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    BITTER ARIES...

    Click for Last Month  The Eccentric Exigencies of January 2007  Click for Next Month
    Aries Ugh and double ugh, my nasty ovine twerps! We left you last time, cowering in the hills, munching stolen chicken and lamenting the unreasonable demands placed upon you by life and those in authority. Largely, this lament revolved around having to find gainful employment. Eek! You had also made the acquaintance of a horse and urged the creature to buy a lottery ticket in the hope it would be the winning one, as some idiot fortune-teller had told you that Jupiter, crapulent lord of fortune and heavenly gasbag, was currently in Sagittarius, a sign friendly to your own. However, as you have no friends, being an odious, sad and tragic little git, it's difficult to see how a conclusion pertaining to an amicable relationship between yourself and any other being, force or creature was actually reached.

    Nonetheless and not to be deterred, you continued to wreak havoc on the pilfered poultry relic and put everything you owned on a horse, as it were. So, if that was diabolical December, this must be jittery January. What will happen to you now? Let us consult the vile and bitter prognostications and so discover.

    As considerable time has already passed, we shall have to recap then pick up a tale that's well down the track. Jolly Jupiter and cranky Chiron did the wild thing first up. Thus, did a polyglot idiot with a nervous affliction convince you he was god and give you the gift of tongues, an art you now practice with such fervour at the inception as is found in the ovine. There was a hideous Full Moon in the sign of the Crab when you ate too much and performed ghastly acts involving nasty body fluids about which we will say nothing further. As vamping Venus groped her way into nitwit Aquarius, sign of the lunatic god, addlepate followers of the polyglot idiot earlier mentioned arrived to help you speak in tongues by holding cigarette lighters above their heads and chanting in gibberish. As one of them allowed you to have sex while the others simply set fire to their hair, the night was quite entertaining, all things considered.

    That brings us up to date, just as mischievous Mercury and the great Sol Invicti begin fornicating for all they're worth in the odious sign of the Goat. So it is that worries about career and work prospects haunt you as various persons of authoritative disposition arrive, demanding to know what you're going to do with your life. As you have no idea whatsoever, largely because you don't like doing anything much really unless it involves speed, the colour red and three minute sex, you become frustrated in a manner that beggars belief and defies description. You hurl your chicken bone at the offending persons and cry aloud, using random smatterings of fractured languages mixed with a little gibberish and some 'baby talk' your mother used to you whilst washing your private parts (ugh).

    And, damn me eyes, if it's not entirely effective at driving away these intrusive authoritarian specimens! Certes does this eructation occurs as marauding Mars inserts his rudest bit into the underworld of dark Pluto! Light dawns in your beady little eyes. Fire burns in the repulsive substance that passes for a brain with your ill-starred species. You are inspired and the path ahead opens in visionary manner. By all the gods alive and dead, ghastly planets fart and fornicate as they cavort in nasty aspect! Mischievous Mercury angles his supple, perverted form into idiot Aquarius. Marauding Mars barrels belligerently into gloomy Capricorn. Vamping Venus lubricates the mystical bits of narcotic Neptune. To top it off, the entry of the vain and selfish Sun god into idiot Aquarius trails a New Moon in gloomy Capricorn.

    This rising tide of chaotic flatulence threatens to submerge the known world, engulfing all in a foetid, malodorous flood whose waves you will surf to fame and fortune, my smelly twits. For you are wielder of the chicken bone and speaker in tongues! As jolly Jupiter impales Uranus, idiot god, on the prong of his lightning bolt, you have found gainful employ and the fulfilment of your dreams of destiny. Though the last thing needed by a benighted world ruled by insane gods is another babbling loony of a prophet and religious leader, this is in fact what it has found in you. You set forth to strike people at random with your bone and babble aggressive gibberish in their faces and at their retreating backs, tasks to which even I must concede you are entirely suited.

    Gadzooks! Is this the path to ovine ecstasy or have you sewn the wind in readiness to reap the whirlwind later on, as the good book says? Click here next time and see. For the nonce, ave!


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