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 Asperitus Casting Runes... |
Great farting toads, it's you my whining nincompoops! Last time, we left you naked and chained to a rock, awaiting the arrival of a flock of overweight hummingbirds that were directed by Heaven to feed on your liver. This was a punishment, inflicted by an otherworld agency for the crime of psychic parricide, committed while you resided at a monastery in a remote mountain setting. The otherworld agency, Dike, goddess of justice, and her female myrmidons, the bloody-eyed Erinnyes, had gone for a skinny 'cino, leaving you in this parlous condition. Now, despite the expressed desire of all here in Heaven that you remain there till New Year, we had best get on with this inane tale. For, you see, there may be some further travail that a benighted universe ruled by insane gods is set to inflict that we should otherwise miss.
As so we begin! Hear me and tremble, insane twits of the loquacious type! This is devilish December (or so I'm reliably informed). These are the vile and bitter prognostications that pertain thereto. Marauding Mars tears the undergarments from jolly Jupiter and has his wicked way, to the great merriment of both these profligates. And yet there's little merriment for you, tiny lunatics. For your health is suffering more than somewhat from this wicked exposure. And, by all the gods, what's worse is that the chains are bereft of the fluffy pink bands you prefer at wrist and ankle so the chafing is something chronic, to say the least! As the New Moon comes instanter in silly Sagittarius, a stranger arrives to inform you the hummingbirds have been delayed, as they're so overweight they can't get off the ground and will have to do two weeks at the gym on the Atkins' diet. Gosh, verbose wee things! Another fortnight and there'll be nothing left of you to speak of! Hmm! We'll let that one pass without further remark. Mischievous Mercury moves forward in Scorpio and you complain bitterly about your condition and rail venomously against the gods. But what's this? By my sainted aunt, it's cranky Chiron! He's returning to Aquarius, sign of the idiot god! Was it not this very ingress that set your eccentric journey in motion when, last time, in the monastery, you were swayed by the monks and their espousal of the cause of silkworms and what have you? Of course it was! So what great new passion will fill your currently transfixed person as the wounded one dances insanely in the sign of the lunatic god? Well, I'll tell you. As marauding Mars finally moves forward once again, all your rage, accumulated for some time through these indignities, bursts forth on behalf of hummingbirds and the ill-treatment they've received at Heaven's behest. You rail further against the insane gods! Then, as the busy messenger returns to addlepate Sagittarius, you speak on behalf of all hummingbirds everywhere as you protest to the screaming winds, not your oppression but theirs. Egad! What an eccentric story line! And, as if that's not enough, vamping Venus then clambers across the nether regions of Aquarius and the storm subsides. Travellers begin to pass by in boats, small planes and even hang-gliders. They treat you at first as a kind of tourist attraction but soon your diatribe in defence of hummingbirds takes their attention. By the time a Full Moon blazes in your lunatic sign (which incidentally rules 'small birds'), you've set off quite a hum in the cosmos. There's much talk against the gods and their insane ways and none of it is favorable. But, by my little brown bottle, what's this? Great gods alive and dead, it's a stunning development! The newly svelte hummingbirds now arrive in flocks. But, instead of attempting to feed on your liver as the gods have instructed, they free you from your chains. Ye gods and little fishes! How bizarre! There are, of course, aspects of an astrological nature to explain these remarkable events but I'm too excited to recount them. I haven't had so much fun since I ordered a pie and a painless extraction at the Fleet Street establishment of one Sweeney Todd in 1642. Or was it 1723? Anyway, as the great Sol Invicti grinds his way into lugubrious Capricorn, visiting another grim solstice on an over-burdened world, you plot and scheme in a devilish manner, setting yourself for revenge on Heaven with you as the 'fury'. Marauding Mars ravishes the corpus of aging Saturn and you write in blood an oath of vengeance on the gods. Mischievous Mercury makes illicit congress with narcotic Neptune and you disguise yourself as a one-eyed wanderer, travelling the world and spreading the gospel of disdain for the insane gods. Vamping Venus moves into perverse reverse and you set aside all friendships, apart from that of a hummingbird from the rescuing flock that is your sole companion. A constant irritation at your left ear is a small price to pay for comradeship with a creature you have come to love. Mischievous Mercury writhes gruesomely in the nether realms of Pluto, dark lord of the underworld, and the servants of the gods set out to hunt you down, renegade that you are for eluding their punishment. Come a New Moon in the ghastly sign of the Goat, we find you, disguised, wandering, talking to a hummingbird and hatching secret plots to unseat the gods from the throne of Heaven. Will you succeed in this fell purpose? Will anybody notice if the gods are unseated for reasons other than insobriety? And how long can you put up with that irritating hum without losing your mind? These questions, and others equally tedious, may or may not be answered if you click here next time. Ave atque vale, my teeny tiny twits! | ||||
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