Random (boring) Thoughts
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You wan fortune cookie? Three dolla!
I can't lie: I love fortune cookies. I love them so much
that I ignore most other things about Chineese restaurants
(like the shady sanitation procedures, 1972 vintage
fryolator oil, and the mysterious, ever growing pile of dog
collars out back).
Yes, I will brave the risks of intestinal discomfort just
about any day of the week for a small, cardboard-like
cookie containing a psychic prediction about my life
(naturally, all Chineese restaurant owners must have well-
honed psychic abilities. They have to take a test to be
licensed. I swear. I saw it on "Oprah").
Lately, though, I've been a bit disappointed by my fortune.
Methinks the fortune cookie writing community has been
slacking, choosing to instill wisdom rather than
communicating about your future.
To be blunt, I really don't give a shit that "Confucius
say: Stay in School!" I demand more from my psychic
Homer Simpson had it right when he said that fortune
cookies should contain predictions like "the price of
stamps will continue to rise" or "you will be aroused by a
Personally, I think they should go one step further than
that. Something like, "you should break up with your
girlfriend. She's a ho," or "buy stock in IBM: They're
going to have a hell of a third quarter" would be more
helpful to me.
I'd even settle for the realistic: "You are about to have
indigestion from eating all that greasy food." Or perhaps
the sexually explicit: "Don't be a fool. Wrap your tool"
or "Confucius say: don't shave your privates if you have
For all my complaining, I have to admit my last two
fortunes were absolute classics. One said, "you have an
interest in artistic things." I'm taking that to mean the
gorgeous, blonde goddess who I've had a crush on since
junior high. After all, she is an art history major. All I
really need to know now is whether those "things artistic"
have an interest in me.
My favorite cookie, though, came a few weeks ago. It simply
read, "You will have good health for a long time to come."
Two days later I was diagnosed with mono.
I guess Confucius must have been on vacation that day.