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    Sagittarius | Soul Connection | Relationships | Runes | Zodiac

    INSUFFERABLE SAGITTARIUS...

    Click for Last Month  The Eccentric Exigencies of July 2007  Click for Next Month
    Sagittarius Great farting elephants and laughing loonies, it's you, my tiny quadrupeds with nasty stamping hoofs! We left you last time, broken down on the highway of life as you sought the lost congregation of the god, Gobhole, lord of the black hills of Thrace, but found instead only ignominy and perfidy, two minor deities with whom you are more than passingly familiar. You had lost your money at a pub and brothel and were forced to work to pay the bills as you desperately scrabbled in the circuits of electronic banking to extract monies illicitly (thus the perfidy) from your family trust.

    What further contretemps will come to leave you crashed and crestfallen in a crack in life's concrete carriageways? Why, my tiny twits, we must consult the vile and bitter prognostications for jactitating July and so discover. Behold me and tremble in your woolly socks and clumping boots! I am Asperitus, terrible tyromancer and reader of the scattered trail of ash from the burned out ruin of your wretched lives!

    Well, that's enough pleasant banter and upliftment! Let's get on with the serious stuff! Of course, it is a fair complaint that much of the month has gone. It was ennui, I say 'ennui' that did the dilatory thing that gripped my innards and drained the life force from me, just as I desperately drained my little brown bottle in an effort (unrewarded, sadly) to achieve a state with no pain. Ah me! I could not cease upon the midnight! Besides, any avian creature that wakes me up will be pouring forth abroad its soul in agony when I've finished with the creature. It seems, O wittering addlepates, the month began with nastiness of an unseemly kind, involving vamping Venus, gloomy Saturn, narcotic Neptune and their private parts. Thus were you confused, obfuscated and blocked at each and every turn in your attempts at both communications and embezzlement. And, as you kept using the services and beverages of the house, to keep boredom at bay, your fiscal plight was increasing at an hourly rate. Yikes, little tykes!

    But just when all seemed lost (when doesn't it), mischievous Mercury moved out of perverse reverse and an elderly relative popped the clogs, heading heavenwards to push up daises in the choir invisible, leaving you a sizeable sum and saving you the bother of robbing your family. Of course, the bequest was made with the injunction that you leave home and not darken the door of the domicile again! Clearly an excellent judge of character, this old bird, unlike the rest of them! With the wretched sign of the Fishes on the cusp of your solar fourth house, your family largely consist of the bibulous, the babbling and the utterly balmy. You may include yourself in that! Thus, as a New Moon came in slimy Cancer, you paid your bill, gathered your meagre roll of possessions and walked straight into the street where you were struck by a passing vehicle which, as luck would have it, turned out to be an ambulance. The fact that it was also a beer truck and a cattle truck is a tribute to the ingenuity needed by the locals to survive in a remote location. Thus, your injuries were tended by a pragmatic slaughterman with a first aid certificate and a knack for changing beer barrels.

    As we are returned to the moment, let us press on at a speed to match the rolling cosmic wheels! Yee ha, cowperson types! And yippee yi yay as well! For it's a joyous turn of events for you, as you lie swathed in bandages assembled from cowhide and beer labels. As the great Sol Invicti rolls and crashes into lackwit Leo, it seems your versatile paramedic is in fact a person of foreign extraction and is about to make a journey back to his home, the black hills of Thrace!

    By all the gods alive and dead! What a stroke of fortune, my wittering types! You can certes play the 'guilt' card after the creature ran you down. Thus will you get you to your desired destination, remembering that jolly Jupiter, flatulent lord of fortune and your ruler, is at this moment in your sign (or his rather), urging you to find a far horizon and travel there. You may yet find the lost congregation of Gobhole and thus mingle once more with your tribe instead of wandering, bedraggled and forlorn in a benighted universe, ruled by insane gods and populated by lunatics. You ask and the favour is granted but you must fly out this very day! Eek! It's all moving so quickly, little loonies.

    But what's this? By my sainted aunt, say not so! And yet say it I must! For, as marauding Mars, narcotic Neptune and grim Saturn all make foul incursions into one another's private areas, you arrive at the airport to find your Thracian paramedic hijacking an aircraft by threatening the crew with a cow horn, a bottle of beer and a can of hairspray. He heaves the passengers off, drags you on, performs an unspeakable act with the horn, rubs the beer into his hair and inhales the hairspray before sitting down at the controls and taking off into the stratosphere at a nauseating velocity. Numerous cans of hairspray later, the beer is gone, the bone is worn to a toothpick and the plane is bouncing across Thracian tarmac like a golf ball. Yet, due to the protective influence of your crapulous lord, you land safely. As vamping Venus moves into perverse reverse in nasty Virgo, your new chum drags you through Thracian immigration, claiming you have been made a blood relative of his family in a gruesome rite involving the cow horn and the hairspray, a tale which, sadly, is entirely true. You must stop taking these cheap flights!

    An odious Full Moon comes in Aquarius, sign of the idiot god, and you wander the streets, drinking in the sights and the sounds of this ancient land. And, tiny cretins, it's a most miraculous thing but it seems as if you can understand the tongue they speak. Either that or you've lost your mind. I know which one my money's on!

    But what's this? Great griping grandmothers and giant underpants! It's yet another development in this bizarre and increasingly tedious tale. Your Thracian chum grabs you by one of the bits that's still limp and painful from the accident and points towards the sunset in the distant black hills. It appears you're heading for Abdera, a ruined city from the ancient days of this forbidding land. Egad! What will happen to you? Will it be Gobhole and the lost congregation or will it be horrors far worse? Click here next time and so discover, my blathering quadrupedal nightmares! For the nonce, ave!


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