Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
A Reading at Samhain
Och, now. So you've been busy this year, sir. Running for President, and all. And elections nearly upon us.
Well, let's see what the cards have to say.
Oh. Oh dear. Well, no, sir, I'm afraid not. Though it's grieved I am to have to tell you so.
No, no, no one else implicated here, sir: whatever's coming, it's all of your own doing. Coming back on your own head, it is, plain and simple. Nothing to do with anyone else, blame who you may.
Oh, my. Financial losses I see here too, sir: major ones. All a direct result of this year's doings, if I may say so. Irreversible, they are. That's money lost you'll never see again, oh no.
Well, sir, it doesn't look good. In short, sir, you've damaged your brand, and there'll be no coming back. At the top of the Wheel you were, but it's all down, down, down from here, and I don't see another coming-up for you, ever, at all, at all.
And the cards don't lie, now, sir. Indeed they don't.
Here, here, now, we'll not be having with that kind of talk around here. I'll say goodbye to you, sir. You'll leave now, you will.
Goodbye. Goodbye.
And who's next, then?
Ah, yes, and a good Samhain to you too, ma'am. Well, let's see what the cards have to say for you this New Year, shall we?
Och, so: and it's busy you've been this year, ma'am.
Running for President, and all.
Above: Nigel Jackson, Wheel of Fortune
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