Dear readers,

I’m the blog assistant for Terrible Tarot, uploading the stuff that [NAME WITHHELD] sends me every week by snail mail, old-timey telegram, messages in bottles, smoke signals, paper airplanes, whatever her paranoid mind thinks is better than phones in the moment.

Last week she sent it by homing pigeon, with news that she and her friends from S.A.U.C.E. have accidentally bought a haunted house for their new headquarters. Today a teenage boy came in person and said, “She’s fine, mostly. They’re all mostly fine. Don’t worry about them.” Then he vanished into thin air.

I don’t know what to tell you guys. I’m I glad that’s she’s mostly fine? I hope the kid told me the truth? I hope I didn’t hallucinate the whole thing because boys don’t normally disappear in an instant except on the last morning of summer camp? Count me in for a yes, to all of those hopes.

Part of me is glad she doesn’t have anything new for me to post. [NAME WITHHELD]’s brand of absurdist pessimism can be cute or even cathartic, but today… today it’s redundant. If you’re reading this from the future (yay, that means the internet still works!) then remember that today was the day that the killer clown the world has been both terrified of and snickering about officially took control of the most powerful country on the planet, and all that implies. [NAME WITHHELD]’s dark accidental jokes are meaningless right now.

I hope that [NAME WITHHELD] sends me an update soon. If movies have taught me anything, it’s that haunted houses are not to be messed with, and I don’t even believe in ghosts, or fortune telling for that matter (don’t tell NAME WITHHELD). I’ll sit by the window and watch out for another pigeon. Stay strong.

Cheers,
Erin

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