Greetings, brainless children of belligerence! Welcome to the month of awful August! And doubly welcome to the vile and bitter prognostications thereof! What’s that I hear you say? When will this travail end? When O when will the Ram be free to gambol in the fields of selfish endeavour (the fields of Elysium for you, my little ovine planks) once more, without thought for the needs or comfort of others? And what say I? I say, trouble not deaf Heaven with your bootless cries! Though we can’t be that deaf as I can actually hear you! Speaking of which, I must increase my prescription strength. Anyway, to return to the point! Heaven is deaf (for the most part)! Your cries are, thus, bootless! So you’d better thank god for the suffering and get on with it.
And so we do! Mischievous Mercury clashes with idiot Uranus and you’re stunned and amazed at the proposal that’s been put! Will you join a revolutionary band and fulfill the mythic archetype that is yours by right of first place on the wheel of animals (that’s the Zodiac, little nitwits)? The warrior child of Mars! Jolly Jupiter wrestles with underworld Pluto and you dither, worry and wonder about the great issues of life and belief in that same witless way that you do everything else!
The great Sol Invicti clashes with nasty Neptune and you have visions, everything from being the triumphant hero of the fierce struggle (hooray) to the abject failure of a miserable defeat (eek). Your radical pals await your reply, muttering in guttural tones that give rise to a great deal of alarm and despondency within your ovine heart. Vamping Venus enters neurotic Cancer and you blurt out that you’ll give them an answer shortly, abruptly excuse yourself and run home to hide. You’re too terrified to continue your street theatre antics.
Then, as marauding Mars moves to anal Virgo, you clean your home and do useful tasks in a manner uncharacteristic of your general line of behaviour which is to bully others into doing the boring useful things or do them so badly that someone more competent has to take over. Mischievous Mercury turns retrograde in the same nitwit sign of Virgo and you begin talking to yourself and applying for mail order craft courses of various sorts.
By my little brown bottle, is this you, little things of the stinking woolly fleece? Cowering at home when you ought to be in the streets, hitting small persons with your iron fists and running over larger ones in your shiny red car! And, come the New Moon in loathsome Leo, you decide to do just that! You get out there and make your presence felt!
Marauding Mars conjoins with mischievous Mercury and both clash with idiot Uranus. The dancing prophet of doom is on the loose. You terrify the public with a robust display that hospitalizes several children, two grandmothers and three-legged dog. Or is that three grandmothers and a two-legged dog? Great gods alive and dead, if you can find anyone who cares, please report it to the authorities!
Money tainted with fear pours into your bucket and, with a rebel yell, you find these radicals and declare yourself to be on the side of insurrection! You arrange to meet in a week to form secret plans for the overthrow of something or other in a place somewhere or other (you never bother with details). In the meantime, the great Sol Invicti enters Virgo and mischievous Mercury moves back to Leo and we find you exercising, honing your body into a veritable killing machine in preparation for the bloody struggle ahead (whatever it may be).
The great Sol Invicti clashes with idiot Uranus as the Moon waxes towards an unseemly display of fullness in the wretched sign of the Fishes. Thus, you arrive at the secret meeting only to discover these muttering foreign folk are the real thing! Great gods alive and dead, they’re expecting you to expose yourself (so far so good) to danger (yikes and double yikes). You may bleed! You may suffer injuries to the head! You may be ridiculed and insulted by terrible enemies! We can’t have that! We can’t have you taking risks with your esteemed personage, otherwise you may not live to tell the tale (sigh).
Thus, as vamping Venus conjoins with lugubrious Saturn, you run off again and flee to your home, hiding under the bed in order to ensure you don’t get into further trouble. Will anybody find you? Will anybody look? Click here next month and see!