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Egad, my little airhead weenies! It's so kind of you to invite me to your Christmas party but I decided I'd rather tie myself to the bed with barbed wire and wait for an earthquake. Actually, I thought I'd get in some early practice so I have tied myself up with the Christmas tinsel. The gold, of course! It's my favourite colour.
However, it seems I've done a little too well with the knots and cannot undo them. Thus, I cannot get loose. No one responds to my screams but that's not unusual here in Heaven. We're a strange bunch, as a general rule, and we do try to leave each other alone as much as possible. As a consequence, I'm not able to get to my work station to write the vile and bitters as is my monthly custom. Still, I never liked Christmas anyway! All that piffle about a virgin birth, a manger, a donkey and the three wise men! It's that last bit that gives it away for twaddle that it is. There never have been three wise men in the world at once that I can remember!
However, do not despair! I have managed to psychically commune with an underling (ugh) and thus pass on to you a small dose of chortling, chiding and chastisement. This, I trust, will carry you through the flotsam of Yuletide madness to the jetsam of auld lang syne until you stand at the threshold of another hideous year in the endless stream of hideous years that we must endure in this benighted universe ruled by insane gods.
The first chortle is that of a Full Moon in idiot Gemini that comes on Dec 5th. No doubt your romantic fervour will blow up in your face. You may lose money gambling, spend money on someone that won't go to bed with you or have a 'mile high' bash in a jet with some friends and end up having to pay for everything without actually having sex. It may be that you just go out and lose your wallet. As marauding Mars barrels into bellicose Sagittarius the next day, an energetic male friend will help you look for it. However, he or she will talk so much that you'll leave your body and go wandering in the ether. You'll enjoy this so much that you'll join a school that teaches transcendental meditation or levitation and meet a fascinating teacher who'll fleece you for your money but will have wild or stunning sex with you. You'll then decide to become a teacher of transcendental experiences yourself, even though you can't actually do anything. It should be noted that incompetence has not stopped you from doing things in the past.
As ghastly planets fart their way into the unspeakable sign of the Goat, you will cultivate an air of mystery and talk in a circuitous yet portentous manner. No one will notice the difference between this and your normal behaviour so Christmas dinner will go quite well. At New Year's Eve, you'll make a resolution to become a spiritual teacher and impress all your idiot friends. Hail and farewell, my tiny water bearing twits!
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