I’ve truly been blessed to have Robin Williams’ spirit in touch with me often since his death on August 11, 2014. But unlike many people with psychic visions, suspiciously sure of their gifts, I sometimes wonder if Robin’s ghost is really keeping in touch or if it’s all just my wild imagination.

Robin’s spirit finds my uncertainty about his visitations quite funny. Perhaps he keeps showing up, despite my misgivings as a reluctant medium, because I always take his funny visits as a serious message from the higher realms of consciousness. And today’s visit from Robin is super welcome in this post-truth era that’s wearing mighty thin for many of us.

Before I get to Robin’s important as it is funny June 2018 message to the world’s, as the iconic actor who played drama and beautifully as comedy describes today’s, “lazy bum comics” a little history. Robin first appeared to me shortly after his death to help me give comfort to many fans troubled by his suicide. Bummer, we lost two more celebs to suicide this week, designer Kate Spade and chef Anthony Bourdain. Fame and success are no protection against depression.

Not surprisingly, Robin’s spirit musings on his horrific suicide are heartbreakingly funny stuff. Read it on the blog in detail in a special section called THE ROBIN WILLIAMS VISITATIONS.  Hmm. Feels like a book’s a brewin’.

After Robin’s first ghostly visit, which happened on one of the many hikes I take here in Sedona’s red rocks, he and I bonded quickly. I would say it’s because we are brother in arms who’ve overcome battles with life’s sadness using laughs. Happily, I instantly found I could channel his comedic stylings with good accuracy for this blog.

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS WITH A BLUE WHALE

One amazing day in the fall of 2014 Robin showed up with the spirits of MLK and Mother Teresa. They all wanted a tour of the Buddhist stupa. Which I gave them to my honor as though they were visiting family. I’ve still not found the time to blog about it. I promise to, Robin and readers. Stay tuned.

A few weeks after Robin’s incredible visitations began, I tuned over in bed and yelped as Robin was nose to nose with me under the covers. “Sorry, didn’t want to wake you, Sheetzy. Your snoring’s adorable, btw.”

“Thanks. I think. What brings you to my bed at the crack of dawn, Robin?”

“Sheetzo, I need you to hop on fishing boat off Laguna Beach, and channel me in.”

“Why?” I asked still half asleep, thinking back nostalgically on the days before my 2010 awakening when life was boringly normal. Robin is not the only spirt that visits me.

“Oh. Nothing special, Kenny boy.  Just gonna impregnate a virgin whale to reincarnate myself as a blue whale.”

“Oh, is that all?” I said dryly as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. This got a laugh out of Robin. But his laughter quickly faded as I explained to the king of comedy, “Buddy, I am drowning in the workload of a client’s world changer crowd funder. Much as I’d love to travel to the Pacific to help bring you back as a blue whale, Robin, we mortals still have bills to pay.”

“Work from the road. That’s what God made WiFi for.”

“Sorry.  I just can’t road trip this thing. Too big. We just launched this cool device that’s going to make it a smarter world. Boost IQ!”

“Fine, Einstein. I’ll do it myself like I have to do everything… when it comes to impregnating virgin whales!” Robin said, his disappointment in me showing on his fading ghostly face.

“Wait, Robin.  If you could just wait 60 days or so I promise –”

Robin vanished before I could finish in a disappointed but determined huff.  I got up and made some coffee and ruminated that Robin was still used to the star treatment even on the other side. So he’s not used to people saying no very often. I hoped he would not be so angry with me he’d never visit again. However, I made a note to request he not pop into my bed in future and nearly give me a heart attack.

Weeks passed swiftly. My client’s crowd funder became a hit, raising eventually $1.6 million for an update of a beloved scientist’s famed techno-meditation device. So I’d kind of forgotten about Robin’s whale gig when one day, while having a breakfast at my favorite local diner, The Coffee Pot, Robin appeared in the form of a talking blue whale embryo hovering over a portly man’s ham and eggs.

Williams shouted proudly, “I did it, Sheetzy!”

Nearly spit spraying my coffee, I looked slyly around the restaurant. As per usual, despite Sedona being an American mecca for psychics, I was, you guessed it, the only person having this outrageous aquatic visit. “Why the whole whale thing, Robin?” I asked in my mind, deciding I might get a ticket to the looney bin talking out loud to a floating blue whale fetus in a public restaurant.

“Call me, Nanu. That’s my new blue whale name!”

“OK, Nanu Nanu –”

“Just Nanu, Sheetzter.  Copyright stuff.”

“Ok, NANU, why reincarnate as blue whale?”

Robin twirled over a blue haired old lady wolfing down her waffles and said proudly, “Because I’m gonna teach the blue whales a new frequency of joy and laughter to broadcast around this bluesy world!”

Robin looked amused by my freaked out face. But it made total sense Robin would not rest long in the afterworld and would seek a cool way to help humanity keep its sense of humor. As if reading my mind about how crazy yet sensible this all seemed to me, Robin added,”Still the doubting Sheetz? Just take a gander at your coffee cup. – Presto!”

Chills ran down my spine, here in the middle of the desert, a relief of dolphins swam on the coffee mug. Robin the blue whale fetus hovered over my head blowing happy air bubble rings as I called over the unsuspecting waitress. I asked her if she’d ever seen a dolphin mug at the restaurant before.

Even though the grizzled middle-aged vet waitress has seen it all in Sedona she gazed in amazement to see dolphins on my coffee mug. “Weird. All we usually got are cactuses and Kokppellis on our mugs.”

I bought the magical mug proof Robin offered at checkout. And if you’re ever a house guest I’ll happily serve you a java from the two more dolphin mugs I’ve since collected on future Williams visits to the Coffee Pot.

Note: Robin loves his coffee and often calls me over to the Coffee Pot, a favorite of visiting celebs, for his spirit visits. He met Elizabeth, my love there and told her, through my channeling, that she is Mamu his mama whale.

Wait a minute! I just joke back to the joker Robin as I write here in 2018, “Swell, so you’re telling me, Robin, that because you were pissed I wouldn’t go with you to the Pacific in 2014 you impregnated my love Elizabeth’s alternate reality whale self?”

“Bingo!  Ha ha! Man, took you 4 years to get that joke. You’re dense as a neutron star, bro,” laughs Robin.

Jeez, I Googled that a teaspoon full of neutron star weighs a billion tons. He sure thinks I am dense stuff!

Speaking of how dense we all are in these Trumpy times, back to 2014, two full years before America lost it’s sense of humor with Trump’s hostile take over of not just the news world but the comedy world.

One time back in 2015, shortly after Robin’s successful rebirth as a blue whale, as Trump began his run for king of the world, Robin told me over coffee – BTW Robin just cups his hand around the mug for its cafine energy – “Trump gonna win and he’s gonna be HILAAARIOUS as the good old USA’s most un-presidential prez ever.”

Boy, was that whale baby right. Trump did beat the unfunny Hillary. And just look at all these comics covering Trump as regular as the weather here in depressing as hell 2018.

But, as master of comedy Robin Williams is now shouting at today’s living comics through my keyboard, putting on a Jewish accent, “Oy vey! Enough, funny people! You’re makingme mashugana! The Trump gags are stale as a two week old bagel! Stop beating a dead whale already!  ”

That last message of Robin’s rings so true don’t it? Dozens of comedians riffing on Trump’s every stumble everyday for three friggin’ years stinks like a dead whale stranded on a beach for days. The seagulls picking the carcass apart.

And Robin sadly knows all about dead whales. You see, the busy shipping lanes killed his beloved whale mama in late 2017. Grieving her loss, Robin told me in a vision, on a hike to the Airport vortex, that Mamu’s whale body had washed up on the west coast of Mexico. A few months later, in April of this year, Robin came to me to say his whale life too ended the same way as his poor Mamu.

“Don’t be a bummer, Sheetzorini! Tell your readers not to be blue for the blue whale me!” Robin chirps as I type as fast as man untrained in such can, “The Blue Dolphin Clan gave me the body of one of their brain dead young.”

“How appropriate!” getting a zing in as payback for Robin’s neutron star dig.

Robin pretends not to hear my zinger and goes on, “And I’m ready start teaching the song of joy and laugher to the dolphins now. That is soon as I can figure out where my dolphin dick is. Oh wait.  I’m a girl dolphin now. Holy mackerel!”

Pause for reader laughter Robin tells me.

“No problem, the name Robin works for either gender,” I communicate to his spirit, stalling for time to keep up on the keyboard with his rapid fire mind.

“Guess Nanu swings both ways too. Hey, know what we dolphins think of all the media’s fuss over Trump? Ever hear Flipper laugh in that old TV show?” says Robin doing a tail stand in my mind’s eye.

“You mean like this, Robin?” I say digging up a clip.

“Close enough! – Fun fact. Did you know we beautiful and brilliant dolphins were sentient thousands of eons before human’s discovered how to make fucking fire?”

“Gotta admit, like most humans I believe, we’ve always been the brightest species on the planet,” I type communucate.

“Right. Even though humans work themselves to death to get that newest model gas guzzler causing global warming?” Robin dolphin chuckles.

“Yup, Gottta admit I am looking at a new Jeep at the moment.”

“Think Prius, ya noob.”

“Need a Jeep for the 4-wheel drive for the red rocks, shark bait.”

” Touche. Well do some checks on electric that can off road. Pinkie swear? Not that I have one anymore.”

“Fin swear then. Will do, Robin.”

“Nanu, still Nanu please.  Good because we dolphins warn…” says Robin/Nanu, trying to sound as ominous as young dolphin can,”..that your species needs to stop worrying about one certain old as fuck human being, no matter how fat, orange and nasty. HUGE waste of time. Time your species doesn’t have, BTW. ”

“Why?” I ask.

“Earth’s oceans are running out of fucking oxygen!”

In shock I do a search mid-blog based on Robin’s dire warning and found this video.  If you have 55 minutes it will wise you up in a big way even if the production values are about zilch.

Vindicated about his warning on earth’s diminishing air supply, as well as making me realize how real his visits are, Robin/Nanu grimly continues, “Better you eco-morons focus on saving the oceans, where most of your oxygen is made, than ruminating on how many cheeseburgers Trump can ingest daily without having a coronary!”

Robin/Nanu bitingly goes on, “Be original, human comics. You’re all lazy as fuck.  Hello!  Comedy 101, you can’t make parodies about of a living one like Trump.”

“Amen, Nanu!”

Nanu Williams rants on, “Get the fuck over the pathetic Trump, funny bones, and get back to your damn job of making people laugh. Save getting political for the biggest joke on the planet… the fucking politicians! Get smart and get the word out earth is running out air instead of spreading hot air. Got it?”

“Got it! Will share, Nanu Williams the blue dolphin!”

“Cool, Kenster.  Williams out!”

Well, the you have it, straight from Robin Williams the newly reincarnated blue dolphin Nanu: Trump is officially no longer hilarious.