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Hola, O desolate abominations of minuscule proportion! Greetings and welcome to jittery January. Last time, we left you on a wave of success. Your new musical 'HAIRRRRRR' was curdling the kilts of Scots folk with its eccentric and daring mix of crass commercialism and fatuous superficiality, with just a touch of the spices of inappropriate cultural cross-fertilization and misplaced parochialism. Such a combination will generally ensure success with the greatest numbers to the eternal bewilderment of persons of taste whose only general merit is to be entirely absent from the situation and indeed the planet in this day and age.
Let us now consult with the oracle. Myself! Asperitus, piffling prophet, baffling bard and scathing soothsayer! From such a consultation will spew forth the vile and bitter prognostications for the coming month. I can guarantee that! Success resounds in your ears as proceedings begin with naughty planets rutting in silly Sagittarius. And yet, my tiny inflatable things, somehow it rings hollow in your ears as first vamping Venus then mischievous Mercury and finally the New Moon frolic in the depressing sign of the Goat and your solar twelfth house.
Eek! What a ghastly place of misery and failure it is! It's little wonder that no one in astrology likes it! And from the moment of entry to this misbegotten realm, you feel jaded. You speak languidly. Fatigue has you in its grip and your health (in particular your knees) declines as the great Sol Invicti sets his cap to clash with miserable Saturn while the lugubrious one wrestles with Pluto, dark lord of the underworld.
Great Caesar's ghost, little airheads! You're going into decline and heading for the slough of despond! What can you do? 'Nothing!' cry the gods of misery and despair, blind drunk as usual and ruling a benighted universe insanely. The great Sol Invicti conjoins with cranky Chiron and clashes with the Lunar Nodes and you feel as if you have no friend other than the misery in your aching knees. Perhaps that's two friends! One for the left knee and one for the right! That's an improvement!
But what's this! Great gods alive and dead, it cannot be! But it is! The great Sol Invicti enters your lunatic sign. Gadzooks, it's your birthday, my little airheads! Hurrah!
All of a sudden, you feel better. Then, some old friends arrive in a jet they've hired (with your credit card) to spirit you away to a party in the snow-capped mountains of Austria after which you'll head to the most decadent café in Vienna to have coffee and cake. Things are looking up, by George!
Come a Full Moon in loathsome Leo, one friend suggests you renew your old liaison on the spot and so join the mile high club. Bravo! You like the sound of that, all right! And then another friend suggests the same thing! Then another! Then another! Till an orgy such as has not been seen since the days of Rome or Babylon is rocking in the stratosphere.
Great gods alive and dead, my teeny tiny things! You thought you were depressed but now this has turned out to be another gorgeous day in your gorgeous life with all your gorgeous friends! Set the controls for the heart of Vienna and make that cappuccino a double shot! You're every bit the fool you seem to be and you're going to make the most of foolishness that any fool has ever made!
Gods, I'm feeling unwell. I'll have to stop, as this unmitigated happiness is making me nauseous. Medic! Bring my brown bottle and my silver tube! Click here next time and I will restore you to the irritating path of horror you and all your kind so richly deserve!
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