Salutations, seafood ninnies! Of course, I am late with the forecast but you of all the ghastly creatures that spin on the Zodiac Wheel should know that nothing changes. Look to the past to find true guidance, O hideous offspring born of hated maters and parlous paters!
Firstly, we shall recap on the doings done so far, maintaining the conceit that something interesting will have happened in your miserable lives. Then, with the recap done, we shall embark upon the dread voyage of the vile and bitter prognostications for jittery January, the current month if the staff in Heaven are to be believed. Reliance on Heaven is not always a sound strategy, due to the gods being insane and what have you! However, in this instance, I did give the individual concerned cheering paternal advice and a large amount of cash so we will have to trust that all is as we're told.
The month began with jolly Jupiter and cranky Chiron performing acts of lewdness and you will have been relieved of some of the stresses of work but of vast quantities of cash as well. There followed a Full Moon in your nasty sign. Doubtless, you will have given one of your nonpareil emotional performances where you sulk, chuck your rubber duckies and eat so much egg custard that you get sick in the bath. As vamping Venus then sleazed her way into Aquarius, sign of the idiot god, you will have paid for sex or simply bought a whole lot of things you didn't need. Following that the great Sol Invicti and mischievous Mercury created an eighth deadly sin, ensuring that persons intimately associated with your person will have shouted at you, performed in your presence a series of dull exercises involving flexibility of the knees or simply talked a lot.
That brings us up to date, just as cranky Chiron and vamping Venus enjoy a bit of the old conjugal. And so we find you standing on your head in a darkened room and reading aloud from the works of Eliphas Levitate because a Swedish hypno-therapist has told you it's an excellent way to manifest wealth. He certainly did pretty well out of you in the course of instruction you took and paid for handsomely so there may be some truth to it, especially if you can find someone that's as thick as you are. Oh well! There's a flaw in even the perfect plan, it seems!
Great dithering dung beetles! What is that hellish racket in the Heavens? Why, it's marauding Mars, ramming his rudest bit into the underworld of dark Pluto! Thus, you will have sex on the office desk, kill an irritating co-worker or cut your head on the nasty edge of that shelf just above the photocopier. And that little performance is followed by further cosmic madness as mischievous Mercury clatters into Aquarius, sign of the idiot god. You begin to fantasize about having sex with people in odd socks, listen to Abba Gold obsessively in the belief the lyrics hold a hidden message from Adolf Hitler about the second coming or worry even more about money. As marauding Mars crashes into lugubrious Capricorn, your loved ones and family begin to throw things at you. The projectiles are mostly pieces of cutlery and crockery, hurled in protest as you have padlocked the refrigerator in an effort to reduce the family food bill.
By my sainted aunt, it's getting rather rough for you, tiny nitwits of the nipper! As a New Moon comes in the odious sign of the Goat while the great Sol Invicti rolls into Aquarius, sign of the idiot god, you decide to reinstitute the custom of the evening meal but drug the food so you can lock your wretched relatives in their rooms at night and thus have the house to yourself. And there we leave you, sitting in the dark, muttering about the days when rum, sodomy and the lash made the empire what it was and offering your soft toys and rubber duckies money in return for sexual favours.
Ye gods and little fishes but a look into the Crustacean psyche makes grim viewing these days. As mischievous Mercury rides the aging bones and wrinkled skin of grim Saturn, a tide of dark depression sweeps across the world. As the great Sol Invicti rogers cranky Chiron from an awkward and unusual angle, your id seethes and surges with the power of a darkly furious storm, set to unleash itself into the world of your life.
But will Hurricane Crab be the making or the breaking of you? Click here next time and see if the grinding intercourse of jolly Jupiter and Uranus, the idiot god, sends you to Heaven or to Hell! Hail and farewell, my teeny-weenie crabby types!