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    Aries | Soul Connection | Relationships | Runes | Zodiac


    Click for Last Month  The Fearsome Follies of February 2006  Click for Next Month
    Aries Greetings, tiny flatulent lunatics! Last time we left, you were writing, and not in block letters! Eek! That's almost mystical, my darling ovines! You were composing, in your best cursive, a damning diatribe of Ram against the world, slaying with your mighty pen each and every individual that has ever done you wrong in an hilarious (in your own view) autobiographical satire you are set to publish and be damned! After so long in your Brown Study, (a fancy title for seething in isolation because you can't get what you want) you have taken the scribe's revenge by assassinating the characters of all the major players in your life!

    As you have none of your own (character), this could be taken as anything from peevishness to hunting fair game, as your friends have no character either (for obvious reasons). Along with your lack of character goes a lack of funds for jolly Jupiter clashes with mischievous Mercury and narcotic Neptune and your waning fortunes threaten grimly. But, as vamping Venus slips jolly Jupiter a quick one while moving forward, you borrow money from a friend or a bank error favours you, tiding you over for the nonce. Marauding Mars returns to his retrograde point and you re-read the manuscript, editing and rewriting to increase the verbal (or is that verbose) fury of the thwarted Ram. Jolly Jupiter makes lewd congress with the great Sol Invicti and narcotic Neptune and the just Ram rages in the wilds, as the spectre of ruin creeps ever closer.

    Now, it seems you're to be sued by those that purchased the SHAG-RI-LA SHOUT, an idiot's guide to the Karma Sutra, due to the ensuing back problems they've suffered. Eek! Creditors gather at your door, looking determined upon redress. However, as you're set to ferry the completed work to the publishers (you have to do this manually as the power's been cut off), they collide head-on with the hell bent Ram. Never a wise thing to do! By my sainted aunt, it's not!

    Marauding Mars grapples with dark Pluto, the underworld god, and there's an altercation in your portico that leaves creditors strewn about the place and winded, as the Ram flashes through, making good an escape. By the Full Moon in lackwit Leo, the precious diatribe is in the hands of publishers that are low and mean enough to foist this garbled vituperation on a book-buying public with more money than sense. With mischievous Mercury in tear-stained Pisces and improperly involved with Uranus, idiot god, you roam around, raving like a lunatic, anxious as to how the book will be reviewed and fantasizing about dismal failure or unparalleled success.

    But what's this? By all the gods, marauding Mars enters addlepate Gemini and the book hits the streets and is reviewed, dividing the public with its controversial 'tell all' bitterness and predictably simplistic style. Some think it readable tripe while others think it unreadable tripe. Those mentioned in the book, that we shall now call ex-friends (or enemies), even purchase multiple copes so that when they meet you, they can hit you with one or at least hurl it in your direction. As the great Sol Invicti slithers into tearful Pisces, you slope away from such altercations, lurking in dark alleys or doorways, as you were wont to do in the days of less salubrious occupational pursuits. However, as mischievous Mercury clashes with dark Pluto, money from sales pours in. In no time at all, the book is posted on the web and there are a multitude of sites devoted to listing the more piquant features of the character assassinations you have performed with a bitter pen.

    Nothing sells so well as the troubles of another, eh little ovines! Your fortune is made again but you must live in seclusion, protected by thick walls to muffle the shouting and blows of projectile books, hurled by the enraged. As the New Moon comes in snivelling Pisces, you buy a castle with a moat, pull up the drawbridge and retreat to the dungeon where you research your next book, a work on mediaeval torture.

    Rack them up, little ovines! For, after this fiasco, you may have no friends at all, other than the Iron Maiden. Click here next time to see how this new relationship progresses. Ave atque vale!

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