Sylvia Browne is amazing. How do I know? Well, she’s been on THE Montel Williams show about 120 times, which basically makes her the President of the United Popes of Phenomenal Everything. She also is a psychic, a writer, a knower of all things, and sounds like she smokes three barrels of menthols a day, and that’s just the tip of the Sylvberg. To add to her fantastic everything, she also wrote a book about your pets going to Heaven. Yep, your pet, regardless of its putrid farts and shitting all over the furniture, will be right up there terrorizing all of us worthy ones.

While it seems kinda quaint to know for sure your dog will be with you, it also takes the pizazz out of the ultimate reward for being a great human; knowing that a dog that ripped someone’s face off will be up there with sunglasses, drinking a coffee, and driving around in a solid gold Hummer with Momma Teresa.

Plus, there are some unresolved issues at hand: What of Jewish or Hindu goldfish and dogs? What if you were a shitty owner, wouldn’t that just become Hell for the pet? What if your parents pulled the old switch-a-roo and bought you a new identical hamster without you knowing because dad stepped on your old one? You would have two hamsters walking up to you simultaneously saying, “Hey Steve! It’s me Hulkster! Whoa guy, shit you look great! How long’s it been?” Not only embarrassing, but you find out your parents were liars on a street paved with gold. Not a great thing to spend eternity obsessing on.

Anyway here’s a ditty from Sylvia’s book, and I think once you read this you won’t need the rest of the book — you’ll just need a large room for you and your Boa Constrictor to spin around in a circle while making out with gratitude. Here Sylvia recounts a story where her pet Highland Terrier “Jolie” dies in her arms, eye to eye after her “youngest psychic son”, Chris, attempted to resuscitate her:

“I watched a white and condensed smoke-like form leave her body and go straight across the room.”

After some bureaucratic zoning guidelines about the location of spiritual plains, she goes onto confirm the facts:

“In my psychic vision I saw Jolie romping through a garden of daffodils and playing and meeting other dogs that had gone before.”

Well, there you have it. Thank God. Literally. You may now go and high-five your fish, secure in the knowledge that what you share ain’t going to be over for a long, long, long time.

And here’s some classic Sylvia. She knows her shit for sure.

-TVCARNAGE

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