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    Go Back  The Sublime Irritations of February 2005  Go Forward
    Tally ho and yoicks, odiferous ram type things! We left you last month on a wave of success, though with a cautionary note, it must be said. You were popular. You were thought to be wise. Those two by themselves are flights in the face of nature that leave the rest of us aghast. But not only that, you were also rich, successful and about to take up residence in Arcadia, a rustic paradise where you will live with your lover and your sheep, teaching the wisdom of Ovinity for the rest of your days. Sounds too good to be true, my rambunctious little woebegones? But remember the old adage. If it sounds too good to be true then it is.

    Attend me now, tiny things of fleece and stinky hoofs! For I shall hereby prognosticate in a manner that is unprecedented in the annals of the ancient art of prognostication. Prepare for a black dose of the vile and bitters, coming to a fleece near you! It's fearful February, you see! And that's just the beginning of the trouble. As we have come to expect, ghastly planets cavort in nasty aspect as the month begins. And the nastiness is in fatuous Aquarius and your solar eleventh house, that of friends (ha), hopes (it's all you have) and wishes (sex, food and being first). Thus you arrive in paradise. And, as marauding Mars moves to the lugubrious sign of the Goat and your solar tenth house, you run about the place, bossing everyone around and getting their backs up because of your bluster and bullying. Even your sheep begin to go off you. And, dear little Rams, it's all because you get so enthusiastic that you forget other people aren't simply an extension of your own desires. This is known in the trade as a 'fatal flaw', as we shall come to see.

    Sadly, come the New Moon in idiot Aquarius, you find yourself alone in Arcadia. Your lover has gone away on business (Jupiter retrograde). Business of yours, incidentally, but it's still selfish and thoughtless to leave you alone, isn't it. The staff have all resigned and the other Arcadian denizens lock themselves in their houses to get away from your bossiness and insistence on everyone doing everything your way. Your sheep are in a really bad mood with you and have gone to graze in distant pastures where your red Ferrari cannot go. Despite your supposed embrace of the outdoor life, you hate walking and thus refuse to go and speak with them. For a while, you drive furiously from hill to hill, shouting inanities into the air and seeing if you can beat the echo coming back. Sadly, you can't, though you will not relinquish the firm conviction that it's only a matter of timing.

    You get bored and stop doing that. As mischievous Mercury then moves to tear-stained Pisces, you begin talking to yourself in a whining, miserable voice. You complain about everything and even argue with yourself. You give orders to imaginary people, get angry when they don't obey you and go and complain to other imaginary people, whose inability to listen only makes you more furious. That's when the real trouble starts with cosmic farting and general mayhem from the insane gods! Cranky Chiron crashes and bangs his way into odious Aquarius and your solar eleventh house.

    Ye gods and little fishes! Yet another planet in that loathsome sign! You begin to look about you with deep suspicion. Everyone is trying to get at you and criticize you and stop you from doing what you want to do. Well, you'll show them, won't you! You decide there and then to be a hermit and never have anything to do with anyone who doesn't appreciate you for what you are (we all do that). However, as the Full Moon comes in anal Virgo, you realize you are all alone and are actually a hermit and don't really like it and really want someone to talk to, so you cry a lot and then go looking for your sheep.

    As vamping Venus enters snivelling Pisces, we find you romping in the hills with Rosy and Pepper (two of your sheep) whilst looking for Mummy and Daddy (two more of your sheep, we note with a faint but growing sense of concern). We leave you sitting on a hilltop in Arcadia, telling Rosy and Pepper that you are neither as mad nor as bad as everybody says. If only you could find Mummy and Daddy to ask them. They'd help! Perhaps it should be Freudian February for you, my tiny twerps of the ovine persuasion. But, after all, lugubrious Saturn is retrograde in Cancer and your solar fourth house. Perhaps you'll need to plumb the depths of your insufferable psyche! It should take of all twenty seconds to reach the bottom of what you have. How long it will take to make sense of it is another matter altogether. Farewell, tiny nitwits! See you in manic March!

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