Whenever I browse the World Wide Web, I see that my many predictions have been no less than prescient. They are popping up left and right, albeit under different names. And some have become true already. More often than not, I am overcome with anger when I see what others are offering with a stunning time lag. Only rarely do I feel proud of my perspicacity. All things considered, though, I do my best to stop myself from browsing. Screw it all, I keep admonishing myself. As ever, the future is irrelevant. Predictions are for the birds, I rail on and on. Carpe diem, I persistently remind myself of old Horace, quam minimum credula postero. The Roman poet of the First Century before Christ, he lived at the time when the decline and fall of his empire was not yet in the books. How much more perspicacious he used to be than I have ever been!