What ho, unsightly boofheads! Last time, as I recall (ugh), you had used dark forces or hypnotic powers to make a fortune and retire to the country so you could walk in the woods and engage in pursuits of a bucolic nature. You had finished with Finland and the oracular foolishness in the land of the midnight sun for no reason I particularly remember other than I became bored with writing about it and so stopped.
Let us consult with the vile and bitter prognostications for jittery January and see if the New Year can lift your life from the accustomed cloddish climes up into the clouds. As a deal of the month has expired, we will quickly catch you up, largely on the premise that you've done nothing of interest anyway. Jolly Jupiter inflicted his attentions on cranky Chiron and you used your occult powers to compel persons in authority to leave you alone.
The Full Moon cast her chill necrotic gaze upon this benighted earth from the neurotic sign of the Crab and you wrote poetry, argued with an emotional bus conductor and narrowly avoided a traffic accident with a bovine (quadruped) suffering from 'mad cow' disease. As vamping Venus slithered into idiot Aquarius, you hired a personal assistant to handle your business affairs so you could spend more time wandering in the woods, expressing yourself rustically. This you then did as the great Sol Invicti and mischievous Mercury performed unseemly acts of congress in the dreary sign of the Goat. As vamping Venus flaunted her nether regions before the gaze of cranky Chiron, you had sex with your P.A. whilst the two of you fantasized about being forest animals with occult powers.
Now we're up to date, I suppose I must continue with the tale, despite the onset of creeping ennui. As marauding Mars rams his rudest bit into the underworld of dark Pluto, the brief interlude with your assistant turns to an erotic novel of the 'three volume' kind. You roll on the forest floor as sweat and unspeakable fluids mix with leaf mould and unnameable botanical secretions to form a cocktail of hallucinogenic ecstasy. Salespersons and business types all the while knock fruitlessly at your door, ring upon your telephone or pile up emails in your inbox as mischievous Mercury struts and frets his hour in idiot Aquarius.
However, as marauding Mars barrels belligerently in gloomy Capricorn, bringing a New Moon in that same miserable sign, the rustic rumpy-pumpy inspires a recitation of rural rhapsodizing that fills the surrounding hills with the bellow of bullish roaring. Old yokels look to the West in fear as they hear the thunder rumble. Little do they know it is but the soliloquy of happy imbeciles rutting rurally as bovine buttocks pound the soil of Mother Earth. A gaggle of planetary geese honk and harry their way with cosmic chaos to bring January's demise.
As jolly Jupiter impales Uranus, idiot god, on his manly prong, inspiration strikes like a bolt from the blue! Your path is clear. The vision of your tomorrows is set in stone! You will be a teacher and instruct the great unwashed in the use of occult powers to gain pecuniary advantage and sexual gratification. And, what's more, such power will be drawn from the roots of forest trees as you bask in the ecstatic embrace of the land and her abiding magic. You will be a sylvan fire in the stygian gloom of a naughty urban world. You will be the sorcerer of the forest canopy, your power waxing with the waning sun in the forest's rising dark! Eek!
Egad! Gadzooks! And other such quaint expressions to indicate surprise and alarm. You'll be nimble with the naiads, dally with the dryads, be silly with the satyrs and play upon the very pipes of Pan to make all and sundry drunk with ecstasy. But will it bring bucolic bliss or just another round of bumptious bumpkin blah! Click here next time and see, my nitwit ninnies! In the meantime, ave!
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