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    CRABBY CANCER...

    Go Back  The Jittery Journeys of August 2004  Go Forward
    Tally ho and yoicks, little seafood miseries! Welcome to the month of awful August. Bide with me a while and sup from the dish of the vile and bitter prognostications that pertain thereto.

    Last month we left you as the crabby lord of all you surveyed. Your new business, the pegs of devotion, was raking in a fortune while the image of your calm and assured leadership as the guru of the simple life (shriek) was beaming around the world to the tune of swiping credit cards and beeping expiry dates. Perhaps all will now go well with your endeavours (snigger). Only remember, my little crab type things! This is a benighted universe ruled by insane gods and nothing can ever be well! All that remains for us is to give up hope and choose the path of sublime irritation, if we have the steely nerve and medication necessary to pursue it.

    Mischievous Mercury clashes with idiot Uranus and there are mutterings from the in-laws whom you’ve locked away, making pegs in dingy cottages on the backblocks of your illustrious country estate. Perhaps the devotional character of these pegs is more questionable than publicity and marketing would allow. Thus, as jolly Jupiter clashes with underworld Pluto, you send in overseers to thrash the recalcitrants and restore such decorum as is required for a workplace, given by the grace of the lord of the manor. Are not the peasants duty bound to be grateful for the largesse of bread crumbs, stale water and the occasional thoughts of the mighty one, directed to them in their travail? What do they want? Flush toilets and blankets! Great gods alive and dead, next it will be holidays and wages!

    The great Sol Invicti clashes with nasty Neptune and we find you basking in the glow of a gathering pile of doubloons, shining at your fingertips. Miserable Saturn in your sign has seen you turn from paper wealth and convert a growing fortune into precious metal, gold to be weighed and counted. Marauding Mars moves to anal Virgo and mischievous Mercury turns retrograde in that same annoying sign and you decide to visit the cottages yourself, whip in hand, to ensure your will is done. But, by my little brown bottle, what horrors do you find? As a raft of ghastly planets fart in the cosmic winds, the rebellious mutterings have been silenced by the lash, but the errant digits of contumely in-laws are carving objects of a somewhat less than devotional nature. It is depraved pegs that confront you. Obscene figures leer at you from bloodied tabletops and bandaged hands. Disgusting wooden extremities stand vulgarly erect in the gloomy half-light.

    Great Heavens, nitwits of the nipper! These are not the pegs of devotion you see! They are pegs of evil and despite! And what a brilliant product! All that’s needed is clever marketing such as you provide! Of course, they’re your product, made in your cottages and with your tools.

    At a New Moon in loathsome Leo, you form a new company, one that can sell this darker side of laundry to a gullible public. You’ll need an image, of course, a suitably odious creature under whose auspices you can present the pegs of perversion. Perhaps you could do this yourself, tiny miseries! A little makeup, a black cloak and a naturally nasty sneer will make a sleazy porn king, dark jester to the ‘good king’ figure you have thus far cut, a shadowy Rasputin of the clothesline that none will connect with your good self. And so, little crab type things, these are the pegs of perversion! Urchin planets consummate their lust in the gutters of Heaven and the new campaign soars higher than the pegs of devotion. Sadly, a benighted universe ruled by insane gods will often witness the triumph of corruption over moral good!

    Oh well! How sad! Never mind! Things are going so well, you consider rewarding your carvers with scraps from the high table! Or perhaps you may simply give a brief wave or inclination of the pate as you drive the roads of your estate, splashing wayfarer and serf alike with shit, in the time-honoured manner of lordly folk.

    But, great gods alive and dead, little ninnies! There’s trouble afoot! Mischievous Mercury reverses to loathsome Leo and you’re making too much money. You’ll have to hide some profit or perhaps reinvest or maybe you could negatively gear or simply bribe someone in the tax department! Gods, my little chumps! What will you do?

    A Full Moon comes in wretched Pisces and, as aspects to idiot Uranus are involved, inspiration strikes. You’ll move offshore! Tell your sullen workers you’re taking them on a Caribbean jaunt to warmer climes where wages of a weekly dollar are favoured, along with rum, sodomy and the lash. Like the song of the siren, the tax haven calls! Vamping Venus conjoins with sober Saturn and you lay your plans! Until next time, my crustacean miseries! Ta! Ta!

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