Reincarnation

I noticed a long time ago that people who claim to be the reincarnated always claim they were someone famous or somehow associated with someone famous. You always hear stories along the lines of, “I was the daughter of the Goddess Fontabula in Egypt.” Or “I was the second cousin of Catherine the Great and died in a terrible plague of toads.”

You never hear, “ I was the result of a drunken coupling of two people who never even knew each others names and died as a child by falling into the large hole in the outhouse where I starved to death.”

People who promote reincarnation seem to be promoting self-importance.

Just once I want to hear a tale of inadequacy and doubt. A tale of abusive parents selling their hastily conceived children into slavery to gay bipolar hermaphrodites to work day and night in the peat bogs, harvesting the soggy burnable for others while knee deep in muck.

Somebody who had a hard life like that seem more deserving of a second try than someone who had a life of luxury.

Instead, I hear of someone claiming the soul of Napoleon is now planning a campaign to take over the department store and eventually the whole mall. Diminutive megalomaniacs wishing they were something they are not.

It is people like that who make therapists wealthy.