I have often been envious when seeing the signs of local psychic readers. I'm not talking the garish neon variety, but the more original fair that one finds among psychics stylish enough to house themselves in old Victorians--such as pepper the neighborhoods of the Bay Area where I have lived all my life. On more than one occasion I have even stopped in to get a reading, as much to see the decor of the parlor as to learn that for few hundred dollars I could have some dreaded curse lifted from me that I had been woefully unaware was plaguing me.
Aside from an uncanny ability to guess what Simpson's episode will be rerun before I sit down to watch, I do not fancy myself to be psychic, yet that does not mean I cannot display such a signboard, and perhaps such a statement present in my environment might coax latent psychic talents to surface in me.
And if not, I find this sign to be fetching nonetheless. It looks as though it is of another age, and its subject matter is eccentric, and that is the sort of thing I enjoy surrounding myself with. Perhaps you will as well.
Chas Bogan
