Cheerio, necrotic tragedies! No greater proof could there be of the insane gods that rule this benighted universe than the living (if such it can be called) presence of your execrable sign. For who but an insane god would place the waste disposal pipe (one function of your unspeakable selves) in the midst of the main recreation area (another aspect of your unbearable persons). Thus is it proven beyond doubt that god is a civil engineer, falling prey to the venality of brown envelopes and back-handers like any minion in a corrupt bureaucracy.
Enough badinage! Let us now depart the sweet land of such pleasantries and hie us to the wasteland of the vile and bitter prognostications, wherein seethe the acrid juices that are the draught of doleful December. Of course they are late! But then I overslept and do not care a fig that you were deprived of the ineffable wisdom of my sublime irritation at the crucial moment. I have spent many lifetimes missing crucial moments and regret nothing. Non, je ne regrette rien! Ah, the efflations of the sparrow in the early morn! Last time we left you amid the kind of transformational crisis for which your sign is legend. You had cast out the pernicious spirit that possessed you but only at the cost of your career as a life coach. Ah well, one less of these odious types in the world might be regarded as a boon. And, in addition to that, due to the eccentric performance you delivered in this public and, indeed, global act of exorcism, you were signed to appear in THE EXORCIST XVII. Thus, tiny arachnids, you become an overnight sensation, though a film has not yet been made.
This is all due to the ghastly and unseemly meeting of marauding Mars, vamping Venus and nasty Neptune, giving you that certain something everyone in the film world witters on about incessantly. The idiot New Moon comes in addlepate Sagittarius and money is discussed in vast and disgusting quantities as you're flown to a secret location in Japan, for the film is to have a oriental element to it, a popular thing in this faddish day and age. 'Son of Satan meets the Seven Samurai' will be the subtitle. As vamping Venus clashes with unspeakable Uranus, the whole shoot is over in a flash, as the substance (if such it can be called) of this masterwork is to be the digital effects.
Suffice it to say that, as mischievous Mercury goes forward, you are wealthy beyond your wildest dreams and, by the Solstice, when the great Sol Invicti moves to gloomy Capricorn, you have formed a production company to capitalize on the success you are just about to have. You employ underlings to compose a suitable life story and thus publish an autobiography. You make and release a dvd of your favourite exercise programs, whips, chains and erotic postures with selected sex slaves included. You have the soundtrack for this composed by an infamous rap artist and call yourself a 'gangsta' movie star.
The Full Moon comes in neurotic Cancer as the Lunar Nodes infest your solar twelfth and sixth houses and you contemplate what career move to make now. Inspiration strikes! Great gods alive and dead, you have it! Your next film will be a remake of the German classic, THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI. Egad, little arachnid misfits! You will play the legendary mesmerist and become a megastar as, on screen you will hypnotize helpless victims to exploit them in the time-honoured sexual and pecuniary senses to, of course, gain control of their immortal souls. Will it not be sublime to be paid for doing what you love and do naturally? Click here next month and see the heights of stardom to which you can rise and the depths of depravity to which you can sink, given the money and the opportunity. Ta! Ta! Auld lang syne, little arachnids! I never forget an old acquaintance.