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    Go Back  The Irksome Journeys of November 2003    Go Forward
    Salutations, my tiny and miserable crustaceans! Last month we left you with everything you have at risk at the racetrack as you and a new Russian lover seek to escape the gathering tide of financial disaster that looms on your horizon. What are the odds, little nitwit seafood items? With jolly Jupiter in your solar third house you may win! But with lugubrious Saturn in your sign, failure and depression seem imminent! What are the odds, you ask? Then I ask you, what are the odds that the prognostications for nasty November will be vile and bitter? It's odds on, little crab type things!

    So, let us proceed! Unseemly are the planetary frolics! Odious are the cosmic aspects as the Heavens spew forth their loathsome offerings upon a wretched human species. Of course the outsider you've backed doesn't come home and all your money is lost, and thus your cause seems to be lost too. However, a benighted universe ruled by insane gods works in mysterious ways.

    You fling the Russian occultist from your side and throw yourself to the ground to have a decent tantrum. But then the mobile rings. It's your partners in crime from the railway you own. There's a takeover bid being engineered (that's a railway joke) by an American corporation and they want to know if you will accept one million US for your shares. You adopt the mask of politeness and control for which your sign is legend in any social interaction and agree forthwith.

    You sell the cleaning company, pay your debts, grease a few palms to let you off your community service and flee to the coast of a far distant land for a sea change, leaving behind the addicted Russian occultist. You install yourself at a pleasure resort, but soon find that it's costing too much money so you rent a little cottage by the sea, hire a housekeeper of handsome (although foreign) appearance and settle in to enjoy the local life and cuisine.

    Of course, an affair begins. Come the New Moon and a solar eclipse in idiot Sagittarius, you adopt an exotic style of dress and begin to learn the local language, though all the strange guttural sounds are unfamiliar to your xenophobic tongue. You find your housekeeper is actually a member of a voodoo cult. After discovering that no harm to animals is involved since they're vegetarians and use 'I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT CHICKEN' for their sacrifices, you ask if you can attend a ceremony.

    As mischievous Mercury conjoins with underworld Pluto and Lady Moon, you're swept away to a land of trance by music and drumming the like of which you've never heard before. As marauding Mars clashes with underworld Pluto, you're invited by the high priest to carry out a bizarre ritual involving mock chicken drumsticks and lettuce leaves soaked in tomato sauce.

    However, as Venus the goddess moves into lugubrious Capricorn and your solar seventh house, you find this was actually a marriage ceremony and you're not only conjugally joined to the housekeeper but also engaged to the high priest as well, since the cult is both polygamous and bisexual. Those who are joined beneath the lettuce leaf shall not be put asunder, little crab type neurotics!

    So what will you do? Summon the tempest and head for full fathom five or open wide Prospero's Books and dig deeper into the mysteries of 'I BELIEVE IT'S NOT CHICKEN'? Click here next month and see!

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