CLICK HERE AND ORDER PRINT ISSUE #9 TO READ MORE DAMN FUNNY ARTICLES IN OUR STORIES SECTION!
Around the same time America experienced the great dot-com crash of early 2000, a psychic boom seemed to take shape. If it wasn’t Miss Cleo gettin’ irie with her crystal ball, it was Dionne Warwick trading relative obscurity for mind-reading.
But, much like the aforementioned Internet craze, the psychic boom, too, went bust. Rumor had Miss Cleo in jail because she apparently was neither Jamaican, psychic, or financially legit. And Dionne, well, she disappeared from the psychic scene almost as quickly as she disappeared from the music scene before it.
Weird how they didn’t see it coming.
But one woman survived this psychic storm. And I use that term loosely, friends. Not \"survived\", but \"woman\". Because the verdict’s still out on what Sylvia Browne’s packin’ in the pantaloons.
To say she’s the Queen of the Spirit World is an understatement. I mean, who else has a weekly residency on Montel Williams’ show? (More importantly, who the fuck wants one?) That’s right: no one. Because no one can hold a fucking candle to Big Syl. Probably because she’d lean over and eat that candle right out of your hand.
Bet you can’t guess what show I’m about to review:
2 PM: I know Montel has M.S.-- and that’s no laughing matter (most of the time)-- but you’d think an ex-Naval officer would have a little more meat on him (instead of in him). I mean, dude’s gotta weigh a buck twenty-five, tops. It’s like Oprah had gastric bypass surgery, and Montel was what they pulled out of her.
2:02 PM: Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Sylvia. If there were a mascot for the word \"mess\", she’d be it. A giant, walking tube of liverwurst in a wig. It’s like God chewed on her a bit, then spit her out into an ugly tree-- NO! An ugly forest! And she hit every branch of every tree, landing in a pile of shit that immediately went and showered to try and scrub the Sylvia off of it. Add to that a voice not unlike that of a woman who spent her teenage years deep-throating smokestacks and exhaust pipes, and you have the Monsturd that stands before you. Today, Christo decided to wrap her in a lovely purple top with an astral landscape airbrushed on it. She kind of looks like Grimace, if Grimace tattooed a map of the cosmos on his chest.
2:04 PM: On this episode, Grizzle-puss is promoting her latest book, If You Could See What I See.
Sylvia (to Montel): If you could see what I see, you’d be scared.
Montel: Bitch, don’t make me laugh. (© Sam Jackson, Pulp Fiction)
2:05 PM: Sylvia\'s not just a guest to Montel, she’s a good friend. And to prove it, Montelegraph offers up small talk. He mentions how he and Sylvia will be at parties and she’ll get contacted. I don’t know what’s weirder: that Sylvia makes contact with spirits wherever she goes, or that someone actually invited both her and Montel to a party.
2:07 PM: If you haven’t seen the show before, the way it works is this: an audience full of hopeful suckers takes turns at the mic, asking Sylvia about their pasts, futures, or the horrible things that have happened to them or their loved ones. And, using her magic psychic gift (see: cold reading), she gives them a little glimmer of hope in the form of an answer (see: bullshit). You really don’t know whether to feel sorry for these poor bastards or sell them some oceanfront property in Arizona (© George Strait), because you know they’re goddamn dumb enough to buy it.
2:10 PM: Hey, Sylvia, Wolverine from the X-Men called. He wants his fingernails back.
2:12 PM: A mourning mother explains that her son was at a party and fell off the roof of the party house. She asks Sylvia for more information. Ever the sensitive psychic, Sylvia assures her he felt no pain because he was too stinking drunk and high on ecstasy.
Mom: Really? But he never drank.
Sylvia: (pauses) Well, see, that’s why it affected him so much. He was pure, and it hit him hard.
Good save, heifer.
2:15 PM: The only thing Montel does during these episodes is follow-up Sylvi-yuck’s more ridiculous claims with words of assurance. Man, guys will do anything for pussy.
2:20 PM: I bet Sylvia’d get pretty pissed off if someone stood up and asked her about her 1992 conviction of investment fraud and grand theft.
2:25 PM: No lie, the teaser for the segment they’re gonna air after the commercial break says a woman wants to know if her father’s spirit helped her get pregnant. Yeah, because rather than pull out and shoot his \"spirit\" all over her chest like he usually does, he stayed inside her one crucial minute too long.
2:30 PM: So, daddy’s pregnant little girl stands up. Doctors spent the last few years telling her she’d never get pregnant. Then her dad dies, and one year later-- BAM! (© Emeril Lagasse)-- pregnant. She thinks her dad had something to do with it. Well, according to Sylvia, daddy gets the assist. Apparently, he petitioned \"the council\" to let her have a kid. Addressing countless what-the-fucks from the audience, Sylvia says, \"You can learn more about the council by reading one of my 7,000 books.\" Or just watch Bill & Ted\'s Bogus Journey, specifically the parts where they\'re talking to Rufus.
2:40 PM: Audience Member: Will I have children?
Sylvia: Two.
Audience Member: How soon?
Sylvia: Eleven months.
Montel: You and your husband better get busy!
Sylvia: Get jiggy.
Somewhere, Will Smith is crying... and that kinda makes me cry.
2:45 PM: Another stupid audience member stands up and tells Smellvia that her luck has been getting worse over the years. She wants to know if she’ll ever get better luck... or a man. Way to settle, stupid audience lady.
Sylvia: Yes. His name is Paul.
Stupid Audience Lady: That’s my son’s name.
Sylvia: This is another Paul.
Stupid Audience Lady: My ex-husband’s name was Paul, too.
At this point, Montel chimes in to save Sylvia’s drowning ass (seriously, anything for pussy), essentially painting Stupid Audience Lady as a lunatic for not accepting the fact that it’s perfectly normal for every man in her life to be named Paul.
2:49 PM: A commercial airs for Sylvia’s Inspirational Life Messages. If you have a cell phone, she’ll call it and give you a little spiritual direction to help you through this big, crazy world. Sure, you’ll have to pay her to do it. (Psychic powers don’t just grow on trees, you know.) But I can’t think of anything funnier than having her parking-lot-full-of-Harley-Davidsons-revving-all-at-once voice telling me (and everyone else who subscribes), \"...your blessings will be many.\"
2:51 PM: A woman explains to Sylvia that her daughter has spinal issues, and she’s wondering if surgery will help her. Sylvia tells her she doesn’t want the daughter to have surgery, just physical therapy. Now, were this woman to take Sylvia’s advice, I’d say she deserves to have her daughter suffer even more. Sylvia is a rhinoceros, not a doctor. Would you have the Amazing Kreskin perform your colonoscopy? Would you go to Jambi from Pee-wee’s Playhouse for your pap smear? (Okay, maybe that one was a bad example.)
2:55 PM: The local chapter of the Soccer Moms With Awesome Sweaters Club bought the entire back row of the studio. One of them gets up and asks Madame Ham-sweat what she should do about her anxiety problems.
Sylvia: Go on a protein diet. (Translated: Don’t spit-- swallow.) Protein helps anxiety.
Disappointment falls over the crowd.
Sylvia: And get rid of that dark-haired guy!
Soccer Mom\'s face lights up with shock! She knows! Hooray! The crowd rejoices! All hail Sylvia the Hutt, Dairy Queen of the Spirit World.
2:58 PM: Has it been an hour already? I suppose all good things really do come to an end. Some not soon enough. But Montel leaves us with some parting words and a mention of Sylvia’s latest book. Sylvia wipes some drool from the lipsticked ass cheeks she calls a mouth, and waves us \"Goodbye!\" (With Wolverine\'s hands! Give them back, you bitch!)
CLICK HERE TO ORDER PRINT ISSUE #9, WHICH FEATURES THIS ARTICLE AND MANY MORE!