Ave, O nasty rulers of the anus! I must say that, as usual, it's tragedy and betrayal that brings us together. Tragic circumstances have struck and I must betray the trust I have in presenting the monthly dose of vile and bitter prognostications. You see, I went out in search of a tree to decorate the house for Yule and decided on a thirty-metre pine, as I don't incline to the ostentatious. But I began to worry whether the strand of lights I have would be sufficient. Thus, I purchased a further hundred metres, as I'm fond of Christmas lights and spend a great deal of time, watching them go on and off as I wait for someone to come with a present. No one ever comes, of course, so I've taught myself to enjoy the wait, as perforce one must. I then began to worry that I would have insufficient tinsel, especially of the gold type I particularly like. Thus, I purchased extra metres of gold but then began to worry that I wouldn't have enough Christmas balls and that would never do.
It was at this time that a stunning realization struck amidst the throng and maelstrom of Christmas shoppers. I hate Christmas! No one buys me gifts and I return the favour. The only cards I get are hate mail from my family. In addition, turkey is dry and stringy and gives me indigestion and I can tell you the whole business of the manger, the stable and the Christmas story is codswallop. Bethlehem's a dump, the shepherds smelled and only one wise man was present. I know this, as it was me that came. The other two were thick and not well educated anyway. I was told they were waylaid on the road from Damascus, a tricky trail for the unwary.
Anyway, that's enough of that! I was talking about my tragedy. It was as I experienced this realization about my feelings for Christmas that I was seized. It wasn't a religious experience. It was the store detective, wanting to check the signature on my credit card. He didn't believe I was Attila the Hun. They're keeping me here until the nurses from Heaven come to take me home. But, for the nonce, I unable to do my usual round of vile and bitters. However, I have managed to commune psychically with a minion (ugh). Thus, I will pass on through the ether a little chortling, chiding and chastisement to guide you through diabolical December to the threshold of 2007 which, incidentally, will be yet another nasty and despicable year to add to the collection. My oracle on the matter will be available at the appropriate time.
In the meantime, Dec 5th brings a Full Moon in nitwit Gemini so every secret sexual and financial liaison that you're involved in will be revealed in an email accident of hellish proportion. Thus angry spouses and accountants will come and hit you on the head with blunt instruments of foreign make in order to exact revenge for your unwarranted intrusions into their private affairs. This latter phenomenon is due to the incursion of marauding Mars to silly Sagittarius. Dirty dealings and secret discussions then follow until you work out a plan to resolve your difficulty at the New Moon, also in the silly sign of the Centaur. Of course, the plan involves killing everyone that annoys you. Ah me! Some things never change! Of course, with ghastly planets farting their way into grim and morbid Capricorn, you continue to do business as normal and start a beauty salon in the hope that you can attract your enemies as clients and poison them by spiking the face cream. No doubt you'll find someone to take advantage of at Christmas and then blaze your way into the New Year on the back of a juicy international financial conspiracy.
Ave, tiny tikes and devoted servants of the death god! See you anon!
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