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Tales from Exit 22 by Al Batt

The doorbell rang.

I opened the door and a robed visitor accompanied by sitar music, walked in out of the dimming twilight. The renowned mystic from the Far East 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 with his predictions for 2023. He knows little but suspects a lot.

The Swami has been indwelled by a spirit of divination and is a muse of unearthly clairvoyance. The Swami sees all, knows all and reveals all to those who proffer tribute. A gifted savant who 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. In an uncertain world, the Swami brings more uncertainty to light. Many have called him a bum seer and a purveyor of impaired prognostications, but his mother has called him “uncannily accurate.” Swami Davis Jr. is a reader of palms and tea leaves — taking an orange pekoe at the future. His crystal ball (a cracked bowling ball) is back from the shop after having its foreteller replaced.

“Swami Davis Jr., who illuminates the dark corners of our culture and whose knowledge is unsurpassed. Nostradamus was a flawed speculator in comparison. Oh, wise Swami, thou vessel of infinite wisdom, who is omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent, tell me, your humble implorer, what the future holds,” I entreated, knowing that most of my future lies ahead. I’m atwitter with anticipation.

Swami is a cowboy who rounds up predictions. He sees into the future by turning his car’s rearview mirror backward, producing a Magic 8 Ball in the corner pocket. Even though he believes you can’t handle the sooth, here are his bold, yet intentionally vague, predictions for 2023.

The NFL adopts the designated hitter rule.

The internet catches on.

Suppository headphones become popular with those who want to keep their listening a secret.

Wind turbines produce record amounts of wind.

In a stunning turn of events, events turn stunning.

Things that could happen only in the movies happen all the time.

What you are looking for will be in a place you’d never think to look.

You have a date for New Year’s Eve — Dec. 31.

Florida returns to its home planet.

Tom Brady leaves the NFL for the Minnesota Gophers and leads them to a second-place finish in the Toilet Bowl held in Flushing, New York.
You’ll move after learning over half the accidents happen in the home.

Rumors abound. Do your own research.

California residents are forced to water their lawns with Merlot.

nspiracy theorists declares that the NFL does not exist. Multitudes subscribe to its social media feed.

Doctors determine that black licorice is medically necessary.

You’ll roll with the punches, mourn your losses, report your winnings and/or change your evil ways.

The scariest movie of the year will be “The Temple of Zoom.”

Serena Williams takes up pickleball and is trounced by a 73-year-old ex-Marine with a game leg.

A TV weatherman is honored for his uncanny ability to predict past weather.

A poll shows voters are in favor of both term limits and prison terms for pandering, self-serving politicians who promised bread and circuses.
Rudy Giuliani is sentenced to law school.

The secret to happiness proves to be asparagus pickles.

A pile is built completely out of compost.

North Dakota becomes part of South Dakota in the hopes of finding warmer average temperatures.

A nationwide fitness center becomes a moving company. Participants pay to move someone’s furniture and appliances.

You’ll forget to change the oil in your toaster.

Umpires and referees are found to be the cause of every bad thing.

There will be weather almost every day.

It could be worse.

Please remember that predictions are difficult to make, especially about the future. The future will be so bright you’ll squint. It’s a pie crust to be filled sweetly.

What went around will come around.

Tomorrow will be another day — probably last Tuesday.

Good times will roll.

Al Batt’s column appears every Wednesday in the Tribune.