s been locked up seven times for leaving his trench coat open at the Light Rail Station and scaring old women with his, er, pistachio nuts. And you think you have problems. Anyway, smack me when I get off topic would you? Owe! Not so hard. God. So the man on the stage smiles at Retro Paula, clearly amazed at her clairvoyancy (is that not a word?).

Next, she tells him she has a message from someone whose first name starts with the letter “P?” He shakes his head no, “R?” Nope. How about “M?” Yes! Yes! That’s it, he tells her. The audience cheers. Who is this amazing woman anyway?  Retro Paula, with her naughty nylons, goes on to tell our pasta-eating  friend that this P-R-M person, wants him to quit worrying. A hush falls over the audience.Could she be right? The man nods his head in disbelief, yes he shouts, yes it’s true! The crowd cheers.

Do the miracles never stop?

A tear springs to his eye. Retro Paula reaches to hug him and the audience gives her a standing ovation. I am sure she made them all drink Katie’s Kool-aid before the show. I hit the “Stop this shit now” button on the stair stepper, and order a cocktail. The kid behind the counter at the gym shoots me a confused look. I tell him I know he took my drink and he better give it back. He tells me he had pasta last night  and a dead relative with the letter P. He’s sure the message was for him too. I kick the stair stepper machine good-bye and go home to call the psychic hot line.


If you really like psychic stuff, you’ll LOVE my upcoming novel, Casey’s Quest. If you think psychic stuff is a bunch of hog wash, you’ll LOVE my upcoming novel, Secrets of a Spiritual Guru (funny stuff). Either way, subscribe to this blog so I can let you know when the books are ready.