THE ANSWER TO EVERYTHING
(*Author’s Note: This was originally written in 2014, hence my use of “trans*,” which used to be an umbrella term for non-cis gender identities that I think we made in illegal in like 2017.)
Wow!
Remember in my last post when I said: I DO NOT COMMUNICATE WITH ALIENS.
?
(If you don’t remember, please go back and re-read! Just a friendly hint!)
Well, folks, I do.
At least I do now.
Hey!
What?
Gather round, friends, because boy oh boy* do I have a story to tell.
*(Or “girl oh girl”! Or “trans* oh trans*”! I don’t discriminate!)
It all started last week when I was having one of my semi-annual quasi-psychic interactions with Isabella Rossellini.
(Pictured here!)
Isabella Rossellini, though I love her, is a HUGE complainer. As usual, she was lamenting her insignificance as compared to her mother, (Ingrid Bergman! I’d kill to channel her spirit for an hour!), the cancellation of her Sundance Channel show, and whether or not she should now be considered “handsome”.
Between trying to decipher her babbling through her ridiculous accent and reminding her that her show ended in amicable circumstances over 5 years ago, I nearly missed
!!!!!!THE MOST IMPORTANT MOMENT OF MY LIFE!!!!!!
Hey! What?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my AnthropologieTM lamp shimmer and begin to change. That’s when I remembered:
I don’t own any AnthropologieTM lamps!
I severed my connection with Isabella as I observed “my lamp” morphing into none other than an obese, balding, JOHN TRAVOLTA.
(Pictured here! In his younger days!)
Before my very eyes, he quickly transformed again into an obese, balding, JOHN TRAVOLTA in a hair-piece. For my comfort.
“John!”, I exclaimed, “I normally don’t connect with A-Listers! How did you get ahold of this line?”
As it turned out, John had been spying on me for weeks disguised as an AnthropologieTM lamp. It was a dangerous expedition, but John had uncovered my weakness for boho-chic light fixtures and knew he would go unnoticed for as long as need be. The reason for his daring adventure? He had been burning, he said, to reveal to me the secret connection behind
A-List Stars, Scientology, and The Djinn.
As I’ve said to you before, I don’t normally come into quasi-psychic contact with A-listers, because many of them belong to an ancient and powerful race of beings knows as DJINN.
Hey! What?
What is a DJINN? You might find yourself asking. (It’s always okay to ask questions!) DJINN, (pronounced “gin”, like my favorite liquor! With two ice cubes and a splash of lime juice!) also known as “genies”, “demons”, or “aliens”, are sometimes thought to be a race of fallen angels, ousted from the Kingdom of Heaven by God Himself. (Or Herself! I don’t discriminate!) Many people who believe they are victims of extraterrestrial abductions are in fact victims of THE DJINN AGENDA.
Hey! What?
THE DJINN AGENDA is the name of the grand plan that the DJINN have for the Universe. They have a hand in all our worldly events, conveniently able to disguise themselves as practically anything to gain our trust and influence our actions.
You can learn more about it here, from resident DJINN expert Rosemary Guiley:
ANYWHOOZERS,
“But John!”, I begged, “I thought one of the central tenets of Scientology was that humans are all infested with Thetans, an evil alien race that we must seek to rid ourselves of through strenuous rounds of auditing!” Then, Mr. Travolta née Djinn, said something I’ll never forget:
“Welcome, my dear, to the Djinn Agenda.”
As he revealed exclusively to Yours Truly, (that’s me!) The Djinn have been using Scientology as a front for the past several decades. By fooling the masses into either, A) BELIEVING Scientology is true, or B) finding Scientology ridiculously UNBELIEVABLE, they have left us blind to their true, much more sinister machinations.
I could tell it pained John to reveal this information to me. It made him, after all, a traitor to his race. He made a face of deepest angst.
(Pictured here!)
Dear friends, I tried. I really tried to get him to delve ever further into the forbidden secrets of his kind, to uncover the grand plan once and for all. But it was not to be. Overcome with anxiety, John began again to shimmer out of sight. Before he would leave me forever, I asked him where I might find him again. As he left with a gust of wind, I could only catch a few words, which sounded strangely like “bathhouse” and “women not allowed”. I’ll have to decipher that clue later.
I was left with nothing but a chill, a chill surely not from the Los Angeles autumn weather (103 degrees! In September! The planet really is getting hotter. But not from “global warming!” Which is a hoax, but not the way you think. Hint: Madonna). I had no more than a moment’s unsteady peace when Isabella came rushing back into my quasi-psychic circle, demanding I re-watch the Season 3 episode of “FriendsTM” in which she had a brief cameo.
(Pictured here! Alongside the infamous “Central Perk” couch, also pictured, bottom right!)
UNTIL NEXT TIME, my foul-weather “FriendsTM!”
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