Satan 1: Your Existence is Intoxicating and Addictive.

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Many reasons explain why fortune-tellers will never be out of a job, but the most Satanic reason I can provide is that fortune-tellers—no matter how many rainbows and butterfly farts they slather on their work—operate in the margins of polite society where the authoritarian mandates of the right-hand path are bent, broken, or don’t even exist. For the sitters who are either unable or unwilling to see that they have been born, raised, and chained into perpetuating a personally humiliating world paradigm, your very existence as a fortune-teller is intoxicating.

Among the books that have most informed my worldview is George Orwell's 1984. Let’s talk about the two main characters: Winston and Julia. Winston is a man of little importance who works as a clerk in the Ministry of Truth where he erases undesirables from recorded history both past and present. Julia is a supporter of the Anti-Sex League and its perpetual mission to defeat the orgasm.

Winston and Julia both exist in an authoritarian system where free agency is equal to treason. All efforts are made by the state to squash individual thought, and daily life is by design as dull as possible. As a result of smothering authority and omnipresent state espionage against its citizens, the desire for simple pleasures is magnified exponentially. Real sugar is an incredible luxury, shaving razors are a rare commodity, and something as simple as red lipstick becomes deeply titillating. Winston and Julia spend a portion of 1984 arranging secret meetings to indulge in guilty pleasures while pretending to live as usual under the order imposed upon them by Big Brother.

Certainly sugar, razor blades, and red lipstick are either valuable or pleasurable all on their own, but under the totalitarian government which sees and controls all life in the world of 1984, the desire for these things is blown far out of proportion because they represent something that they are not: freedom.

Much like Winston and Julia, the majority of your sitters are people who live in their own personal version of 1984 where every aspect of their existence is overseen by an internalized version of Big Brother. For these people, getting their fortunes told is less to do with actually knowing the future and more to do with daring to secretly thumb their noses at Big Brother.

But that's the thing: it's not really a secret. Just like in 1984 where nothing is ever truly hidden from Big Brother, so too do your sitters fail to hide anything from themselves. They'll convince themselves of the value and pleasure of your practiced deception, but no sooner is the deception finished than their internal censors start erasing or modifying the message to fit the preferred narrative. Just like the inner-party member O'Brien tortures Winston into compliance, so too does every sitter have his or her own O'Brien who forbids deviation from the reality to which the sitter is accustomed.

For sitters who ask to be deceived, fortune-telling is sugar, razor blades, and red lipstick. It represents secret deviance and temporary indulgence of freedom and personal liberty before the obligatory return to the smothering reality in which they insist on living. 

In 1984, the inner-party member O'Brien tells Winston, "If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face — forever." In your sitters’ reality, their own face is the one being stamped and the foot stamping it is their own. Your role as a fortune-teller is to show them not only that the boot is their own, but also that they can choose to remove it. 

Some sitters will be grateful for your revelations, but my experience has been that the majority of sitters are happy to only hear the message and then do nothing about it. There was a time when I cared very deeply about my sitters following through on their fortunes, but my prodding was consistently unwanted and unappreciated. I learned the hard way that there is no point in trying to disabuse these people of their totalitarian fantasies, because if I did they would only be unhappy and cry out for the return of the boot that is no longer stamping. The kindest service I can provide to such sitters is to sell the temporary fantasy so earnestly desired and send them on their way. I've made it clear who and what I am, and when the day comes that they're prepared to liberate their minds I'll be the first to congratulate them.