Greetings, wretched pussy types! It's the month of devilish December and I have a truckload of vile and bitter prognostications to unload in the ample driveway that exists between your ears. Last time, we left you dressed garishly (par for the course), prancing in front of a mirror (as per usual) and practicing, in solitude, the newfound occult powers that saw you to your triumph at the bridge.
Yes, my ghastly hairdressing types! You had, under the influence of jolly Jupiter in evil Scorpio, established yourself in a new residence that you have turned to a palace of the occult as you take up the dark arts in earnest. Eek! Marauding Mars assails the private parts of jolly Jupiter, to the great delight of both, and you fortify your manse with outre spells, eldritch chants and bizarre rites that involve little clothing and a deal of unspeakable activity that will pass for magic with the lights out. The New Moon comes in addlepate Sagittarius and you decide you will speak only in this new lingua you have devised. You will write a masterwork, a grimoire entitled 'Prestidigitation For The Pussy' wherein you will encode the dark spells and even darker rites of this lingua magica that only you, the thaumaturge, can comprehend.
As mischievous Mercury moves forward, you immediately put paw to quill and quill to parchment, writing in the old way, by hand (it still has its appeal for some activities). You will become the greatest occultist that ever lived, renowned among the brainless and the blind for your magical power and your physical beauty. Indeed, you will sorcerously coiffure your mane and send the locks of any rival or indeed any fatuous individual that displeases you into ghastly disarray by conjuring a magic wind to overcome their gel and styling mousse.
But what's this? By my sainted aunt, it's cranky Chiron returning to Aquarius, sign of the idiot god. He was there in fearful February if you remember, reducing you to a wretched condition as you fell beneath the sway of the mysterious Mr Griffin, crime lord and elder beast. But now, holy terrors of the feline kingdom, you have discovered your own powers and are no longer afraid. In fact, as marauding Mars returns to forward motion with the classic sickening thrusting that scares old ladies in the streets and drives churchmen to sermonizing frenzy, you decide that you must soon return to face Mr Griffin and best him in a contest of magical powers. You must prove yourself, my mewling addlepates. The Grand Cross that takes form in the Heavens, made up of marauding Mars, jolly Jupiter, grim Saturn and narcotic Neptune, calls on you to do so. The insane gods bid and pussy bows! Yet pussy also stands tall! As mischievous Mercury moves on to silly Sagittarius, you tire of this 'joined up' writing for it's giving you an ache in the wrist.
Egad! This cannot be! You must save that wrist for more important activities (your one true love affair). Thus, you decide to make a mighty spell! Jolly Jupiter rubs his corpulence against the wrinkles of aging Saturn and you will make for yourself a mannikin, a magical scribe that will do the manual work (hmm), leaving you free to dictate as you dance, chant and swan about in outrageous dress for your occult rites. Vamping Venus slithers into idiot Aquarius, behaving improperly with cranky Chiron. Then, as a Full Moon comes in loony Gemini, we find you hard at it, my puling pussies. You cast a spell, making a creature from the quill with which you wrote. And, by all the nameless gods and hairy demons, it works! Mischievous Mercury makes improper advances to Uranus, idiot god and god of idiots, and the echoes of your unholy howling fade, the smoke clears and there before you stands a being of your creation! A slave to your will!
Gadzooks! This magic business is really rather jolly, isn't it! As the great Sol Invicti grinds his way into grim Capricorn, you set the little tike to work, wondering all the while if you've remembered to include the requisite sexual organs in order to diversify the brief of the wee one's services. Time for that later, eh! In the meantime, as marauding Mars and aging Saturn cavort in a disgusting congress of unparalleled lewdness, your mind is made up. You must return and face your benefactor and nemesis, the mysterious Mr Griffin, in a contest of the magical will. One in which you, crafty cat and 'prestidigitation' pussy, will triumph and take your rightful place in the annals of the great magicians and sorcerers such as Alistair Cowlick, Elephant Levy, Johann Fastarse and Madam Blackcatski! As vamping Venus moves into perverse reverse, you say this must be so!
So, make it so (so to speak)! As mischievous Mercury penetrates the nether regions of dark Pluto, underworld lord, and a ghastly New Moon comes in lugubrious Capricorn, you set to work to be the greatest occultist, living or dead. Will you succeed? Or will it be another round of 'gang aft aglae', my hair gel horrors! Click here next time and see. Till then, ave atque vale, my fatuous felines!