Ho to you, odious bovines! We left you last time on the cross of suffering, set to undergo a shamanic transformation through an ancient and arcane pain rite such as was known to those that knew wisdom once upon a time. If such a tactic has the slightest likelihood of success, we shall read it in the vile and bitter prognostications for malodorous May. Let us consult them without delay!
Vamping Venus swans into Aries and your solar twelfth house, this latter being a ghastly place of misery, deception, poetry, psychics, self-undoing and drugs (even the worst of places has one redeeming feature). Thus are you, cruciform, filled with a fiery compassion for your fellow beings! Filled as if a wave from the heavenly oceans has just crashed on the obdurate shores of your mind and broken down the sea wall! Eek! That's certainly spiritual! It may be called a revelation or an epiphany. And, as jolly Jupiter molests the great Sol Invicti, you recall the teachings you've received from those you've encountered that were wiser than you (another way of saying 'everyone you've met'). Phrases resonant with pithy wisdom and wit come to mind. Phrases such as 'what are you like' 'sod off, thick-o' and 'please stop eating so noisily' gave you the grounding needed to build your home and become the spiritual leader of the sacred order of Bovine Boofheads. The fact that your home looks like an old boot and the members of your order are all as obtuse as you are (or worse) seems lost on you as you contemplate the great foundations laid by this past learning.
Mischievous Mercury clatters into your cloddish sign and you hold forth about the lessons you've learned from the total failure of your efforts and endeavours. As there is a grand trine by ghastly planets in the odious water signs (how aqueous), people gather at the foot of the cross and listen to what you have to say. In fact, as a Full Moon comes in morbid Scorpio, there's an absolute eruption of fervour in the gathering rank of admirers. Marauding Mars grips the weakening thighs of narcotic Neptune and persons offer you food, fluid, sex and travel vouchers if you will only keep this liquid flow of wisdom issuing from your bovine lips. By my sainted aunt, what's this? It's a thing so powerful and magical, it must indeed be a powerful and magical thing! Mischievous Mercury and the great Sol Invicti lay bare their nether regions to be exploited by the thrusting of dark Pluto, the underworld god, and you step down from the cross and walk among amazed followers. You display hands and feet that bear the marks of nails. Some poking does take place by the doubters, though not all is directed at the extremities.
Ye gods and little fishes! What cosmic clattering is this, O cloddish types! Why, it is the clattering of the busy messenger and the vain and selfish Sun god as they roll drunkenly into supple yet perverted Gemini. Thus does coinage into your bullish coffers flow! And the folding stuff as well! Gadzooks! This is a turn up for the books! And just as everything was going so badly too! Oh well! It must be because of the auspices of jolly Jupiter in your house of partnership that you benefit from the good offices of others and not by your own efforts.
As vamping Venus and marauding Mars perform disgusting personal exchanges, you find the rewards of your new cult status are of a physical nature as well as a fiscal one, the former being a currency that finds favour with you almost as much as the latter. A ghastly New Moon comes in the sign of the two-faced one just as mischievous Mercury has carnal knowledge of Uranus, the idiot god. Your fortunes are restored instanter and improvements begin on the giant boot in which you live. Have you finally broken through and triumphed, tedious turnips! Have you lifted the curse of failure from your mighty shoulders? It seems so until, as mischievous Mercury assails dark Pluto, an observation to startle and shock you is made. Eek! Egad! Gadzooks! And other quaint expressions to indicate surprise and alarm! What can it be?
Innocently, a new associate observes the boot is, in fact, a left boot rather than a right one. Quell horreur! How can this be? Your boot is on the left hand path! Are you headed for darkness, despair and all the nine realms of evil? Perhaps not! Perhaps so! Click here next time and see what shadowlands you still must cross, my mighty but brainless things of thick neck! But for the nonce, ave!
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