I don’t talk much about it, since it’s slightly embarassing, but my stomach, Ed, is psychic. Here are some predictions for the New Year (which he told me after breakfast):• Flush with victory, George W Bush will bring Saddam Hussein on the campaign trail, stopping at various fundraisers. Saddam, chained and behind bars, will be prodded with a stick causing him to grab at men’s top hats and ladies’ furs, and to snarl “I eat your babies! I eat your babies!”
President Bush will pacify the crowd by snapping a whip at the beleaguered Iraq leader, and assuring them that the bars of the cage are made of chromed steel. Nevertheless, Hussein will break free and escape onto the city streets. The President (and an unseen pilot) will circle the Empire State Building in a Harrier jet, waiting for Hussein to appear; but Hussein, confused why everyone is so convinced he wants to attack New York City, takes to sleeping in subway stations and, when pressed, will do a little dance for pocket change.
Hussein sightings will be a frequent topic of the New York Post.
• Michael Jackson, although obviously as insane as a televangelist, will still not be institutionalized.
• In a bid to drum up more business, McDonald’s will hit upon the idea of adding lettuce and tomato to a burger. They will spend most of the fiscal year thinking up a name for it which they haven’t used before.
• Desperate for money to further my Sideshow Weta Lord of the Rings statues addiction, I am driven to sell my own fat on eBay. A Japanese businessman declares I am a world class delicacy. I feel like I am sitting on a proverbial goldmine, until…
• Late in the year I die of a heart attack. This goes unnoticed for several weeks, until the owner of the Wendy’s around the corner begins to question the sharp drop in monthly income. After many months, my trainer, Tubby Corchran, will finally update my webpage — not to eulogize me but to post unflattering photos of my ill-fated tryout with the community theater ballet.
