Salutations, my ghastly bovines! Last time, you were drawn into a cretinous labyrinth by spirit folk whose activities and abstruse purposes I cannot now be bothered to recount. Should you wish to discover what they were, read last month's forecast and do not trouble my august personage with your tedious enquiries. There, in the stygian gloom, you dealt to the shades of your mater and pater and vanquished the Minotaur, without the fripperies employed by the hero Theseus, as you required neither the aid of Aphrodite nor a white thread to escape, though your favourite T-shirt did unravel in the shenanigans.
However, as the legendary beast proved to be only an aspect of your inner self, I am uncertain the victory can be described as meritorious or mythic. With parental banishing and bestial slaughter accomplished, you smashed your way out of this stygian underworld and into the light of day in a manner described as typically bovine by those who witnessed it. There, under the auspices of grim Saturn in lackwit Leo and with the fury of marauding Mars in your sign, you set yourself to build a mighty home upon the land you love. Thus will you ensconce yourself in mightiness, liberated from the ghosts and demons that have haunted you, reclining amid pillars of grandeur.
We begin the tale of Bullish Manse! Will the prognostications favour your efforts in awful August? Or will they be vile and bitter, as is the custom? Read on, my tiny bullish types and so discover!
Mischievous Mercury clashes with narcotic Neptune and you are possessed by grandiose visions of the manse you will erect. As cranky Chiron accelerates backward into gloomy Capricorn and your solar ninth house, you decide it will be a pagan palace to honour old gods and old ways. Neither piddling water features nor silly squirts will you have! Nay! All shall be in the grand manner with this new erection and there shall be rites of unparalleled depravity conducted in the grounds and upon a monstrous altar stone that you yourself will carve. There will be pre-eminent pillars, captivating columns, mountainous fountains and idolatrous idols, all hewn from stone. Marauding Mars, the psychotic war god, has filled you with desire for things of substance and fiscal value.
At the New Moon in lackwit Leo, you are immersed in frenzied discussion on the relative merits of the Doric and Ionic with architects, effectual, effete and emphatic. As the great Sol Invicti grapples in unseemly fashion with narcotic Neptune, your vision expands from 'palace' to 'castle', equipped with all the Mediaeval accoutrements! Yea, verily! We know how you love accoutrements! As dark Pluto, god of the underworld, gropes vamping Venus, you lay your plans (and several architects too), so fierce is your urgency.
Had you the wit to notice it, tiny bullish twerps, you would have seen jolly Jupiter in dalliance with the loony South Node, auguring dire consequences that, no doubt, have accrued in the karmic ledgers from some ghastly life you lived in a distant past. They're set to unleash themselves on the prideful and the possessive! Eek! That's you! But, as usual, you're too blind to notice even those most unsubtle of patterns writ by a benighted universe, ruled by insane gods. Instead, the plans that were laid are rent asunder as you debate the dimensions of turrets, moats and mullions with your bevy of architects and builders, in a fandango of fighting, fornication, firing and re-hiring, all conducted with alarming alacrity as retrograde Mercury clashes with marauding Mars.
However, as vamping Venus enters Libra and the perverse messenger moves forward once again, things slow to a sedate pace that brings a gracious agreement on contentious matters, even that of the mullion or vertical member, as it is known to architects. The Full Moon blazes in idiot Aquarius and your plans are laid again, as is one of your favourites among the builders, with the great Sol Invicti now moved to your house of romance.
But what's this? By my little brown bottle, it's the farting of ghastly planets as they cavort in nasty aspect! That's what it is! Marauding Mars grinds against the body of narcotic Neptune and we find you stripped to the waist and high on the scaffold, as pickaxes pierce the earth and hammers pound on stone. Erection is begun. But will its magnificence satisfy your appetite for grandeur? Click here next time and see. In the meantime, ave!
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