Odds bodkins, airhead types! Last time we left you languishing in the garden shed, living in tragic destitution as poverty and failure had struck your life like the twin jackhammers of the god Roadgang, a minor Germanic deity of foul disposition and fouler personal habits. Those few members of the pantheon that can tolerate him describe the creature as loud, brainless and insufferable. He has a brother called Roadworks who is worse and these odious creatures are usually to be found making an unspeakable racket at an ungodly hour, if indeed they are conscious and upright. Certes, Heaven would be better for their absence for they are aspirant thunder gods and this breed is the worst of all! They seek to excel in tests of strength and the exercise of mindless brutality, placing triumph in the annual farting competition above all other prizes that come to those of us who have earned the reward of an afterlife.
Ah well! That is 'by the by'! I have actually come, after some delay, to tell you of the miserable and nasty fate that awaits you in the current month, referred to by the prophet (that's me, Asperitus) as 'jactitating July'. Prepare to have your noses rubbed in prognostication of a vile and bitter kind, my little airhead loonies! This is your Waterloo!
I will now present you with a recap on the tragic events so far. Vamping Venus wrapped her soft bits about the knobbly parts of gloomy Saturn and you will have had sex with the elderly or infirm or you will have suffered the orders of miserable or controlling partners or close associates. As you had taken medication, alcohol, intoxicants or all three at once, you will have been oblivious to almost everything that was taking place, worked obsessively on jobs you should have completed weeks ago or cleaned the house because you hadn't done so in ages. It should be noted that very little of import then occurred until mischievous Mercury moved out of perverse reverse. At this time, minor ailments you had been suffering will have begun to clear or become worse, you will have excluded dairy product from your diet or been trampled by cows, you will have settled your differences with a co-worker by poisoning their sandwiches or you will have understood most of what people said, which is always disappointing.
Following upon these ghastly events came further ghastly events, involving an odious New Moon in neurotic Cancer that saw you re-include dairy product in your diet, take a job in the cattle industry in order to punish the cows that trampled you or look for a new job because you hated the one you had previously. In addition to this litany of suffering, a further litany will have come as marauding Mars rammed the rude bit into the nether regions of cranky Chiron. You will have, at this time, attempted to move from the shed back into the house but a male member of the family will have forbidden you to do so or simply locked you out. You may have also tripped on a Swedish shovel and cut your head. As vamping Venus slipped into neurotic Virgo, you will have had illicit relations with a secret sex partner or spent money racking up mattress hours in a house of ill-repute.
As that farcical fandango brings us to the present, we shall dash to the end of this wretched and godforsaken month in record time. The great Sol Invicti rolls on his drunken way into lackwit Leo and nasty ex-partners or associates prance in your garden, making fun of your shed and laughing uproariously at the utter failure of your grand theatrical escapade, DISCO NUNS GO GENDER-BENDING. They even dress in religious costume, expose their private parts (eek) and engage in acts of flagrant lewdness, all as marauding Mars, narcotic Neptune and grim Saturn engage in cosmic lewdness of an unspeakable sort.
Shriek and double shriek, tiny turnips! How humiliating for you and yet how amusing for others! As vamping Venus moves into perverse reverse, further unpayable bills arrive. You also contract a sexual infection of a most discomforting nature and have to seek the services of a herbalist, defrocked for malpractice, as you can't afford anyone better. When the Full Moon comes in your appalling sign, you have a singularly dramatic tantrum, crying, screaming, throwing your toys and food about and generally complaining because life and people are so unfair to you.
As marauding Mars then rogers the living daylights out of grim Saturn, there is rain, hail, sleet, snow, fire or flood, shaking your tiny shed to its foundations. Nasty ex-partners and associates return and, in a most amusing jape for them, build a cattle pen about you and then fill it with empty confectionary boxes and other less pleasing detritus. You also get such a bad throat that you can't shout abuse at them so instead you sulk inside your shed, sticking pins into hastily made dolls of everyone you've ever known.
Well, my darling brainless trollops! That's about it! Not very uplifting really, but there you go! Life in a benighted universe ruled by insane gods is like that sometimes. Perhaps matters will improve in awful August or perhaps they won't. Mayhap the forward thrust of jolly Jupiter will cast a better glow upon your affairs. Click here and see, if you've a mind to! Meantime, it's farewell from me, Asperitus, a reader of cheese and ashes and master of the merry quip. Ave, my little loonies!