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    Virgo | Soul Connection | Relationships | Runes | Zodiac


    Go Back  The Jittery Journeys of November 2004  Go Forward
    Great gods alive and dead, it's you, my virginal ninnies! Come to bask in the reflected glories of my mightiness and the drug-induced radiance of my irritation! And by such means as these are you bound to adhere to the ineluctable modality encountered only on the path of sublime irritation! With a kind of delicious chagrin and on a piquant note of boredom so excruciating I can safely say I have rarely felt anything like it before, we return to the seemingly interminable saga at hand.

    This, of course, is the tale of Pinkie and Perky, your unspeakably peculiar sex life and your morbid fascination with the ways of Ned Ludd in and as they apply to the strange practices of mechanical perversion. No doubt you'll be writing a manual soon. And writing manually, of course!

    Last month, the lustre that glowed in your virginal body during concourse with the twin mechanical delights was matched only by the lustrous sheen that seemed to grow in the very fur that is an essential component in the machineries of their unmatchable ecstasy. So, what manner of thing lies before you now? Let us consult the vile and bitter prognostications for naughty November and find out.

    The month begins and ghastly planets too tedious to name fart in the cosmic winds. Money pours into the coffers in unprecedented quantities and you begin talking to yourself in an effort comprehend the otherworldly glow flowing from the fur of the dear ones. You discuss the matter with others, testing reactions and canvassing opinion as to the nature and possible cause of this mysterious thing. Marauding Mars clashes with Saturn as the lugubrious one turns retrograde and you halt the concupiscent caravan of strange devices so you can get a handle (that's a Luddite joke) on the problem.

    And then, great gods alive and dead, what's this? Why, it's a miracle, my little idiots! That's what it is. Marauding Mars enters morbid Scorpio as a New Moon comes in the dread sign of the ruler of the anus and Perky lifts his tiny head and moves, all by himself. Egad! Lustrous fur gleams! He makes a snuffling sound! Eek! Vamping Venus wrestles lustfully with cranky Chiron and miserable Saturn and you feel the contours of this now living form with your nimble fingers. It is your love and devotion that have transformed the wee machine to a living beast. Beast he is, you muse, as you finger once again the beloved curves, soft and fleshy now, yet firm to the touch! Sexy little type!

    You laugh a tiny laugh. Ha! Ha! What of Pinkie, you suddenly think! Younger by some months, Pinkie now too begins to yield her too too solid wood and turn to flesh. Yikes and double yikes! The machines of Ned Ludd are now wild things and your love for them runs deeper still. This is ecstasy beyond belief in a truly a magical world, tiny addlepates! Mischievous Mercury conjoins with underworld Pluto and the great Sol Invicti moves to loony Sagittarius and you decide at once what you will do. You set about the task of creating Pinkie and Perky again from materials and tools at hand. The wee ones snuffle anxiously at your feet, seeming to know what you have in mind and yet no word has passed between you. Ah! How blissful!

    Vamping Venus enters gloomy Scorpio and so you send the roadshow on its way with substitutes (the good work cannot stop) while you and the dear ones flee to a cabin in the mountains you have found so you may there embrace the magnitude of what has occurred. The great Sol Invicti clashes with idiot Uranus and you find yourself running through hills and valleys green, the wee ones at your side. How they stretch their agile limbs! Like young wolves! Marauding Mars and vamping Venus rut in unseemly fashion and then tussle with nasty Neptune and they seem to grow before your very eyes. It's the Full Moon in nitwit Gemini and they are wolves!

    By my little brown bottle, this is uncanny! To your outstretched hand they come, snuffling for the precious oil with which you have for so long rubbed that lustrous sheen into their fur. In the midst of all this joy, a tiny moment of unease stirs in your mind as you see a vision of red flowers waving in the breeze that kisses the Balkan fields. Their whine of pleasure becomes a fierce howling of delight! Will you run with the wolves and scamper with the supernatural, my virgin nitwits? Click here next time and see! Ta! Ta!

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