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 Asperitus Casting Runes... |
Great giggling gargoyles, tiny children of the idiot god! It's time to speak with you again on the matter of your wretched lives and tragic futures! It's manic March, as I am reliably informed by the presence of three knots in my handkerchief (March being the third month in case you're wondering). These are the vile and bitter prognostications that pertain thereto!
Last time, you were preparing to stage a musical entitled DISCO NUNS GO TO HALIFAX in a lunatic asylum as you secretly planned to fly to freedom on eagle's wings. That sums it up really! There's less hope for you than anyone thought and no one held out any hope to begin with. Hmm! I suppose we'd better get on with the rest of it before I lose consciousness due to ennui. Mischievous Mercury begins the farce of manic March by slipping a quick one into dark Pluto, the underworld god, before moving into perverse reverse. Thus, after all the secret financial dealings you've had, on-selling prescription pharmaceuticals, you begin to move monies to an offshore account you've set up through the elderly inmate with the Picasso complex. After all, it doesn't do for a lunatic to be seen carrying too much cash, does it! And, as jolly Jupiter invades the private parts of narcotic Neptune, you begin to advertise the services of St Cretin, psychic detective, in foreign climes so that you'll be ready to set up in business once you make good your airy escape. Vamping Venus slithers back to your loathsome sign and you assemble the cast for the musical. You dress in a peculiar fashion. You talk in that exaggerated and irritating manner (so homicidally familiar), wittering on about how everyone will be friends for life after being in your play, when they're not busy being incarcerated lunatics. And also that the experience you'll all share will be unspeakably wonderful (a musical in an asylum has its points, I suppose). Marauding Mars assails the nether regions of Uranus, the idiot god, and you increase the trade in prescription medication while carefully choosing the cast members with whom you intend to have backstage affairs. As the Full Moon comes in aggravating Virgo, bringing a Lunar Eclipse to your solar eighth house, you have safely lodged the bulk of your funds in an offshore account and begun a secret liaison with the stage manager (a sound theatrical tradition). But what's this? By my sainted aunt, it's the farting and fantastical fornication of ghastly planets, flaunting themselves on the footpaths of Heaven. Thus, you realize that, having convinced the authorities to stage the play, having assembled the cast and having arranged your escape, you now have to write the damned script! Eek! Egad! Gadzooks! And other quaint expressions to indicate a coming crisis! You've been ruling the roost as the premier lunatic in Halifax for so long, you forgot that you'll have to do something to prove your position. The great Sol Invicti clatters into addlepate Aries, visiting yet another Equinox on an over-burdened world and we find you desperately re-writing the last remaining snatches of DISCO NUNS GO TO AVALON for a change of location to Halifax. Great gods alive and dead, tiny twits! Can you do it? Or will this be another failure to add to the list of the failures you already have to your credit? But what's this? Quelle horreur! Another cosmic shock to finish the month and perhaps finish you off! The New Moon comes in odious Aries, bringing a Solar Eclipse to your house of communications! Great Caesar's ghost, my addlepate imbeciles! You've got writer's block! What will you do? As I'm feeling overcome with ennui, I'll retire with my little brown bottle and my favourite silver tube. Click here next time to see if you can recover and stake your claim to literary fame in the loony bin! Ave! | ||||
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