Asperitus Casting Runes...
|
- Welcome to you, my little goatish miseries! You have fallen under the sway of a holy man in a foreign land. While he has rescued you from the clutches of a deadly assassin, what price will he exact for his efforts on your behalf? And will you still be able to fulfill your destiny in Greece and then be apprenticed to a hairy quadruped in the mountains of Tibet as I predicted in my annual forecast? And if you do, will anyone in their right mind actually care? Of course the answer to that question could well be read in the last six words. If you do run across anyone in their right mind in this benighted universe ruled by insane gods, do email and let me know. We haven't had a decent laugh here in Heaven since the Greek boys, Icarus and Daedalus, formed an extreme sports company called MELTING WAX.
Well, I should get on with the vile and bitter prognostications for fearful February, otherwise there'll be no reason for you to continue to read this piffle. Cranky Chiron and mischievous Mercury meet in your sign while vamping Venus clashes with underworld Pluto so you have a profound religious experience and babble in tongues. But, the Full Moon comes in fatuous Leo and your holy man slaps you into wakefulness, demands that you give up reality television, make a large donation to his temple and then return home to sort out all the problems you've been having with grasping relatives and vengeful ex-partners.
As vamping Venus moves into Aries to test out miserable Saturn, you're on the plane home, a great deal poorer, having emailed your accountant to sell the TV production house. This is the effect holy men generally have on ignorant materialists such as yourselves. It never lasts. Thus you arrive back at the family manse, making a determined effort (marauding Mars and miserable Saturn) to sort all the problems with whining in-laws. As usual, they ask for money (mischievous Mercury and nasty Neptune) and promise that, on receipt of it, they will let bygones be bygones. Of course this invariably proves to be a lie.
Come the New Moon in wretched Pisces, conjoined with idiot Uranus, you're so jaded with this stifling process that you fall into a frenzy and deliver an inspired tirade about forgiveness. You wax lyrical, little goatish types! You call upon the deity, the virgin and all the blessed saints. You extol the virtues of the spiritual life and speak with a seemingly genuine interest in the path of compassion.
Great gods alive and dead, little prancing goatish things! You could be a holy one, yourself! Is this your great epiphany come home to roost like a spiritual fowl? Gods, I'm exhausted! And bored! Click here next month and see if I have recovered sufficiently to continue this unmitigated drivel.
| |
