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    Virgo | Soul Connection | Relationships | Runes | Zodiac


    Go Back  The Sublime Irritations of June 2005  Go Forward
    Virgo Gadzooks, my winsome woebegones! It seems I must address you again on the matter of your wretched lives and the many miseries that pertain thereto. And I shall do so, shall I not, in the time-honoured manner of he who wears the mantle of the auspex of arrogance, the prophet of piffle and, of course, the doctor of doom.

    Attend me now, my surface-wiping loonies! It is I, Asperitus! Charged by a benighted universe and all the insane gods that dwell therein to deliver prognostications of the vile and bitter kind. So here they are! Swallow them whole! Or slice them up! You may consume them over time in bite-sized chunks, as you while away the hours doing the ironing, wiping surfaces and experimenting with industrial strength abrasives in aerosol form to carry in your purse should the occasion ever arise for you to have to use a public toilet! I care not what be the manner of your ingestion. Simply ingest in whatever way you can or may, say I!

    Last time we left, the dark goddess herself had come to preside at the Full Moon rites, held by you and all of your 'werewolf dreaming' loonies. Thus, as jaded June begins, marauding Mars grapples in unseemly fashion with dark Pluto, underworld god, and behaviour both riotous and concupiscent has erupted in the wake of this chill necrotic blaze from ghastly Lady Moon. There is mounting on the mountain, my surface-wiping ninnies! And also tearing of throats and subsequent bandaging with soothing unguents, which of course have other uses.

    Vamping Venus enters neurotic Cancer and you are all now a family of werewolves, dwelling in this wild retreat, in the great tradition of other mountain families. Jolly Jupiter moves forward in your solar second house and the course fees roll in from the anxious neophytes who wish to travel further on the dark and hirsute path of these præternatural pursuits. The New Moon gibbers foully in nitwit Gemini and your solar tenth house and you are ensconced as the magus of Full Moon madness!

    Eek! What unhygienic horrors are unfolding for you? Aargh! The clatter in the cosmos is unspeakably unnerving as marauding Mars moves to arrogant Aries and your solar eighth house, a vile place, legend for its betrayals, dark sexuality, the nasty use of occult powers and the grim burden of ghastly taxes. Thus do scenes of lustfulness and savage sorceries erupt with both monotonous regularity and alarming frequency in the days that follow! And then, the roll of the decadent planets brings another hideous event to encumber a benighted humankind.

    The great Sol Invicti rolls and crashes into neurotic Cancer, wreaking the havoc of the solstice on an over-burdened world. Thus, the bonds of your lupine family are sealed in a manner that may not be described among the sensitive. And, of course, the dark gods of prophecy are not done with you yet for the Full Moon blazes once again, this time in lugubrious Capricorn and your solar fifth house. Once again the dark goddess presides over rites of such decadent fury as require an emergency shipment of bandages and tissues (organically derived from natural tree fall, of course) to be rushed to the carnal carnage on the mountain.

    Ghastly planets grind their way to Leo. Grim Saturn knocks at the door where he too will wear the mantle of the Lion. Great gods alive and dead, my tiny virgin things! Do you realize what this means? The universe shifts darkly beneath your hairy feet as you hear the dread news from the cruel lips of the haruspex of harangue, the prophet of piffle and the death-dealing doctor of doom! Asperitus, the oracle of bitter truth! That's me, by the way! In case you'd forgotten! And I tell you now that lugubrious Saturn is set to enter your solar twelfth house, the most miserable place of suffering, malaise and confusion that has ever existed in the history of the world! Well, apart from public toilets, shopping malls and that dreadful place at the back of the stove where the mop can never reach.

    That's it for now, nitwit ninnies! I'm tired and distracted and ready for my nap. You'll have to click here next month to read about your descent into the miasma of misery, the delusion of confusion and the nefarious delights of self-undoing. Ta! Ta!

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