What ho, my addlepate bovines! Last time we left you amid parlous climes and devastation, passing into the land of nod, overcome by the ennui, futility and essential meaninglessness of it all. Though, at the last, we promised a miracle to save you, largely because you're incapable of saving yourself. As promised so delivered, for the vile and bitter prognostications for manic March do so ordain it.
Attend to me, loathsome loonies! It is I! Asperitus! Doctor of doom! Terrible to behold and worse to listen to! Prepare to imbibe the cup of fortune that will at first be sweet but then, in the end, turn bitter in the mouth, as all things do. Eek! Wormwood!
The month begins with mischievous Mercury moving into perverse reverse as the disgusting creature slips a quick one into dark Pluto, underworld god. Thus friends, vagabonds, psychics and poets, all of whom owe you money or favours from your cloddish efforts on their behalf on a past occasion or in a past life, return to pay the debt. Thus, you awaken from your necrotic slumber to find that, amid the ruins of this strange and ghostly Bullish Manse (the wreckage of a dream), you are surrounded by persons from the past bringing redress to itchy palms and shattered sensibilities.
Eek! They're giving you money, my dull-witted loons! And, being a materialistic boofhead, you accept! Gadzooks! Soon the coffers overflow as, one by one, old associates make peace by paying what is owed! And, not only that but also the return of effort for effort, as this rag tag and bobtail collection of penitents sets to work with willing hands to repair the ruin. The ring of hammer on nail and stone makes a symphony with the slicing of saw through planks every bit as bright as you are. You race hither and yon, directing traffic in the grand manner, shouting orders to your cheerful workers. Of course, there is ghastly astrological flatulence to account for the sickening display of willingness. However, it is too nauseating to recount it and I have no interest whatever in doing so. Buy a book and look it up for all I care!
Suffice it to say that at the Full Moon in aggravating Virgo, the work is done and you step back to view a dream realized. Gadzooks! Egad! Eek! And other quaint expressions to indicate surprise and alarm. It's also a Lunar Eclipse in your solar fifth house as Saturn sulks in perverse reverse in your solar fourth house! The Bullish Manse you see bears no resemblance to the dream you planned now that you have stepped back. Great clattering planets fart and fornicate fantastically in the effluvium of a fatuous cosmos! It is a very nightmare of insobriety! A crazy house! A bedlam of a building!
The Great Sol Invicti is taken by the chill, icy grip of the loony lunar luminary to make the New Moon in addlepate Aries, one that brings an eclipse to your solar twelfth house! And, by my sainted aunt, what a dreadful place it is! The twelfth house! Filled with dock-workers, insane psychics, silly saints, thieves, drunkards, drug-takers, profligates and liars! Rife with suffering! Dank with deception! It's almost like Heaven, without the dock-workers, of course, though a few of the more lascivious deities bring those in on a Friday night.
Anyway, back to the tale! You look again and rub your boofhead eyes, aghast at what you see! Bullish Manse from one perspective resembles a boot! Eek! From another, it seems to be a skull! Great tempestuous termagants, little bovine idiots! Are you going to be the old woman who lived in the shoe? Or are you doomed to live in your own head for the rest of your days! Now there's a new definition of terminal boredom! You look about you but the friends returning funds and favours are gone! And what favour have they done you? Made you a laughing stock! Click here next time for another chortle at your expense. And, for the nonce, my tiny nincompoops, ave!
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