[1]: http://www.laughingstockbroker.com/
I haven’t posted for a while, so I thought I’d tell a story. I filed it under “I Crack Me Up”, so it technically needs only amuse me. And perhaps that will be the case.
Recently, Helen and I attended a small trade group convention. Helen was hired to sing a few sets of “american classics”; Sinatra-type stuff. The technology behind the event was poorly executed, and I ended up scurrying around helping to get things working. While doing that, I’d gotten to know the night’s comedian, [David Goldman, “The Laughing Stock Broker”][1], a little bit. Nice guy. Actually funny off-stage as well as on, unlike other comedians I’ve known in the past who were often quite sullen.
Later in the evening as I was wandering around, a pleasant, slightly chubby guy grabbed my hand, flipped it palm up, and started telling me all about me. He was the party’s hired psychic palm reader. I’d heard him wandering around doing that thing folks love: saying wonderful, generic things about their character and future, and asking gently prodding questions until he “reveals” something. “You are concerned about someone you know who is sick…”