Ho to you, fatuous air sign types! We left you last time involved in your dream world and waking world with lilac chiffon, nail files, a camp of cult followers and a morbid Swedish philosopher named Nhils Carborundum. You had delivered a landmark lecture in which your gloomy guru fell asleep, leaving you in a state of anxious chagrin. On his awakening, what will transpire? Let us consult the vile and bitter prognostications for jaded June and so discover.
As I'm late with the forecast, I'll catch you up with the recent events. Mischievous Mercury slathers about in slimy Cancer and you wonder about your financial situation and how you will cope if all you earn goes to the cult. Marauding Mars clatters through loathsome Leo and you clatter about angrily as the enigmatic cult leader wakes from his sleep and departs your seminar as if completely unconcerned. And then, as vamping Venus gropes grim Saturn, you're shunned by master and followers until it feels as if you're an outcast among the ranks you've so recently joined.
But what's this? Why, it's the great Sol Invicti, performing disgusting congress with Uranus, the idiot god. Thus, you instantly decide to leave Camp Carborundum and abandon the philosophies of the inscrutable Nhils. After all, you never liked Sweden anyway. What with all that snow and Abba and blondes by the gross and that dreadful flag! You drag yourself back to business and the city by means of an ex-lover that's still pining for you so it's easy to take advantage. By the Full Moon in loony Sagittarius, you end up at the birthday party of a foreign and highly successful associate where, with mischievous Mercury sleazing around Uranus, the idiot god, you worm your way into a high-paying job. Vamping Venus exposes her private parts to narcotic Neptune and you set about a series of office affairs and see what business information there is to be stolen and on-sold. However, you instanter fall foul of the magnate that employed you and are demoted to driving about town, doing deliveries and conveying passengers. This comes as marauding Mars clambers upon the aging bones of grim Saturn for the purposes of evil sexual congress. As a consequence, you end by dealing with many elderly, infirm and irascible folk.
A roaring and a clattering erupts in the Heavens as the great Sol Invicti rolls into neurotic Cancer, visiting another Solstice on an overburdened world. You hack into the computerized ticketing system to see if you can start a shaving scam with the bus fares. And, as the Loony Nodes forsake the signs of Aries and Libra, moving to Pisces (ugh) and Virgo (double ugh), you move out of the premises with your pining ex-lover, claiming that you're only going out to dinner with associates. However, you don't return as you then enter into a new relationship with someone as agile and perverted as yourself. How wonderful for you both, wearing bright and garish clothes and talking all the time!
A New Moon comes in neurotic Cancer and the shaving scam proves successful so there's plenty of money about. But what's this? Ye gods and little fishes, Mercury the messenger creaks and groans into lackwit Leo, set for a reverse motion cycle!
What can this mean, my tiny turnips? Is it all about to go horribly wrong? Will there be back pain, misunderstandings with artists and arguments about Rome or Bombay or the South of France in public places? Will elderly strangers at bus stops speak to you in a manner or a language that you cannot understand? And, worst of all, will your nefarious activities be found out?
The principles of abrasion that you have now abandoned might say so but you'll have to click here next time to discover the dread and ghastly fate that awaits you. In the meantime, hail and farewell, my two-faced twerps!