I blog about the Doors, Sarcastro blogs about the Doors, and what should the Butcher and I see this… morning… afternoon* but some show in which the worst "ghost hunters" on tv tried to communicate with the ghost of Jim Morrison.
At the end of the show, they finally found a tarot reader who seemed to be able to contact ole Jim and, in a moment so awesome I wish I had it on Youtube to show you, Jim Morrison basically told them that what they’re doing is stupid and trite.
And then he made the psychic cry.
It made me love the ghost of Jim Morrison just a little bit.
*Honestly, I have no idea what time it is. I went to bed at 11 last night and got up at ten and still feel wiped out. The guilt trip I’m getting from the dog for not taking her to the park is enormous. I’d feel worse if I were not about to take a nap.