MichaelFred.Com

I’ve grown increasingly disgruntled with my local Chinese establishment… not for the heaping helping of toothsome Chicken and Broccoli that I look forward to on a thrice/monthly basis, but for the fortune impostors they – or their vendors – have been sticking in my cookie.

For years, I’ve petitioned fortune cookie writers to take more chances, and to be more specific with their personalized predictions.  I’ve implored them to select exact dates well into the future so as not to be confined by truth and fact – feeling it unfair to hold them to a higher standard than news media – when entertaining us at the end of a meal with fantastic feats yet accomplished.  Instead of taking this advice, and filling my head with yarns predicting, “You will be debauched by a pair of non-blood related Estonian Victoria’s Secret model cousins in your crappy studio apartment on February 13, 2016,” I was recently left with, “Your mind is creative, original, and alert.”

Boring.  Debatable.  And most importantly… NOT a fortune.  Mister Dictionary – not an overly excitable but very accommodating British bloke – states that to tell someone’s fortune is to, “inform someone of future events in his or her own life.”  There is no future event or power referenced in the only surviving memento from last night’s dinner.  There is no prognostication of Robin Hood-type pirating adventures in a corporate-run world government in 2023.  And there is most definitely no mention of scantily clad quasi-kinfolk debauching me in my apartment in 2016 (that one would be laminated and tucked into my wallet).

Instead I was left with a statement… which is something stated… which could be a fortune… but might not be.

I don’t ask for much.  But I demand a fortune in my fortune cookie… or call them what they’ve become… statement cookies.