Sylvia Browne died the other day, leaving some of us with that awkward problem: How do you react to the death of someone you thought was a horrible, horrible person? I do not believe in any kind of psychic powers or abilities to communicate with the deceased. I will concede that it's possible that some who claim such facility are harmless but the ones like Browne, who charge hundreds of dollars for consultations are just bilking gullible, sometimes desperate people.
Ms. Browne amazed me because her act was so phony and so transparent that I couldn't imagine how anyone fell for it at all, let alone to the tune of $850 for a twenty-minute phone conversation. Yeah, that's what she charged. If you couldn't come up with that kind of loot, you could talk to one of her relatives or staff members, all of whom oddly had the same abilities, for a little less. There are some people who work these scams so well you can almost understand how otherwise-wise people might get taken in. But Sylvia Browne was practically wearing an "I'm a Fraud" sign around her neck and she still got on important TV shows and sold books and took in millions with her act.
For years, Sylvia confidently predicted she'd die at age 88. She was 77, thereby maintaining her usual batting average right to the end.