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    Go Back  The Jittery Journeys of November 2004  Go Forward
    What ho, buttocks types! How is everything in loony land this month? Great Heavens! Don't answer me, you fools! The question is rhetorical and is not intended to convey the slightest interest in your sordid affairs (that's a Venus joke).

    Last month, you donned the cloak of knowledge and set off to the nearest town to preach of the revival of the merkin which, if memory serves aright, is a pubic wig, a fashion accessory you wore concealed beneath the folds of the impressive raiment mentioned before. These events took place under the guidance of a semi-mystical being you encountered on the roadside, a creature apparently involved in the fashion trade. And, of course, we cannot discount the help given by your own inner lunatic, a power the wise among us regularly meet in the dramas of your life when, sadly, there are no firearms in our possession.

    Enough of that! Let us trade no more in niceties, my sad and tragic ninnies! Let us instead essay the journey into the vile and bitter prognostications for naughty November. Vamping Venus conjoins in unseemly fashion with jolly Jupiter and you prance and cavort in an affected manner as you enter the market place of the first tiny steaming town on the road. Mischievous Mercury moves to idiot Sagittarius and you address the busy crowd on the matter of reviving the merkin, speaking in the exaggerated fashion that causes folk to want to strike you as you open your mouth.

    A raft of ghastly planets erupts in nasty aspect and you are manhandled, thrown to the ground (very roughly), have your money stolen and are finally dragged away to face the local magistrate for causing a public nuisance. During the course of these tragic events, shots are fired in the direction of your merkin by local poachers who mistake this tiny hirsute thing for a rodent. Fortunately, while the dignity of the house is in disarray, the family crest suffers no actual harm. As sober Saturn moves into retrograde phase at this point, the magistrate proves to be profoundly deaf and thus hears none of the magnificent defence you channel inspirationally on your behalf. A sentence of community service where some small remuneration may be set aside so you can purchase garb more appropriate to a public street is the outcome of these litigations. Great gods alive and dead, the indignity of it all! Must tragedy stalk you all your days like a rude caitiff in pursuit of the ideal of beauty?

    Ah, it must be so for, come the New Moon in gloomy Scorpio with marauding Mars also in that wretched sign, your find yourself working for a living. Quelle horreur! By my little brown bottle, there you are, little loonies, tending to the needs of homeless children with behavioural problems (vamping Venus square to cranky Chiron) and elderly and incontinent retired public servants (vamping Venus square to miserable Saturn). All seems lost until mischievous Mercury conjoins with underworld Pluto and your solar third house and a news item brings to the eyes of the world the unseemly altercation in the market place. A humorous magazine story thus exposes the spreading cloak of knowledge and the almost feral merkin that seems to cleave to your crotch in a fetching, 'honeymoon' manner, the very crown of a regal farce where ruffians, police and your own prone self are the actors in a televised embarrassment.

    But, what's this? Before you can say 'pubic wig', the great Sol Invicti moves to nitwit Sagittarius and this item is repeated on all the channels of this global village and you become the hero of the day. Hooray! Not only that, my airhead tragedies, the merkin catches a ride on the roller-coaster of public taste and, soon, everyone wants one of their own. Vamping Venus moves to Scorpio and fashion houses offer you money to create a trademark merkin to be sold with your personal brand upon it. You accept the highest bid immediately and are whisked away from community service to the houses of the rich and powerful where you are lauded in the fashion you truly believe that you deserve.

    Great gods alive and dead, my little nitwits! You're the name on everybody's crotch! The great Sol Invicti clashes with idiot Uranus, bringing a Full Moon in loathsome Gemini and the 'merkin' is the matter of the hour. Vamping Venus and marauding Mars rut in the gutters of Heaven, thumbing their noses at nasty Neptune and the 'merkin' craze spreads like wildfire. Pop Stars and actors wear merkins to award ceremonies. Egad! Celebrities everywhere vie to have their merkins styled by famous hairdressers. Shriek! Members of the public are mugged in the streets for their merkins.

    Great Heavens, little Scales tragedies! This has the earmarks of great success! Is it an empire with you playing Lord or Lady Merkin as you fulfill your spiritual mission? Or will there be another, more tragic outcome? Click here next month and see.

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