As I was snooping around some of the shadier corners of the Jazz Fest Fairgrounds, I encountered a young mistress who offered to tell my fortune for a small price. Intrigued, I paid my quarter, and she asked me to pick a number between one and ten, "except not nine or ten."

Upon giving my answer, she manipulated her mysterious folded-paper voodoo fortune-telling device and lifted a flap. I had goosebumps as she read the verdict of the Fates:

"You are the gorilla of somebody's dreams"

Madame, I am not sure how to act upon this cryptic morsel of intel, but thank you.