I'm on a fast.
Let me say that slowly.
I'm fasting.

It's just gotten to that point.
I am out of control.
Especially in the chocolate department.

So, today I'm going to fast in order to rid my body of toxins.
No sugar.
No cookies.
No chawwwwclet.
No nothin'.

Which means, of course, I'm thinking about food every second.

The Delphic Oracle has been on my mind, too.
Ancient Greeks made pilgrimage to the Temple at Delphi.
They went to consult the "Pythia," a prophetess.
(I know this stuff because I was a Theatre Arts major.)
These people were looking for serious answers.
Usually they wanted to know if they should go to war,
should they kill the neighbor's barking dog or not,
should they traverse the oceans looking for plunder,
who they should elect for president, etc.

Today we only have Google.
Google is our oracle.
"Goracle."

Lately Goracle has been sending me prophesies about my health.
First I come upon some story about how weighing less is good for the brain.
Thin people, aside from getting to wear the cutest clothes, get less Alzheimer's.

This morning I see this story about how fasting is good for you.
That fasting promotes reduced incidence of coronary artery disease and diabetes.
Less chocolatey goodness probably helps, too.

Anyway, I'm convinced that the Goracle is targeting me.
In it's own way, it's knocking on my head saying "Hello! Anybody home?"
Hence: The Great Fast

The Great Man is oblivious to all.
He doesn't give homage to oracles the way I do.
He thinks an oracle is a chocolate cookie with a creamy white center.
I keep telling him, "Ora-CULL! Not Ore-O!"

Anyway, all I have to do now is get through the next holiday.
I'll be the Goracle Grinch who stole Halloween.
"Trick or Treat?!"
"Bah Humbug, little kid, Bah Humbug!"