Zimfa the Fake Psychic

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Allow my b.s. to solve your real problems

By Zimfa

July 31, 2006

San Diego--Life’s problems got you down? Of course they do. How do I know? Because I’m a fake psychic.

Don’t laugh. Fake psychics have been providing answers to life’s most difficult questions for centuries. Even today, politicians, royalty and celebrities depend on fake psychics to give them the phony information they need to get through their busy days. Oh, some fake psychics try to fool people by saying they’re not fake but—here’s a little secret—they’re all fake. It’s all about pulling vague, comforting words out of your ass. I used to operate as a real psychic but started faking it when I realized the more freestyle bullshitting I did, the more accurate my so-called predictions and premonitions became.

For instance, someone once asked, “How’s that new Rob Schneider movie going to do at the box office?”

A real psychic would have gone out on a limb and said, “Well, based on the planetary conditions of the release date, it will probably do well at first and slowly fade off like a sunset.”

But a fake psychic doesn’t have to follow that line of thought so I told them point blank: “Who the fuck cares? It sucks. It’s going to suck. All Rob Schneider movies suck.”

Real psychics spend their time learning interpretive pseudo science like astrology in order to impart their superstitious hogshit.

It’s important for them to sound like they know something about relationships or money, even though, in reality, most of them are lonely fat old bitches or old gay trolls. And as you know, neither demographic is known for having much loot or much love.

Fake psychics don’t have to do that.

Instead of wasting my time reading about constellations, degrees, stelliums or figuring how a planet can move backwards (something which astrophysicists say is impossible), I can smoke a fatty and make up some crap about how your life is like an episode of Saved By The Bell.

And you’d believe it. You’d listen, nod your head and say, “I get what you’re saying.” Then you’d pay me a tidy sum.

I’ve been giving fake psychic readings for 18 years and have it down to a pseudo-science. If you have a question that the police won’t answer, your shrink strangely avoids, or , your boyfriend keeps mumbling in his sleep, send it to zimfa@vyuz.com.

All questions confidential. But I do reserve the right to give you a really silly name like “Foolishly gullible in Santee” or “Naïve pole smoker in Golden Hill.”

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