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 Asperitus Casting Runes... |
Salutations, two-faced ninnies! We left you last time amidst a contretemps of Bouncing Czechs and an explosive assortment of sexual and financial acrobatics! What does the future hold for you this time?
We shall consult the vile and bitter prognostications for manic March and so discover. It all begins abominably, my darling twerps, and is set to end in a worse manner. Thus there will be much cosmic chortling at your ghastly fate, that's if there's anyone other than myself awake here in Heaven to take notice. They're all drunk, you see! As usual! And I sit here, talking as I write to my favourite owl, a lime green one that perches on the end of my bed. I want to train him to loosen the restraining straps but our relationship has not yet progressed that far. Anyway! Enough merry digression! On with the blood and guts of your 'god awful' destiny! Mischievous Mercury slips a quick one into dark Pluto, lord of the underworld, then moves into perverse reverse. Thus, do your circumstances move from the simmering tension to incandescence, as soldiers and other military personages burst into the quarters where you and the Bouncing Czechs are holed up. It seems the dark-eyed beauty with whom you so recently exchanged words and fierce looks is a suspected spy! Great farting camels and steaming piles of dung, my little nincompoops! Instanter, you're carried off to headquarters! Eek! Whereupon you're deep in the effluvium of espionage, being interrogated nine ways up from Sunday, though some 'sexual torture' methods employed by the uniformed rogues send a rather pleasant shiver up your spine. You make mental notes for future reference, then get back to the pretense of agony. You're passed from one set of hands to another in entertaining fashion, ending in the clutch of foreign folk as vamping Venus slithers into Aquarius, sign of the idiot god. They appear to be Swedish (though you are in fact a prisoner in New Orleans). They try to get you to confess to the crime of espionage, torturing you by reading from lengthy dull books in a foreign tongue. By the time they're up to volume twenty-two of the letters of Nhils Carborundum, the Swedish mystic who invented sandpaper, the nail file or rindless cheese or some other unspeakable gewgaw the Swedes find fascinating, you're ready to confess to anything! From the crimes of Jack the Ripper to the destruction of Maldek, you'll hold up your hand as long as they stop! You even ask to be returned to the sexual torture chamber! But they're too savvy to fall for that one! Drat! And jolly Jupiter is, all this while, hovering in grim Scorpio, just begging for sharp instruments and a little morbid fear! Ah well! Another time! Anyway, as it's a Full Moon in aggravating Virgo, bringing a Lunar Eclipse to your solar fourth house, you're taken to a small cell and left there. And, just as you think you'll expire from boredom or ennui (in solitary), you find you have to share this cell with a laser light image of said philosopher, Nhils Carborundum. In a cyber world all his own, he preaches his favourite sermon on the uselessness and meaninglessness of all human endeavour (a point on which we agree), a doctrine known as 'the rasp of futility' so it may after all have been the nail file he invented. And thus it is you crack, tiny two-faced twits, ranting, raving, screaming and twittering about the place like a demented bird in a less than gilded cage. Ghastly planets fart in nasty aspect and you're turned into a lunatic by means of this ceaseless Swedish droning. If there is any ostensible difference between this and your usual behaviour, do email someone who cares on the topic. In the end, you fall insensate to the floor. But what's this? By my sainted aunt! It's another set of nasty aspects made by another set of ghastly planets! And this time, the great Sol Invicti grinds his way into addlepate Aries, visiting yet another Equinox on the world. Ye gods and little fishes! Is there not enough suffering already in this benighted universe ruled by insane gods? It appears not! Oh well! How sad! Never mind! And thus, as a New Moon comes in the addlepate sign of the Ram, bringing a Solar Eclipse to the house of your idiotic friends, hopes and wishes, you twitch, froth and tremble in the prone position. Eek! You rise from your somnolent posture! Egad! You open eyes filled with evangelical light that is like unto the light (dare I say it) of Swedish steel! Yes, my clueless clots! The worst has befallen you! You're brainwashed! A devotee of Nhils Carborundum and a convert to his teachings! Nothing will abrade you nor wear you away! Gadzooks! What will happen now, my agile little lovelies? Click here next time and see! In the meantime, hail and farewell! |
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