Psinister Psychic Friends Network

Whatever happened to those psychic hotline commercials that were ubiquitous throughout much of the '90s? You couldn't change a channel without seeing one of those odd clips, shot over green screen or in a gaudy studio, with loud graphics and some supposedly clairvoyant host waving her hands, adorned with long fingernails, around a crystal ball. The 900 number would flash on the bottom of the screen, with a slightly smaller print below, telling you that you had to be 18 to call, that this was "for entertainment only" and that the first minute will cost you $3.99 (or more).

It wasn't just some random psychics offering their gifts of foresight, but celebrities too -- either hawking their own hotlines on tv or giving testimonials to others'. You had LaToya Jackson and her "Psychic Readers Network," Dionne Warwick's "Psychic Friends Network," Nell Carter had "Nell Carter Psychic Hotline," and Esther Rolle (the mom from "Good Times") implored viewers to call her "Caring Psychic Family" (such a welcoming name; doesn't it just make you feel warm and fuzzy?). Even Vicky Lawrence, Billy Dee Williams and Phillip Michael Thomas of "Miami Vice" appeared in ads, giving their thumbs-up to some 900 number.

But the Grand Puba of them all, the most unforgettable hotline psychic was, no doubt, Miss Cleo of the Psychic Readers Network. "Kohl meh now for yer free reeden'," she would tell you, in an almost chiding tone, in her Jamaican accent (though she was actually a native of Los Angeles, and not a Jamaican at all). Cleo kept it real, she told the truth, honey -- be it good or bad! "Ye no' aboht dee gal he's seeing raht now? She's a little hoochie mama," Cleo would break it down, no-nonsense style.


Hearing that kind of sage advice could become addictive to some people, and that's why those 900 numbers became such big business. (Our girl Cleo earned a reported $13.5 mil from her hosting duties). Some callers would get their fix on LaToya's line but then also get a "second opinion" with one of Dionne's seers, and so it would continue. The psychic hotline addiction could become as powerful as a gambling one. One woman even wrote a book about the insatiable craving to receive guidance on life's decisions from what, in fact, is just some average joe with no real psychic abilities, sitting in his or her living room in pajamas.

In fact, in the late '90s, as part of Giuliani's welfare-to-work program, New York City trained welfare recipients for jobs as psychics for the Psychic Readers Network. The only other requirement was having a high school equivalency degree, "a caring and compassionate personality" and English speaking skills. Within a few years of this ingenious (and so successful!) effort, both Cleo's hotline and Dionne Warwick's would be buried under various lawsuits and bankruptcy. The newly imposed Federal Communication Commission's restrictions on 1-900 numbers certainly didn't help matters.

So when one combines all these psinister psychic factors -- potential for addiction, deceit on the part of the psychics and plain old fashioned greed -- it's not hard to understand why those colorful commercials we were once so accustomed to seeing are now buried in the same 1990s pop culture graveyard as grunge and Vanilla Ice. We can only hope that, one day, they will not attempt to rise from the dead and try to eat our brains...again. Until then, we'll just keep watching those entertaining Extenze ads and their equally lofty promises.