There Will Be Blood

final destination

Eye yi yi.

Mercury is in retrograde and I wouldn’t have known what the hell that meant either had a woman I work with who also happens to be an astrologer not clued me in.

The short explanation (for those who believe in “what’s your sign” mumbo-jumbo) is that Mercury (the planet, not the goop in a thermometer) rules certain aspects of our lives like communication, truth and travel. A few times a year (it arrived two nights ago, making Obama’s win even more miraculous), Mercury appears to be going backwards in the sky (it’s really just hanging out by the sun and who’s looking at this anyway? Icarus?) and when that happens, we’re all pretty much fucked for the next three weeks.

Here’s an even simpler explanation: Mercury in retrograde is like when astrology gets its period. In other words, there will be blood.

It basically just cramps your style, followed by the shit hitting the proverbial fan. During its most recent cycle (okay, I’m done) towards the end of the summer, my last girlfriend and I broke up and like clockwork (Orange?) that just happened again with a woman I had been dating for the past several weeks. Talk about quicksilver.

All kinds of other annoying crap can also happen during this period (I lied), so steer clear of electrical outlets, make sure to continually save and back up that screenplay you’ve been working on for the past five years and get to the airport for your Thanksgiving flight extra early, although, no matter what, it’s gonna be delayed. These next few weeks will be like an extended cut of Final Destination, hopefully without the rollercoaster derailment or other assorted sharp flying objects.

M in R can also be a valuable time for reflection. Old friends from the past sometimes resurface and this can be an excellent opportunity to heal open wounds. In fact, my ex-wife and I had a lovely conversation just the other day.

Additionally, it can be a chance to learn from previous mistakes and tie up loose ends, although I haven’t spoken with my last girlfriend in a while.

It’s also a respite for the soul to ponder its destiny. Some things that were lost may also reappear, or so says no less of an authority than

In matters of the heart, if your boyfriend or girlfriend breaks up with you or says something hurtful, take a wait-and-see attitude. Since Mercury rules speech, they may not mean what you think they are saying now. Let them have some space, wait and see.

I’m waiting.

But does anyone have a spare tampon?

A Fool’s Journey


Holy crap! That’s me!

I haven’t told you much about my recent palm and tarot card readings, mainly because there’s not a lot to reveal just yet.

That’s true but not completely. I’ve been procrastinating like crazy and should’ve written about the experience two months ago and because I didn’t, I’ve forgotten some important details, which is why this will be fuzzier than usual.

So …

As soon as I walked into Diane Gerber’s Brooklyn Heights apartment on a sunny September afternoon, I knew she was the real deal because the first thing I noticed was a series of small feng shui mirrors in her kitchen. Apparently, she’s also a psychologist and has been doing readings for more than 20 years.

I sat down at her dining room table and after a few minutes of idle chitchat (did you know that prehistoric men left prints of their palms in caves? I didn’t!), she asked me to hold up both of my hands as if she was about to rob me at gunpoint. We started with my left hand and she explained that the left shows what you’ve inherited from your parents as well as serving as your personality’s blueprint, while the right is about your present life and future. Diane then said something about how much I had loved my father so I checked to see if it was really my hand and then told her that she was off-base on that particular insight, so we immediately switched to my right.

I admitted that I was scared for her to look at my life line because it’s kind of short and I didn’t wanna hear that I should’ve kicked the bucket in the mid-nineties. She assured me that length (and why are women forever reassuring dudes like me on that subject?) had nothing to do with longevity and that it’s really more about the quality of your life, which I took as the kind of thing she says to everyone with a relatively short-ass line.

“It looks like you’ve had a few bumps in the road,” she said after studying it for a moment. “There are a few breaks in the line and from what I can tell, you had a really rough time in your forties.”

I nodded in agreement and told her that was when my marriage began to go south and then we moved on to my heart line, which represents your emotional life.

“You’re very sensitive,” she said two seconds after examining it.

“That’s what all the girls say,” I lamely joked.

Diane went on to tell me that I’m also very creative and talked about how each finger represents a different planet (specifically, Mercury, Apollo, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn) and how each planet represents a different aspect of your life. She also talked about different “mounts” on my hand, which are like little warehouses of energy.

The Mount of Venus (located at the base of your thumb) shows how passionate you are and the good news is that I’m an off-the-charts hottie. On the other hand (horrible pun intended), my Saturn finger (which is, not coincidentally, the same finger I use to give the finger with) seems to be dominant and shows a tendency towards depression. Finally, she noticed that my marriage lines (on the side of the palm near the pinky) were fading and far apart. This was enough for me to ball up my hand into a sad fist and ask to move along to the tarot portion of our program.

Here’s how a tarot reading works: As the cards are dealt, they land in positions that supposedly represent your past, present and future and the meaning of any card can be interpreted differently depending on where exactly they land in the spread. This sounded all well and good, just as long as I didn’t see a Death card or find out that I was going to marry a Kardashian.

We only had time for three questions and my first was about my older son Rob’s future employment. I shuffled the deck a few times and then cut the cards into three piles, which Diane picked up and began to lay out. She saw that Rob had gone through some of his own crap and may continue to have ups and downs but will ultimately be okay. The cards also showed that he has a strong work ethic, but is easily led astray. Diane added that Rob has a good heart and that was the precise moment I fully bought into this tarot nonsense.

The next two questions were about me, specifically about my work and love life. I first asked if I was ever going to get rich from writing, and the cards suggested that if I just kept my head down and worked hard, I’d eventually be successful (note to self: don’t bail on this stupid blog just yet).

The read on my love life was far more engrossing. The first card that came up was the Queen of Swords and Diane asked if there had been a strong, independent woman in my life recently.

“That sounds exactly like my last girlfriend,” I readily admitted.

The next card (brought to us by the goddamn Universe) was the Fool.

“Well, I’ve been called worse,” I cracked. “Lately by the Queen of Swords.”

“The Fool represents someone who’s in search of new experiences,” Diane explained. “Someone who is at the beginning of a journey and seeks a fresh start.”

“Holy crap!” I muttered to myself. “That’s me!”

The card that reared its ugly head after that was the Devil.

“What’s my father doing here?” I sarcastically asked. Diane explained that the Devil in this context meant that I’d be having lots and lots of sex.

“It doesn’t look like you’re going to find love so quickly,” she said finally, “but you’re definitely going to have lots of fun and interesting romantic adventures this next year.”

OMG! Tarot is even better than feng shui!

My Soul to Keep


Being then nothingness.

I was originally going to call this blog My Soul to Keep. I thought it did a nice job evoking a healthy skepticism with a slight nod to my childhood terror worrying about where we go once we fall asleep.

I ran into three problems:

1) I’m not really sure what the soul actually is.

2) I’m still not really sure what happens when we go off to dreamland.

c) It sounds like some stupid serial killer movie.

Now I know the soul is supposed to be our essence or spirit (two words that make me want to burn every Deepak Chopra book — and maybe the author himself) and is hypothetically supposed to live on forever. And I can certainly understand the great comfort and appeal of immortality, wrote the tall dude who may or may not have prostate cancer. I also know that this subject has been intensely debated since the days of Aristotle and by every philosopher that Woody Allen has ever made fun of.

I’m just not sure what the difference is between my mind/heart/feelings vs. my soul/essence/spirit. Aren’t they pretty much the same things? Is your soul something else apart? And if so, how did it learn to fly?

I only ask because I’ve always thought the lightbulb simply goes out when we die, and if you’ve ever been scared of the dark, no worries because … you’ll no longer be here! You will cease to exist! Good day, sir! And all of those wonderful memories and awesome emotions and the way you narrowed your eyes to show that you were listening when someone was talking to you, and everything else that made you YOU – your s/e/s ­– that stuff bites the big one with you! You can’t take it with you because – spoiler alert! – you’re not going anywhere. Cue Nelson Muntz.

I’m one of those non-believers who believes that the separation of body and soul is why religion was invented in the first place, mainly so we wouldn’t all freak the fuck out about the horror of dying. Whew! Heaven! What a relief! Jeez, I thought I was just going to wind up as nothingness! That was a close call!

I remember learning something in Hebrew school about God first creating the body and then breathing life into it and, according to Rabbi I-forgot-most-of-his-name-stein, that’s how the soul was born, and why we have a physical and spiritual self. And then I remember cutting Hebrew school for the next fifty years.

For me, the soul lives on in my heart and memory of the people who I’ve loved. Whenever I think about my father-in-law, Marty, who died two years ago and who I adored, I begin to well up with tears because I miss him, and almost simultaneously break into a smile recalling a passion for life that I’ve never seen in anyone else before or since.

That was his soul, and I was lucky enough to have been embraced by it when he was alive. And he’ll live on in my memory until the day I die.

But then that’s going to be it.

The Swim of Things

bart simpson and nevermind baby


I’ve spent hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars going to therapy and the one thing that I wanted to happen never happened.

I used to sit in Shelley’s office every week and describe how I felt inside.

“This is the way I feel,” I’d say to her as if we were on In Treatment, and then held out my hand balled up into a tight fist. “All I want to do is go like this,” I continued and slowly opened my fist until I looked like Michaelangelo’s Adam reaching out to touch the hand of God. “All I wanna be able to do is to let go, Shelley. Why can’t I just let go? Why is it so hard?”

Usually Shelley would just look at her watch and tell me that our time was up and then I’d make an appointment for the next 20 years.

I’ve read countless books about the process of letting go. I’ve tried breathing exercises and more recently, meditation. I’ve told the Shelley “handjob” story a ton of times and yet here I am still holding on for dear life.

I hold on to the way I’ve always done things, to the unpleasantness of the past, to every painful thought I’ve ever had. I convince myself that it somehow gives me comfort and helps maintain an illusion of control, but in my heart of hearts, I know the exact opposite is true. And yet I cling tighter and tighter to all of these foolish things that have never worked. Resistance is indeed futile.

What am I so scared of? Why can’t I just be me? And live in the moment for fucking once? I know that true spiritual awakening will happen when I fully let go and focus on today. I know this because I’ve gotten a glimpse of it a handful of times in my life. On one occasion, when I left my wife for another woman. And another time when I learned how to swim.

I was 7 and went to sleepaway camp for the first time and loved everything about it except for daily swim instruction. I was a fish who preferred to stay out of water and this was fine until my counselor caught on and dragged me to the deep end of the pool.

“Jump in,” said the douchebag.

“But I don’t know how to swim,” I said.

“Just do it! You won’t drown.”

“But I’m scared!” I said.

“Fine,” said the dick, “then you can just stand here for the rest of the period.”

And that’s what I did. Until the end of the session, when two other counselors snuck up behind me and pushed me in. While they were laughing their asses off, I flailed and kicked and desperately tried to keep my head above water, eventually managing to get myself safely to the side of the pool.

“That was your first lesson,” said the asshole counselor.

I was swimming in less than a week.

The Other Side of No Tomorrow

Big Sur scenic view

Every word we sang I knew was true.

If you’re looking for some kind of a spiritual experience, driving on Route 1 through Big Sur on the way to San Francisco is a good place to start. It also helps if you’re with an old friend who you adore and are listening to just the right music.

For those of you who’ve made this awesome run before, you know exactly what I’m talking about and for those who haven’t, there are no words to do it justice. I don’t believe in God, but this place is certainly one of the best arguments that He exists. Every twisting turn reveals another breathtaking view of mountains plunging into the ocean. It’s one of those fucked-up-nature-things that makes you feel small and insignificant and at the same time, more alive than you’ve ever felt in your life.

I was riding shotgun and playing DJ all afternoon and promised my friend Pamela that I wouldn’t torture her by playing Steely Dan (which, you should know, is my all-time favorite band).

I lied (and that phrase would’ve been so perfect if my name was Katy).

“Doctor Wu” has always been the song I play when I’m very happy or very sad. It somehow amplifies whatever I’m feeling and I can’t really explain it any more than that. Like most Steely Dan songs, the lyrics are romantic and enigmatic (and also about drugs), and the opening lines have given me chills since the first time I heard it more than 35 years ago:

Katy tried

I was halfway crucified

I was on the other side of no tomorrow

You walked in and my life began again

Just when I spent the last piaster I could borrow

Now I’ve always associated those words with the women in my life – for a long time, my ex-wife, as well as with any number of fantasy girls, but when I heard it this time and looked out the window at the ocean below and the cliffs above, it meant something entirely different.

I felt a deep connection — maybe for the first time — to myself, and was overcome with a sense of hopefulness that I’ve only ever experienced on the days my sons were born. And if that’s not spiritual, I don’t know what is.

Are We There Yet?

jules in pulp fiction

The righteous man.

I have to admit that I’ve been feeling frustrated lately. Nothing keeps happening! When will all of this spiritual crap kick in already and make me a Bodhisattva? I’ve been meditating until my head hurts and … that’s bullshit. I’ve actually been watching a lot of TV. And I know, I know, the road to enlightenment is a lifetime journey, but all I keep thinking is: Are we there yet?

Tony keeps reminding me that I just need to stay on the righteous path (and it’s impossible not to hear Samuel L. Jackson’s voice when he’s saying that). What he’s really saying is that there are bound to be some fun adventures awaiting a newly single guy trying to be metaphysically good. And this is also why he is my best friend.

I also thought that maybe this would be a good time to check in with Laura, my feng shui guru and de facto spritual guide. If anyone could set me straight, it’s her. So I emailed about my disappointment and impatience with achieving a higher state of awareness (and if my kids are reading this … dudes, this doesn’t mean what you think it means) and this is what she had to say:

That’s part of your own blockage and the lesson you need to understand. When you become aware of the greater happenings, life opens up and you understand your purpose. So stop rushing the process, you need to go through the experience. No one said it would be pleasant all the time. This is how you’ll learn, evolve, understand and gain experience, which leads to wisdom and the understanding of spirituality. The entire world is going through this process. It’s called ascension. Amazing things are happening every day. So have patience, young grasshopper 😉

Now the secret of being a kick-ass spiritual guide is the ability to impart simple truths while occasionally goofing on Kung-Fu dialog, and nobody does it better than Laura, although Tony is equally genius when it comes to Pulp Fiction quotes.

So in the spirit of heeding Tony’s advice on “fun adventures” and accepting Laura’s assertion that “amazing things are happening every day,” I’m going on vacation. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll find whatever it is I’m looking for. See you in a week.

Carlito’s Way

chicken sacrfifice

Angry bird.

The closest I’ve ever come to having a spiritual experience was thirtysomething years ago when I was on drugs, so I’m not really sure that counts.

I was in my early twenties and managed a record store in Times Square (and boy, does that sound like ancient history). I also shared an apartment with my friend Steve (this was way before he found God) in Jackson Heights, Queens and all I really remember from that hazy time was the two of us getting high regularly, listening to the Allman Brothers Band and Steely Dan and eating lots of pizza.

So here’s the spiritual part of the story. One morning, I woke up from a terrible dream where someone with a gun was chasing me. This would become a recurring nightmare in the years to come, but what really freaked me out that morning was hearing the phrase “shot in the head” over and over, as if some spectral madman was whispering in my ear.

I shakily went to work in the afternoon and as soon as I stepped foot in the record store, George, the assistant manager who was an even bigger stoner than I was, came running up to me.

“Hey, man. Carlito is looking for you,” he said. “He mentioned something crazy about you being shot in the head.”

I froze. And then felt my heart beating out of my chest. “What did you say?” I asked him. It felt like I was back in my bad dream.

“He said that someone was going to come in here and shoot you in the head. Maybe today,” George said a little too eagerly, almost excited to see how this was going to play out. “You should probably go talk to him, man.”

Carlito was a petite, gay Brazilian man with a bad complexion, who appropriately worked in the International section of the record store. He had impeccable musical taste and turned me on to Milton Nascimento, Caetano Veloso and all of the Gilbertos. He was also a white witch who practiced Santeria.

“What the fuck, Carlito!?” I asked, now in full blown panic mode. “Who’s going to shoot me in the head? How do you know this? What can I do? Should I just quit and split right now?”

Carlito remained impassive and put his arm around my shoulder. “I can help you, Larry. But you’re going to have to follow my instructions,” he said. “Come to my apartment tomorrow and we will ask the spirits to intervene.”

I began to describe my awful dream to Carlito and feeling that this was much more than coincidence, started to shake uncontrollably. “That was one of your spirit guides warning you,” he said and then added, “That reminds me. When you come by tomorrow, bring a live chicken.”

It just so happened that Carlito lived a few blocks from me in Jackson Heights and knew where I could buy this especially fresh poultry in our neighborhood (and no, it wasn’t KFC). I paid a few dollars to an old man who didn’t speak English and was given an extremely angry bird, all trussed up in a burlap bag.

When I got to Carlito’s place, he took the bag and told me to follow him into the kitchen. He was wearing several beaded necklaces and a feathered headdress, and as evidence of where my head was at, I didn’t find that particularly unusual. He then began to chant a few words in what sounded like Portuguese – while holding the chicken by its neck in one hand and a knife in the other.

After reciting a long incantation, Carlito then sliced the chicken’s throat with one deft stroke. He meticulously drained its blood, pouring some into a small cup and pointed me to the living room … where he proceeded to rub the dead chicken all across my arms, legs and body while again chanting something that sounded like Milton Nascimento – if he was providing the soundtrack to a horror movie. I stood there completely still, paralyzed with fear, thinking that this was the single craziest thing I had ever done in my life. And that maybe it wasn’t really all that crazy because it was going to save it.

Carlito motioned for us to sit down in front of what looked like a small makeshift shrine and explained that sacrificing the chicken was a gift to the spirit and sign of devotion. He then slowly poured a cup of chicken blood (it’s good for the soul!) over the shrine and lit a cigar, symbolically blowing smoke into the spirit’s mouth. That was followed by taking a long swig of rum and spraying it pretty much all over the place. It was now time to ask for the spirit’s help.

Carlito appeared to be in a trance, chanting wildly and the only words I understood were my name and “protect.” When he finished, he handed me four chunks of coconut shells and explained that I needed to ask yes or no questions about the future and then roll the shells like dice to divine the answers. I remember doing this and also something about if the shells came up on the black side or the white, but to be honest, I was more concerned with the immediate present than the future and  just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Carlito announced that I was now protected and would no longer have to worry about being shot in the head. Obviously, things turned out for the best.

Soon after this encounter, I quit working at the record store and stopped taking drugs.

I Believe That Angels Are Robots

monty python god


I recently took a quiz on Beliefnet called “What’s Your Spiritual Type?” And surprise, surprise – my score makes me a Hardcore Skeptic. I just missed out on being a Spiritual Dabbler by incorrectly answering d) robots to the question “I believe angels are….” Oh well.

So what do you believe in? (I know, I know, nobody said that there was going to be a quiz today…)

1. I believe that God:

a) Exists and intervenes in daily events

b) Exists but does not intervene in daily events

c) Exists but only in the imagination of crazy people

d) Has a small penis

2. When I think about issues of faith or spirituality, my foremost concern is:

a) A sense of connection to something larger than myself

b) A rational understanding of whether religious claims are valid

c) How much money is this going to cost me?

d) I wish there was something good to watch on TV right now

3. I believe the scripture I know best is:

a) Mostly or entirely mythology

b) Divinely inspired and mostly true

c) Should be viewed mainly as storytelling or metaphor, except for the Koran

d) The Koran is sacred (let’s go to the next question already!)

4. Which of these statements comes closest to expressing your most basic view regarding faith?

a) Faith is important because it helps us cope with the struggles and hardships of life

b) Faith is important because it makes the world a better place, by encouraging love and moral behavior

c) Faith is George Michael’s best song

d) Faith is the most demure sounding of all of the hooker names

5. I think prayer is:

a) Heard by God or angels, and for many people God or angels respond

b) Best understood as a form of meditation or moral awareness

c) Convenient when something crappy happens to you

d) Not as much fun as sexting

6. I think that following life:

a) There is an afterlife for the virtuous but no hell; the evil simply cease to exist

b) There is reincarnation or some other condition

c) There is nothing

d) The evil rule

7. Evil is present in the world because:

a) Of human failings; evil has no supernatural component

b) God or a Higher Power wishes to test people

c) Otherwise horror movies would really suck

d) Not sure, but I blame it on the Jews

8. I believe that angels:

a) Exist and intervene to assist the pure-hearted

b) Exist but only watch us, taking no action

c) Will not make the playoffs

d) Are robots

9. I believe that the Devil:

a) Exists and is active on Earth, working to corrupt men and women

b) Exists in the form of temptation to sin, not as a specific being

c) Has a closet filled with blue dresses

d) Speak of the Devil! Ozzy rules!

10. Each day’s newspaper brings reports of crimes, natural disasters, and disease. My most basic reaction is:

a) My faith is tested because I cannot understand how a just God could tolerate the agony of the world

b) I feel sadness, but accept that both the good and the bad of life are somehow part of God’s plan

c) I feel sadness because I just cracked open a box of chocolate chip cookies and ran out of milk

d) Thank God, none of that horrible stuff is happening to me!

11. What frustrates me most about faith is:

a) That it doesn’t prevent bad things from happening to me or my loved ones

b) That God allows so much suffering and evil

c) That there are way too many Jewish holidays

d) That those who have it never seem to shut the hell up about it

12. I believe there is a spirit world:

a) Made up of angels

b) Made up of the souls of people who lived before

c) Made up of rainbow cookies

d) Entirely made up

13. The spiritual quest for me is mostly about:

a) Finding a connection to God

b) Finding something greater than myself

c) Finding Nemo

d) Finding women

A Meditation on Meditation

crumb meditating

Feeling Crumby.

Since I started this blog, a number of my friends have suggested that I try meditation. And because I have such smart friends, I generally listen to what they have to say. So I asked my pal Charlie, who’s a former alter boy, current Buddhist and also the most Jewish-y person I know, to suggest a few books for beginners.

He recommended two titles: Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind by Shunryu Suzuki and Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life by Jon Kabat-Zinn. I immediately downloaded them both to my iPad.

And felt so energized! This was going to be a piece of cosmic cake, I thought. I’ll plow through these books, they’ll instruct me on the art of Zen (“Nothing happens next. This is it.”) and I’ll be meditating my ass off in no time.

But first I played a few games on Words with Friends. And then got lost in Eyewitness, a great photography app. Oh look! I have mail! And that reminds me, I need to FaceTime with Zach and ask him about his first week at school.

After about an hour or so of iPadding (damn you to hell, Steve Jobs!), I finally did take a peek at one of the books and the passage below stopped me cold, which is appropriate because it’s about the concept of stopping:

Try stopping, sitting down, and becoming aware of your breathing once in a while throughout the day. It can be for five minutes, or even five seconds. Let go into full acceptance of the present moment, including how you are feeling and what you perceive to be happening. For these moments, don’t try to change anything at all, just breathe and let go. Give yourself permission to allow this moment to be exactly as it is, and allow yourself to be exactly as you are. Then, when you’re ready, move in the direction your heart tells you to go, mindfully with resolution.

So I tried it and WOW!

Just like the book said: Nothing happened.

Other than the serene and familiar sound of receiving a new email. From Charlie:

One caveat: you shouldn’t write about the actual practice of meditation until you do it for about a month. Not that anything magical happens after a month, it’s just that writing about the experience earlier would be like describing what it’s like to play basketball after you learn how to dribble. Of course, the thing about meditation is it’s all about the practice. There’s only so much you can say about it, and the whole point is to do it. Kinda like fucking, actually…

Okay, now we’re finally talking!

Are You There God? It’s Me, Siri

Siri screenshot

Siriously annoying.

I finally figured out what Siri is good for (and yes, these answers are real):

Siri, does God exist?

I would ask that you address your spiritual questions to someone more qualified to comment. Ideally, a human.

What about Christ?

Humans have spiritualism. I have siliconism.

So how can I discover the essence of my being?

I don’t know that. Would you like to search the web for it?

No thanks. Siri, do you have a soul?

Now there’s a good question, Larry. Now where were we?

What are your feelings on organized religion?

I eschew theological disquisition.

Does that mean you’re Jewish?

I can’t answer that.

What’s the meaning of life?

Try and be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try to live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations.

That’s crap. Tell me the truth: what’s the meaning of life?

I Kant answer that, Ha ha!

You’re funny. Tell me another joke.

I can’t. I always forget the punchline.

Siri, can you look into the future?

I suppose it’s possible.

Great. Will I ever be truly happy?

I’m on it. How about a web search for “will I ever be truly happy?”

I don’t think it works that way. Will I ever fall in love in again?

Checking my sources. I don’t know that. Would you like to search the web for it?

Nah, I’ve tried that. Doesn’t work. Siri, do you love me?

I respect you.

Does that mean you’ll sleep with me?

That’s a topic for another day and another assistant.

Let’s change the subject. Can you talk to dead people?

I can, indeed.

Cool! Can you say hey to my mom?

I’m sorry, Larry. I’m afraid I can’t answer that.

Okay, fine. How’s my dad doing in hell today?

I don’t know who your father is, but if you tell me I’ll remember it.

You’ve been no help here.

I don’t want to argue, Larry.

Go to hell, Siri.

What did I do to deserve that?

%d bloggers like this: