CTV's W5 recently did an undercover expose on fake psychics who con gullible, desperate people out of hundreds – sometimes thousands – of dollars, promising to lift curses and guide them through difficult times, such as the loss of a job, end of a marriage or death of a family member.

This was a great story, and I'm glad CTV took a serious, in-depth approach to it. First, know that I am, in fact, psychic. Or, more precisely, empathic/intuitive. I have paranormal abilities that I cannot explain and don't really understand how they work or where they come from. Details on that, HERE.

So, knowing all of that, here is where I stand on the issue of paying "psychics" a shit-load of money to give you advice, cleanse your aura and help you talk to dead family members:


So, why do I feel so strongly about this, even though I believe I am a legitimate psychic? It's simple. Predicting the future is a guessing game, like Charades or Pictionary. You get clues from body language and facial expressions, you analyze and hypothesize, based on previous experience and the Law of Averages, and come to conclusions based on feelings and intuition. Hardly an exact science. Whether you are genuinely intuitive, such as myself, or not, it is all still just a guessing game. You have no true, tangible product or service to sell, like a hotdog vendor, florist, real estate agent, event planner or architect. When those people charge a fee for services rendered, they deserve it, because the product or service is real. The proof is right there in front of you.

When I tell someone I get the sense that their spouse is cheating on them, or their boss is looking for someone to replace them at work, it's all just speculation and intuition. The future is fluid and ever-changing. What I feel and sense about the coming weeks or months in your life may be true, right now, but every decision you make, from deciding what to wear to work, what to eat for lunch or which route to take to the grocery store, changes that future. So, you should never, ever, EVER pay more than $5.00 for a reading, because it's not even close to being definitive. I get so angry when I see newspaper or online ads from Lobelia's Lair or the Calico Cat Tea House, here in Nanaimo, charging people a ridiculous amount of money to tell them stories, filling the minds of sad, gullible and desperate people with false hopes, wishes and dreams.

Crystal balls are just carved and polished chunks of pretty, semi-transparent rock. They have no power, beyond producing a mild electrical current. Wet tea leaves clumped together at the bottom of a cup cannot predict your future, nor can the position of stars in the night sky, for that matter. Tarot cards are nothing more than stiff pieces of paper, printed with colourful illustrations (that were designed by graphic artists) and distributed by the thousands from factories in China, India and Taiwan. There is no magic, here.

It's no big deal to pay a couple of bucks for a "psychic" reading – so long as you understand that it is all JUST A FUN AND SILLY LITTLE GUESSING GAME. OK?



When I was 5 & 6 years old (circa 1974), I lived next door to a very sweet, elderly couple who became like a third set of grandparents to me. My fondest memories are of the Saturday afternoons I would spend on the living room sofa with the man, watching SHOCK THEATRE, which were mostly black & white B-movie horror flicks from the 30s, 40s and 50s. We would eat junk food, cover our eyes during the scary parts and scream at the appropriate moments. This precious year in my early life cemented my passion for horror movies, and I later welcomed Carrie, The Shining, The Exorcist and Poltergeist with open, loving arms.


I hate to travel. Always have. Getting to the airport on time, the check-in process, being sandwiched in with dozens of complete strangers on a plane, for hours – and don't even get me started on hotel booking screw-ups, language barriers, currency confusion, weird food and digestion problems, questionable washroom facilities, guarding my personal safety and belongings in a strange place...ugh! I did it for work but only because I had to, to make money.

Then, along came Google Earth and Google Street View. Now, I can safely stroll down a street in Sydney, Paris, Toronto, Bogota, London, Venice, Reykjavik, Moscow, Beverly Hills, Hawaii, Rome, Brooklyn, Madrid...I can get up-close and personal with the CN Tower, Uluru, the Eiffel Tower, Alcatraz Prison, the Devil's Tower (which, oddly enough, always seems to give me a craving for mashed potatoes), the Burj Khalifa, the pyramids at Giza...just so many wonderful hours of enjoyment on my 27" HD monitor – without having to worry about negotiating my way through sweaty, smelly crowds, getting lost or mugged, getting sick after contracting God knows what, or having to pee in a hole in the ground because there are no toilets.

When I have the time, I like to just wander around in the middle of wherever, using Street View to check out the apartment buildings, houses and front yards, the cars people drive, the neighbourhood businesses, the people walking down the street or riding on their bikes. A slice of life, a moment captured in time, in another city, somewhere in the world.

Well, earlier today, I got a glimpse of what life is like at a home in the Lucerne Valley desert, on North Shore Drive, northeast of San Bernardino, CA. A man in a lawn chair, lounging in the shade under the trees in front of his house, while his big, black dog lies flat on his side, baking in the midday sun. I'll betcha he's got a few good stories to tell!