Shriek and double shriek, teeny weenie hairdressing types! I have been roused from my slumber by the press and crush of dastardly doings at work in the Heavens. They are set, at this very moment, to unleash themselves like bolts from the blue into the failing corpus of your frightful little life. I must use my mighty powers of prognostication, vile and bitter though they be, to warn you of the coming doom, as did the soothsayers of old.
Pin back your wayward ears, my tiny things of hair gel and styling mousse! I unleash the wild winds of change, so long pent up in a ravening, destructive cosmos that is the plaything of a gaggle of insane gods! Eek! How scarifying!
You've been having an odd time, haven't you, my whining little ninnies. Over these last months, you descended into the black pit of underworld horror where, after initial problems with your bowels and bladder, you found yourself to be quite at home, hobnobbing with ruffians, crime lords, low types and also an asexual creature that provides a constant source of sexual gratification. And, not only that, but you have also become famous for designing a popular neckwear fashion item.
While this is only a cover for the nefarious doings of Mr Griffin, your mentor in the world of crime, it seems to have brought you fame, well beyond the measure of your ability. And, as a consequence, you now have a double identity. By night you are Pussy Mabusé, evil crime lord, and by day you are Pussy Bow, maker of pussy's bow, the 'must have' fashion item of the moment. You appear on chat shows and give advice on how to dress and style hair. Great gods alive and dead! I knew this was to be a year of unspeakable vileness but even I, Asperitus, the oracle of bitter truth, did not see the level of wretchedness to which this benighted world would sink. Oh well!
You see, it's to do with Jupiter, isn't it? Yes, I thought you'd agree. With the jolly giant in Libra and your solar third house, the general public will simply see one side of you, Pussy Bow! Smiling, successful and charming in an effete and witless manner. However, the charming side conceals a dark side. That's Pussy Mabusé, the inner criminal that's come to light as Uranus, the idiot god, orbits eccentrically in your solar eighth house, a place of sex, betrayal and nefarious doings. A great place to have affairs, pay for sex, poison relatives or steal other people's money! But you see, that's the problem! Neither of them is really you, my addlepate vanities! The 'real' you is trapped in your solar twelfth house (eek), bearing the burden of miserable Saturn in neurotic Cancer. Thus, the 'real' you hides away, crushed by the weight of life's accumulated suffering, pain and ruthless indignities, oppressed by memories of ghastly parents and hated family occasions, too tremulous and sensitive to come out. We must thank the insane gods for their small mercies!
Anyway, as jaded June is begun, I suppose I'd better get on with it! The vile and bitter prognosticating, that is! Marauding Mars clashes with Pluto, underworld god, and you're literally split into two, as we just discussed. Were you paying attention, puling pussy types? I should hope so! Vamping Venus enters neurotic Cancer and your secret identity flourishes beneath the mask of successful Pussy Bow! Jolly Jupiter moves forward and your celebrity grows with each passing day, an idol to the countless smelly millions that constitute the brainless, tasteless public. And then comes the New Moon, gibbering insanely in loony Gemini.
Mr Griffin comes to visit. By now you manage these interviews without ablutionary emergencies. He suggests it's time for a new design that will, yet again, be a cover for his nefarious activities. He seems to have a lot of the latter, but then what crime lord doesn't! Hmm! He suggests something in the footwear line. Mischievous Mercury moves into Cancer and your solar twelfth house and you are lost in thought. Vamping Venus clashes with jolly Jupiter and you dress in an even more exaggerated fashion than usual, in a desperate search for inspiration. Hideous clattering begins in the Heavens as marauding Mars crashes into odious Aries. You stride around, stamping and losing your temper because you can't think of anything wonderful to wear on the pedal extremities. You stamp more loudly and find your feet are quite sore. And then it strikes you as the great Sol Invicti grinds into neurotic Cancer, visiting another grim solstice on an over-burdened world! You'll wear thicker boots and stamp more loudly than ever before, but without hurt to your feet!
A Full Moon comes in lugubrious Capricorn and you rush feverishly to the workshop to work. Marauding Mars clashes with jolly Jupiter and you emerge with a pair of MIGHTY BOOTS in your hand. With these clodhoppers you can stride across the land, expressing contemptuous impatience, kicking aside stones and small animals, and conquering the countryside with a true contempt for nature!
Yes, my wittering ninnies! You've invented mighty boots! No more the gentile pussy's bow for you! Though your boots are iridescent pink and silver lamé! Eek! How ghastly! As nasty planets crash into your odious sign, you stride down the hall to Mr Griffin, to show him your latest triumph.
But what's this? It's grim Saturn, knocking at the door of your solar first house, demanding entry to your sign. It's time to pay the piper, my frightful little twerps! Will there be only more pain for the 'real' you as the masks of good and evil are torn away by the crush and press of dastardly events in the Heavens. I'm not entirely sure, you know! Click here next time and see. In the meantime, hail and farewell!