The Guardian's Predictions for 2021

After this nightmare year, one thing is for certain: we are all desperately grabbing at hope. I know I am, which is why I was thrilled to see an article in the Guardian quoting psychics on their predictions for the future. That's exactly what I need, I thought: their clear, bright vision would re-energize me and spark hope that in 2021 life could be enjoyable once more.

For the most part, they didn't let me down. Here are some of the predictions and how they touched me.

Jayne Wallace is clairvoyant and practices aura reading, tarot and crystal healing. Her clients include Kim Kardashian West, Kylie Jenner and Kate Hudson.

(Wow. Résumés don't get more impressive than that. At least without stars of Charles in Charge.)

"Every crystal has a different voice.... The darker, deeper the colour, the stronger the voice."

In heaven right now Nina Simone is like "FUCK YEAH!!!"

"As I link in to the first quarter of 2021, the biggest question people have is health."

Which is weird, because during the Great Pandemic of 1812 everybody was fixated on tacos.

"[T]hose first months are going to be stressful in terms of mental health. Make sure you have people around you who you love."

Shit. Okay, but my family isn't going to take this well.

"March through to June is about division in health, as well as realisation – understanding and accepting why some have suffered worse."

Acceptance #1: I'm not rich or related to Trump so I'll get the vaccine after chickens colonize Mars.

"For the first four to five months [of 2021], there will be weak structure."

Huh. Yeah, I guess it could be difficult for Biden to get anything done after Trump tears all the wiring out of the White House.

Demian Allan is a teacher at the College of Psychic Studies in London, and has practised western astrology for more than 20 years.

"We are entering a period of technological revolution in 2021 that will change jobs, education and how we interact...."

I would never have guessed that, because Zoom stock is still forty-five cents a share.

"Coronavirus is not going to disappear but Mars moves out of Taurus on 4 March, easing the general health picture."

That's a bold stance. I thought some klutz might drop a bucket of the vaccine and be like, "Damn! Well, let's try again for April."

"In this country, we tend to try to engineer things back to the norm."

Because in other countries when, like, your refrigerator breaks down, you think, "Hey, instead of just repairing it, why don't we convert it into an otter sanctuary?"

Tatianna Morales has been a tarot reader and holistic healer for six years

"Card: The Ten of Wands. [This card] points to working smarter, not harder,..."

Sounds to me like the cards have seen too many T.D. Ameritrade commercials.

"Card: The Page of Swords. [This card] brings an energy of busyness, of research and strategy in 2021."

Shit. And I was just warming up to "Let Go, Let God."

"It asks that if you are inspired to take up new studies, hobbies or find new income streams, you take action."

Let me write that down. "If you want to do something, just do it." Oh, wait: it's already on my shoes.

Dale Spencer Weeks has practised as a psychic numerologist and seer for nine years....

"If 2020 has been about building a rocket ship, I liken 2021 to that ship taking off."

Interesting. But what if 2020 has been about dismantling your rockets so your enemies wouldn't release your pee tape?

"It’s going to be a huge year of change."

To all the skeptics out there, there have been a few years of absolutely no change. but they were so boring everybody forgot.

"There will also be political unrest and missiles will fly."

Shit! I had fifty bucks on missiles taking the train this year.

"[T]he vibe of 2021 is about expression and looking for freedom."

Fingers crossed that means everybody named Trump will be in jail.

"People will speak out in large groups...."

Finally! Because now every time eight of my friends get together, Paco is always, like, "Hey, guys, you know the rule!"

"[I]t is not only those with peaceful or progressive views who will seek to be heard."

That'll be a big change from 2020, when we didn't hear from any conservative gun nuts.

"February brings a seven vibration, a time when truth will be revealed. Medically, that could indicate wider availability of a vaccine."

Damn it. Okay, you win. Nobody's gonna drop a bucket of the vaccine.

"We may see revelations about the government."

I'm not so sure. Maybe Biden will also bitchslap anybody who crosses him on Twitter.

June Field was voted the world’s greatest psychic medium, beating 70,000 others in International Battle Of The Psychics

(Stop reading right now if you're a doubter asking, "Why did the other 69,999 psychics bother entering?")

"These next 12 months are a stepping stone to something better."

Honestly, I appreciate that, but things can't get worse unless masturbation makes us burst into flame.

"People are in denial about the virus and that causes friction."

This is absolutely spot on. I'll never forget my first boyfriend who was all, like, "You act like gonorrhea is a bad thing."

"Long before coronavirus arrived in the UK, I had cancelled work commitments – theatre dates and events. I felt death coming. I wanted to give the year a miss."

Well, you've got to hand it to her: she can hit it out of the park predicting past events.

"2021 will present an opportunity to reassess what’s important."

Because in 2020 we were all like, "Fuck worrying: let's dance!"

"In politics, I feel there is major change coming next year."

I agree, and I'm actually kind of worried about that. Fingers crossed Biden can keep America on track without the genius of Ivanka Trump.

"You don’t need to be a psychic to see the anger over how this has been handled."

You don't need to be a psychic to see anything you've said so far.

"Political systems will be taken down, but we will then rebuild."

Really? Everybody I've talked to has said, "There's no way we can replace Donald Trump or Boris Johnson. Let's just watch cat videos for the next twelve years."

"We will hug again next year, and we will come through this."

Love the positivity, but it's not exactly a risky prediction. Because if we don't come through this, only cockroaches and Cher will be around to call you a quack.

Read more here.

Ram Tough

We know exactly two things about oversized American trucks: they burn through enormous amounts of gasoline, and they're primarily driven by politically-conservative men who allegedly have small dicks. Or is there some other explanation for why the truck names are indistinguishable from the brand names of penis pumps? Here's a list with a sampling of each. See if you can tell them apart.

a. Grand Stallion
b. Nitro
c. Ramrod
d. Sport Trac Adrenalin
e. Red Studmaster
f. Explorer
g. Magnum
h. Gladiator
i. Ranger
j. Commando
k. Power Man 6000
l. F-250 Super Duty

Answers: b, d, f, i and l are American trucks. a, c, e, g, j and k are penis pumps. h is actually both. Here's more information for those curious about one or the other.

a. The Grand Stallion has a tapered latex sleeve and easy-to-use gliding action.

b. The Dodge Nitro is powered by a 4.0 L SOHC V6 engine rather than AA batteries.

c. The Ramrod has a battery pack conveniently attached for single-handed operation.

d. The Ford Sport Trac Adrenalin has a blown 4.6 engine making 390 pound-feet of torque. If it were a penis pump, it would be Jon Hamm.

e. The Red Studmaster has a studded adjustable cock ring, but no cup holder.

f. The Ford Explorer is available in an Eddie Bauer edition.

g. The Magnum is equipped with a new safety vacuum gauge. Don't try to imagine what could happen without it.

h. With three-foot clearance, the Jeep Gladiator could easily ride over anybody's penis. Unlike the silicone Gladiator, however, it has no internal nubs.

i. The Ford Ranger has a towing capacity of 4,200 penis pumps.

j. The Commando is penis-shaped, with a multi-speed vibrating bullet. We told our boyfriend we have no idea what that means.

k. The Power Man 6000 comes with a pleasure ring attachment. You could use it without it but, like, why?

l. The Ford F-250 Super Duty is twenty feet long. We bet its owners claim it's forty-five.

I live in a cramped New York apartment. It's so cramped that whenever I buy anything I have to toss something out, because I just can't cram in one more thing. Last month I bought a new lamp, so after careful consideration I decided a pair of pants would have to go.

I decided to sell those pants on eBay.

Now, the pants weren't in very good shape. The knees were baggy, the hems were frayed, and there was a quarter-sized hole in the seat. There was no way I'd wear them again, but with all the talk about reusing and recycling I just couldn't toss them out. I listed them with a starting bid of $1 and hoped somebody less fortunate would find them.

When somebody bid a dollar, it made my day. I'd done my part for the environment, and helped some poor person on a budget. When the bidding went to $10, my heart was full. It meant somebody truly appreciated these pants, and they'd take good care of them. Plus, it paid me back a bit for the time I spent photographing them and writing up the description.

Then one morning I turned on the computer and discovered the pants were going for thirty-five dollars. This knocked me for a loop. I mean, the pants didn't cost that new, so there was no reason they should command that kind of cash after I'd worn them a few years. There were four bidders involved, so I thought maybe they got carried away by the excitement. I thought about cancelling the auction, since a mistake had obviously been made, but figured it'd be a good lesson for all concerned.

The next day, when the bidding got up to sixty dollars, I got angry. Clearly there was more to this than just a simple pair of pants. Now there were nine bidders duking it out, and twelve people added the sale to their "Watch" list. This proved to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that something unseemly was going on.

And then it hit me like a bolt of lightning that almost made my breakfast come back up. I'd heard about vending machines in Japan where they sold the panties of schoolgirls, and realized the same sort of feckless perverts were fighting over my pants as well. My stomach churned as I imagined what the winning bidder would do to them: would his tongue explore the crotch like Lawrence explored Arabia? Would he suck every ounce of my sweat from the faded fabric? Would he pore over every nook and cranny searching for wayward, discolored spots of my bodily fluids? If his magnifying glass chanced upon a a hair from the nether regions of my body, would he press it to his face in ecstacy as he performed some vile onanistic deed?

Over the next few days, though, my anger ebbed, and when the pants hit $110 I turned flattered. I mean, indigent perverts are tawdry and disgusting, but now there were clearly businesspeople involved. I pictured these men -- accountants, lawyers, stock brokers -- sitting at their computers after a long day at work, ties loosened and Brooks Brothers boxers tenting at the thought of winning my tight, tight jeans and caressing them in their manicured hands. They'd press their faces up against their computer monitors and run their eyes across the outline of my muscular legs in the fabric, faded like the shroud of Turin. Then one lucky man would win them, and get to feel the warm cotton himself, left alone to his own perverted ends. It was sick and it was depraved and, by God, I couldn't get the thought out of my head.

I was haunted. Possessed. Which inextricably leads me to an open letter I'd like to share with the buyer.

When you typed in that $140 offer, I became a walking pool of turgid testosterone, ready to pounce on anything that moved. I couldn't rest until you had my pants in your determined hands. Were you hunky and continental, like Antonio Banderas? Were you a stylish, manly gay with a dark streak, like Tom Ford? Or were you a billionaire daddy entrepreneur like Ted Turner whose wealth gave him the opportunity to play out his every demented desire? As I packed the pants into the box to ship, I pleasured myself as I pictured you.

Given the circumstances, then, I think you can see why I threw in the underwear. After I wiped myself clean with them, it occurred to me that you might appreciate something I'd worn even closer to my skin. I pictured you with my grubby shorts plastered across your face, wearing a look of pure erotic bliss, and I felt a bond of kinship between us, separated by space but joined together by kink and a tiny pair of striped bikini briefs polka-dotted with pee. And that's when I wrote that little note.

So, I'd like to offer you a profound, heartfelt apology. I had absolutely no idea they were vintage Levis worth twice what you paid for them, and that nobody but me had anything untoward in mind. Please, burn the note, and toss the underwear straight into the trash. How horrified you must have been to pull them out of the ziploc bag and hear them crackle in your hands. I didn't realize some of the bidders were women, let alone religious ones in Utah.

In closing, I'd like to make it perfectly clear that you are certainly not a disgusting little pig who should be bent over my knee and paddled until your buttcheeks are red and burning with a heady mix of pain and pleasure, and, had I known you were a pillar of the Salt Lake City community, I would never have ordered you to suck the man-juice out of my filthy ball-rag.

Please, tell the police this was all a horrible mistake and I promise I'll never eBay again.

Your Loyal ex-eBay Seller,
RomanHans

Over the last few days I've gotten literally hundreds of emails all saying the exact same thing: Roman, I just saw Harrison Ford on Access Hollywood. It was hard for me to believe, but he was getting his chest waxed. Even weirder, he said he was doing it to draw attention to world deforestation.

No, it was not a dream. World deforestation.

Roman, I've been wracking my brain for days now and hope you can help. Why is Harrison Ford getting his chest waxed like world deforestation?

Dear Readers,

I'm glad you wrote, as it seems quite obvious to me. Of course, I nearly have a degree from a major university. Harrison Ford getting his chest waxed is like world deforestation ...

10. Because like trees, grasses, mosses, and lichen, Harrison Ford's body hair converts carbon dioxide to oxygen.

9. Because after a country is deforested, it looks a lot better in an open shirt.

8. Because timber companies often clear forests just to make it easier to apply sunscreen.

7. Because chest hair is great at preventing runoff, if you know what I mean.

6. Because after they're done clearcutting, lumberjacks frequently offer to tweeze your eyebrows for free.

5. Because like trees, Harrison Ford's chest hair provides a home for thousands of species of wildlife.

4. Because when you cut trees down, they frequently scream "KELLY CLARKSON!"

3. Because when trees are allowed to grow wild across a country, it can be difficult to find its nipples.

2. Because when I think hard wood, I think Harrison Ford.

1. It's an metaphor: once its chest has been stripped bare, all the earth will have left is its pubes.