Psychic's hot line has gone dead

By TY PHILLIPS
tphillips@modbee.com

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As a rule, I don't open mail that isn't addressed to me. OK, I just lied: Actually, I tear into other people's mail any chance I get, but I rarely write about it in the newspaper for fear of federal prosecution. This week, I am making an exception.

Recently, I came to possess a curiously thick envelope sent by self-proclaimed "world renowned clairvoyant" Rosanna Shaw. Surely you've heard of her, this master practitioner of white magic. Don't worry: I had no idea who she was, either. Anyway, the outside of her letter contained an italicized, underlined sentence that stated: "I'm worried this miracle will pass you by."

A miracle? Hell, who couldn't use one of those? I looked again at the letter, which was addressed to James Wolfe of Escalon. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind, I told myself. Besides, there was a miracle waiting inside and it was about to go to waste. I could help myself no longer. I looked around, real sneaky-like, then quickly opened the letter.

"Dear James," the letter began. "Did you get my letter? I've been thinking about you nonstop for the last couple of weeks, wondering if everything is all right."

That's where I got to giggling to myself the first time. You see, there's one little itsy-bitsy detail I failed to mention here: James Wolfe has been dead for 10 years.

Now folks, I'm not exactly an expert on clairvoyants, but it just seems to me that Rosanna should have known about Wolfe's demise. In all her infinite wisdom, wouldn't she have at least some low-level access to coroner's reports? If you're one of those rare individuals blessed with supernatural powers, wouldn't there be another method of contacting the dead that works better than the U.S. Postal Service?

I began to form minor doubts about Rosanna's powers. But I kept reading -- and giggling.

"I'm a little worried because I haven't heard from you," Rosanna wrote. "That's why I did this free reading for you. I thought it might help."

Rosanna went on to explain that Wolfe was about to enter a period of very strong good fortune brought on by an unusual cosmic event. Rosanna also explained that Wolfe could look forward to "28 days of spectacular luck" in the coming year, including eight days that would be "supremely fortunate." And the letter went onto say if Wolfe would be so kind as to fill out a form that included his credit card number, Rosanna could fill him in on the details.

"Trust my clairvoyant instincts," Rosanna wrote. "I must say, my dear, I felt very sad when I 'saw' how things have been going lately. No wonder you feel let down. I can sense there is loneliness in your life."

Yes, death can be a lonely business. Eventually, I got bored with the letter and decided to go online and search for more information about Rosanna Shaw.

For the first time, Google failed me. There is no www.rosannashaw.com, but I did happen upon a consumer awareness Web site called www.ripoffreport.com, where several people shared their firsthand experiences with Rosanna. One New York woman said after canceling Rosanna's service, the "world renowned clairvoyant" sent another unsolicited reading and now the woman is being hounded by a collection agency for services she never ordered. The consensus was that Rosanna's limited powers wouldn't even allow her to cure a ham.

Folks, just to review (because some of us appear to be supporting this fraud), sending cash to Rosanna -- or anyone in her line of work -- essentially is the same as throwing your wallet out the window. Hey, I'm all for being frivolous; I love blowing money. Why, once I even spent roughly $5,000 turning a 1982 Chevy pickup into a beautiful pirate ship we used to drive around at Burning Man. My point is, if you're going to waste your cash, at least get something for it. A bottle of whiskey or some donuts, whatever. Just get something.

But, if you insist on paying charlatans to tell you your future, at least keep it local. Tell you what: I'll do it for you. Along with your credit card number or a personal check addressed to Ty the Magnificent, just send me a list of your three biggest health concerns, the age you lost your virginity and a hair plucked from your favorite pet. (If you've got one of those ugly hairless cats, a toenail clipping will work fine.)

My contact information is conveniently located in the next paragraph. But don't wait too long because my powers of divination are somewhat limited: Unlike the great Rosanna, I will be unable to help you once you're dead.

Bee staff columnist Ty Phillips can be reached at tphillips@modbee.com or 874-5716.