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    Cancer | Soul Connection | Relationships | Runes | Zodiac

    CRABBY CANCER...

    Click for Last Month  The Sublime Irritations of October 2005  Click for Next Month
    Cancer Hail to you, my flatulent excrescences from Neptune's larder! We left you last time amid a religious riot over the fitness of your home circumcision kit for use by the devout. It's usage by those idiotic enough to purchase it in the first place is another matter altogether and was not hotly debated. Such rioting as did occur left you stranded in your home, unable to move from behind the barbed-wire barricades and security alarms you employ to maintain the sanctity of the crustacean domicile.

    Thus, at siege in castle Crab, you ate and drank a surfeit of everything on hand then sent out for further surfeits of those things that were not. So what can we expect from a surfeit of prognostications, vile and bitter in the month ahead? Why, let us consult the awful auguries and so discover! Attend to me, my crustacean ning-nongs! Pin back your ears and surrender to his master's voice!

    Bad news comes on the run, my tiny farting children! Marauding Mars delivers a dose of unparalleled flatulence by bearing his rear quarters and running in reverse. He does so in the leaden sign of Taurus! And so do you begin to seethe and writhe in anxious frustration at yet another setback to your plans for riches and world domination. The riotous racket even puts you off your food (retrograde Mars clashing with vamping Venus). This is all the more remarkable as it's your favourite egg custard, served on the loins of your favourite sex slave. Egad! How incredible! But sadly true!

    As a New Moon brings a Solar Eclipse in loathsome Libra and right on the loony South Node, you lose your taste for food and push away the tray. You become depressed, my tiny crab type things. After all, your home is full of lazy relatives who expect you to do everything and pay the bills as well. Every scheme of yours ends in riot and ruin. Was this not the end with your I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT CHICKEN voodoo cult? And was it not the same with the pegs of devotion and despite? Now here you are again with the home circumcision kit and what do you have? Riot and potential ruin as you find your good and noble self poised on the precipice of failure as your family eats and drinks you out of house and home!

    As Mercury hobnobs in unseemly fashion with jolly Jupiter, these ghastly thoughts run through your mind and you come to a realization. There's a pattern here! Ye gods and little fishes, what a clever clogs you are! After all, your idiot sign has been deeply enmeshed in the mindless, endless repetition of meaningless events since the dawn of time. So, it's no surprise really that this would eventually impress itself upon you, given time for dinosaurs to rise and fall, several rounds of the Assyrian Empire and the invention of the ball point pen and the supermarket!

    Vamping Venus enters loony Sagittarius and you have the kitchen staff cook curried eggs so you have something spicy to eat as you wonder how to break this ghastly pattern that has afflicted you from time immemorial. Mischievous Mercury moves to gloomy Scorpio and you decide it's time to put all grand schemes aside and do something you actually enjoy, just for its own sake. Not to impress your business cronies! Not for your wretched family! And not to serve the god Mammon, currently asleep in the airing cupboard!

    Ghastly farting afflicts the cosmos as perverse reverse marauding Mars forms yet another Yod (you had one last month), a foul configuration known to astrologers of yore as the Finger of God! Eek! Again the divine digit points right at the walls of castle Crab! And retrograde Mars in your solar eleventh house is the dirt beneath the fingernail that decides the matter. The Full Moon blazes in addlepate Aries, bringing a Lunar Eclipse to your solar tenth house. In a few moments on the phone, you sell the manufacture of the home circumcision kit to other interests (making a tidy fortune), hire a private army to clear the rioters and take the sleeping Mammon from the cupboard and hurl him onto the streets. Mischievous Mercury interferes with the private parts of narcotic Neptune and you take large quantities of drugs or alcohol or both in order to stimulate your imagination so that you may conceive of those things you wish to do that will make you truly happy.

    And so it strikes you out of the blue, my teeny tiny titillating seafood morsels! Marauding Mars assaults mischievous Mercury with the blunt instrument that has made him legendary and you remember your childhood pleasures! Of all the things you loved, it was your model railway that you loved the most. Sadly, your mother (god bless her litany of chemical prescriptions) had to sell same in order to pay for her pharmaceuticals. Now, you will purchase a model railway again and be the engine driver, fireman and traffic controller.

    Ye gods and little fishes, you'll be in charge of everything! How wonderful! You can get rid of the human people in your life (the real problem) and have nothing but an engine and lots of little carriages that stay on the tracks and do exactly what they're told. The great Sol Invicti enters hag-ridden Scorpio and you have the latest edition of this childhood dream delivered to your door and assembled before your very eyes.

    And what's this? Why, it's jolly Jupiter, the giggling and inebriated lord of fortune, lurching into that same grim sign of death, unspeakable body parts and taxes. Evil Scorpio! You shut the door and shut out the world of human contact, locking your family in their rooms on a strict diet of bread and water. Alone at last, you thus become the owner of the railway at castle Crab. Of course, you'll need to arrange the odd visit to the shunting yards and regular stops at the station café! But what else will you need? Nothing, you confidently cry! Will that truly be the case, my tiny nitwits of the nipper? In your dreams, says the haruspex of harangue! Click here next month and see how dreams can turn to nightmares! Ave atque vale, crabby types!

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