So the alarm goes off this morning, and I’m fighting to clear out the sleep gases from my head, and suddenly this revelation hits me like a bolt:
Holy God today’s date is ALL EIGHTS! The eighth day! of the eighth month! of the eighth year! of-- the second millenium. BUT STILL! Rendered a certain way, this date is mostly the number eight! Plus a few zeroes for placeholders BUT EVEN SO! This many eights at once MUST MEAN SOMETHING.
Then the porch light finally came on completely and I realized that I was being roaringly daffy. This is a not uncommon early morning ritual for me.
However, when I went out to get the paper, lo and behold! There was a full page article in the Metro section about this very phenomenon! (The date, I mean; not me being crazy). Apparently lots of folks intentionally scheduled their marriages for today, because of the enormous numerological aegis of the date (or possibly because it makes remembering one’s anniversary that much easier, though the article didn’t address this practical side benefit). There was also a helpful sidebar listing some unremarkable facts about the number 8, and songs that feature the number 8 if one were so inclined to compile a themed daily soundtrack in celebration. I hate my city newspaper.
Meanwhile, my subconscious is feeling unreasonably validated by this positive reinforcement. Up until now, the dire import it attributes to the random stuff it dredges up from REM sleep has never actually been mirrored in any way upon waking. That amazing new word, “catatinity,” that it made me climb out of bed and write down so I’d remember to look it up the next morning? Turns out it doesn’t even exist. So now the mere fact that my hypnagogic idiocy is reflected by other idiots has my subconscious all high-fiving itself and offering to pick out lottery numbers.
Meh, it’s my daughter’s 16th birthday. Wasn’t so lucky for her, she failed the written test for her learners’ permit. Happy Sterling’s birthday, everyone.
16, of course, is divisible by the number 8. And “Sterling” has exactly 8 letters! Clearly, she was fated to fail the test today. Notice how “fate” sort of even SOUNDS like “eight?” Coincidence? Let her know that if the pattern holds, she’s due to pass the test in only 8 more years. A helpful hint: when in doubt, answer every question with the number “8.” It can’t possibly hurt.
You should’ve seen all the billboards the casinos put up around here for 07/07/07. And apparently people fall for that crap. My dad said his neighbor liquidated every asset she had on 7/7/77, maxed out all her credit cards and drove to Vegas, convinced she was going to come back rich beyond her wildest dreams. She lost every penny, of course. Then I think he kicked her in the cunt, but I wasn’t born yet so I can’t confirm that part.
It would be much more a significant event if there was an article about you being crazy. Especially if you had no knowledge of the article being written.
In Chinese numerology, 8 is a number or good luck, prosperity and “completion with success”. That’s why they choose this date to open the olympic games.
Other than that, I will paraphrase something on numerology by no other than Groucho Marx. I am paraphrasing as I can not find the exact quote, but I think I remember it poretty well.
"Take the letters in your name, a=1, b=2 , c=3, and so on. Add them up; what do they total. 16? Ok great now we add the 1 and the 6, giving us 7!
“Wow! 7’s are good looking, but modest, intellegent, happy and kind, generous and very gullible. You can tell they are gullible because they believe in numerology!”