Great wittering beeswax, my tiny seafood morsels! Last time, we left you abandoned on a desert isle. Your plane had stopped there on the pretext of repairs, but then it took off again as you were answering a call of nature (eek), leaving you behind (perhaps literally). Thus, were you ill-used by the naughtiness of staff who were acting covertly to avenge those you once slighted in business. Or was it those that you skilfully bettered them in business! It all depends on your perspective.
But the perspective for you, tiny Crab type things, is more than usually gloomy for the nonce. Master hypnotist, you may be! Mesmer the Magnificent you may have named yourself! But will the stones rise to serve you bread and meat (or fresh vegetables perhaps) when you command them to look into your eyes? I think not. Great gods alive and dead, I doubt that such will be the case at all. However, let us consult with the vile and bitter prognostications for jaded June and so discover.
Quelle horreur, my tiny twerps! The first thing we find is gruesome and ghastly beyond description. Even so, I, Asperitus, the oracle of bitter truth will essay the attempt to bring the pictures alive in vivid Technicolor, with Stereophonic sound. No! That was in the sixties, wasn't it! I must have been unconscious for longer than I thought! Oh well! How sad! Never mind! Eras come and go like television commercials from the heights of my heavenly anaesthesia.
Anyway, that wasn't what I was talking about, was it! No! Gods, I get so easily distracted. It must be my complete lack of interest in what happens to you! Anyway, as I was saying, it's rather ghastly at the beginning of the month, for marauding Mars clashes with dark Pluto, god of the underworld. Eek! How infernally combustible! And you, my wittering ninnies, go completely potty on the desert isle. You see! It's all to do with Pluto in your house of health and Mars in your house of the higher mind. Hmm! I think it's good to have a little bit of astrology each month, even if no one (myself included) actually understands it.
Anyway, you run around the place, having tantrums, weeping and wailing for your favourite bath toys (rubber ducky, steamboat and Bill the anaconda) and worrying that you're going to be here forever and will have nothing to eat! Eek! How distressing! By the time the New Moon comes, gibbering insanely in loony Gemini, you're certifiable, dancing naked at the fire, speaking in a language you've invented (largely a series of grunts, shrieks and ululations but it's quite convincing) and praying to a cluster of oddly shaped stones on the beach.
By my little brown bottle, snivelling crustaceans! Do you understand what this means? You've gone feral. You may have to be shot like a wild thing. After all, it's the duty of every civilized person to shoot every wild thing they come across, for it's only by the killing of defenceless wild things that humans know they are superior and thus ensure the future of the odious civilization they've created. Who would want to contemplate a forest when one can have an estate home, complete with a tiny kitchen and bathroom, and box-like bedrooms with built-in wardrobes and obsolescence?
Anyway (I think that's the fifth time I've begun a sentence with the word), back to the story. You're completely mad, of course! A thing that often happens to those who live under ironclad control and then find themselves in a situation without any natural constraints! Marauding Mars crashes into arrogant Aries, clashing with mischievous Mercury, now in Cancer. We thus find you raging up and down the beach as you scream abuse at your family, your parents, your tragic career path and every authority figure that has restricted or abused you.
I must say that the classic figures from the family tradition are coming in for a hammering by all the signs this month. Just read the others and see. Oh well! It must be something in the stars!
Great Caesar's ghost, what is that infernal racket? Why it's the great Sol Invicti, clattering into your neurotic sign, visiting yet another grim solstice on an over-burdened world. And then comes the Full Moon in lugubrious Capricorn, clashing with marauding Mars! Eek! Who can stand that infernal racket in the Heavens? Note the pun, please! It strikes you, in your madness, that you're entirely alone on this desert isle, and you don't have to look after anyone or put up with their nonsense! As marauding Mars clashes with jolly Jupiter, you realize you have broken the emotional bindings of the grasping, wittering, wheedling woebegones that have held you back all throughout your life.
Gadzooks, my tiny crab type things! You're free! You could be in paradise! What will you do? Well, the first thing is to find food. You sit, warming your genitalia by the fire and wondering what luscious things there are to eat on a desert isle. After all, you've read Robinson Crusoe! Wild fruits! Wild game! Delicious food from the sea perhaps! It will be just like eating those nasty relatives of yours.
But, egad! What's this? It's something right out of the blue, my little loonies! It's the movement of ghastly planets into loathsome Leo and your solar second house! What about your money! You've left it behind, at the mercy of ex-business partners, greedy relatives and anyone at all who can get their hands on it! Great gods alive and dead! This isn't paradise! It's hell! Click here next month and see how you wrestle with the demon of greed! In the meantime, hail and farewell, nitwits of the nipper!