Many years ago I was the production manager on a TV pilot called “Rumors.” It investigated rumors like whether Walt Disney is frozen (he isn’t) and other celebrity stories. One of the people we interviewed was a world-renown psychic and astrologer named Jeane Dixon who was revealed to be one of Nancy Reagan’s “consultants.” The term “the Jeane Dixon effect,” was coined for her. It refers to a tendency to vigorously promote a few correct predictions while ignoring a larger number of incorrect predictions to convince people that you have special abilities. I hated her like I hate any narcissistic scam artist that preys on the emotionally needy. There was only one person I hated worse. Her agent. He was a nasty, self-important, arrogant (fill in your word of choice and there’s some great Yiddish ones I can recommend) who was thrilled to help Ms. Dixon scalp everyone and anyone they could. I am basically an honest person. You can trust me on that. But for some reason, Jeane Dixon’s check just never seemed to make it to his office in New York. Three weeks I think it took. A month? I was bringing my rabbit in to work most days then. If I wasn’t so basically honest, I might have had him pee on it.
For decades every December of The Enquirer Magazine had her top 10 predictions. They were always wrong. The only good thing about Ms. Dixon’s predictions is that they were pretty funny. Remember World War III? The one that started in China? She was great at getting presidential elections wrong — including who would run. Every year — and I do mean every year — she wrote about Michael Jackson’s alien love child. If she was still alive, she’d probably make it Conrad Murray’s alien love child so she could keep it in the family.
So, for my predictions or non-predictions… These are not based on my knowledge of the stars, psychic abilities (the best I can do is know when the kids haven’t brought in their dishes), or “brilliant” mind. These are based simply on what either makes sense, should happen, or what I would like to happen.
Mayan Calendar December 21, 2012 — others say end of the world, paradigm shift, the divine female takes over, whatever. I say ancient Mayans come up from out of their underworld civilization, look at what we’ve done to the planet, and go back under for another 5,125 years.
Politics… Next President no better than the last. Worse, maybe, but not better.
Literature… Captain Underpants’ writer Dav Pilkey will win the Pulitzer. Or so says my 8 year-old nephew Max.
Sports… Oh, whatever. I know nothing about sports. They’ll get paid too much. How’s that?
Science and Medicine… Don’t get me started on the pharmaceutical companies. I love research scientists — I’m related to research scientists — but what ever wonderful thing they’ll come up with won’t make its way to us in a useful manner. As a hypnotherapist and daughter and granddaughter of psychiatrists, I have a tendency to think about things through symbolism. Three heads of Satan: Pharmaceuticals, For-Profit Health Insurance companies, and most Multi-National Corporations. Not a prediction, just an observation.
Film… Oh, there’s always something to see. Of course, it’s the kid’s animation that seems to draw the better filmmakers in some ways. One little note, though. I read somewhere that if Dreamworks/Pixar made it easier to make 3-D animated films, there’d be fewer animators working. I don’t think it works that way. If the films are successful, and you can make more with fewer people, then you’re going to be making more films. And hopefully they’ll be good.
Scholarly Matters… I separate this from Literature because it’s really a matter of people needing to be published and get publicity. New ideas on who really wrote what in 2012? Shakespeare was written by Ezra Pound. Why? Ezra Pound wrote T.S. Eliot. (Actually, it was the guy who trained the dancing bear who wrote the plays as anyone who has worked in the theatre knows.) The big thing is now who really wrote what in the early comic books. Stan Lee says he did. He ended up with the money so he’s got the lawyers. Wait to object on this one until he’s dead.
Personal Predictions… The cat will still pat my face to wake me up if I move while I’m sleeping. My niece will come up with very good excuses not to finish her homework right now (Glee, anyone?). My nephew will want to learn more Yiddish (and I can’t teach him any of the really good stuff!) All of my friends books will sell well (wait for the reviews here).
Yes, folks, it’ll be just like last year only different. Send me my check soon.