My doorbell rang.

I opened the door, and a robed visitor accompanied by sitar music walked in. The renowned mystic from the Far East (the easternmost part of the township), the fabled soothsayer, the seventh son of the seventh son of the seventh son, the oracle from just down the road; Swami Davis Jr. stopped by to give me his predictions for 2015. He knows little, but suspects a great deal. He excels at predicting everything but the future.

The Swami has been indwelled by a spirit of divination, a muse of unearthly clairvoyance. The Swami sees all, knows all and reveals all to those who proffer tribute. A savant of such gifts that within his psyche lie the limits of human understanding. As a fearless, feckless and foolish seer, he is without peer. Even though unreasonable zoning laws discouraging the ancient Roman practice of haruspicy (divining the future by examining the entrails of recently slaughtered beasts) hamper him, you could take his predictions to the bank. Many have called him a bum seer and a purveyor of impaired prognostications, but at least one person (his mother) has called him “uncannily accurate.” Swami Davis Jr. is a reader of palms and tea leaves — he takes an orange pekoe at the future. Reading tea leaves is difficult. There is no plot or character development. His crystal ball (purchased at a rummage sale at Bowling Elaine’s) is back from the shop after having its foreteller replaced.

“Swami Davis Jr., who illuminates the dark corners of our culture, whose knowledge is beyond compare. By contrast, Nostradamus was nothing more than a flawed speculator. Oh, wise Swami, thou vessel of infinite wisdom, who is omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent, tell me, your humble implorer, what the future holds,” I entreat, knowing that most of my future lies ahead. I’m atwitter with anticipation.

Swami Davis Jr. is a cowboy who rounds up predictions. He sees into the future by turning his car’s rearview mirror around. Here are his bold predictions for 2016. Please remember that predicting the future is more challenging than predicting the past.

To the human eye, 2016 will look much like 2015, only with more people who look a year older.

The Nobel Prize for giving out Nobel Prizes will go to the Nobel Prize Committee.

Noise will become noisier.

My neighbor will take a much-needed bath and the vigorous scrubbing will reveal the long underwear he thought he’d lost.

A physician will specialize in removing selfie sticks from bodily orifices.

A Sasquatch will be captured in a remote wooded area and immediately signed to do a reality TV show.

Passenger airplanes will become formfitting and airlines will encourage passengers to place themselves inside their checked luggage.

Someone will win the Super Bowl, the Final Four, the World Series, the Stanley Cup, the NBA Championship and the Ryder Cup. None of the participants in these events will have as much impact on your life as does your favorite supermarket cashier or the guy who plows your snow.

The driver in front of you will still be either an idiot or a moron.

Des Moines will offer to build a new stadium for the Vikings. It would be made entirely out of Lego bricks.

Someone will win the presidential election. This will outage about half the people in your extended family and everyone on either Fox News or MSNBC.

God Loves Everybody But We Are His Favorite Church opens its doors. T-shirts will be given to those who tithe.

The University of Minnesota football team, with a 0-11 record, will need to win its last regular season game in order to be considered for a bowl game appearance.

Potholes will no longer be repaired after MNDOT declares that potholes aren’t actually a part of a road. This will lead to flying cars finally becoming a reality.

A local company will replace unwanted tattoos with wallpaper.

The judicial system will crack down on chronic speeders by sentencing each of them to two weeks in a roundabout.

People who have everything will use up all available storage space.

No one who owns a digital device will need a starry sky to make him or her feel small and insignificant.

Gravy will continue to cover a multitude of sins.

In an uncertain world, the Swami brings more uncertainty to light. There is no app for that.

What went around will come around. Tomorrow will be another day — probably last Tuesday.

The good times will continue to roll.

Once we’ve sorted through the wreckage.

 

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.