Column: Tales from Exit 22

My doorbell rings.

I open the door and a robed visitor accompanied by sitar music walks in. It’s the renowned mystic from the Far East (the eastern part of the township), the fabled soothsayer, the seventh son of the seventh son of the seventh son, the oracle from just down the road; Swami Davis Jr. stops by to give me his predictions for 2011. He knows little, but suspects a lot. He’s good at predicting everything but the future.

The Swami has been indwelled by a spirit of divination, a muse of unearthly clairvoyance. The Swami sees all, knows all, and reveals all to those who proffer tribute. A savant of such gifts that within his psyche lie the limits of human understanding. As a fearless, feckless, and foolish seer, he is without peer. Even though unreasonable zoning laws that discourage the ancient Roman practice of haruspicy (divining the future by examining the entrails of recently slaughtered beasts) hamper him, you can take his predictions to the bank. That way you will have records for use during your bankruptcy proceedings. Many have called him a bum seer and a purveyor of impaired prognostications, but at least one person (his mother) has called him “uncannily accurate.” Swami Davis Jr. is a reader of palms and tea leaves — he takes an orange pekoe at the future. His crystal ball (purchased at a rummage sale at Bowling Elaine’s Bowling Alley) is back from the shop after having its foreteller replaced.

“Swami Davis Jr., who illuminates the dark corners of our culture, whose knowledge is beyond compare. By contrast, Nostradamus is nothing more than a flawed speculator. Oh, wise Swami, thou vessel of infinite wisdom, who is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent, tell me, your humble implorer, what the future holds,” I entreat, knowing that most of my future lies ahead.

Swami Davis Jr. makes like a cowboy and rounds up predictions for next year.

Whether it’s cold or hot, we’ll get weather whether we need it or not. It will be extremely cold in January. It will be particularly hot in July. Neither will change anybody’s mind about climate change.

Health-conscious mosquitoes will bite more vegetarians.

An Amber Alert will be issued. That means that no one named Amber will be allowed to fly.

Apple will buy the state of Idaho and change its name to i-Daho.

Interstate highways will declare all lanes to be passing lanes.

Merrill and Lynch will admit that Fenner and Smith were the smart ones.

The Cincinnati Bengals will become nothing more than a fantasy football team.

The Chicago Cubs will trade away their best player just because.

A tiny, new galaxy will be discovered a mere 20 feet away.

HBO will acquire exclusive rights to everything.

Paul McCartney will admit that the song was really, “Hey, Dude.”

It will be no surprise that a Dodge wins a demolition derby at the Freeborn County Fair.

The Minnesota Vikings will graciously decline postseason play so that players could spend more time with their families.

After numerous recalls for typographical errors, alphabet soup will lay off nine letters in a cost-cutting move.

An expert economist will admit that there is no such thing as an expert economist.

The Minnesota Twins organization will divulge that it does not have a single pair of twins on its roster. The governor will throw out the first pitch at Target Field and hit a Republican, causing a state-clearing brawl.

A man will hit “Enter” on his computer’s keyboard and become trapped in the monitor.

In an effort to stimulate the economy, the federal government will replace all Saturdays with Black Fridays.

In order to generate more income, NASCAR drivers will race with ads completely covering windshields.

Experts will warn that if something isn’t done, by 2013 the world will run out of “The world will end in 2012” signs.

Thanks to global warming, a third-grade boy will burn his finger while pointing out Greenland on a classroom globe.

Tony Bennett’s new song will be, “I Left my Cell Phone Charger in a Hotel Room in San Francisco.”

Candy corn will once again outsell candy onions.

The Weather Channel will add a fiendish laugh track.

Texting and finding the remote will become Olympic events.

A local man will lose all his daylight saving time in a Ponzi scheme.

The Professional Bowlers Association will threaten a strike.

Tomorrow will be another day.

In an uncertain world, the Swami brings even more uncertainty to light.

Remember, if you didn’t accomplish much last year, then your best days are likely ahead of you. However, you should consider your track record.

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.