Toodle Pip, self-titillating twerps! I greet you in the usual disdainful manner. And, in addition to that, I bring appalling news. No ray of sunshine am I! Rather I am the gloomy cloud, presaging the fierce storm. For I am Asperitus, baffling bard, manic magus and auspex of abomination.
And on this very topic, I looked to the Heavens a little while ago to anticipate the machinations of the month to come. And, do you know what I saw? Actually, I expect you don't but I like to keep my style conversational, even though I abhor converse with lesser beings. That's you, in case you'd forgotten. Anyway, before I get distracted and wander off, let us return to the bad news. There is an aspect in the art of astrology known as the Yod or the Finger of God. It's a ghastly configuration of obscure angles and well kitted out with karma of the worst possible kind. Well, that's what I saw in the Heavens! A Yod! And, my tiny addlepates, do you know the amusing thing? The finger of god points straight at you as the month of maudlin March begins.
However, as I'm late with the forecast, it has probably already done it's worst and you'll now know what god intended. Should this happen to be so and you have understood the plan of the almighty, kindly email someone or other on the subject. A bishop or a cardinal perhaps! Or even a noted political figure! Information about the divine plan seems to be thin on the ground in this benighted universe ruled by insane gods. However, kindly leave me out of any correspondence for I lost interest in the subject altogether after the business of Moses and the tablets. It seemed to smack of an advertising campaign for pharmaceuticals. I expect we'd better get on with the vile and bitter prognostications or I'll run out of steam before I've said anything of import.
Last time, you had become a pessimist and were threatening to fall out of favour with the gods. What difference that may make is anyone's guess as they favour those they love with madness and early death according to the anecdotes on the topic. Anyway, marauding Mars slithers into snivelling Pisces and your solar fourth house so you'll probably lose your temper at home, fight with a male family member, struggle with leaky plumbing or be flooded out while having sex. As other things both tedious and ghastly occur, you decide to isolate yourself and speak to no one as the New Moon comes in cloddish Taurus. As mischievous Mercury also enters the tragic sign of the Bull, you begin muttering to yourself about the virtues of pessimism and the indignities of the world in general. You hurl objects at those who attempt to engage you in converse, a practice which I must say I admire. As marauding Mars conjoins in unseemly fashion with Uranus, the idiot god, you are inspired to seek sanctuary from this naughty world. Just being sullen, violent and depressed is no longer enough! You decide you will be a hermit from now on.
As asinine planets twitter in the sign of nitwit Gemini and the Full Moon comes in your sign, you seek a sea cave wherein you can hide yourself from the populace at large. This may be to do with some unpleasantness between dark Pluto, lord of the underworld, and lugubrious Saturn in the neurotic sign of Cancer but I haven't really given it enough thought to be sure.
But what's this? Great gods alive and dead, say not so! As mischievous Mercury enters loony Gemini while vamping Venus clashes with Pluto, the basement god (he's no bargain), you're assailed by those you sought to escape. Ex-lovers seeking redress, your friends (both of them), devotees of St Archer of the Tombs and other sundry and assorted folk as mad and as useless as you are gather at the entrance to your cave to ask what you are doing.
A fair question, my bumptious braggarts! What will you say in reply, if anything? Click here next time and we shall see. Ave, my tiny cretins! See you at high tide!