Startled Christmas carolers spout Satanic slogans.

An eastern European chorale group stopped all performances after shocked members spontaneously spouted Satanic slogans.

The choir of twenty was gathered on a village street, when, in the midst of O Holy Night, the lead soprano began shouting demonic epithets.

After her head was secured in a plastic bag and she was dragged away, the choir launched into the jaunty Jingle Bell Rock. However, during the second chorus, the entire group surprised onlookers by singing “Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock, s**k my satanic c**k around the clock.”

Other songs followed with more blasphemous lyrics inserted into familiar tunes, including:* “Hairy nuts roasted over an open fire…” * “I saw mommy ******* Santa Claus…” * “Rudolph the ****-nosed reindeer…” Members of the chorale group began crying and screaming over their inability to control their filthy mouths. Finally, as angry listeners pelted them with inch-thick candy canes, frozen snowballs, petrol-filled vodka bottles and flaming chestnuts that had just been roasted on an open fire, they clambered into a horse-drawn cart and fled.

The choirmaster has cancelled all further public activities until the problem is sorted out. Meanwhile, five of the group’s twenty members, all superb tenors, have been burned alive in the village square. Needy bachelors were rewarded with the singers’ wives and homes.

Lawyer Still Trick-Or-Treating At Age 45.

 I have a sweet tooth the size of Alaska. That’s why when Halloween rolls around I break out the shopping bags and go begging.

Some people may say I suffer from a case of arrested development, but where on the law books is there a statute of limitations on trick-or-treating? I should know—I’m a lawyer.

At forty-five, it’s not easy to pretend I’m a kid. I’m five-ten and two hundred-plus pounds. In addition, I have the beginnings of a bald spot on the top of my head and a case of five o’clock shadow that’s impossible to disguise.

But I’m nothing if not ingenious. Last year I taped wrapping paper and ribbon around some cardboard boxes and went as a stack of Christmas presents. All you could see of me were my baby blues through the eye holes. The optical illusion created by my arrangement of presents made it impossible to figure out my true height. I netted thirty pounds of candy after tossing out the fruit and related junk.

One advantage of trick-or-treating at my age is that I have a longer stride and can cover more ground than the typical nine-year-old. Plus I keep an up-to-date database on the best and worst neighborhoods for candy that includes the number of lit and unlit porch lights, pumpkin sizes, types of treats and so on. Each year, I eliminate homes that have been declining in two or more categories and upload the results to my computer.

I couldn’t pull off a successful night of begging without it. For instance, there’s a rich financier a few blocks away who always has full-size Hershey Bars. Consulting my computer before going out, I’m reminded that the financier’s maid and butler alternate at the door. Knowing this allows me to hit the house twice, if I time it right.

As far as getting caught, the closest I ever came was three years ago at my parents’ house. My mother seemed to recognize my voice when I yelled “trick-or-treat!” But she’s elderly, so I just grabbed and ran before she could put it all together. Boy, were my underarms wet.

But the best part of Halloween for me is the rest of the year. I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to offer a client candy from the Wedgwood jar on my desk, then pop some into my own mouth. With only me knowing my Halloween secret.   

As told to Doc Paranormal

Adjunct Professor-At-Large

Edgar Allan Poe Community College

A dire warning for newbie psychics.

 

I’m afraid of amateur psychics. And a lot of them have popped up during the pandemic. In an attempt to learn a well-paying new skill, everyone from unemployed waitresses to out-of-work chicken slaughterers are delving into the Other Side. With catastrophic results for the untrained newbies and society at large.

I can’t tell you how many of their unsuspecting clients have been immeasurably harmed. People have gone insane when put into contact with the wrong deceased relative. In one case, a female client wound up channeling Ted Bundy when her spiritual adviser misspelled her dead father’s name. The séance became a slaughterhouse as the client, acting on Bundy’s orders, thrust a wrought-iron candleholder through the advisor’s skull. Fortunately, no charges were brought against the client. Possessed, she was considered a mere witness to Bundy’s mayhem.

In another case, a lonely male attempting to materialize in a Hollywood starlet’s bedroom took a wrong turn on the astral plane and instead emerged in the padded cell of a notorious sex criminal. Prison guards discovered him comatose the following morning, wearing nothing but a demure bridal veil of Kleenex and yellowed newspaper clippings.

I’m a veteran paranormal investigator warning all psychic newbies to learn before you leap into the Great Unknowable.

Here are thirteen essential tips to get you started. Ignore my advice and the results could be catastrophic on a very personal level. That is, unless you want to summons the wrong spirits and turn your apartment into the infinite cauldron of Hell:

Never ask an angel if you can borrow its wings.

Don’t carry your crystal ball in a bowling bag.

Yes, werewolves do need a dog license.

Don’t play loud EVP noises after 10 p.m.

Sterilize pins before inserting them into voodoo dolls.

Never sit on a Faery’s lap.

Men: Don’t use psychokinesis to unbutton a woman’s shirt.

Women: Don’t slap a man’s face after intuiting his thoughts.

Never ask the Devil if you can touch his tail. He HATES that.

Avoid telling Zeus you like Santa Claus better.

Martians prefer to be call “citizens of the noble planet Mars.”

Mop up excess ectoplasm after a séance.

Cut off your hands to spite bad palm readers. I did. And I haven’t been bothered by one of those foolish idiots since.

Sincerely,

A reader in Canada

 

You can catch someone else's mental problems.

You can catch someone else’s mental problems just as you can catch a cold. But rest assured; it’s not the result of an evil spell. Experts say you can absorb an individual’s mental disorder if you identify with that person—on an unconscious level, you imitate his or her symptoms. Among the problems that can be contagious are panic attacks, depression and anxiety.

Bottom line advice: Hang out with cheerful people!

Reported by:

Abraham Tribesky, Ph.D.

102-Year-Old Psychiatrist to Deceased Hollywood Stars.

Emeritus Professor, Afterlife Issues

EAPCC