I poked tweezers into 12 fortune cookies, trying to remove the fortune without breaking the cookie. Nine of 12 came through unbroken, although some of the nine look pretty bad. Yes, I’ll replace the pre-printed fortunes with my own.
I spent ten minutes doing this for the small but valuable pleasure I’ll receive when I distribute these few cookies at the Skeptical Bastards camp at Burning Man. In addition to Spectral Zoologist and Ass-trologist, I’m now a Pastry-Delivered Wisdom Dispenser.
As a reader of this blog, the chances are vanishingly small that you (1) are attending Burning Man (2) will be one of the small percent of the 50,000 attendees that wander by our camp, (3) be one of the even smaller number who actually stop at our camp, and (4) be one of the nine people who receive a cookie. Therefore I will reveal my fortunes here and now:
Today will be your lucky or unlucky or regular day.
Beware of rotten or moldy cookies.
You have met a person today.
You have an intense need for oxygen.
What the hell do you think you’re doing?
You will die.
Avoid high levels of gamma rays.
You might be replaced by a machine.
Yow! Please put me back in my cookie.