Alas poor Cleo, I knew her Horatio.
Well, not really, but I did see her on TV and apparently she knows me. Not me personally, you understand, but all the "me's" out there, in TV-land. She even dreams about me. Or at least, that's what the operators at the Psychic Friends Hotline would have us believe. Some people were getting up to 10 calls a day from the company, telling them that "Miss Cleo had a dream about them, and they should call her," according to one article I read today.
Anyway, the FCC has shut them down and is making them forgive around half a billion dollars in uncollected funds. HALF A BILLION DOLLARS. That represents about *half* of what they have made over the last three years. An average call cost around $60 and apparently nearly 6 million people called the service.
I suppose there's no point discussing the unmitigated dumb-ness of calling a TV-advertised psychic. Or any psychic for that matter. I find myself drifting back to the same state of bewilderment at people's almost bottomless reserves of stupidity that I found myself in for the last Cant about Nigerian Internet Fraudsters.
WHAT ARE YOU THINKING YOU WITLESS MOLLUSCS?
The part I find most amusing is that the telemarketing call asking people to contact Miss Cleo was just an automated recording.
*CLICK* "Miss Cleo," *CLICK* *WHIIRRRR* "has been dreaming of you." *CLICK* "Please call to find out what she has learned of your future"*WHIIIR* "Golly Gee Martha, let's call her back right now! Maybe it's something important!"
As well as the company, Miss Cleo herself is being sued, although it's unclear in the article quite why. I'm not sure that 'lying about being Jamaican' is something you can be sued for, but hey, who knows. I suppose the good news for Miss Cleo is that with an adult population of around 200 Million, she only has around a 30% chance that someone stupid enough to call her would be on the jury. Still, it's a sobering thought if you're ever on trial for your life.
That being said, if there's one thing I prize about the ability to laugh at the rank stupidity of others, (and oh how I prize that,) it's honesty. So, in the spirit of truth I will admit that after some self-examination I've come to the conclusion that there is a segment of the population dumber than those who called the obviously fake Miss Cleo and hoped for anything other than a big phone bill. Yes, it's people like me. Yup. Because I'm here working away at a regular job, when clearly there's hundreds of millions of dollars sat in the pockets of criminally dim shut-ins who are just begging for an opportunity to throw it away.
I'm thinking "Lictor's Love Line." You call in, and I'll tell you I love you. It's just that simple. And we all crave love don't we? No gimmicks, no silly fake accents, not even bad on-hold music. Just my voice, over and over, saying how much I love you all. All of you. And your money. And the best part is, the more you call, the more I'll love you. I'm not offering a rosy future, or telling you where Great Aunt Martha left her hat pin, I'll be giving the world the one thing it needs, right now, from the convenience of your own armchair and at very reasonable rates.
Now really, what could be better than that?