Dear Madame Zoltar

Hello, my diaphanous daffodils! How are you? Surprise, I’m baaack!

Oh my, what a story. The “lottery” that I “won” was a scam. I couldn’t believe it at first. I was devastated. Thank God that Mr. OrbsCorbs was there or I might have fallen for it. He appeared at my front door right after I announced that I’d won the money. Mr. OrbsCorbs offered to help pack, clean, or do whatever he could to be useful in the preparation for our move to Romania. He also seemed to pay a lot of personal attention to me (tee-hee), but I know that sudden wealth might have something to do with that. (I found his vague hints at marriage to be unsettling, though.)

While we were making preparations, I received a telephone call from the same gentleman who had called previously to tell me that I had won. He was inquiring about the “earnest money,” and giving me directions on where to send it. I told him that I had no idea of what he was talking about. He said, “It’s right there, printed on the back of your ticket. You must put up $5,000 earnest money as a show of good faith and your intention to come to Romania to claim your prize and live here for at least the next five years."

I panicked. I’ll be honest with you, my dears, I don’t even remember buying a ticket for the Romanian Psychic Lottery. I’m not sure I ever did. When the man called to tell me that I had won $30 million, I wasn’t going to quibble over details. I thought perhaps the lottery was conducted psychically and I had been selected through the ether. In any case, I didn’t have $5,000 lying around. We had already purchased our airline tickets and had to rent out a lot of storage space for our belongings until we were settled in Romania and could send for them. The house was going up for sale, with some of the furniture still in it, but I wasn’t going to sell the business. That meant I had to hire on a manager at more costs.

I told the gentleman that I would need some time to get the money together and he said that he would call again the following day. Oh my. I just didn’t know what to do. At that point, Mr. OrbsCorbs came into the room to ask me if some items were to be put in storage, or shipped with us. He looked at me and said, “Madame, you don’t look too well. Is anything wrong?” Oh dear. I told him about the phone call and the $5,000 and being broke. And I cried. Mr. OrbsCorbs was so consoling. He gave me a great big hug and let me cry on his shoulder for awhile, and then he said, “You know, I think this lottery thing is a scam.” “What?” I said as I pushed back from him. Mr. OrbsCorbs went on to explain about how ruthless telephone scammers ask people to provide money upfront to claim some ”winnings” or “inheritance” or deserted bank account. I was still skeptical. So he offered to take me to the Racine Police Department where we could talk to an officer about it. No thanks! My kind has a built-in aversion to the police.

Finally, Mr. Orbscorbs suggested that I contact some of my psychic friends in the area to see if they, too, had “won” the Romanian Psychic Lottery. I felt foolish at first, but Mr. OrbsCorbs egged me on. So I called, and the very first psychic that I contacted said that she, too, had been informed that she’d won the lottery. She had not yet received any “earnest money” call, though. I was shocked. So I called all of the psychics that I know here. In total, 29 had been contacted and told that they had won the “lottery.” Of those, 14 had already received the call about providing “earnest money.” And of those, sadly, three had already wired money, in amounts ranging from $5,000 to $10,000. Oh my, oh my. If Mr. OrbsCorbs hadn’t alerted me to this scam, I don’t know what would have happened. Thank you so much, Mr. OrbsCorbs. Thank you.

And me, a professional psychic, and I didn’t see through this? That is what happens when greed clouds your heart and your vision. Junior is devastated, too, because he won’t be a teenage millionaire playboy on Romania’s nude beaches. Well, I learned a lot from this experience, mainly that old saw, “If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

I hope that all of my dear Irregulars will accept the newly-humbled me back into the fold of your loving embrace. I wanted to reply to all of your lovely farewell comments in my last blog, but I couldn't because I was crying too hard.  I started having nightmares about you right after I wrote that blog. The emotional stress of leaving here, even temporarily, was almost too much for me to bear. It’s like I was created to do just this. So I hope that you don’t mind if I hop back into the spot of the JTI’s official prognosticator. Unless, of course, you’ve already replaced me. If you have, please notify me, and I’ll scratch the bitch’s eyes out, oh, no, I mean, we can “discuss” matters.

Please send your lucky lottery numbers to: madamezoltar@jtirregulars.com.

[Confidential to JD:  Those who make deals with the Devil get burnt permanently.]

I love you, I love you, I love you, my dear Irregulars. I am so happy to be back with you. It would have been nice to be rich with a lot of money, but here in Racine I am so much richer with a lot friends. May we never part again. Spring is beginning to sproing. Pay attention. The plants will be putting on the greatest show on earth. Anagnorisis!