I've had the pleasure of being in the same room with Richard Ramirez back when San Quentin used to allow death row inmates as a group to have family and/or legal visits in a lunch room like setting. His journalist/wife would come to see him. It was a little trippy.
I don't have too many psychic moments. However, one Sunday morning about ten years ago, I brought in the paper that was, as usual, wrapped in coupons and crap. As soon as I touched it, I had a horrible feeling of dread. I unrolled it to the front page, and the headline read "Diana Dead!"
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Live now-pay later. Diner's Club!
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