I never intended to visit a psychic while in New Orleans.

When you go to the city renowned for its Mardi Gras celebration, you expect certain things: debauchery, tourists, and yes, maybe some voodoo. I hadn’t really thought much on the voodoo part, but when I saw card readers and palmists out on Bourbon Street, I also didn’t blink.

My general thoughts on divination are it’s either fraudulent foolery—a scam—or it’s touching dark magic, and I don’t play with Ouija boards. To partake is to open a can of worms, which would require a full essay to dissect, and I won’t write it here. Simply put, on a religious front, I have objections. On the philosophical side, I have questions.