Stay Attuned by Voyancé

Image: Pixabay

The infamous Claire Vo Yancy aka Voyancé, Fate’s daughter, stopped by to give us a glimpse of the future. She’s mostly attuned to entertainment and technology. Let’s see what’s in store for us . . .

Voyancé: With reality shows being such a big part of entertainment, we will see more such shows targeting ever more specific audiences. Right now we have reality shows geared to dating and finding that right person, such as Are You the One?, The Bachelor, The Bachelorette. One of the shows I see on the horizon is called Are You the Last One?  This program is geared for those over 80 years old. Six elderly couples will try to figure out their final match.

Another one is a game called It Said, They Said, where half of the contestants are channeling an inanimate object. For example, one of them would try to express what a chair might say if given the chance. It’s going to be an exciting breakthrough for those who have always felt they were born to be a tchotchke. What I don’t know is whether the Supreme Court will sanction special restrooms built for them.

Meanwhile, we’re going to find greater transparency in a new reality show called The Capital Grill, which is a day in the life of our President. We will get to vote on who sits on the hot seat alongside the President toward the end of the show. It promises to be as big as The Voice.

As for technology, I see a new product coming called iAm, which is a robotic clone of the owner. It’s a stand-in for when you cannot or don’t want to attend a function, like a certain holiday party, but your presence is considered important. An iAm would allow you to be represented by a reasonable facsimile. It’s like astral traveling except people can see you.

Interviewer:  Thank you for sharing with us what we can expect. Do you have any last words?

Voyancé: One more show I almost forgot. It happens to be my favorite one. I can hardly wait for this. It’s called The Biggest Whiner. And it’s going to be great, big time. I’ll let you figure out what that could be about. Thanks for having me.

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The Ugly Sweater Chronicles: Pilfered

[A trilogy of “seamy” stories about the lure of ugly sweaters. 2 of 3; See 1 of 3]

sweaters

Christmas music plays through the tinny speakers in the function room of the once popular downtown hotel. In spite of the worn carpet and faded drapes framing the bottle glass windows, the people getting ready for the Annual Ugly Sweater Convention are happily lining up chairs to create a stage. One of the highly anticipated events is the ugly sweater parade around the room and the judging. The grand prize winner receives an original, one-of-a-kind ugly sweater crocheted by one of the judges.

“I can hardly wait until you show us what you’ve crocheted, Henrietta,” Jody says to the petite woman helping her set up the chairs.

“Tell us the story behind what you’ve created.” Linda, another judge pipes in, as she joins them in getting their stage ready.

“Given that I had a whole year to think about it, I feel as if my hands connected well with my brain, because I just let them both go to town,” Henrietta says, smiling about the experience.

By this time, the rest of the judges have joined them. Henrietta beams at the attentiveness of her four colleagues toward her work. “The setting is classical–a wintry scene with a half-created snowman; that’s because Santa was interrupted by Rudolf the Red-nosed reindeer whose nose had fallen off. The elves are crawling about under a Christmas tree, which happens to be topped by Rudolf’s red nose.”

“How clever. It sounds intricate,” Donny, the only male judge says.

“Yes, I used a lot of different colors to make them all stand out.”

“We better get a move on. People are streaming in. Why, look at that ugly sweater.” The other judges look in the direction she’s gazing. Suitably impressed, they conclude all the sweaters are ugly. They disband and mingle with the crowd.

Soon after the end of the ugly sweater story telling event, the parade starts. About a hundred or so people walk around the room, proudly displaying their frontal artwork to the five judges, each absorbed and taking notes, some murmuring among themselves.

At long last, the judges come to their final decision. As the one who crocheted the prize, Henrietta announces the winner. She wheels in a clothes rack, which has a vinyl garment bag hanging from the top. Eagerly, she unzips the opaque casing. As she takes out the sweater, she gapes as she sees a plain red sweater without the swirls, pomp-poms, appliques, ribbons, and yards of yarn she has applied. She sputters, “This is not the sweater I made!”

One of the judges cries out, “Someone has stolen it!”

Never before in the history of the event has this ever happened. Without much experience in such matters, the Ugly Sweater Convention planners promise the good people that day that they will launch a full investigation. Leading the charge will be the famed Detective David LaFoote, well known in their town as the sharpest tool in the shed.