Asperitus Casting Runes...
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Tally ho and yoicks, little airhead imbeciles! Greetings! Welcome to morbid March and the vile and bitter prognostications thereof. Last month I asked what had you done to offend the gods so that every step you take is dogged by the hounds of hell! This month I say, what have you not done? Oh well! We'll leave it at that as I'm bored with the whole idea! Let's just carry on as usual.
Vamping Venus moves into Taurus and your solar twelfth house while marauding Mars still rampages there. Thus do your fevers rage but the standard of care has improved and you no longer believe you've been abducted by aliens. Tragic really when one thinks, but only to be expected if a proper sense of life in a benighted universe and its various accompanying dooms is maintained. You're here for the duration, little air sign ninnies and there's nothing that can be done but track your tortuous path.
And so we do! A lunatic Full Moon comes in the odious sign of Virgo, as mischievous Mercury and jolly Jupiter swan about in that affected way they have. The bevy of medical persons hovering at your bedside thus diagnose you're not really sick at all. The problem, they decide, is that you're emotionally unbalanced and psychologically unwell. It seems rather odd they required all that costly education to come to a conclusion the rest of us have drawn years ago. But there you are! They put the whole thing down to poor toilet training and the tragic loss of a small animal when young. Mischievous Mercury clashes with underworld and we find that you break into racking sobs, confirming this recent diagnosis in the minds of those observing you.
However, the truth is you've just used your mobile phone (in even a febrile state some skills never desert you) and found you're going broke, as your retreat centre and the 'I SPY' business quickly go down the plumbing without your deft hand there to guide them. Once you add the medical bills to that, things are looking grim, my little airhead lunatics. In fact, as lugubrious Saturn moves forward, you discover you're bankrupt.
Mischievous Mercury enters arrogant Aries and you plan yet another fiscal escape act. The great Sol Invicti clashes with underworld Pluto and you fake a breakdown so the medical experts will become lost in self-congratulation. Mischievous Mercury clashes with lugubrious Saturn and you appear to fall into a deep depression. But, as vamping Venus clashes with nasty Neptune, you arise in the dead of night, seduce one of the office staff and, during the course of the contortions, hack into the hospital's computer system (one-handed, of course) and erase all the records of your presence.
Come a New Moon and the Equinox in idiot Aries, you plan to flee the country for the far climes and begin again. Marauding Mars moves into your sign and you're off! Paris here we come, you cry! Now, what was that I predicted about unsavoury activities in the Rue de Nitwit! It's all about to come true, little air sign farts! We'll 'parlez vous' next month!
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