On my commute from my home to Pajamas Media/PJTV headquarters this morning, I spied a man at the side of the road wearing what seemed like a Medieval cloak and a strange triangular hat. It was raining and it was hard to get a good look at him, but I assumed he was just another one of the homeless, when he stepped out in the road and started to flag me down.
“Mr. Simon! Mr. Simon!” he shouted. What was this? He knew my name? Some crazy in the middle of Los Angeles? I wanted to step on the gas to avoid this loon, but the light had turned red and he was approaching my car. “That poll you ran from CrossTarget. It was off the charts. Ridiculous!” By now he was right next to me with his grizzled face pressed against the window. I could smell his hot breath through the glass. But how had he known about our poll?
“Which one are you talking about?” I said. “The Friday one with Brown up by 15? Or the one Sunday with him up 10?”
“The Friday one, of course. That was the outlier. The Sunday one is okay, but maybe a little off.”
“How would you know?” I said. The light still hadn’t changed.
“How would I know? How wouldn’t I know? … I’m Nostradamus.” Now I knew I had a real whacko on my hands. “And I should tell you, you should listen to me,” he continued, “because there won’t be any exit polls today. They weren’t prepared for such a close election and the media companies weren’t ready. If you want to know what’s going to happen, you’re in my hands… Besides, I can tell you even more about the future than a measly election in Massachusetts.” The light changed, but I sat there a moment. “But if you must… Brown will win by 7. ACORN will not be a factor. They are too afraid of indictments. Nancy Pelosi will pretend it doesn’t matter, but she will really have a migraine and yell at her staff… And Axelrod will say that Brown ran a ‘good race’ for Senate.”
“That’s already on Drudge. I don’t need Nostradamus for that.”
“It’s only a start.”
“A start?” I sat there while the car behind honked at me. Did I really want to know this joker’s opinion. Was this man really Nostradamus? Stranger things had happened. Well, maybe not. The car honked.
“Why don’t you pull over?” said “Nostradamus.”
Okay, what did I have to lose – except having my throat cut by a psycho killer. I pulled over. “I hope you’re not looking for a handout,” I said, “because I’ve been becoming more libertarian of late and I don’t think handouts are good for people.”
“I’m not looking for anything. I only want you to know the truth.”
“Okay. Nothing like the truth,” I said, not sure that I really meant. But I opened the door for him and he sat down beside me.
“In the beginning it will look great for the Republicans. They will sweep in November. The Democrats will be in denial, as defined by this woman Kubler-Ross. Pelosi, Reid and Emmanuel will act like the spoiled children they are and push an agenda that nobody wants. Obama will consult his idol Alinsky, because he doesn’t have the imagination to do anything else. But they will get nowhere. Gridlock will occur in the Congress. Stocks will rise, especially healthcare. Capital will grow. Business will thrive. America will seem to be on the right track again … meanwhile…”
“Meanwhile what?”
“Someone will have gotten to Obama. This Soros person and maybe even Axelrod. They will tell him this is not the time for revolution. Change course. He will abandon all of his programs, although he will pretend not to. The trial of that terrorist – Khalid Sheik Mohammed – will not happen in New York. They will stop that. The economy will continue to grow. The country will be happier. By the time 2012 comes around, Obama’s poll numbers will be up again. He will be just like that other President… what was his name?… Clinton. A Democratic acting like Republican, although Obama will not do it as well, because it will be painful to him. But it will come to the same thing… The election of 2012 will be a toss up. That is my prediction for the future.”
“It’s not such a great story,” I said.
“It could be worse,” said Nostradamus, starting to exit the car, but I stopped him.
“One last question,” I said. “If he becomes like Clinton, will he cheat on his wife?”
“Nostradamus doesn’t know everything,” the man said… and disappeared into the traffic.
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