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 Asperitus Casting Runes... |
Greetings, O rulers of the anus! Last month you stood at the brink of a war with Heaven, an ill-starred venture if history is anything to go by. But, before we begin to address the shenanigans to come, I must first apologize for the lateness of the hour. The truth is that I overslept at the end of nasty November, due to eclipses and other such cosmic injustices and indignities, too many of which are heaped upon us as we walk in a benighted world ruled by insane gods. And a naughty world it is!
However, I shall fill you in on what you've missed. I hope it's of interest to you, for it has no interest whatsoever for me, but then nothing does. By my little brown bottle, that's a depressing statement! But it's perfectly phrased and as true as anything in insane society ought to be! Mischievous Mercury rolled into irritating Capricorn and your solar third house so you doubtless went around complaining to all and sundry about how vexed you were with the almighty. Either that or you simply wandered about with that sour but impenetrable look you have, the one that makes normal people walk the other way when they see you coming. Vamping Venus then clashed with lugubrious Saturn, causing you to enter churches, temples and houses of worship and commit improper acts in the sight of the various incumbent spiritual authorities and worshippers there present. The content of these acts was so far beyond the pale of acceptable behaviour that it is not fit for a sensitive person, such as myself, to describe them here. Suffice it to say that many members of various flocks lost faith on the moment by witnessing horrors so unspeakable that, to this day, none can speak about them. In effect, little scorpion nightmares, you had become a living weapon of despair and thus struck the first blow in your war with Heaven. To follow this, we had the odious Full Moon in idiot Gemini and your solar eighth house, where acts of gross moral turpitude and sexual impropriety (a speciality for which your sign is legend) brought you to the point of physical and financial exhaustion. Planets now begin to cavort in an unseemly manner (the great Sol Invicti, underworld Pluto and jolly Jupiter to name but three). You begin to solicit funds from friends (ha!) and associates for the campaign you're about to launch, a campaign so secret you haven't even thought of it yet. You do the soliciting by the usual means, veiled threats, direct threats and measuring them for body bags whilst humming a lively air in an unconcerned manner. As usual, the strategy is successful, as there is a tendency for the larger part of the human race to lack courage when faced with mortality. Marauding Mars batters his way into belligerent Aries and your solar sixth house and you set to work feverishly, as you now have the funds required. Mischievous Mercury turns retrograde and your thoughts turn inward and, as you hatch your secret plans, you adopt a mysterious and forbidding countenance, causing lesser folk to tremble at the knees or faint. Vamping Venus enters Aquarius so you retreat into your domestic lair, absorbed in these fearsome contemplations, but also abduct a bright-eyed stranger from the streets (a traveller from Sweden) and manacle this unfortunate to the bedroom wall for occasional bouts of torture and sexual relief. Everything in its place, my darling little insectoids! The great Sol Invicti enters Capricorn, bringing a New Moon in that miserable sign and you set to work. And what is this great new strategy of yours in the war with Heaven? Why, little travesties of the orifice! It's writing tracts against the gods in Heaven, a pamphleteering campaign to unseat the heavenly host and cause them to fall from human favour! By this brilliant stratagem you will bring down the gods, for it's a well-known fact that pamphlets are an efficacious means of social and spiritual reform. Do the littered streets not testify to their effectiveness, along with the vastly improved condition of human kind since the invention of the printing press? Thank the gods for Mister Gutenburg! Now, on with the story! You put all notions of the festive season aside (they're religious based, are they not) and throw yourself into work. Of course, there's a minor hitch as mischievous Mercury clashes with marauding Mars and the police come inquiring about a missing Swedish tourist. However, you're skill with gags is as good as ever and you had the forethought to have a false wall put in the bedroom so the trouble's over before it began. But suddenly things change above and so they change below! The wheel of Heaven turns and deeper thoughts possess you and sudden inspiration fills the insectoid brain! Idiot Uranus returns to tear-stained Pisces and you begin to feel a creative exploration may be more effective than the mere cant of a revolutionary tract! Why not a novel, a vast and moving work that dismisses god from the minds of men and women with its sheer compelling power and beauty? You could call it THUS SPAKE THE SCORPION or THE DEATH OF GOD! You could be a genuine post-modernist cynic and be popular at parties! You might receive a literary grant or even the Booker Prize. Retrograde Mercury re-enters silly Sagittarius and marauding Mars clashes with lugubrious Saturn and you revise your plans and then sit down to write a masterpiece! By my little brown bottle, I need to rest now! Click here next month for more drivel in the manner of that which you've just read! Farewell!  |
