Well, hi, augury fans! The Ides of March come again, and what has your favorite haruspex to say?
Finding myself somewhat short of sacred animals to slaughter, I took a deep look into my morning oatmeal in search of signs. No surprise, the future looked kind of lumpy and ill-formed. Chaotic, though in a calm way. I mean, I like oatmeal!. But it doesn’t tell you much; it doesn’t give off information. The future, in oatmeal, is just a blob with some bits in it. And to tell the truth, or sooth, that’s how I do see the future — and that’s at the best: enjoyable for the moment but no through-story. At worst, it’s the burned, stuck-on, tasteless, and grim remnants of something that used to be sustaining.
Thus always to tyrants?