Jim Morrison's spirit possesses lizard, gives gambling advice to receptive TPP seeker

Sept. 13, 2009

In mid-August, Punditty Project alter ego beat reporter Slim Fattison was wandering through the desert at dawn after two weeks of fasting, which he followed with another two weeks of subsisting on honey, locusts, mushrooms and water bottled by WaterDrinkees (a popular corporate sponsor in the quest for enlightenment). After a particularly yummy meal of mushrooms and locust wings, Fattison crossed paths with the reincarnation of one James Douglas Morrison, a k a "Jim" - the "Lizard King" himself.

"Jim started talking to me, but he wasn't really talking so much as he was occupying a place in my mind," Fattison told medical personnel at the Pundittio, a remote and little-known Nevada casino about 100 miles due east of Beatty. Fattison said he blacked out after the encounter with the lizard and didn't come to his senses until he was at a Pundittio roullete table, betting heavily and repeatedly on "odd" after beginning his amazing winning streak with a single $5 chip.

"What did he say, this lizard you are calling 'Jim'?" asked Dr. Amos Ramis, a famous shamus before attending medical school at Notre Damus, a little-known catholic (lowercase in the universal sense of the word) college in North End, Indioutta. Indioutta is a little-known U.S. state located in Kenya.

"It wasn't what he said, man, it's what he was - no - what he is! Jim, man! It was Jim that told me to go play odd. "Play odd," he said, "until you're not playing anymore, you're just odd." It was like some deep-seated wisdom buried all these years finally finding it's own voice in my own freaked-out head, man. But it worked! It worked!"

"Maybe so, maybe not. But how does that explain the fact that you bet on 11 eleven times in a row?" queried a none-too-amused Ramis, who doubles as the Pundittio's house detective when Chief Detective Mary Gerri Berry is on vacation. The ball landed in the number 11 slot on seven of Fattison's 11 single-number bets, including four consecutive "bet everything" spins to close out his run at the table.

"Jim, man. Jim knows. Don't you get it? He really is the Lizard King, and he can do anything - including giving me the clues I needed to win at your casino. This proves it!"

"OK," said Ramis, "we're going to let you keep the $97,500 you won, but we're also instituting a strict ban on all Doors t-shirts, hats, belt buckles and cover bands."

Thinking he had Fattison cornered, Ramis reclined in his leather chair.

"But what about lizards?" Fattison asked.

"What about them?" Ramis snapped.

But Fattison didn't answer, at least not directly. He stood and stared at Ramis, then began a soft, shamanic dance while humming the melody from "Riders on the Storm." Outside, the suddenly humid late summer afternoon turned cloudy in a matter of seconds. Lightning flashed on the western horizon; heavy rains began to fall just as thunder shook the world outside.

Fattison left before the dazed Ramis could respond. He cashed his check in Beatty and next surfaced in Las Vegas. When Fattison sent a fax to The Punditty Project on 9-9-09, he was living at Caesar's Palace and had opened an account at Wells-Fargo, where his balance at that point was nearly $800,000.

The Punditty Project has been unable to reach him since that date. If you're reading this, Slim, you should be aware that TPP is no longer picking up your expense tab. But hey, keep the freaky, tripped-out reports coming, dude. And if you have any clue as to why "People Are Strange" keeps playing over and over on our sound system here, please let us know.

When the music's over, there's still www.punditty.com.

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