Hooray to you, my pompous persons of the posterior persuasion! I find I am in something of a quandary. To begin with, the forecast is late. However, that troubles me not a jot as nothing seems worth getting out of bed for these days. Then, there is the matter of your fatuous doings and generally wretched lives!
In nasty November, you were making a bloodcurdling epic avant-garde movie in the gloomy Swedish style. However, in diabolical December, you were busy publishing your autobiography in Castilian and incurring the wrath of the people of Aragon. There was much honking and yelling in the streets, issuing from the vehicles of foreign persons. Much of it was nasty and threatening to your person. Thus, you will have sought advice as to the proper position to take on this wrathful incursion. You will have found that the proper position is under your bed, hiding behind a highly-coloured valance till it all goes away.
And there's the quandary, my gratuitous blots on the landscape of life! Why don't we just leave you there, quivering like a jelly! Well, we can't, you see! That's the rub! And the reason is that you have a vast array of ghastly planets in Aquarius, sign of the idiot god, an assortment that's set to increase to a flood, a veritable plague, a conflagration of creeping and odious eccentricities, all in the coming month! And we wouldn't want to miss that. Though, of course, if truth be told, much of the month is gone.
As a consequence, we shall first recap the vile and bitter past (the prognosticated) and then we shall essay the future (the prognostications). Hear me now, my cream-faced loons! It is I, Asperitus! Terrible to behold and worse to listen to! The ghastly month began with the obscene congress of jolly Jupiter and cranky Chiron (in Aquarius). Thus, you had sex in peculiar positions, exchanged sexual favours for invitations to parties attended by the famous and talked affectedly in the course of such soirees as were contaminated by your ghastly presence.
As a Full Moon came in nasty, wet Cancer, persons in positions of authority shouted at you, complained about your dress sense or your eating habits and railed at your family for having you, a complaint that has crossed many a mind since the inception of the Zodiac. However, as vamping Venus then flaunted her private parts whilst entering the idiot sign of Aquarius (another one!), you attended more parties, fell in and out of love several times, conducted yourself like a complete fool and dressed more alarmingly than usual.
As mischievous Mercury and the great Sol Invicti performed in lewd congruence, your parents called you, complaining about your lack of career achievement and lamenting the fact that they had you in the first place. They also informed you that they had changed the locks on the family home and given away your antique valances and underpants to a passing lunatic who was immediately arrested for possession of obscenely ugly items. As you were considering the idea of driving around there to give them a piece of your mind (a thing you can ill afford), a further band of Aragorn toughs drove by your home. They threw, with unerring accuracy, an explosive device into your silk-lined mail box, just as marauding Mars rammed his rude bit into the underworld of dark Pluto. Mischievous Mercury entered idiot Aquarius (another one!) and you shouted after them in a hideous hybrid of big words and eccentric obscenities and resolved there and then to write a film about the triumph of Castile and the fall of Aragon.
That brings us up to date so we will continue with the vile and bitters. Marauding Mars batters his way into the hideous sign of the hircine (goat) and you purchase a firearm from an antique-dealer friend so you can protect the sanctity of home and valance. However, the ghastly weapon turns out to be an antique blunderbuss with a welded barrel. Still, you deem it sufficiently terrifying in appearance to be waved about should the miscreant Castilians return. A New Moon comes in lugubrious Capricorn and we see you marching up and down the battlements, wearing an outlandish costume and bearing arms whilst whistling the national anthem in operatic fashion. You have even donned your most martial merkin for the occasion.
As the great Sol Invicti clatters into Aquarius, sign of the idiot god, passers-by take you for an actor and believe they are watching a performance of some kind. They first titter appreciatively, then laugh aloud at what they believe are your comic antics. Soon a crowd is gathered. As jolly Jupiter impales Uranus, the idiot god, on the prong of his trident, they wildly applaud your performance, hailing the emergence of a new genius of the comedic arts. As vamping Venus flaunts herself in tragic Pisces while Mercury clashes with gloomy Saturn, you take your bow, wondering if you should warm to this display of fervour or be offended because you were taking yourself seriously.
Weigh it up on the scales, my posturing posteriors! Will this be the swan song of chagrin or the prologue of promise to a new dramatic chapter in your life? Click here next time and see, my timeless nobodies! Ave!
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