Tally ho and yoicks, my little goatish types! Welcome to the month of offensive October! Last time we left you, you were riding a llama off into the sunset in the wilds of Tibet. And, though this llama is a quadruped and hirsute, he is also the spiritual teacher to whom you are bound after the conclusion of your miserable affairs in the land of olives, Ouzo and Olympiads, sunny Greece. There it was that the tragic climax to the tale of Dorian Goat seemed to cut you to the quick.
Why you took this so hard, it's difficult to say. Your sign is by nature depressing, given that you are ruled by lugubrious Saturn. Thus, tragic outcomes are your stock in trade. And, everything that happens in Greece comes to a tragic end anyway. It is the nature of the Greeks, given that they invented said dramatic form and constantly blame everyone from the Persians to Alexander the Great for the decline of their pitiful empire. This consisted largely, it must be said, of marble edifices, recalcitrant elderly philosophers with disgusting personal habits and stoic soldiers given to unpleasant sexual practices.
However, enough historical insouciance! Let us turn instead to the vile and bitter prognostications as they pertain to the coming round of tragedy in your misbegotten lives. As marauding Mars clashes with idiot Uranus, we find you astride your llama, with little sense of direction and impatient for a beam of spiritual awakening to throw light on the so far elusive purpose of your meaningless existence. As vamping Venus enters anal Virgo, you wander the wild hill country in intense but gloomy discourse with this hirsute quadruped.
The fact that your interrogations are returned by nothing other than a series of hideously discolored expectorations seems not to diminish your desire for converse. Thus, it could be argued that you are talking to yourself. This of course is the time-honoured custom of the crazed that, in my case, guarantees the best conversation to be had but, sadly, in yours, leaves the educated person shuddering at the prospect. Vamping Venus clashes with idiot Uranus and the llama carries you along past wayfarers, peasants, brigands and a variety of ill-dressed nondescripts. This truly is a mysterious pilgrimage you're on.
But what's this! Great gods alive and dead, your llama turns from this road to an even wilder one, disobeying your very clear instructions on the matter of direction. Heedless, the quadruped gallops ever forward into the wild and rocky outposts of the very wasteland itself. The New Moon comes in loathsome Libra, bringing a Solar Eclipse to your house of profession and authority. And so you come to the too too dreadful realization that you are no longer in control.
Egad! Yikes and double yikes! Eek! And so on! Mischievous Mercury then moves to gloomy Scorpio and your beast turns its hairy head towards you and speaks aloud. In your own tongue! By my little brown bottle! You're distressed, distracted and entirely disconcerted by this startling occurrence. How can this be? Was some intoxicant placed secretly in the selection of sugar free cordials you purchased for the trip? Are you delirious from a mysterious foreign virus that has invaded your person?
'Nay!' (or words to that effect) says this quadruped companion and spiritual teacher. As the great Sol Invicti enters grim Scorpio and mischievous Mercury clashes with nasty Neptune, your llama speaks to you severely, a manner which you readily take in as it is your own. You are to be conveyed to a meeting of the high council of llamas, the governing body that is the true ruler of the world, though entirely secret in its operations. All the affairs of humankind are actually governed by the decisions of a group of hirsute quadrupeds with a penchant for ill-tempered expectoration! Ye gods and little fishes, can this be true! It seems more than reasonable to me. After all, this is a benighted universe ruled by insane gods.
The Full Moon comes in cloddish Taurus, bringing a Lunar Eclipse to your solar fifth house. Your teacher says that you must abstain from all earthly pleasure and the making of money until such time as you have attended the high council of the llamas and been instructed by them as to your spiritual mission. You object but your teacher tells you that all is in the contract that you signed at the outset. 'Read it and spit', says the beast. This is apparently on old llama saying. Vamping Venus grinds her lustful thighs into decadent Libra but you are headed for an unhappy Halloween, my little goatish tragedies! Click here next time to see what havoc the ghosties, ghouls, goblins and, of course, llamas are prepared to wreak upon your depressing person. Ta! Ta!