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Some of you may hold certain values behind what can only be referenced as superstitious experimentation. Strange rituals you perform before embarking on an adventure. Any true fisherman understands the meaning of this if not my presentation of it. It’s completely illogical. It addresses the tenacity of human obsession over ideologies. Don’t bring a fucking banana on the boat. No matter how many facts you present contradicting and proving the absurdity of that obsession, the obsessed will never tear themselves away from the teat of The Idea. Reasoning will not have an affect on me, I’m afraid. My ceremony is called the Council of the Three. A council meeting is called when I am about to meet a woman for the first time. The great adventure. Council Member Crystal on a String - a piece of 6 lbs monofilament is tied to a crystal and looped about the broken finger of my left hand. I hold my hand parallel to the ground and as still as I possibly can. The question is asked; yea or nay. Crystal on a String casts her vote. Council Member Kennedy 1975 - He’s a silver dollar. There’s a chip on his nose but otherwise pretty self explanatory. Flip. Yea or nay. Council Member Countess Oreo. Here I use Oreomancy. I grab the package of Oreo cookies from the cupboard. I pull a cookie out, hold her so her edges face the sky and the ground. Then I slowly twist her apart and examine the orientation of her filling. If all the white cream is on one side, she’s voted yea, the other side, nay. She’s jealous and constantly tempts me to pull another part of her out of the bag. Corruption in the council is eminent. On occasion there are women who visit from out of state and they don’t visit often. An out of the blue text of “Hey babe, I’m here in town” calls for an emergency council meeting. My response has been, on more than one occasion, “Crystal and JFK can’t say enough good things about you. Unfortunately, this a council of three and Countess Oreo is decidedly ... undecided.” “Huh?” “I can’t see you, probably ever. It’s not you. It’s not me. It’s countess Oreo.” This never ends well.