Column: Tales from Exit 22, by Al Batt

My doorbell rings.

I open the door and a robed visitor accompanied by sitar music walks in. It’s the renowned mystic from the Far East (the eastern 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. stops by to give me his predictions for 2012. He knows little, but suspects a lot. 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 that discourage the ancient Roman practice of haruspicy (divining the future by examining the entrails of recently slaughtered beasts) hamper him, you can take his predictions to the bank. They will provide records for use during your bankruptcy proceedings. 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 is 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 am 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 2014:

A small town will be sold for parts.

Taxes will skyrocket after the members of Congress begin working on commission.

It will be proven that you are part of the problem.

The discovery of a 3-foot-long toenail clipper will initiate a search for Bigfoot in the county.

In an incredible turn of events, a man will do something without having his photo taken.

All cars will be equipped with an exhaust that emits red smoke anytime they exceed the speed limit by over 10 miles an hour.

A tearful Joe Mauer will admit to having used lutefisk.

The Nobel Prize Committee will win the Nobel Peace Prize for giving Nobel prizes.

A Minnesota Twin will come out and admit that he is not very good at baseball.

Penguins will protest being on no-fly list.

The state will eliminate food inspectors at the state fair. No one will care. People who eat all their meals deep-fried on a stick don’t care about their health.

Reality TV shows will continue to be wildly out of touch with reality.

No cure will be found for the common cold or Congress.

The Fourth of July parade will be moved to May 4 so that it wouldn’t interfere with Christmas shopping.

The Minnesota Vikings will hold a lottery, the loser of which will become their starting quarterback.

Airlines will begin charging passengers for time spent waiting in airports.

A local man will win a national pro thumb wrestling championship. He will credit his success to doing all his homework on a cellphone.

Life will be discovered on Mars thanks to a Starbucks opening there.

In the tradition of the mood ring, cars will change colors according to the moods of the drivers.

Two ag economists will agree. They will be wrong.

In NFL news, there will once again be no groin pulls that are not painful.

Lady Gaga will go gaga for truck repair and will land a gig as a diesel mechanic.

A fast food restaurant will begin serving beet sandwiches. That restaurant will fail.

Red states and blue states will have purple populations.

There will be weather every day.

The Vikings will win the Super Bowl. No, they won’t. The Swami threw that in just to make sure you were paying attention. Sorry.

In an uncertain world, the Swami brings more uncertainty to light.

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

 

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