Great bellowing bullfrogs and other assorted irritations from the world of nature! It's you, my silly Centaurs, caught in the vigorous assailment of jaundiced July, a nasty month if ever there was one.
Marauding Mars rolls and crashes into vexatious Virgo and persons in charge of almost everything yell at you or instruct you to carry out your appointed tasks. You may sell beer, health products or miniature mechanical devices. You may train small birds to perform useful acts or practice formation flying.
A New Moon in neurotic Cancer follows, urging you into passionate or illicit embraces, the study of occultism, tax fraud or the use of dairy products in sorcery. You wander the streets waving at people who know you well enough to drive past and leave you on the pavement. You get peculiar text messages from Sweden and you're inspired to write a novel about modern life. You gamble to earn money. You take work driving a beer truck and hire an elderly ex-policeman as a guard. You argue with loved ones, then cast occult spells to summon demons to punish them. You go out for a foreign meal, wearing exotic clothing and talking like a pretentious nitwit. However, as you always talk in this manner, no one will notice the difference.
You bribe minor officials to do what you ask them but you have a fiscal crisis as the Full Moon comes in gloomy Capricorn. The great Sol Invicti rolls and clatters into loathsome Leo, whereupon you begin talking in a foreign language or reciting philosophy from ancient and mysterious manuscripts. You hire armed bodyguards to protect you as you begin to become delusional about how important you are. You waffle on interminably, making a recitation from Oedipus Rex or Agamemnon, dancing dramatically and waving your voluminous garments about.
Since I have no further interest in your idiotic doings, I shall retire to my bed with a little brown bottle and that lovely silver tube they have on offer. Click here next month if you wish. Something may happen. Something may not. Ave, cretinous Centaurs!