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Thursday, December 29, 2011

HOW TO GET SOME REALLY GOOD BONES

By Madam Mystic Misty Merkel
I am getting really sick to death of talking to dead people. All they do is complain about being dead and tell me off because of my lifestyle. Dead people need to get their own life and leave me alone. Dead people don’t even give you good forecasts of what is going to happen in the future. They just give you a bunch of scenarios that may or may not happen. If I wanted scenarios I’d just listen to Jay Leno.

I’ve tried rubbing my Petoskey stones but, when there is snow on the ground they seem to be in some sort of psychic hibernation. The problem is that I have to earn some cash just to stay white trailer trash. Otherwise I’ll be trolling. That’s Michigan slang for living under a bridge. I’ve been a lot of things but, I don’t want to end up being a troll.

Luckily, I was arrested for practicing psychic readings without a license. In Michigan you need a license for almost everything if you are a small business. I paid the fine and bought a license and then suddenly, I started getting all kinds of adds in the mail and phone calls. These advertisements and phone calls were all about helping people to become better psychics. These advertisers must be really great psychics since the only place that has my name, telephone number and address and occupation is the State of Michigan.

Well, in one of these ads from Grand Rapids, there was this psychic named Madam Mystic Katrina Jones. She claimed that she had magic chicken bones that could call up the spirits of only truly honest people so that any psychic with a high school diploma or GED equivalent could forecast an accurate future for any paying client.

I called up Madam Mystic Katrina Jones and asked her how much her chicken bones were. She told me that her chicken bones were $19.99 for two legs and two wings. It would be an extra $5.00 if I wanted a breast bone. Madam Jones insisted that the breast bone was the best part of the chicken so, if I wanted to give good readings I would have to pay the full price of $24.99 plus $9.99 for shipping and handling. I told her that I thought she was charging too much for chicken bones. She told me that if I didn’t buy bones from her she was going to put a curse on me.

I decided I could get my own bones cheaper than what I could buy them. I decided that the way to get some good bones quickly was to just go to Kentucky Fried Chicken and get a whole bucket of chicken for a lot less than what Madam Mystic Katrina Jones was going to sell them to me. The only problem is that I really don’t like to eat chicken so I started feeding my new poodle puppy named Esmeralda chicken with the hope that the dog would eat the meat off the bones then, I would be able to get a hold of some better spirits when I was telling someone’s fortune.

Unfortunately, my little dog got a chicken bone stuck in her throat and I rushed her to the vet but, it was too late. The vet told me my little dog did not make it. He offered to take care of the remains for me but, I said I wanted to make sure my puppy had a descent burial. He suggested I take her to the old pet cemetery located on the corner of Lived Street and Redrum Avenue. The vet told me I could burry my pet for free there. He said nobody buried their pets there anymore since it was discovered that the cemetery used to be an old lumberjack burial ground for those lumberjacks who practiced satanic rituals. I told him I wasn’t worried about some Lumber Jacks. I said that I had been cursed by a Grand Rapids psychic and now my little dog was dead. How much worse could my luck be?

So, I buried my little pooch in the cemetery and wondered what else might happen to me after being cursed by Madam Jones. A few days latter at around midnight there was a scratching at my back door. I opened the door and my little dog Esmeralda came gimping into my trailer. I guess she hadn’t been dead after all. That vet didn’t know what he was talking about when he told me my little dog was gone. I should have known he was crazy when he started telling me that the pet cemetery was an old graveyard for lumberjacks who worshiped Lucifer.

Right now I am just glad to have my Esmeralda back home with me. She does kind of smell really bad and she has a really bad case of mange. Every time I touch her a big clump of her hair falls out. Sometimes the skin is still attached to it. Her eyes are always bloodshot and she never wags her tail or barks. She just makes a constant low growling sound. It’s as though she has lost her zest for life. In addition, ever since she was buried she has had a really mean disposition. She snaps at everyone that gets near her. I’m still glad she’s home. I guess I should also be thankful that Madam Jones didn’t really place a curse on me. I certainly can’t see any evidence of the curse so far.

Friday, July 1, 2011

I BOOKED THE DEAD TO ENTERTAIN AT THE 4TH OF JULY PARTY IN MY TRAILER PARK

FOURTH OF JULY IN A TRAILER PARK
By Mystic Madam Misty Merkel

The 4th of July celebration this year has taken on a New Orleans theme here in my trailer park. Of course, there is no money to hire any live entertainment so the trailer park association came to me to see if someone who is on the other side might come and provide a free show. Of course the idea was that if I could get someone dead to provide the entertainment the dead person would not want any money since when you are dead you no longer have any need for money.

Well, it took me awhile but I finally came up with two New Orleans trumpet players to provide entertainment for our 4th of July extravaganza. I was able to get the late great Al Hurt and at last I was able to convince Louis Armstrong to come and entertain the minions of trailer park residents here in Northern Michigan along with all the family members who come to visit up North and stay for free off their Northern kinsfolk.

Louis promised to play my favorite New Orleans song called “St. James Infirmary“. Al of course agreed to play “Flight of the Bumble Bee (commonly know as the theme from the Green Hornet TV show). We should have quite a time with all this musical talent. My good friend President Richard Nixon is also going to be there to reenact his appearance on the “Laugh In” show. If only more of the funny comedians on that show were dead then I think we could have a great reenactment of that once great show for free and right here in my trailer park. I am still hoping to get Sammy Davis Jr. but, I hear he is booked by psychics to appear at parties all the way up to December 2012. I guess that the phrase “Here comes the judge,” is just not going to happen at this years 4th of July party here in my trailer park.

Monday, June 13, 2011

STOCK MARKET WILL GO UP BY END OF SUMMER

By Mystic Madam Misty Merkel

Some newscasters are saying that the stock market has been dipping lately. Well have no fear. I just got done with my crystal ball survey and 2 out of 3 of my crystal balls say that the stock market will recover quite a bit by the end of the summer.

Now a lot of people have written me saying that my crystal balls are cracked and that they can’t predict anything correctly. I do admit that all three of my crystal balls have a major crack in it and most of the content leaked out of each one. One had Coke or Pepsi in it (I can’t tell the difference), another crystal ball had soapy water in and the third had rice wine. The snow flakes in the third crystal ball were really little pieces of rice. I didn’t mind drinking the soda pop but the only way I was able to drink the soapy water was after I sample the rice wine dry. I even ate the little pieces of rice.

I guess that what I’m trying to get at is that because all my cracked crystal balls are cracked then using what I know about statistical stuff, they should give an even opinion. Of course the reason the one crystal ball said there will be no recovery is not something I really understand. I think it was the ball that soapy water in it that predicted that the stock market will remain low. Maybe the ball is just as bitter in it’s predictions as it was when it had soapy water content.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

SPIRITS SAY THE STOCK MARKET IS MAKING LIKE A SUBMARINE AND WILL DIVE, DIVE DIVE!!!

Members of the Council of the Dead (the political arm of those that have passed) came to visit me today. They (the COD) said I should sell all my stocks because the stock market is going to make like a submarine and dive, dive, dive. They said the economy is weak and getting weaker because of silly politicians. They said it had something to do with a debt ceiling. I wish I had a debt ceiling but my debts have long ago gone through any ceiling.

As soon as the council members left I got busy getting rid of my stockings. I guess that’s what they were talking about. It’s hard to understand those in the spiritual world since mostly they just grunt, groan and tap out their messages on pipes and such. Well anyway, I found two pair of stockings but only one stocking did not have a big hole in it.

So, I put a sign out by my driveway which had “Stocks for Sale” written on it. I pup my stockings out on the table but did not sell a single stock. I did sell the card table that the stocks were on for $15.00 so I guess the spirits advice was not so bad after all. I still have my stockings but I also have $15.00. I don’t have a card table anymore but one of the legs on it was broke and underneath I had it duct taped together. I didn’t disclose the duct tape to the buyer. I just hope that the Securities and Exchange people don’t come after me for stock fraud. Maybe I could have sold my stockings if I had washed them first. They certainly don't smell very fresh right now.

Monday, May 23, 2011

MADAM PSYCHIC MISTY MERKEL PREDICTS THAT THE WORLD IS NOT GOING TO END FOR MOST OF US

I am getting really sick to death of people saying the world is going to end on such and such a date. I’m a gosh darn psychic and I have a license yet, I am not predicting the end of the world. I consort daily with all sorts of ghosts, demons and other hobgoblins yet none of them tell me that the world is going to end anytime soon. I can assure you that if anything were going to happen those chatty Cathy’s from beyond the grave would be screaming it as loud as they could into my one good ear.

I acknowledge that some very bad things will happen in the future. And, for some those tragedies will be the end of their world on this planet. However, the earth itself will continue on and people will continue to beget and begot each other until the planet is so full of people that maybe some of them will be either moved off-world or end up as a new flavor of mystery meat jerky.

By the way, I happen to be the new spokesperson for Mystery Meat Jerky so please buy the product and tell them that Madam Mistress Misty Merkel sent you. I need a new refrigerator so I'm hoping that this gig makes me some quick bucks or else I'm predicting the end of the world for my frozen meat loaf.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

GEORGE WASHINGTON INTERVIEW WITH MADAM MISTY MERKEL

UNPUBLISHED
By Mystic Madam Misty Merkel
Today I had an unexpected visitor from the other side show up at my trailer door. About 3:00p.m. I heard a heavy knocking on my door. I immediately put my cloths on and went to the door. When I got to the door I opened it and in walked this tall fellow wearing a white wig and dressed up like one of those soldiers from a long time ago. I then noticed it was George Washington (he looks just like the bust of him on the quarter).

Luckily, I had just done a little tidying up around my kitchenette and washed down my dinner table. Unfortunately, the chairs were still a bit sticky from the party I had last Saturday. A lot of beer, pop and, liqueur got spilled all over. I do use hanging car air fresheners to cover up the beer garden smell in my trailer. I have a whole box of car fresheners and since the State of Michigan took away my drivers license I figure I might as well put the air fresheners to use by hanging them all over the place. Not only do they smell nice but, they decorate the place up a lot. They add a bit of ambiance to the house and fit in well with my collections of empty schnapps and brandy bottles.

Anyway, I invited George in to sit at my dinner table. George came in and sat down. So what can I help you with today Mr. President Washington?” I asked.

“Well, Madam Misty it is well known in the afterlife that you are a really great clairvoyant. You have remarkable abilities to talk to the deceased.”

“Thanks for the compliment about my abilities,” I remarked, “but, I’m not so sure about being a clairvoyant. Marty Watchman down the street likes to peep into peoples bedroom windows late at night to see what’s going on inside. He did 90 days in jail just last summer for being a habitual voyant.”

“I believe the word is voyeur,” George explained to me. “I assure you Madam Misty that I did not intend to besmirch your reputation in any possible way.”

“Well, you might as well smirch away at me,” I responded, “because I’m sure most of my neighbors smirch a lot behind my back. I think they are all jealous of my powers. Anyway George, what is on your mind?”

George gave me this real serious look and then began speaking. “I am very upset that so many people think that I have a set of wooden teeth. I never had a set of wooden teeth. Instead, I have a wooden hip replacement that I received when I was sixty-five and fell off my horse. It was wooden because plastic had not been invented yet and a steel hip would have been just too cold in the winter. I have of course come to you to see if you will correct this foul history which implies that I had poor dental hygiene.”

“I will surely do that for you Mr. President,” I said. “Could you maybe answer a few questions for me so that I can write a blog for the place I work? I’ve been kind of lazy lately and I might get canned if I don’t write something interesting pretty soon.”

“I will do my best to help you stay at your employment madam,” George replied.

I first asked George WAshinton if he was a member or the Republican or Democrat party.

He replied,"I don't really believe in political parties. Instead, I believe in pajama parties. Pajama parties are less formal and an overall much more fun group of people attend pajama parties than show up at political events."

I then decided to ask our first president a very timely and pointed question. "What do you think about the tea party?" I asked.

"Oh yes I remember the tea party," George WAshington began,"I beleive that was an insurance stunt to collect on tea dumped in Boston Harbor. You see the guy that owned the tea could not sell it so he hired a bunch of guys to dress up like indians aand dump it off the ship. Well, Franklin and some of the others put a spin on it like it was some revolutionary act. In truth, real Americans don't even drink tea. They drink coffee. Throwing tea overboard a ship was really funny. If they had thrown coffee off the ship they might have been lynched on the spot. Afterall, tea is what the British drink while they are talking with that funny accent". They also have that little pinky sticking out at the side think going. No I think coffee has always been the drink d'jour in America.

In fact, I believe that it was a little drink known as Irish Coffee that enabled us to kick some serious British behind. A little Irish Whiskey poored into American ground coffee made for a really potent drink. You have to remember that most of us were barefoot and poorly dressed for the winter. But, after a few sips of Irish Coffee we din't feel the cold anymore so we just swarmed right over the British who were all huddled together drinking their tea with their little pinkies sticking out from their cups. Of course we officers each had a shot of Russian vodka in our coffee every morning. That really got us going. When you drink a Russian coffee in the morning your day goes by really fast and the world is a nice place to be, even if you have to have your toes cut off because of frost bite."

George WAshington then got up and left my humble trailer. I suppose he had to get home to dinner or his wife Martha might have been upset. I'm glad he showed up. He was a really nice and honest man. It's too bad he's take and also dead. He is just like all the other good guys that this girl wants to meet.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

GEORGE WASHINGTON INTERVIEW WITH MADAM MISTY MERKEL

By Mystic Madam Misty Merkel
Today I had an unexpected visitor from the other side show up at my trailer door. About 3:00p.m. I heard a heavy knocking on my door. I immediately put my cloths on and went to the door. When I got to the door I opened it and in walked this tall fellow wearing a white wig and dressed up like one of those soldiers from a long time ago. I then noticed it was George Washington (he looks just like the bust of him on the quarter).

Luckily, I had just done a little tidying up around my kitchenette and washed down my dinner table. Unfortunately, the chairs were still a bit sticky from the party I had last Saturday. A lot of beer, pop and, liqueur got spilled all over. I do use hanging car air fresheners to cover up the beer garden smell in my trailer. I have a whole box of car fresheners and since the State of Michigan took away my drivers license I figure I might as well put the air fresheners to use by hanging them all over the place. Not only do they smell nice but, they decorate the place up a lot. They add a bit of ambiance to the house and fit in well with my collections of empty schnapps and brandy bottles.

Anyway, I invited George in to sit at my dinner table. George came in and sat down. So what can I help you with today Mr. President Washington?” I asked.

“Well, Madam Misty it is well known in the afterlife that you are a really great clairvoyant. You have remarkable abilities to talk to the deceased.”

“Thanks for the compliment about my abilities,” I remarked, “but, I’m not so sure about being a clairvoyant. Marty Watchman down the street likes to peep into peoples bedroom windows late at night to see what’s going on inside. He did 90 days in jail just last summer for being a habitual voyant.”

“I believe the word is voyeur,” George explained to me. “I assure you Madam Misty that I did not intend to besmirch your reputation in any possible way.”

“Well, you might as well smirch away at me,” I responded, “because I’m sure most of my neighbors smirch a lot behind my back. I think they are all jealous of my powers. Anyway George, what is on your mind?”

George gave me this real serious look and then began speaking. “I am very upset that so many people think that I have a set of wooden teeth. I never had a set of wooden teeth. Instead, I have a wooden hip replacement that I received when I was sixty-five and fell off my horse. It was wooden because plastic had not been invented yet and a steel hip would have been just too cold in the winter. I have of course come to you to see if you will correct this foul history which implies that I had poor dental hygiene.”

“I will surely do that for you Mr. President,” I said. “Could you maybe answer a few questions for me so that I can write a blog for the place I work? I’ve been kind of lazy lately and I might get canned if I don’t write something interesting pretty soon.”

“I will do my best to help you stay at your employment madam,” George replied.

I began with my questioning by asking “Mr. Washington, “if you were alive today would you be a democrat or republican?”

“I would be neither a republican nor a democrat madam. You see I believe in doing what is right and not following some stupid dogma. Furthermore, I would never be a member of the Tea Party. You see us real Americans drink coffee not tea. Tea is what the English drink and well; compared to the American backwoodsman tea drinking Englishmen are politely called sissy girls.

As far as the Boston Tea Party is concerned, I think that was mostly a stunt pulled to defraud some insurance companies. Real Americans drink coffee not tea so some tea importers who could not sell their tea here hired some guys to attack their tea ships so that the guys owning the unwanted tea could collect from the insurers. These kinds of rackets are still common in New York and Boston today.

I have to pause here to salute the contribution of the most evil minority of creatures God ever invented. For it were these very souls that saved our country from the tea drinking pansies in England and the tea drinking fags in America. You see in America we always liked to go out and have a good night drinking beer. Well, when the Irish came over they brought with them the recipe to make whiskey. Up until the Irish came to America we Americans drank beer all night all day and night and then drank coffee in the morning to get us going. Of course each day the coffee got us going but, we still had a hangover from the beer that made working all the next day extremely miserable.

I did not understand much of what George Washington was ranting about so I thought I would bring him more into the thinking us modern Americans and less about his revolutionary zest. But, he went on to tell me why America won the Revolutionary War.

You see,” He said, “the reason we won the revolutionary war was because of the Irish. You see while we real Americans were drinking coffee the sissy boys on the other side were all concerned about drinking tea. Even though the sissy boys were all wrapped up in heavy winter clothing they were still freezing as they drank their sissy assed tea. On the other hand, we Americans who had rags to wear and were barefooted were slugging down coffee and each slug of coffee contained a forefinger of Irish whiskey. So the freezing well clothed tea partying Englishmen were overrun by half naked Irish coffee Americans just goes to show you the power of what is right over what is popular.”

I thanked George Washington for his appearance. However, I am a bit perplexed about what he was saying. I just wish well spook would leave me alone. That way I don’t have to pay the consequences of a spook story gone wrong.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

MISTY MERKEL AND THE WOODSTOVE

PREDICTION: HEATING BILLS SOAR HIGHER IN 2012
By Madam Misty Merkel
Last night I had a dream. I dreamed that a bacterium from outer space comes down to earth on a meteorite. In my dream, after the meteorite crashes, the bacteria immediately go to work devouring all oil and natural gas on earth. Soon, there is nothing left to heat water for baths and showers. The result will be that everyone goes around smelling really stinky. Everyone will loose all their friends. Wives will leave husbands and husbands will leave their wives. Puppies and kitty cats will run away from smelly children. This will surely be one of the 13 great disasters befalling mankind in the year 2012. When people find out how stinky they really are, civilization will crumble. That’s why I’ve decided to get a wood stove to heat my bath water.

I’ve spent the morning calling around trying to find a contractor to install the wood stove I bought at a yard sale down the street. Unfortunately, I have not been able to find any contractor who is willing to install a woodstove in a trailer. They all told me that a woodstove in a trailer would sooner or later result in a fire. I told them that I would be using the woodstove to heat bath water so that there would be several kettles of water sitting on top of it but, they still refused. They told me that I would never be able to get a permit to legally put a wood stove in my trailer. So, I decided to do what you always do when something is illegal, you get a little help from your friends.

I was able to get Ted and Mike Colin from work to come over and help me install my woodstove. Their brother Tim came with them to supervise their work. He evidently heard I was giving out free beers to anyone who came over to help. After Ted and Mike lifted the wood stove into place they proceeded to knock a hole in my wall for the pipe to run through. Luckily they used a hammer and not a maul. The hole was a little uneven but, they said they’d just buy a few jars of imported baby food so they could fill in around the stove pipe with drywall.

Once the stove was set up it looked pretty good. It had a little rust on top where the pipe was at but, luckily I still had some black tar left over from when I patched the roof last spring and the tar covered up the rust really well. The tar was a little runny but, I figured it would dry once the fire was getting really hot. Everything was working out well until Tim went and asks me where the firewood was at so we could try the sucker out. He asked me if I had a woodlot somewhere. I replied that the only woodlot I owned was a dwarf arborvitae in my front yard. It wasn’t really a dwarf arborvitae it is just that my dog has lifted his leg on it so many times that the dog gone thing is stunted.

Luckily Tim pointed out that the chairs under my kitchen table were made out of fiberboard and would make excellent fuel for the fire. Finally, the woodstove was packed with wood and paper (along with some plastic wrap from the garbage). I did the honors of liteing the first match and the woodstove was off and burning. We closed the door so it would heat up inside. There was quite a bit of smoke leaking from the pipe where it connected to the stove. Tim said that I should just buy some black caulk and fill in any leaky spots. Suddenly, the tar on top of the stove started to bubble and boil. Worse than that, it started smoking and giving all a real nasty smell which made everyone really dizzy. Then, the top of the woodstove and the wall behind it burst into flames. Luckily, I had several gallons of water on top of the stove which put out the fires.

Although the trailer was saved, the noxious fumes made us all go outside and pass out. The only one that had to go to the hospital to be resuscitated was Mike. You can tell he is the baby brother in that family since the other two didn’t seem to mind passing out. I know both of them are used to passing out while walking home from the night clubs. Passing out on someone’s lawn downtown is alright as long as you have not urinated on it first.

Later that day the doctors told Tim and Ted that their brother Mike had probably suffered irreversible brain damage. Tim told the doctors that Mike had brain damage but, it was from all the radioactive fish that their dad use to catch in the cooling pond located just outside a nuclear reactor. The fish there weighed up nicely but, that was because of all the extra tissue in the tumors.

It will be a while before I try my woodstove out again. I really don’t need to use it now and 2012 is a ways away. By then I should have all the kinks and problems worked out. Just in case the woodstove does not work out as a means of heating up bath water, I will be stocking up on extra perfume for 2012.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

THE MARY JANE DOUGHNUT COMPANY
By Madam Mistress Misty Merkel
Psychic
I hope everyone is doing well this week because I predict next week to be a bunch of farm fertilizer. It will be like the pigs, cows and, horses had eaten a whole pick-up load of laxatives. You might ask “can things get worse?” Well, so far I’ve just been predicting everyone’s personal life. All the stormy weather next week is going to blow pretty bad too. When it comes to singing “Here Comes the Sun”, the Beetles can put a sock in it next week.

You know that lately I think I’m getting a bit of a bad attitude. I think that later on today I’m going to go down to Mr. Henry’s trailer. He has something that really makes me smile. In fact, after about an hour I usually feel pretty giddy. Of course I’m talking about the famous doughnuts that he brings home from his organic bakery. Mr. Henry is a local celebrity and everyone loves his bakery.

Although Mr. Henry is famous and well liked by the local community today, it was not always like that. In fact, there were always a bunch of policemen down at his trailer searching it and then hauling poor Mr. Henry away to the slammer. One time I asked one older deputy why Mr. Henry was in trouble. The old fellow just looked at me and said that Mr. Henry had some Mary Jane in his trailer and he was using it to make brownies for distribution. For a while I thought I had heard the deputy wrong. I figured that Mary Jane had nothing to do with distribution but instead Mary Jane was doing something illegal that sounded like the word “distribution”.

Then, I wondered what this had to do with brownie ingredients when eureka, I finally figured out that in fact Mr. Henry was putting the herb “rosemary” not “Mary Jane” into his brownies. I tried to make some brownies with rosemary in them and they turned out really bad. I didn’t think were bad enough to be something you could get arrested for but, who really knows what laws are lurking out there. I was once arrested for being a psychic without having a license.

Suddenly, a few months ago the police stopped arresting Mr. Henry. The police kept stopping into his trailer but, instead of giving him the tazer and handcuff treatment, the police left his place all smiles and carrying a brown lunch bag that had grease dripping from the bottom of it. I asked Mr. Henry what was going on. He told me that since it was now legal to sell medical grass in Michigan, he had started selling medicinal brownies. Well, some large pharmaceutical company sicked the police on him even though he was doing something that was legal so, in order to get the police on his side he switched from making medicinal brownies to making medicinal organic doughnuts.

Just to make sure everyone knows his business is legitimate everyday the police stop by and pick up a few dozen medicinal doughnuts to take back to their crime lab for testing. Mr. Henry told me that, “at the crime lab the authorities make sure my doughnuts only contain the legal amounts of home grown herbs. In addition to turning my doughnuts over to the police, I’ve sent several hundred to both the Governor’s office and the state legislature. They all agree that my doughnuts are both nutritious and delicious. We all know that if a person has the proper nutrition, they tend to feel a lot better both physically and mentally.”

Mr. Henry received some government stimulus money to build a local doughnut factory. Now that it is up and running there are about 300 people who work there and support the local economy. Mr. Henry named the business “The Mary Jane Doughnut Company”. He said he named the company after his first and only true love, Mary Jane. Personally, I only hope that wherever Mary Jane is out there that she realizes what a great and honorable guy Mr. Henry has turned out to be.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

A BITTER AFTER TASTE

By Madam Mystic Merkel
Psychic/Physic

I hate bitter wines. I guess I am part Jewish because I love those sweet wines they make. Of course whenever I go out with a sophisticated boyfriend they seem to think that if a wine is really bitter tasting and nasty then it is really good. They say to me about their favorite wine that they want me to drink, “drink this and you will grow hair one your chest.” Well, I don’t want to grow hair on m my chest. Some of the wines my boyfriends have made me drink have grown hair on my eyeballs. And a month later I had to shave the hair off my tongue.

Well anyway, I think next month will really stink for investors who are not into oil and other energy stocks. I also have been told by various visiting spooks that next month the winner of the 2012 election for presidency will announce his/her candidacy. Other than that, the weather is really going to stink all around.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

TRAVERSE CITY PSYCHIC PREDICTS ECONOMIC DISASTER IN 2012

A 2012 PREDICTION
By Madam Mistress Misty Merkel
People need to start getting ready for the year 2012. 2012 is the year the Mayans, ancient Hebrews, Hindus and some others I can’t remember, said that the world would be in big trouble. It seems the planets will be lining up in such a way that the earth will be devastated by cosmic forces beyond the control of humans. There will be a number of disaster events that will happen in 2012. Last Saturday night I tranced out at the bar located down the block from the trailer park. Then, I had a vision of an economic disaster that will happen in May of 2012.

I have consorted with the spirits of good and evil and rubbed my mystical Petoskey stones until they are smooth and polished. I think I can sell them on EBay now. I should be able t get about $30.00 a piece out of them. That will pay my cable bill so I won’t be cut off. Anyway, the calamity of 2012 will occur when five giant ships loaded with tons of merchandise destined for Wall Mart Stores around the world, collide in mid ocean and sink. When all that merchandise sinks to the ocean floor, so will the world economy. The hopes and dreams of every person on earth will drown in the sudsy brine and, forever sleep with the fishes.

Earth will change that day. We cannot stop our destiny from happening no more than we can wear adult diapers and not get wet. However, we will try unsuccessfully, to prepare ourselves mentally for the day the earth will stand still. We will attempt to brace ourselves for the day our forbidden planet no longer offers the hope of living a fulfilling life of non-stop shopping and mounting credit card debt. It will be difficult for us to accept the fact that one day a creature from a black lagoon will be wearing the cubic zirconium jewelry which we had hoped to be wearing and showing off to our friends and neighbors. The tragedy will leave our minds lost in space. Our hearts will be heavy like a big blob. One day we will be forced to accept as the Mayans foretold, that our humanity will die when all our stuff takes a voyage to the bottom of the sea.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

THE HAUNTED BOAT IN THE TRAILER PARK: PART III OF III

By Mistic Psychic Misty Merkel
PART III
The next day Marcie Wrinklebottom, Gerrard and, I drove up to Northport Harbor. Some guys in the trailer park put boats in and out of the water for a living. They patched the boat and had hauled it up to Northport ahead of us so they could ready it and get it launched. One big problem we had was that the engine on the boat had set up and would not turnover. The boat launch guys said they had a small aluminum boat that they could use to pull the boat out to the Manitou Islands as long as the seas didn’t get too rough.

When we arrived at the harbor we found that our boat was ready and waiting for us. We climbed aboard and the little tin boat started to pull us out of the harbor. We were on our way to Manitou Island. The water was calm that morning so it didn’t take too long before we were far enough out that I decided to wake up our ghost to see if he was ready to go fishing. I and Gerrard went down into the cuddy cabin to summon Frank. Marcie did not want to go down below to see her departed husband. It took the whole neighborhood to persuade her to go on this trip. I wasn’t sure if Marcie was afraid of water or if she really did not want to see her husband Frank. I thought she would like to talk to him after all; she kept his old boat right beside her trailer for twenty years. She wanted to keep an eye on his old tub but, she insisted on staying topside when she finally had a chance to reunite with her old love.

Once down below deck, I lit a candle and Frank immediately appeared. I had Gerrard go up on deck with him. There was a fishing line all set for Frank to use. I only hoped Frank would catch a fish. While Frank and Gerrard were up on deck I decided to nose around in the cuddy cabin. There was something really wrong with this whole operation. Frank and Marcie were both holding back about something and I wondered what it was. I figured the sooner I found out the sooner I could get back to shore and to may class. I still had a few hours before my palm reading class started and I was hopeful that I could still make it.

As I was looking around, Gerrard bounded down the steps into the cabin. When he reached the bottom of the steps he said, “It’s starting to get a bit rough out. It was nice out when we left but I think a storm is starting to form right over head. You know there is something I should tell you about this area.”

“And what is that Gerrard?” I asked.

“Well Madam Misty, we’re in what is known as ‘The Devils Trapezoid‘. This is an area that is outlined by connecting on a map the Little Manitou Island, the Big Manitou Island, the town of Northport and, the town of Benzonia. Thousands of boats, ships and planes have mysteriously sunk to the bottom of Lake Michigan in these waters. There have been a couple of nasty train wrecks on the shoreline as well. A hot air balloon sprung a leak here last summer. I think you get the picture. Now, we are out here on a ghost ship with a ghost and a storm is forming right overhead. I believe we are in trouble.”

I had to agree with Gerrard. Gerrard was a Ghost Scene Investigator so I did have to respect his opinions when it comes to wayward spirits. Gerrard agreed to help me look around the cuddy cabin for some clues. Unfortunately, Gerrard stumbled across a really bad thing. In what looked to be a closet Gerrard came across a full human skeleton dressed just like Frank Wrinklebottom. This particular skeleton was hanging up with a fish fillet knife through the rib cage. It was obvious that Frank hadn’t gone overboard and drowned but, had instead been murdered. The prime suspect for the murder was up on the deck right now. I was wondering how Frank and his wife might be getting along when suddenly, the patch in the hull broke open and the cuddy cabin began to flood.

Gerrard and I ran up to the deck. Lightning was flashing all around us and the boat was being thrown about on waves that seemed to be going in every direction at once. We were in the perfect storm. I looked around but, Frank and Marcie were both gone. Evidently, Frank must have taken Marcie overboard. Now his boat was sinking and the two guys in the dingy were no where to be seen. The next thing I knew I was in the drink. A Piece of a branch floated by so I grabbed it. The boat and Gerrard were now gone. I was all alone in the storm hanging onto a small piece of wood. I was having a really bad day. I knew that I would never make it to my palm reading class. I was so disappointed that I would never get reimbursed from the government for the money I spent on the class.

Finally, a fishing boat pulled me out of the water and took me back to port. Gerrard and the two guys with the dingy were there. They guys said that they didn’t see me out there. They also said that Gerrard was so heavy that after they pulled on board their small boat it was almost under water. They then hurried in before lightning turned their aluminum boat into an aluminum fry pan. It seems the only person that didn’t make it back was Mrs. Wrinklebottom. Her husband had set this whole fishing trip up as just a way to get her out on the water so he could get his revenge.

Unfortunately for me I missed my palm reading class and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to get a refund for it. I know one thing for sure and that is that I am never going back out on Lake Michigan again. I’m not even going to eat fish anymore. All my cans of tuna are going to go to the neighbor’s cat's.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

THE HAUNTED BOAT IN THE TRAILER PARK PART II OF III

BY MISTIC PSYCHIC MISTY MERKEL
PART II
Everything was ready for the séance. I had set the candles out around and inside the boat. It took a while to light them all but, Gerrard and I finally got the candles to burn. They were cheap, probably old candles that I picked up at the dollar store. The widow Wrinklebottom only gave me $50.00 for supplies to be used during the séance to contact her late husband Frank. I bought the 2/$1.00 tapered candles but, I couldn’t get them all the same color. Some spooks are particular about having the candles match but, I figured that since Frank considered himself to be some old salty seadog that he wouldn’t be too fussy.

Gerrard set up a card table and a couple of chairs onboard the boat. Gerrard and I sat down in the chairs with the Petoskey stones on the table and candles burning all around us. The candles were not only of several different colors but, had several different scents. I figured it smelled a bit like a funeral home so I hoped a spook like Frank would feel relaxed. His body was never found so maybe he’d figure we were giving him the send off he never got and would just leave everyone in the trailer park alone.

We waited until just after the sun went down then, lo and behold who should appear but, old man Frank Wrinklebottom in person (but, not in the flesh). He was kind of a faded out apparition. After a couple of moments he started to have a little bit of color. At least I could tell what he was wearing. He had a captain’s hat on along with a plaid short-sleeved shirt and white pants. He wore laced up sneakers and white cotton socks. After 20 years I thought his clothes looked pretty clean. For a spook he was also well shaven. A lot of ghosts that live on boats like to look a bit grizzly with regards to facial hair in order to achieve that “come hither” supernatural effect. At least that’s been true since the show “Miami Vice”. Waterfront spooks all think that they’re some sort of Don Johnson.

I was starting to get a bit perturbed because Frank just stood there not saying a thing. After all the work I did setting up the séance and now Frank was going to pull some sort of mute ghost twenty question guessing game on me. Some dead people want you to guess what is bothering them and then they will answer you with a knock or moan or chill or some other stupid answer. I decided to be direct so I asked, “So Frank, now that you’ve got us here what the heck do you want? You‘d better answer me directly with real words and sentences. If you don’t speak plainly then, I‘m going to blow out your candles and then I’m going home. I‘ve had a long day and I‘ve got a class on palm reading to attend tomorrow. I‘ve already paid for the class and I won‘t get reimbursed by the government for job retraining unless I actually attend the full three hours of it.”

The ghost must have been moved by my speech because he said in a very plain voice, “I’ve come back from the grave because I want to go fishing. I need to go fishing on this boat and off the Coast of Big Manitou Island. In short, I need to catch a fish. I also need to do something else but, I forget what it is right now. I just know I’ve got to go fishing and I won’t stop haunting your trailer park until you take me.”

The old ghost of Frank Wrinklebottom seemed to be begging like a little kid. I had no choice but to agree to take him on a fishing trip the next morning. “One more thing,” the ghost said as I was blowing out the candles and getting ready to leave, “make sure my wife Marcie is on the boat with us. I really want her along to watch me catch my first fish.”

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

THE HAUNTED BOAT IN THE TRAILER PARK PART I OF III

By Mystic Psychic Madam Misty Merkel
PART I
I am drenched. I just got back from a swim in Lake Michigan. Swimming around out in Lake Michigan while holding onto a piece of driftwood to stay afloat while several sharks are circling, is no way to spend a Saturday afternoon. I suppose I am lucky because there were so many lightning strikes all around me that it kept the sharks stirred up too much to make me into a meal. I was so afraid of the lightning being attracted to my metal jewelry that I even tossed my rings that were made out of genuine nuclear charged cadmium imported from a power plant in China. My very special rings glowed all the way down to the bottom of Lake Michigan. I was just lucky the coast guard came along and picked me up or I might have ended up dinner for one of those sharks.

I can’t believe I ended up in the drink today. Yesterday I was looking forward to spending my Saturday taking an adult education class on palm reading at the local community college. The government was paying for it since palm reading is considered “one of those skills needed to revitalize America while changing it into a servant economy“. I guess I got that quote right. I’m trying to remember it from the brochure.

Well, I was just sitting there at my kitchen table contemplating on my palm reading class and having my usual early morning Irish coffee when someone started pounding on my door. When I opened the door I was surprised to see about ten of my neighbors standing there. “We need your help Madam Misty,” one of them called out.

“We have a really bad problem” another voice cried.

“What in the world is wrong?” I asked.

Marcie Wrinklebottom sobbed “It’s my dead husband Frank. He’s come back from the grave. He spent all last night a hollering and screaming on his old boat. Everyone in the trailer park heard him. Didn’t you? ”

Marcie Wrinklebottom lived about four trailers down from me. Next to her trailer was parked a big old wood fishing boat that used to belong to her late husband Frank. Now Frank spent most of his marriage on that boat. He seldom took it out on the Great Lakes but, he spent most of his time drinking beer and smoking in the cuddy cabin while the boat sat beside the trailer. Frank always complained that he had never caught any fish out on Lake Michigan. He said his dream was to come back home with a great big salmon that he had caught on the shoals of Big Manitou Island. I guess that is where old Frank liked to fish. Anyway, the last time Frank went out there was a terrible storm and the boat ended up crashed up on the shoreline with a big hole in its bow. The widow Wrinklebottom had the boat parked beside her trailer. She figured that if Frank ever showed up again he would feel at home seeing his old boat parked in the spot it had sat in for the better part of 20 years.

I knew what these people wanted. They obviously wanted me to use my psychic abilities to contact Frank to see what the old fellow wanted. So, I told them that I would go on board the boat that night and talk to old Frank and see what he wanted so his spirit could move on to great beyond and/or rest in peace or something. The main thing was to just get old Frank out of the trailer park so everyone living here could have a little peace and quiet. My agreeing to contact Frank Wrinklebottom seemed to calm everybody down. I of course got my most powerful spiritual items around to use during the séance. My most powerful physic items are of course my Petoskey stones I also had to a lot to do that day to get ready for the séance. I had to make a trip to the dollar store and buy about a hundred candles. Ghosts seem to be big on mood lightning so naturally you have to have candles.

Unfortunately, the only person I could get to help me with this spiritual conundrum was an associate of mine at the Humor News Nuts organization. His name was Gerrard and boy, is he a real strange guy. He lives in his mother’s basement. He also raises rats down there. He inherited the rat business from his old man when he died. His grandparents were famous for raising worms and bloodsuckers (leeches). In short, Gerrard comes from a family of persons who I consider not quite right in the head. At the last minute, Mrs. Wrinklebottom decided not to attend the séance. She said the whole thing would be just too upsetting for her so she would just stay in her trailer and wait for us to tell her what had gone on.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

HUMOR NEWS NUTS PSYCHIC DOES FEBRUARY

By Psychic Madam Misty Merkel
Well February is here and it’s going to be cold. You don’t need to be a good psychic to predict that February is going to be cold because even if the month is 20 degrees warmer than normal February is still colder than the corpses of those guys that appear on our money.

Anyways, while it has been getting as cold as my ex-husbands heart, there has been some really trouble brewing just down the street from me. It involves the tales of unrequited love times two. I say times two because this love square (that’s right I said square as in involving four people), involves the Dibble twins who happen to live in this trailer park in identical trailers located right across the street from each other, a handsome man and his true love.

The Dibble twin sisters are not really twins since one is short and stocky and the other one is tall and skinny. So, they’re not really twins by appearance but, they were born at the same time. Quite frankly I would not be surprised if they each had different fathers if that is possible at all.

Well, the long and the short of my story is that the Dibble girls fell in love with the same fellow. You see there is this guy named Mario who lives in this trailer park in a nice wide trailer. Mario is unmarried and unemployed. He does get unemployment compensation and does jobs like shoveling snow in the neighborhood in order to make a few bucks. The twins both went wild watching Mario bend over while shoveling snow and each of the twins started to hire Mario to do odd jobs around their respective trailers. The twins even started baking for Mario and then fixing full course meals. Each of the twins thought that they had won Mario’s heart because Mario was a nice gentleman who was always polite. In fact, Mario was just nice to everyone, even me. I didn’t think anything about how nice Mario was to me because I knew something about Mario that the twins did not. I was of course happy to keep this information to myself while the Dibble sisters were constantly scheming to win Mario’s heart.

Everything changed one day when the trailer of the tall skinny Dibble twin had a trailer fire which destroyed her home and most of her possessions. The short Dibble twin felt sorry for her sister so she set aside their rivalry for Mario’s affections and offered the tall twin a place to stay. But, to the short sister’s surprise, the tall twin turned down the offer of a place to stay because Mario had already offered her a place to stay in his large and well kept trailer.

Finally, the tall sister moved into Mario’s but, he was not even the least bit interested in her when it came to romance. It seems Mario just wanted the tall sister to move in with him because she was such a good cook. It didn’t take long for the Dibble sister to realize that Mario did not like women. Instead, he liked older ladies as in ladies over the age of eighty. Mario and the Dibble sisters are only about forty. It seems Mario’s mother passed away when he was very young and ever since then he’s been looking for a lady that was born about the time his mother was born. The tall Dibble sister was forced to cook and clean up after Mario and his elderly girlfriend. It was like a rent she had to pay in order to have a roof over her head and the other Dibble sister was not about ready to let the ungrateful tall sister move in with her after being so coldly turned down before.

Well, this story had quite a twist in it. It reminds me of this fifty year old guy I used to date when I was about twenty. I broke it off with him when one day he told me that he dated me because I reminded him of his daughter. You know I had wondered why he always held my head over his shoulder and patted my back whenever we slow danced. I think he was trying to burp me like I was his kid.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

THE PSYCHIC MISTY MERKEL DOES NOT TWEET

By Madam Misty Merkel
I am not going to be sending out my important predictions dealing with the future of humanity via a “tweet”. For one thing, I have enough trouble making a phone call with those little numbers and letters on my cell phone. Every single month I find on my bill a call that I accidentally made to places like Cuba, Peru or, Brazil. I don’t know people in any of those types of countries and even if I did, I can’t speak anything except American.

Another problem I have with tweeting is that you can only use like about 150 words on your tweet. Well, I’m sorry but, I am an educated woman. I went to Beauty College for six months of my life. I have a vocabulary of at least 300-400 words. My friend Wilma has a pet rooster that knows 600 words. Limiting the number of words you can use to communicate sounds to me like some sort of plot to dumb down planet earth. I don’t need my crystal ball to figure out that beings from another world are trying to make us all stupid. (I had a brand new crystal ball but, I broke it lawn bowling at a party last week.)

Well, it’s going to take more than tweeting and watching reality TV to make this a planet full of stupids. We all know down here on earth how to deal with space invaders. We all learn at an early age that sometimes you have to shoot through your own protective bunkers to blast all the space aliens before they land. As long as we have video games to play and keep our minds sharp and our laser cannon skills upgraded as we progress, we will persevere.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

THE CALANDAR SAYS THERE’S MONEY TO BE MADE IN 2011

By Madam Misty Merkel
Every psychic today is talking about the end of the world in 2012. Well, I’m not going to contradict my fellow psychics or psychopaths like my cousin Barbara. She’s been predicting the end of world since 1993. She also believes she’s Napoleon and wants to have a go at that whole Waterloo debacle. She thinks she has figured out what she did wrong the first time and wants a rematch. Of course my cousin Barbara has been put away in a special place so she would no longer be a menace to herself or others. I only visited her once and then she thought I was one of Napoleons mistresses. Boy was that awkward. The marks she left when she pinched me stayed red for weeks. Evidently, Napoleon liked the rough stuff.

Anyway, no matter what happens in 2012 I predict a real booming economy in 2011. When I rub my Petoskey stones they tell me things will be getting better. The spirits are mostly telling me things are getting better although you always have some pessimists on the spiritual side like Amelia Ayerheart. All I ever get from her is “My plane is crashing, my plane is crashing. I’m burning up.”

Now, although my prediction of a booming economy is based on my supernatural abilities to see into the future, there is a real economic factor coming up in 2011 that no other psychic or economist (overeducated psychic want-a-be) has yet foreseen. I am of course talking about the Mayan calendar running out in 2012. Since this 25,000 year old calendar is coming to its end of days, new calendars will have to be printed and sold to people throughout Central America and the world.

Most Americans have a plaster Mayan Calendar in their mobile home. I have one in every one of my rooms except for the bathroom. I just can’t stand a man with his tongue hanging out ogling anyone who needs to use the young ladies room. I don’t care if he is a god. It is still disturbing. The living room and bedrooms on the other hand, are a more appropriate setting for the tongue man calendar.

In order to take advantage of the upcoming run on Mayan calendars I’m going to buy a kiln and start slopping some plaster calandars together that will predict what is going to happen over the next 25,000 years. All I need are some Mayan priests to make the predictions and I will gladly draw pictures to represent these predictions. I got an A- in grade school for my artwork so I feel I am fully qualified to create little pictures in plaster that people can talk about and base their personal life strategies upon for the next 25,000 years.

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The opinions and ideas expressed on this blog are those of the Psychic and not those of the Humor News Nuts organization.

HNS has a long tradition of associating with persons who have thought processes that are unusual and even weird. We pride ourselves in our diversity of persons with mental irregularities. This diversity allows us to cover stories that no other news organization will investigate let alone, ever put in print.

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