'Diphthong', you say?
Oh.
No, you didn't, did you. You made a point of not saying 'diphthong', didn't you.

Two vowels, joined to make a single yet seperate entity, entailing the qualities of each, and yet beyond, greater than either, and both.
Mystical.
But apparently of no interest to the prophet. His interest lies elsewhere. With the gherkin no less. The humble gherkin. Pickled? Probably. On a fried bologna sandwich? Seethed. A seethed gherkin, on a fried bologna sandwich. There will no doubt be some kind of obscure prophecy forthcoming regarding such gastronomic delights.
Can't wait.