The oracles are screaming. They wave around their yield curves and their poll results and their images of ice and fire. Every headline is a forecast. Every stray observation supports a theory. Something is about to happen. (But when?) Many things are about to happen. (And here’s why!) Nobody is sure they know anything, but everyone is worried that someone knows something. Summer will soon be over, but prediction season has just begun.
In the midst of a raging stream of news-as-prophecy, marketing-as-prophecy, and entertainment-as-prophecy, I’ve found some comfort in a space that’s been operating at a similar pitch for decades, all prediction and promise and clues and theories, but at a slightly lower volume and mostly out of sight: my spam folder.