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Gypsy Lurv Letters

October 13, 2008

Dear Sir,
I’m sorry that I don’t know where the corn is.  The tarot cards don’t know where the corn is either.  They are not a road map.  At least, not that kind of roadmap.  And I’m glad that you think my faith is bullshit.  I think your faith is bullshit, too.

No Lurv,

Dear Assholes,
If you think the fortune tellers are all full of crap, at least have the courtesy to walk a little further down the lane in order to speak your mind.  For one, it’s polite.  For another, there’s a group of barbarians down there who would probably LOVE to discuss the subject with you.


Dear Commitment Phobic,
We don’t care how many girlfriends you have had.  We don’t care how many covens you have been the high priest of.  We don’t care how many people you have taught, how much money you have, or how many grandkids you’ve spawned.  None of that changes the fact that you’re an ass, that you’ve been cheating on your wife (who’s probably grateful that your divorce will be final in a couple of days), and that you’re out here poking the fortune tellers, looking for someone to smack you upside the head.  I’m sorry that BossMom and I don’t smack hard enough.  But if you work your way up to Granmamma Gypsy, she’s going to get the clue bat out.  Also, I don’t care if you talk.  But I do care when you talk down to me.  Yes, I would prefer that you participate as a customer, as opposed to a “teacher or evaluator.”  I had a teacher, thanks.  You ain’t him.

No Lurv,

Dear Management,
Would someone please kindly remove the invisible “Information” sign from the back of my wagon?  It’s a real pain in the ass having people walk up in the middle of a reading wanting to know where the front gate/the bathroom/the nearest beer vendor is.

Much Lurv,

Dear Girl,
You’re right.  You’re only hurting yourself by staying.  I was you once, and I know that it had to be my own choice to leave and that nothing anyone said to me made a bit of difference.  But it made my heart ache to watch you go.  I know that nothing I say to you is going to make you want to leave him.  I can hope that maybe, just maybe, something you said to me will do the trick.

All my lurv and prayers,

And to the fucker who decided that one of my brand new windows looked like it needed a hole in it?  I hope someone decides you need a hole in your head.

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