What ho, ghastly goatish types! Let us waste no time with the blither and the blather of the specious greeting. Let us instead draw the draught to fill the dread cup and then get set to drink it down! Tremble in your unnerving underpants, my nasty hircine loonies! I am Asperitus, the maudlin madman and miserable mendicant! And these are the vile and bitter prognostications, insofar as they pertain to jaded June. Up, up and away!
Or is it in fact the exact opposite of that! By all the gods alive and dead, it well may be! It certes is a fiery start as a ghastly Full Moon flares unreasonably in silly Sagittarius and your solar twelfth house! Heavens to Betsy! Now that is a hideous realm of heartache and sorrow, driven by addiction and populated by frauds, fortune-tellers, liars and drunken longshoremen! No one in their right mind would roam in this wretched place! Yet that is where we begin!
Remember that last time we left you musing upon the idea of killing everyone that annoyed you, which was essentially everyone. Now, as we pick up your tragic tale, we catch you in an act of impropriety, 'borrowing' your neighbour's foreign lawnmower or your foreign neighbour's lawnmower (tick whichever is applicable). In either case, this act is more popularly known as 'theft' and generally leads to dissent and litigation. Either that or you will be in a nasty vehicular contretemps or you will hurl your computer or mobile phone over a considerable distance, your techno-rage being incited by a primary malfunction known as 'operator error'. One way or another, you will end with a lot of people shouting at you (some of them foreign), the threat of litigation, the loss of friends (both of them) and a monstrous bill for damages.
As vamping Venus rolls lustfully into lackwit Leo, you go out and purchase sex in order to relieve your frustrations but you're spotted leaving the house of ill-repute by a talkative employee with a grudge against you, right on the moment when the great Sol Invicti has his disgusting way with Uranus, the dribbling idiot god. As you tend to favour ancient and afflicted things, you then hire an elderly hitman with a limp to dispose of this troublesome underling, inspired by the gruesome groping of Mars and Saturn in each other's private areas. However, as narcotic Neptune is involved as well in this concupiscent configuration, the afflicted creature takes the dosh and does a bunk.
A New Moon comes in ghastly Gemini (eek) so you promote the underling as a bribe, even moving the creature to a new office. Of course there is the small matter of exposed wiring and dangerous machinery installed therein. Typically, the creature is not in the slightest grateful or acquiescent and, as mischievous Mercury moves into perverse reverse in slimy Cancer, begins to spread rumours about you. These sticky strands run through the office and all the way back to your odious family, so they start giving you an earful as well, just as the great Sol Invicti rolls drunkenly into that selfsame sign of seafood (Cancer), visiting another hideous Solstice on an overburdened world.
Great gods alive and dead! How much does a goatish type have to bear! Not a great deal more it seems. For then it is that marauding Mars rolls into cloddish Taurus as the Loony Nodes conspire with backwards cycling Mercury to have a quickie behind the cosmic arras. You conceive a grand and daring scheme to take revenge upon all those that annoy you. You decide to take up war games as recreational pursuit, purchasing a tank and fitting it for the road, spending all you can squeeze from your wheezing bank accounts, just as grim Saturn gropes narcotic Neptune.
As a second Full Moon comes in your ghastly sign while mischievous Mercury clings in unseemly fashion to the nether portions of the great Sol Invicti, you write a hit list and then load up to pay a visit to every ungrateful family member, relation and ex-lover that has ever named you for the miserable, stingy old goatish bugger that you are. You polish your shell casings, determined to show them what misery truly is!
Odds bodkins, little bearded things with nasty hoofs! This is all getting a bit serious! What odious eructation of hircine feeling is set to ruin yet another dingy day in a benighted universe ruled by insane gods? Click here next time and see. In the meantime, hail and farewell, my tiny goatish tragedies!
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