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Madam Zuzu's Mailbag

The Future. Vast. Tumultuous. Dim. But not to all of us. Not to one woman, one extraordinary, exceptionally talented visionary, that uniquely gifted entity revealed to us only by the cryptic yet legendary name Madam Zuzu.

So let's bring her out right now! Give her a big hand, everyone!

So what, you want I should kvell or something? Enough with the stroking already, it gives me the vapors. So, this is the check? Good.

Madam, it's so good to have you with us again!

Wait til you hear what I got to say before you get so lit up. Lemme tell you, prognostication ain't what it used to be. That's a joke, Sparky, don't pull out your pocket idiot to figure it out.

Pocket idiot?

Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting what year it is. Li'l problem you get when you do a lotta forecasting. Pocket idiot, sure, that's what your stupid smart phone is evolving into. Kinda humiliating, huh?


See, this whole convergence thing is gonna get completely outta hand pretty soon, y'know? Everything everywhere all the time, gets kinda hard to keep track of after a while. Then throw in immortality—

Really? How soon?

Too late for you, wiseacre. Nah, mebe not — lemme look at your palm. Hmmm...nope, not for you. But pretty soon. Anyways, what with all this, y'know, stuff, info that needs to be bundled up and carried around just to keep your day job, you need a little help from the ol' ones and zeros. Smart phones, they're sorta kinda, but they're slow and they're crippled and the Masons keep trying to infect them with the Overlord virus, so after a while the Big Guys get this notion of Triple A, Autonomous Agency for All, except that the agents all end up forming the Agency Alliance, so the Masons come up with a new — am I boring you?

Not at all.

Couldn't prove it by me. Anyways, it all ends up a big kerfluffle and somebody behind the curtain decides to reset the Internet. After that, the only backup anyone has for the old data is in these pocket protectors, they're called, those autonomous communicators, only they get a little too protective, see? So the Masons, gotta love 'em, step in again and — anyway, it looks like a great idea at the time, only there's nothing left but the dumb squad, zombie agents as far as the eye can see. Pocket idiots. Best thing that could have happened, you ask me.


Beats me. I just see this stuff, I don't understand it.

Hmm. Well, let's get right into the questions. Mrs. RGB from Left Flank, Michigan writes "Madam Zuzu, you're the only prognosticator I ever take seriously. Please answer this question: Will there ever be peace in the world?"

Well. A little outta my pay grade, doncha think? I calls em like I foresees em but, well, peace? What's that? It gets a lotta press, but who's making the call? My old army buddy always said "Ain't nothing more peaceful than a dead troublemaker," but I don't think that's what you meant. They used to say Stalin wanted peace — a piece of Poland, a piece of Germany, like that. One woman's peace is another man's ball gag, and vice versa, I might add, no aspersions on anybody's sexual preferences. Bottom line, near as I can tell, there'll be peace in the world, lots of it, but not just the kind you might expect.

Fair enough. A Mr. ZZ from Durable, Texas had this to ask: "Are the Grays and the Reptilians really in league to subjugate the world, or do the Ascended Masters have a secret plan they're not revealing to their followers?"

Wait a second, didn't I just answer this question? It's like deja vu all over again tonight. Listen, Zed, Durable's a nice little town, I been through there, quiet, lazy, y'know? You sure you're living in your True Location? The Ley lines right down the road in East Rupture strike me as just the sort of environment you need. Hope this helps. Write if you find work.

Okay. Ima Limazine, who lives in Beefeater Wells, Rhode Island says "I lie awake at night, alone, afraid. The walls loom like enemy gates. Blinding images come and go, unknown, unknowable. I have no secrets. I cannot name the Beast that seeks me. All about I sense suffering and pain, and my heart is a trackless desert."

I'm sorry, what was the question again? Oh, never mind. Honey, stick to your knitting or your knitting will stick to you, right? Right.

One last question, Madam: do you have any insights into the coming Presidential election?

Elections I don't generally pay attention to. No percentage, y'know? Bet the lead apprentice jockey to show, right? Hoo boy. Okay, insights you want, insights you got. First rule of democratic politics is, crazy people make great candidates and lousy leaders. But this year it's like crazy is the new normal or something, it's a fashion thing, people going nuts for it. That's a joke, by the way. So it looks like there should be a big insane swing vote, right? Hah! That's what you think! Other first rule of democratic politics is, everybody loves a winner. Crazy is too busy crazying to run straight, like a race horse with a sense of humor, y'know?

So then the President...

There ya go jumping to conclusions again! You gotta just wait and see.

Madam, we were hoping that you had something substantial to report. All we mere mortals ever do is "wait and see."

Oh, fine, now you're all hot under the collar. Where were you when I foretold the world? Listen, sometimes these things are so up in the air that God Herself couldn't predict them. You ever catch wind of Chaos Theory? The Uncertainty Principle? It ain't easy bein' a prophet, boychick. Try it sometime.

Well, thank you, Madam Zuzu, that's enough for now.

You're telling me.

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