Prognosticatory shock, waffling loonies! It's time for your dose of the vile and bitters. This is the month of fractious February (or so I am reliably informed) and I am the doctor of doom! Asperitus! Terrible to behold! Worse to listen to! It is said by the wise that all things are illusion. I can only wish the illusion was less convincing in your case, as I am forced to look upon the ghastliness of your addlepate, airhead antics yet again this month and for the foreseeable future that stretches out before us. Ad infinitum! Ad nauseam! Oh well! How sad! Never mind!
Last time, you eschewed the cause of hummingbird liberation and the seeker's path, returning to the world of commerce, covetousness, concupiscence and cappuccino. We left you scheming and dreaming of how to make a million (or several) and gratify your ghastly appetites along the way. As jolly Jupiter is assailed by improper attentions from mischievous Mercury, the great Sol Invicti and narcotic Neptune, it seems that Prague is calling for you as you rush to the republic to manage that highly successful acrobatic troupe called the Bouncing Czechs. Much moolah to be made! Much travelling to be done! Much sex to be had with supple persons with sleek skin! Hmm! All rather gratifying as vamping Venus moves forward, dancing exotically with the crapulous lord of fortune!
But what's this? Egad! Gadzooks! And other quaint expressions to indicate surprise and alarm. It's marauding Mars, thrusting his rudest bit into the nether regions of dark Pluto, lord of the underworld. Yikes! It's your own secret and lascivious machinations that will undo you! Double yikes! But little do you know of that now! Mischievous Mercury slithers into damp and nasty Pisces and we find you at your organizing best, lying, cutting corners, scheming and strategically cultivating offers and options then playing one against the other.
By the Full Moon in lackwit Leo, the web of illusion of the two-faced Twins is woven. You're ready to roll with a world tour of the Bouncing Czechs. Money bounces into bank accounts (yours, principally) and acrobats bounce on and off the stage and in and out of beds (yours, principally). But, by my sainted aunt, as mischievous Mercury slobbers over Uranus, the idiot god, there are surprises in store for you, my tiny wittering nobodies! Marauding Mars moves into your addlepate sign and you become sexually voracious, ill-mannered and short-tempered. Should you or anyone notice the difference, kindly email someone who cares on the subject!
The great Sol Invicti clashes with the war god as he slithers into snivelling Pisces. You crack the whip on your supple charges, demanding, at the drop of a hat, disciplined performances and wild sex. Or was that the other way around? Tensions run high among this troupe of athletic persons from Prague. And, as mischievous Mercury clashes with underworld Pluto, there is dissent in the ranks, in the form of a flashing-eyed beauty of either the Venus or Adonis persuasion, depending on your proclivities and natural endowments. Anger rises.
But do other things rise as well? We shall see! And then, at an aquatic venue in New Orleans, a testing performance by the members is made more difficult by your arrogance, your sneer of cold command and your excoriating criticism of the troupe, all of which are overbearing and nasty in manner. A row blazes. Eek! Ugly scenes occur! Ugh! Threats of death are made. Aargh! Great Caesar's ghost! And all this as a New Moon comes in addictive Pisces, revealing that the deeper passions that are at work will soon erupt! Click here next time and see what ghastliness will rise from the lower depths, my gawky little airheads. For the nonce, hail and farewell!