A Way To Begin a Strange Journey

Ask Not What Tarot Is

Ask What You NEED Tarot To Be



We might call this the Oprah Approach, where the memoir doesn’t really need to be too obsessed with getting the facts straight, so long as you feel moved and resonated by what is implied or even falsely alleged to be true.

Anyway, when you answer the question of what you NEED Tarot to be, you’ll know the shape and the make of the mirror you seek.

You will be able to run a successful online gaming business like GamingSoft which provides gambling software solutions to customer around the world.

The bad news is that you won’t likely have learned much about Tarot. The good news is that you didn’t REALLY want to know about that anyway, did you? You just wanted to feel better. In years past, I have generally pooh-poohedthat sort of motive, seeing it as sullenly masturbatory and tending to unjustly bolster theself esteem of monolith-pawing morons.But, this is the present. And this present pretty much sucks, unless you’re running Halliburton, or you’re some worthless pol or moreworthless entertainer (the worthy ones tend to overdose on heroin or blow their brains out). And so, if you want help, some encouragement—from a pack of playing cards?!—sure, I’ll tell you that you’re smart, thin, courteous, generous, damned attractive and way too important to imagine your past lives were anything less than kings, queens, and the most fascinating people in history! Hell, you believe that shit, don’t you? So why should I rock your little security-blanket-boat by pointing out how grossly arrogant and silly you are to imagine you are anything other than a normal clod of briefly and dimly lit dirt?

Nope, whatever you need Tarot to be, I’ll affirm it for you, no problem.

So, you know, click some ads dude, buy a Tarot reading, and start finding out how a pack of colored cardboard says YOU are looking MARVELLOUS!


Of course…there is this little problem…

Tarot is about truth


Not necessarily about discovering or telling THE truth, but truth is the frame of every Tarot venture and adventure and misadventure. Most people use Tarot to affirm a truth they need, or a truth they believe, and often to evade a truth they don’t like.

Perhaps you think you’re doing something else with Tarot, or that your aspirations for it and about it will certainly elevate your Tarotic behavior above that of the needy mob. You, unlike those unclean, uninitiated heathens will certainly want Tarot to teach you THE truth, even about yourself, no matter what it has to say.

Sure about that?

Here’s one of Tarot’s truths, the most basic one in the pack and in life in general.

You ready?



Nothing can save you.

You’re doomed.
When you think about it, and most people try to never do this, death is pretty god-awful. After all, it isn’t like you get over it, or learn to live with it, or can go to a dead-people support group (well, unless your afterlife is in Beetlejuice or something). Your being, the thing you absolutely LOVE about yourself and seek to have affirmed and made special by Tarot, is going to be annihilated. And, survey sez—so far anyway—you won’t be coming back for an encore.

Not only does Tarot have the bad (i.e., unprofitable) taste to tell this truth in plain terms—the deck has a Death card after all—but what with everyone recalcitrantly refusing to stop dying, and what with life itself being so completely dependent upon death, mortality turns out to be the terrifying lynchpin holding everything together. First of many paradoxes in Tarot and life—without death you’re dead.

So, how did you like Tarot lesson #1?

The Tarot industry—yes, there is such a thing—figures you won’t like it very much, so they have decided that it would be better if they just didn’t bother teaching it to you. Indeed, they figure you’d rather not be reminded of anything doomy-gloomy at all, and would instead prefer to have Tarot affirm you and your wretched death-path as something other than the miniscule particle-fart of the solar system all the facts indicate is your cosmic identity.

Now, some of you may be asking at this point—why is he being sooo god-damned ornery?—why can’t he say difficult things in a nice and inviting way?

The answer is Tarot doesn’t talk that nice-and-inviting shit, especially to a pack of apes who need years of tolerating (or advocating) torture and murder and other assorted war crimes and nuclear-armed buffoonery to be convinced to vote against God’s Own Party. If you’re that stupid, and most of you are, Tarot is so far beyond your pathetic talents, its subtleties so sublimely veiled from your blindered eyeballs, you should save yourself years of wasted effort and nestle comfortably behind the 8-ball, a condition you should get used to if you have not already.

The Blue Fluid

But again, you think I am talking about someone else, don’t you? You think you’re the exception, or the Elect, or that your attraction to the Holy Grail of Cardboard must mean there’s something to it, if not for most people then at least for you. And you feel especially drawn, especially since you saw The Da Vinci Code three times, to deciphering what you are sure is the profoundly important mystery hiding beneath the surface of those ever-so-intriguing Tarot symbols. To you I would advise a perusal of this, and its cautionary tale regarding the trial of the Blue Fluid. If you pursue this utterly asinine interest in Tarot, you shall think the side-effects of the M8B an ambrosial boon compared to the Blue-Fluid delights Tarot has in store for you.
Like a little white dog, a dutiful tug pushes the Titanic on to its Fool’s Journey destiny via the Blue Fluid.

So…still reading?

Penultimately, a story about how easy it is to use mysteria to lead rubes like you around by the nose. Back in the day, I used to wrap my Tarot deck in a restaurant napkin. Now, it wasn’t a greasy-spoon-diner napkin, ornamented with dried chile and snot stains, no!…it was a special napkin, with a lovely mysterious symbol on it, which happened to be the logo of the restaurant. But, because this napkin wrapped a pack of Tarot cards, instead of fancy flatware, nobody ever asked me why I was using a napkin to wrap the cards. Instead, as I unveiled the oracle to them, I would spread out the magick reading rug, and draw their attention to the mysterious symbol. Their heads would lean down, sucking up every drop of oozing occult portent. Surely, the next revelation would leave them thoroughly elevated in their understanding of deep mysteries and prepared for their card reading.

In a way.

When their attention was completely focused upon the mysterious symbol, and their anticipation was salivatory, I would channel Christopher Lee, leer deeply into their eyes and say: “It is—a napkin. And that is the logo for the restaurant.” Some people would laugh. Some people would just stare. Some people would get quite angry, as if their feelings and their sense of dignity and more importantly their considerable sense of indignity should be off-bounds for playing Tarot.

But, as here, I was merely attempting to do them a favor, and to get their minds thinking correctly about what they were actually attempting to do—asking a pack of playing cards to reveal the mysteries of life to them.

How crazy is that? As diversely crazy as all the people who ignore the wisdom of the veils and ask the cards anyway.

One last thing before you go, or go on

Tarot can’t teach you a blessed thing. A wise person can use Tarot to teach you a great deal. But, if he were truly wise, he could have used a lot of things to do that.

Don’t get confused about what is important. The pack of cards cannot bleed. You can. The pack of cards does not suffer. You will. The pack of cards does not get its feelings hurt if it is misunderstood. When you can say the same about yourself, you will not need the pack of cards, or anything else, to affirm you.