fortune cookies

Fortun(-e)ate Son. Clever, Huh?

You go to a Chinese restaurant for a number of reasons:

The dumplings.

The crazy dragon architecture–they are not spouting real fire.

And the fortune cookies; but to be honest those were the first images which popped into your head, weren’t they? Professional psychic, people; I work Tuesdays and Sundays, so go ahead and leave your check on the doorstep.


We were discussing Chinese interests, choice among them fortune cookies; but have you ever wondered how truthful their slips are? See, I look at it optimistically: once you crack open a cookie the fortune listed directly relates to your life. And if your life is literally going down the toilet, perhaps the fortune will say, “Time for a deep plunge,” or if it’s one of those cheeky slips, then “Surf’s up, dude. Hang ten.”

Burn those cheeky slips. Set a torch to ’em–they were manufactured in Hell anyways.

But you know which cookies you dream of…the ones perfectly describing your tumultuous love life by saying, “Tulips are the color of your money…and your heart.” Excuse me, in modern terms, “Buy her tulips, you cheapskate.” What is that going to get you?

I got a cookie today telling me to “maintain my appetite and accept the smaller things” The thing is, I run, so unless it is referring to my current relationship–actually, scratch that, it only makes sense for vampires and cannibals. I don’t eat girls.

I might as well take it into consideration. And so should you. Go to a Chinese restaurant, drool over the dragons–maybe some of you want to take selfies under its gaping jaws–then buy rice and more rice; and take a bag of fortune cookies home with you. Read them out loud at the table…even if they say, “A trip to the bathroom is imminent in your future.”

By the way, be careful about that rice.

Think daily,

A Southpaw