Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True
Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire should be seen and heard and in your face and beer flavored.
this week: Whatever you're expecting, that's not it. This is also not it.
Aries- Intuit this in your cap and smoke it: IN-Tu-IT, as in you are 'In-To-It'. Allow your mind to wrap the celestial enigma in neurons and intellect and grok the crap out of it, poop it out through a fertile spiral arm, and flush it toward some irreversible end-- the black hole, the portal at our galaxy's center, your spirit evolving towards its true angelic nature. You are 'In To It', space cowboy. Maurice, my friend you are knowledge from within. You are the pompitus of love. Buy yourself some super yogurt, digest that bacteria and create your own galaxy full of unicorns and never ending waffle service.
Taurus- As we perceive it, the nature of time seems irrefutable, irreversible, and irascible. We are subject to ripples, eddies, cosmic tides, string waves® and brane collisions that we currently lack the power to predict. The 'verse seems a maelstrom with occasional bouts of peace and seemingly interminable struggle and strife. That said, it's almost fudge season and the time of year when all of us northern hemisphereans can unite in the spirit of eating and wearing warm clothes. The next galactic collision is still four billion years away, so have some fudge and enjoy the eye of the cosmic storm.
Gemini- Sports are the last acceptable refuge for our gladiator blood sport thrill seeking ids that got us through the last ice age when there was real struggle for survival. Our ancestors fought wooly mammoths with spears for crap's sake. Spears. And I suppose, intellect and collectivism, early socialists perhaps? The survival of the group and the individual depends on not stomping on anyone's head, but rather sharing and expanding upon the conscientious brain farts that squeeze out of each one of us. Shelve your need for in-your-face revenge orgies. The mammoths of the future will need slaying. Hugs not 'roids.
Cancer- The following is a true account of two brothers and a broken toilet seat from the future. Jokingly, one brother tells the other that his toilet seat is broken. No reason not to believe him, the other brother buys a new seat, comes home, wtf?, it's not broken. Meanwhile, the first brother breaks his own toilet seat, probably because he always sits his big ass down like a ton of bricks. Luckily the first brother just bought a new toilet seat-- how fortuitously coincidental. Or not coincidental? Is that the only kind of dental there is? Do we make the future happen with our mind powers, wtf? These are big questions, take your time, and sit carefully when using the throne.
Leo- The American Kennel Club is the only organization which is legally allowed to pursue eugenics. There are more breeds of dog than any other earthly animal. We make all kinds of fucked up dogs. It's creepy. Probably a good thing we draw the genetic enhancement line at canines. Our "natural" evolution is working out pretty good. We have a proportionate number of jocks, nerds, sociopaths, empaths, psychopaths, organizers, isolationists, do-nothings, poets, politicians, ditherers, warriors, lolly-gaggers, diplomats and lovers (and haters) of 16th century Italian art. Donatello, a polymath my ass!-- the guy coasted on his looks and his money. Be who you are, be what you're like. Your phenotype knows what it's doing.
Virgo- The U.S. has been supplying the world with weapons for a long time, at a tidy profit. Desperate for a silver lining, I suppose it's our attempt at unilateralism. But we've been missing a niche market-- endangered species, especially the primates with their opposable digits and problem solving abilities. Maybe fighting for their own existences with the aid of some semi automatic rifles and anti tank grenades would keep away the poachers and purveyors of bush meat, and teach those monkeys a lesson in survival. Of course to absolve ourselves of the blame for escalating the Ape vs Human WWIII of 2035, we should probably just finish chopping down the rainforests, and all the apes can come live in the mega-cities of the future, side by side with humans. Peace in our time. Arm the apes!
Libra- The word apology has ancient roots. In ancient Greece, it was a form of rhetoric, in which a believer in a certain ideology, usually religious in nature, would defend their position using logic. A vindication; I'm right and here's why. Over time, as the past became the now, apologetics evolved into admission of sin, culpability, guilt, perhaps the very creation of the superego taking its cyclical turn at bat influencing our collective unconscious. Reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, and our unbitted lusts. Compassion, empathy, widespread pandemic shit giving, alms for the poor, and a cure for all ills and pain. A true panacea. A world without sin. Fuckin-A.
Scorpio- Pluribus hubris cunnilingus is not someone who's into having oral sex on a bed of hundred dollar bills. It is, however, a cautionary tale. Money is freedom. One could argue that we're slaves, the free market system a sham, forced down our throats as the only viable means of survival. However, money gives our upward societal mobility better traction. Education is evolution. In most of human history, only the wealthy could afford to be educated. Knowledge is power. Money is freedom. Time is money. The business of America is business. You can't make a frog wear striped pajamas after Labor Day. Money is an arbitrary sword, and it's under your influence; wield it as you would your private parts at the opposing armies of darkness.
Sagittarius- The reverse evolution of 'Check yourself before you wreck yourself' is 'Shake it, but don't break it'. I verified that in an independent study when I watched Silver Streak on tv the other day for the umpteenth time. The previous incarnation of this sage advice was in the 1930's with the saying, 'Mmmyeah, see...', which in the late 1800's translated to something like, "Get out of my knickers, you bum-goggler!'. I posit that everything has happened before; the 'verse is that old and that big. Meanwhile, in your current incarnation, your next evolution is imminent. May I suggest something along the lines of, 'Snap the crack, you defunct haberdasher'. Inspire the future, and don't forget to pass along what you have learned.
Capricorn- For about 8 months in 1974, Herb Albert was the only thing that made sense in a world gone mad. Buh-buh-buh-buh-baa-baa-baa-ba, and repeat until you finish that third martini. It was also the last time anything coming out of Tijuana didn't attempt to turn your alimentary canal inside out. I surmise that it's the power of the trumpet-- a noun and a verb btw (neat!). I propose that trumpets are harbingers of peace, clarity and prodigal returns to wombish™ safety. It's a fallacy that angels use them to call souls to the final battle-- total tripe. This 'verse ain't got no final anything. An angel's trumpet is the all clear signal. Olly Olly Oxen Free. It's safe, come home. Dinner's ready, and there's beer and whiskey.
Aquarius- The intersection of water, air and earth, casually known in some circles as the "beach" is my favorite nexus and doorway to something that is much larger than myself. I can run no further once I reach the coast. Acceptance is so difficult inland, where there is no respite from matters familial, financial, or fraternal. But the beach... is to contemplate the farther world, one where our intellect is not the center, but rather a salty drop in a cosmic ocean. The world is a grand firmament and our view is divine. Ocean plus sand plus air equals a confluence of atoms and energy and thence glorious multi form matter in infinite variety. Run your ass to the beach, stop trying to fix, and observe.
Pisces- My newly invented Dread Removal Device® has been approved by all government regulatory agencies and is available for widespread use. Also, despite current projections of over population, dwindling resources and lack of oxygen, ozone, and it turns out helium (who knew...?), keep in mind that life is long and life is good. Dread is not a way of life, it's a hairstyle. Put down your boulder for five seconds, you look ridiculous carrying a big stupid rock. And if you order your DRD® online, you get a free trident. Drop your dread and you will once more rule the seas with your trident of awesomeness.
a weekly Horrorscope, appearing every Thursday...
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: If satire were gravy and donuts, I would be happy and obese.
this week: Hey, you-- Turkey-Lurkey over there, you're looking juicy... Prepare thyself, for the Gravy Hour draws nigh.
Aries- The intersection of First and F Streets in Washington D.C., is designated Capitalsaurus Court. Good god, why, why such piffle? Nerds found some dinosaur bones there and yes, they coined it a Capitalsaurus. How disinventively™ apropos. And there's this: the local legislature actually made it the official dinosaur of the District of Columbia. If that big dead animal were alive today, I'm sure he would be grateful to the muddy swamp that caused his demise. How else could he have earned such a creative moniker? Unlike the big dumb lizards, you are not stuck. Use your legs, run away.
Taurus- This one time I totally ran at this windmill, just gonna tear it a new one, right, and just as I'm about to pounce on my most mortal of enemies, just as I'm about to taste sweet sweet windmill blood, I see a little tear in the windmill's eye. Completely took the mizzen out of my moody sails. My angry mood at Tewkesbury all over again. How shallow, how trivial and shortsighted my vengeful needs. Put down your lance and give Sancho the day off, he has a wife and a family back in the village, you know. Besides, windmills are our friends and deserving of grace and compassion as are all your so called enemies.
Gemini- I swear the following is true bullshit: The state beverage of 20 different U.S. states is milk. My intellectual takeaway from this information is twofold: 1) we have official state beverages and no one told me, wtf?!, and 2) milk, really? Nebraska couldn't decide, so made a split decision, milk and Kool-Aid. Indiana though, went way forward. Their state beverage is water. Water. Granted, the giver and sustainer of life, the universal solvent even, but really, water? Hoosier water. Maird. That's why California is the greatest state-- we chose wine. In legislatus veritas, no? Call your congressperson and thank them.
Cancer- Æthelred the Unready was the king of England in the year 1000. Contrary to his moniker, he was not a dingus. He was unready because he became king at age 10. His sons, Erik One Nut and Edward the Incontinent never made it to the throne, for what should be obvious reasons. It was the third son, Johnny the Back Stabber, who did eventually usher in a brief era of total peace for a period of 3 weeks in late in 1043, until ironically he was stabbed at a Raider game in Oakland. Your 3 weeks are almost here. Prepare your kingly nickname and ready yourself for total peace. Three weeks of it anyway.
Leo- Recently I was caught inside a vortex of an old He-Man cartoon from 1984. There was the disembodied floating guy with no face, Battle Cat, pseudo-erotic sorcery, the power of Grayskull, and lots of boobs and cleavage in Viking outfits parading around until one of them inevitably gets into trouble and He-Man has to whip out his 'sword' and get more 'roided up than he already is-- wearing simple peasant outfits-- c'mon fer reals, dude you're not fooling anyone. We get it, your sword is metaphor for your schlong-- real subtle. Beware the vortex of the insanely inane and indolently idolatrous. If you mean schlong, just say so. Be direct. It's the fastest way to Grayskull.
Virgo- Words of wisdom are spoken by children as often as by scientists or other smarty-pants book huggers. Case in point: a googol is a 1 followed by 100 zeroes, or 10 to the power of 100. It's not named after a mathematician or some obtuse greek derivation that means stupid big number; the name googol was invented by a child, and not some freaky savant kid either, just your average kid who likes ice cream and making forts out of pillows. The universe appears complex, but imagination is our greatest asset in trying to quantify it. Your imagination is wider than a googol. Go forth and multiply exponentially.
Libra- I am immune to your scorpionic sting. Yeah, yeah I know, but in ancient Greece, the Libran scales were actually the claws of the Scorpion. You have the Romans to thank for pulling you two asunder. Not that Greek society wasn't a complex one, but as time moves forward, I wonder if as societies become larger, more codified, and therefore more complex, that humans' distinct personality types become more varied. That is to say, the modern Libra's roots evolved their way out of the psyche of the Scorpion, perhaps through sheer intellectual will. Air from water. Intellect from passion. Pleasure from poison. Ponder that shit.
Scorpio- Of all the signs, I can picture you most readily as the head of a secret society, not because of your obsessive taciturnocity™, but rather due to all the freaky shit I know you're into and how it may not be appropriate for the public at large. Take for example The Most Ancient and Most Puissant Order of the Beggar's Benison and Merryland, Anstruther. Seriously, take it, hasn't been used since the club disbanded in 1836. Btw, Merryland is an old school wink and a nudge for the female body, so you can probably guess what the club did on Saturday nights. Whatever club you start this week, keep the by-laws inclusive. I will be first in line for membership applications and friendly hazing, which I assume due to your proclivities will involve spankings and orgiastic contrition.
Sagittarius- The official state beverage of Maine is a soft drink called Moxie. It was one the first mass produced sodas in the U.S.; and there's an old timey looking guy on the can, known as the Moxie Man, and he's pointing at you, not so subtly intimating that you need some Moxie because you look pale and weak, hence the original name for the drink, Moxie Nerve Food. To me, you are a can of Moxie that's been shaken in one of those paint mixing machines at the hardware store, ready to spew a whole lotta Moxie on an unsuspecting thirsty imbiber. Your explosive spray is invigorating and tasty. Bring it.
Capricorn- There are 6 states that have official state dinosaurs, and several more states that have official state fossils. New Jersey's is the hadrosaurus. So at some point there was enough people in local legislature who agreed that we definitely need a state dinosaur, or how will we compete with the likes of New Jersey? The District of Columbia's answer to the Jersey Shore Hadrosaur® was of of course, the Capitalsaurus. The senate is where shit gets done. Declare recess in the parliament of your mind and leave such frivolity to the judiciary clade of the Holocene Era.
Aquarius- Tweak one little thing in the genetic development of the human brain, and the cornucopia of wacky that ensues can induce tripping balls. Case in point: there's this autistic guy, who from age 2 is a master pianist. In his brain, he can hear more than one melody at one time. And get this, if you ask him to play a Beethoven piece, for example, in the style of Mozart, he can do it instantly and without forethought. The Aquarian brain is an equally wacky place. We truly are the music makers and the dreamers of dreams. All ideas, thoughts and delusions in and out side the underlying cosmic ubiquity (curse you, Shiva) can be enough to drive one to madness. Which is exactly why you need to know when to give it a rest and have some tacos listen to the ocean breathing.
Pisces- We are the music makers / and we are the dreamers of dreams / wandering by lone sea breakers / and sitting by desolate streams / world losers and world forsakers / on whom the pale moon gleams / yet we are the movers and shakers / of the world for ever, it seems. Yes, Willy Wonka, but penned by Arthur O'Shaughnessy, who at 17 became the transcriber for the Library of the British Museum, and oddly later at 19, a herpetologist. Only a Pisces can make an Aquarius jealous, and possibly a bit obsessed. No wonder you hide away from world. You are intellect and emotion wrapped up in a most delicious rainbow rolls. You are perfection for my tongue and ears. Your will is always aligned with that of the 'verses'. And lizards apparently.
disclaimer: If satire were gravy and donuts, I would be happy and obese.
this week: Hey, you-- Turkey-Lurkey over there, you're looking juicy... Prepare thyself, for the Gravy Hour draws nigh.
Aries- The intersection of First and F Streets in Washington D.C., is designated Capitalsaurus Court. Good god, why, why such piffle? Nerds found some dinosaur bones there and yes, they coined it a Capitalsaurus. How disinventively™ apropos. And there's this: the local legislature actually made it the official dinosaur of the District of Columbia. If that big dead animal were alive today, I'm sure he would be grateful to the muddy swamp that caused his demise. How else could he have earned such a creative moniker? Unlike the big dumb lizards, you are not stuck. Use your legs, run away.
Taurus- This one time I totally ran at this windmill, just gonna tear it a new one, right, and just as I'm about to pounce on my most mortal of enemies, just as I'm about to taste sweet sweet windmill blood, I see a little tear in the windmill's eye. Completely took the mizzen out of my moody sails. My angry mood at Tewkesbury all over again. How shallow, how trivial and shortsighted my vengeful needs. Put down your lance and give Sancho the day off, he has a wife and a family back in the village, you know. Besides, windmills are our friends and deserving of grace and compassion as are all your so called enemies.
Gemini- I swear the following is true bullshit: The state beverage of 20 different U.S. states is milk. My intellectual takeaway from this information is twofold: 1) we have official state beverages and no one told me, wtf?!, and 2) milk, really? Nebraska couldn't decide, so made a split decision, milk and Kool-Aid. Indiana though, went way forward. Their state beverage is water. Water. Granted, the giver and sustainer of life, the universal solvent even, but really, water? Hoosier water. Maird. That's why California is the greatest state-- we chose wine. In legislatus veritas, no? Call your congressperson and thank them.
Cancer- Æthelred the Unready was the king of England in the year 1000. Contrary to his moniker, he was not a dingus. He was unready because he became king at age 10. His sons, Erik One Nut and Edward the Incontinent never made it to the throne, for what should be obvious reasons. It was the third son, Johnny the Back Stabber, who did eventually usher in a brief era of total peace for a period of 3 weeks in late in 1043, until ironically he was stabbed at a Raider game in Oakland. Your 3 weeks are almost here. Prepare your kingly nickname and ready yourself for total peace. Three weeks of it anyway.
Leo- Recently I was caught inside a vortex of an old He-Man cartoon from 1984. There was the disembodied floating guy with no face, Battle Cat, pseudo-erotic sorcery, the power of Grayskull, and lots of boobs and cleavage in Viking outfits parading around until one of them inevitably gets into trouble and He-Man has to whip out his 'sword' and get more 'roided up than he already is-- wearing simple peasant outfits-- c'mon fer reals, dude you're not fooling anyone. We get it, your sword is metaphor for your schlong-- real subtle. Beware the vortex of the insanely inane and indolently idolatrous. If you mean schlong, just say so. Be direct. It's the fastest way to Grayskull.
Virgo- Words of wisdom are spoken by children as often as by scientists or other smarty-pants book huggers. Case in point: a googol is a 1 followed by 100 zeroes, or 10 to the power of 100. It's not named after a mathematician or some obtuse greek derivation that means stupid big number; the name googol was invented by a child, and not some freaky savant kid either, just your average kid who likes ice cream and making forts out of pillows. The universe appears complex, but imagination is our greatest asset in trying to quantify it. Your imagination is wider than a googol. Go forth and multiply exponentially.
Libra- I am immune to your scorpionic sting. Yeah, yeah I know, but in ancient Greece, the Libran scales were actually the claws of the Scorpion. You have the Romans to thank for pulling you two asunder. Not that Greek society wasn't a complex one, but as time moves forward, I wonder if as societies become larger, more codified, and therefore more complex, that humans' distinct personality types become more varied. That is to say, the modern Libra's roots evolved their way out of the psyche of the Scorpion, perhaps through sheer intellectual will. Air from water. Intellect from passion. Pleasure from poison. Ponder that shit.
Scorpio- Of all the signs, I can picture you most readily as the head of a secret society, not because of your obsessive taciturnocity™, but rather due to all the freaky shit I know you're into and how it may not be appropriate for the public at large. Take for example The Most Ancient and Most Puissant Order of the Beggar's Benison and Merryland, Anstruther. Seriously, take it, hasn't been used since the club disbanded in 1836. Btw, Merryland is an old school wink and a nudge for the female body, so you can probably guess what the club did on Saturday nights. Whatever club you start this week, keep the by-laws inclusive. I will be first in line for membership applications and friendly hazing, which I assume due to your proclivities will involve spankings and orgiastic contrition.
Sagittarius- The official state beverage of Maine is a soft drink called Moxie. It was one the first mass produced sodas in the U.S.; and there's an old timey looking guy on the can, known as the Moxie Man, and he's pointing at you, not so subtly intimating that you need some Moxie because you look pale and weak, hence the original name for the drink, Moxie Nerve Food. To me, you are a can of Moxie that's been shaken in one of those paint mixing machines at the hardware store, ready to spew a whole lotta Moxie on an unsuspecting thirsty imbiber. Your explosive spray is invigorating and tasty. Bring it.
Capricorn- There are 6 states that have official state dinosaurs, and several more states that have official state fossils. New Jersey's is the hadrosaurus. So at some point there was enough people in local legislature who agreed that we definitely need a state dinosaur, or how will we compete with the likes of New Jersey? The District of Columbia's answer to the Jersey Shore Hadrosaur® was of of course, the Capitalsaurus. The senate is where shit gets done. Declare recess in the parliament of your mind and leave such frivolity to the judiciary clade of the Holocene Era.
Aquarius- Tweak one little thing in the genetic development of the human brain, and the cornucopia of wacky that ensues can induce tripping balls. Case in point: there's this autistic guy, who from age 2 is a master pianist. In his brain, he can hear more than one melody at one time. And get this, if you ask him to play a Beethoven piece, for example, in the style of Mozart, he can do it instantly and without forethought. The Aquarian brain is an equally wacky place. We truly are the music makers and the dreamers of dreams. All ideas, thoughts and delusions in and out side the underlying cosmic ubiquity (curse you, Shiva) can be enough to drive one to madness. Which is exactly why you need to know when to give it a rest and have some tacos listen to the ocean breathing.
Pisces- We are the music makers / and we are the dreamers of dreams / wandering by lone sea breakers / and sitting by desolate streams / world losers and world forsakers / on whom the pale moon gleams / yet we are the movers and shakers / of the world for ever, it seems. Yes, Willy Wonka, but penned by Arthur O'Shaughnessy, who at 17 became the transcriber for the Library of the British Museum, and oddly later at 19, a herpetologist. Only a Pisces can make an Aquarius jealous, and possibly a bit obsessed. No wonder you hide away from world. You are intellect and emotion wrapped up in a most delicious rainbow rolls. You are perfection for my tongue and ears. Your will is always aligned with that of the 'verses'. And lizards apparently.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
this week, there is no Thursday, only Zuul.
Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True
Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Those who revile satire are often thoughtless ignominious cowards, piloting their garbage scows only towards envy and fear.
this week: I don't know much, but I assure you, there is a wonderful reason I'm not wearing pants.
Aries- This week, when we hit 11:11am on 11/11/11, I want you to eat of a ripe mango, while standing on one foot, and think of what you love most. Hopefully that won't turn out to be yourself. Then at 11:11pm, you should take a moment to think about the last twelve hours and whether or not superstition helped you get what you want. I find that wishing begets more wishing and then more of not having. Granted that having can make you yearn for the having of something else, and so on, until one day you wake up in a motel in Butthole, 2 miles outside of Ahole City, in a bath tub full of ice, wondering where your liver is. Don't ask, just take. But be nice about it, don't be a Buren®.
Taurus- You can crack an egg, a joke, a case, a nut, a door, or a smile. You can also crack pepper. Corn is also in the realm of crack filled adventurism™, and you don't even have to give a flying fudge while you're doing it. You can crack up laughing, crack up crazy, fall through the cracks, crack under pressure, heck-- you can crack open a beer, in fact, crack two beers cause I just got here, and I like beer. But, you... You are uncrackable. You're impervious, you're granite, you're freakin' Gibraltar. You are made of super hard nuts. Stop using them to crack lame idioms, and build yourself a better oak tree.
Gemini- Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitan is the longest name for a place in the world at a ridiculous 85 letters. It's like a stroke for your tongue and a coronary for your frontal lobe. It's a hill in New Zealand, that in the Maori language roughly translates to: 'The summit where Tamatea, the man with the big knees, the climber of mountains, the land-swallower who travelled about, played his nose flute to his loved one'. How a population with a mostly oral history tradition can keep track of this verbose lore leads me to believe the Maori must be operating on a higher level. I recommend you channel, emulate and star in as many Maori dreams as your brain can handle. For extra oomph, use your nose flute.
Cancer- You are a beach after a storm, deserted and wind blown, the winds that pushed the storm through still blow briskly and purposefully, but aimed at a farther place. You are littered with debris, festooned with wayward kelp and circled by pelicans searching for tidbits and morsels dredged landward by the waves. The scattered after clouds filter my sunlight into prisms, waves upon waves of your unsubtle and coyful banter crash upon the sand. Your beauty is more than I can bear, for it is all to brief. Tomorrow you are once again sun, bbq's, easy breezes, and merely the dreams and whispers of far away islands.
Leo- Gravity is the weakest of the all the 'verses' forces. We beat the crap out of gravity all the time-- hot air balloons, airplanes, the occasional trip between commercials to the kitchen to get another slice of pizza and a micro-waved chocolate brownie with some broccoli coffee prune ice cream-- Yumm with two m's, btw. Gravity is bullshit. However, the evil graviton does its work over time, pulling our skin lower and lower, our boobs, our asses, our balls, and our arm flab all destined for the floor and beyond. Not to mention the fact that we're literally taller in the morning than at the end of the day. But You are a graviton's worst nightmare, and no force in the 'verse can stop you.
Virgo- Empathy is when you've been there, and sympathy is when you haven't been there, but can only imagine how you might feel. Don't spread it around, but yours truly has Virgo rising, and I grok what you got, even if I envision a larger reality, which includes Virgo, daughter of Zeus and Themis (divine law), who was so sickened by the brutality of the wars of men, that she left earth for the stars, her scales of justice becoming nearby Libra. You are an empath, and compassion may seem a curse at times, but it's true reality is the gift of gifts. Grok your bliss and fear not your god(s).
Libra- Astrology was relevant when the sky was a more inclusive part of our daily existence. Humans didn't live inside their minds, their internets or their capitalism. Being a part of the natural world was integral to survival. Our ancestors had a visceral connection with the 'verse, while ours has been ever evolutionarily ebbing. Couch Potatoism® is rampant. No one can predict your destiny. The sky, the trees, the rocks, every single atom you're made of is forging your destiny with the help of the fourth dimension, in real time, its course potentially changing every second. Tread lightly but with passion and compassion, sympathy and empathy.
Scorpio- A single corn stalk is a synecdoche for the entire corn field. Each seed follows a 10 billion year old genetic blueprint, gravity pulling roots down, the sun commanding the plant upward like a guy with a flute and cobra in a basket, an image that seems possibly racist in retrospect, but it was a different world then and... one seed, multiple ears, each containing even more seeds, the corn's endgame being, of course, world domination. Corn is deep shit, yo. It even survives our colons. And with the global biofuel boondoggle, corn is subsidized-- it's ubiquitous now, man-- game over, corn is people. You are a corn seed, you are earth.
Sagittarius- Introducing the iQ, soon to come from Apple, if they would only answer my calls. It's an iPad® that's wired right into your brain. Imagine, you could listen to music inside your own head, just like some god may have very well intended. You can search the internet, download movies, books, weird russian circus porn from the 1940's-- whatever, the world is your perverted oyster! You'll never have to leave your head again, unless you want a soda, or to do anything regarding your physical appearance, or get a real date in the form of a person. Also coming soon, the iCatheter and the iFeedingtube. Don't fall in the trap, keep your legs. To run, either mentally or physically, is freedom in its highest form.
Capricorn- The sheep is zodiacally™ and societally ignored. The West tends to think in cattle terms, but the use of sheep predates cattle, and is a more apt metaphor for the human psyche. It's a gentle animal that provides meat and warmth and thus, life. What a magnificent and hardy beast. Dig deep and/or de-volve this: the word distaff is indirectly female, it refers to the stick around which one spins wool into a weaveable material, work which for centuries was the purview of women, hence distaff means female. Regardless of your current genitalia, you are Saint Distaff, sustainer of life, a totemic savior, and sacrificial soul all wrapped up into one fuzzy delicious bundle. To ovine is to divine.
Aquarius- Paul Newman, arguably the epitome of cool Aquarii, once said in a speech at Princeton, "24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence, I think not." His remark resulted in the occasionally celebrated Newman Day, where the celebrants drink 24 beers in 24 hours. I don't know what's more impressive: a) college students casually flirting with engendering alcoholism, or b) that even an Aquarii's offhand remark can motivate people to action. With words of even minor importance, comes great responsibility. Try to make all the holidays you spawn peaceful ones.
Pisces- In 1919, the duties of the International Time Bureau (Google it, I dare you) was over taken by the International Astronomical Union. They're a group of intellectuals with phd's and high iq's that think up new ways to unite the world in and through astronomy. Big brains creating touchstones of thought and knowledge to further the evolution of our collective intellects and psyches. They're Super Nerds. They're predispositioned, nay driven to remain unbiased and live within a provable 'verse. Unbiased, uniting the world, an end to need, and an end to greed, and maybe to death itself. Peace in our time. Awake and sing. You are made of manna, you should be in that think tank, hell, you are a think tank creating pathways to divine wealth for us all.
Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Those who revile satire are often thoughtless ignominious cowards, piloting their garbage scows only towards envy and fear.
this week: I don't know much, but I assure you, there is a wonderful reason I'm not wearing pants.
Aries- This week, when we hit 11:11am on 11/11/11, I want you to eat of a ripe mango, while standing on one foot, and think of what you love most. Hopefully that won't turn out to be yourself. Then at 11:11pm, you should take a moment to think about the last twelve hours and whether or not superstition helped you get what you want. I find that wishing begets more wishing and then more of not having. Granted that having can make you yearn for the having of something else, and so on, until one day you wake up in a motel in Butthole, 2 miles outside of Ahole City, in a bath tub full of ice, wondering where your liver is. Don't ask, just take. But be nice about it, don't be a Buren®.
Taurus- You can crack an egg, a joke, a case, a nut, a door, or a smile. You can also crack pepper. Corn is also in the realm of crack filled adventurism™, and you don't even have to give a flying fudge while you're doing it. You can crack up laughing, crack up crazy, fall through the cracks, crack under pressure, heck-- you can crack open a beer, in fact, crack two beers cause I just got here, and I like beer. But, you... You are uncrackable. You're impervious, you're granite, you're freakin' Gibraltar. You are made of super hard nuts. Stop using them to crack lame idioms, and build yourself a better oak tree.
Gemini- Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitan is the longest name for a place in the world at a ridiculous 85 letters. It's like a stroke for your tongue and a coronary for your frontal lobe. It's a hill in New Zealand, that in the Maori language roughly translates to: 'The summit where Tamatea, the man with the big knees, the climber of mountains, the land-swallower who travelled about, played his nose flute to his loved one'. How a population with a mostly oral history tradition can keep track of this verbose lore leads me to believe the Maori must be operating on a higher level. I recommend you channel, emulate and star in as many Maori dreams as your brain can handle. For extra oomph, use your nose flute.
Cancer- You are a beach after a storm, deserted and wind blown, the winds that pushed the storm through still blow briskly and purposefully, but aimed at a farther place. You are littered with debris, festooned with wayward kelp and circled by pelicans searching for tidbits and morsels dredged landward by the waves. The scattered after clouds filter my sunlight into prisms, waves upon waves of your unsubtle and coyful banter crash upon the sand. Your beauty is more than I can bear, for it is all to brief. Tomorrow you are once again sun, bbq's, easy breezes, and merely the dreams and whispers of far away islands.
Leo- Gravity is the weakest of the all the 'verses' forces. We beat the crap out of gravity all the time-- hot air balloons, airplanes, the occasional trip between commercials to the kitchen to get another slice of pizza and a micro-waved chocolate brownie with some broccoli coffee prune ice cream-- Yumm with two m's, btw. Gravity is bullshit. However, the evil graviton does its work over time, pulling our skin lower and lower, our boobs, our asses, our balls, and our arm flab all destined for the floor and beyond. Not to mention the fact that we're literally taller in the morning than at the end of the day. But You are a graviton's worst nightmare, and no force in the 'verse can stop you.
Virgo- Empathy is when you've been there, and sympathy is when you haven't been there, but can only imagine how you might feel. Don't spread it around, but yours truly has Virgo rising, and I grok what you got, even if I envision a larger reality, which includes Virgo, daughter of Zeus and Themis (divine law), who was so sickened by the brutality of the wars of men, that she left earth for the stars, her scales of justice becoming nearby Libra. You are an empath, and compassion may seem a curse at times, but it's true reality is the gift of gifts. Grok your bliss and fear not your god(s).
Libra- Astrology was relevant when the sky was a more inclusive part of our daily existence. Humans didn't live inside their minds, their internets or their capitalism. Being a part of the natural world was integral to survival. Our ancestors had a visceral connection with the 'verse, while ours has been ever evolutionarily ebbing. Couch Potatoism® is rampant. No one can predict your destiny. The sky, the trees, the rocks, every single atom you're made of is forging your destiny with the help of the fourth dimension, in real time, its course potentially changing every second. Tread lightly but with passion and compassion, sympathy and empathy.
Scorpio- A single corn stalk is a synecdoche for the entire corn field. Each seed follows a 10 billion year old genetic blueprint, gravity pulling roots down, the sun commanding the plant upward like a guy with a flute and cobra in a basket, an image that seems possibly racist in retrospect, but it was a different world then and... one seed, multiple ears, each containing even more seeds, the corn's endgame being, of course, world domination. Corn is deep shit, yo. It even survives our colons. And with the global biofuel boondoggle, corn is subsidized-- it's ubiquitous now, man-- game over, corn is people. You are a corn seed, you are earth.
Sagittarius- Introducing the iQ, soon to come from Apple, if they would only answer my calls. It's an iPad® that's wired right into your brain. Imagine, you could listen to music inside your own head, just like some god may have very well intended. You can search the internet, download movies, books, weird russian circus porn from the 1940's-- whatever, the world is your perverted oyster! You'll never have to leave your head again, unless you want a soda, or to do anything regarding your physical appearance, or get a real date in the form of a person. Also coming soon, the iCatheter and the iFeedingtube. Don't fall in the trap, keep your legs. To run, either mentally or physically, is freedom in its highest form.
Capricorn- The sheep is zodiacally™ and societally ignored. The West tends to think in cattle terms, but the use of sheep predates cattle, and is a more apt metaphor for the human psyche. It's a gentle animal that provides meat and warmth and thus, life. What a magnificent and hardy beast. Dig deep and/or de-volve this: the word distaff is indirectly female, it refers to the stick around which one spins wool into a weaveable material, work which for centuries was the purview of women, hence distaff means female. Regardless of your current genitalia, you are Saint Distaff, sustainer of life, a totemic savior, and sacrificial soul all wrapped up into one fuzzy delicious bundle. To ovine is to divine.
Aquarius- Paul Newman, arguably the epitome of cool Aquarii, once said in a speech at Princeton, "24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence, I think not." His remark resulted in the occasionally celebrated Newman Day, where the celebrants drink 24 beers in 24 hours. I don't know what's more impressive: a) college students casually flirting with engendering alcoholism, or b) that even an Aquarii's offhand remark can motivate people to action. With words of even minor importance, comes great responsibility. Try to make all the holidays you spawn peaceful ones.
Pisces- In 1919, the duties of the International Time Bureau (Google it, I dare you) was over taken by the International Astronomical Union. They're a group of intellectuals with phd's and high iq's that think up new ways to unite the world in and through astronomy. Big brains creating touchstones of thought and knowledge to further the evolution of our collective intellects and psyches. They're Super Nerds. They're predispositioned, nay driven to remain unbiased and live within a provable 'verse. Unbiased, uniting the world, an end to need, and an end to greed, and maybe to death itself. Peace in our time. Awake and sing. You are made of manna, you should be in that think tank, hell, you are a think tank creating pathways to divine wealth for us all.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Dr. Pants McTurd's Eerily True Horrorscopes
disclaimer: There is no cure for satire, and only fascists look for one.
this week: Turkey Season is officially open. Time to oil up the ol' musket and plot me some murder.
Aries- I'm trippin' on total protonic reversal, crossing the streams, man and I know you can dig it. So, the other day I broke a plate. Not a big surprise, persistent distracted clumsiness is one of my more palatable charms. But this plate didn't just break, it shattered, divesting itself into a tumult of shards. In less than a second it ceased being a plate and became something else entirely. Smash. Heartbeat. Change. Don't blink, creative destruction is waiting for you to look the other way.
Taurus- Even though you are the youngest earth sign, your agent the Bull is old school, circa 4300 BCE, so NOT common, right! Bull worshipping cults were deemed awesome all the way from Egypt to Assyria. The ankh, also known as the symbol of life came also into existence about that time, the ankh actually representing a bull's vertebrae. It took Charlton Heston breaking up your all night golden bull calf saturnalias to bring an end to the Age of Taurus. Luckily, the 'verse is circular-ish and one day far off, your descendants will be worshipping you all over again. Mmmmmmm-- bloodletting and zoolatry...
Gemini- Your acts of barbarism and carpetbagging of late have aroused the prurient interests of the local thought police, and I'm pretty sure that someone has been tailing you in an over the top red Ferrari that sticks out like a sore thumb in a wet finger contest. I'm not saying it's Magnum, but it might be, and his mustache can hella beat up your mustache. So, as your attorney, I say flee. Enjoy Venezuela and have some tajadas and miche.
Cancer- The Erdős number predates the six degrees of Kevin Bacon. But some Hungarian math geek doesn't slide off the tongue with the same coolness as the Baconator®; I mean, that guy was in Footloose, dude... and this Erdős guy is just some savant genius with fifteen honorary doctorates and two weird accent marks. He wasn't even in any movies, certainly none about the freedom to dance, or the one where he got paddled in a frat house hazing. Thank you, sir, may I have another. Speaking of asses, steady and ready yourself for a friendly paddling, followed by your favorite ice cream and a short PSA about just what is holding you back from achieving your highest aspirations. The movie is both irrelevant and poorly cast. Take notes.
Leo- You have a benign realism that inspires your chest skyward in a prideful show of cat-like indifference in and de-spite of the oncoming onslaught of officious snarkiness that our 'verse often favors in lieu of a simple hello and a no malice aforethought fist bump / fake shoulder hug that is usually reserved for the empty brains of hipster douchebags. So be only slightly wary, out of the corners of your conscious eyes, your snout will inevitably get swatted. Dust off and get going. My baby doesn't like the corner and she's got work to do.
Virgo- The Articles of Confederation were the constitution before the Constitution had any actual constitution. Although, its original title added the phrase.. and Perpetual Union. Yikes. Perpetual, really? Can't we do anything in this country in the spirit of experimentation and science, upon which this country is allegedly founded? We have to hopscotch all the way to forever promises and unbreakable betrothal and other such useless hullabaloolistic™ snipe hunts? Let's just see how this goes and if we're a good match, and as soon as I see something perpetual, I'll send you a telegram using smoke signals in the shape of a diamond ring and a steak dinner.
Libra- Intercourse, Virginville, and Blue Ball are all located in the sex obsessed state of Pennsylvania. However, I prefer to summer in Spread Eagle, Wisconsin-- your choice of fetish comes with an aged cheddar and a beer! Threeway, Virginia is also nice, if a bit exhausting. My biggest dilemma is deciding which Climax to visit... I usually end up there eventually. There's 4 Climaxes-- Georgia, Michigan, New York, and North Carolina. I wonder if in another 'verse somewhere, there's an Anticlimax? I assume it would be in New Jersey. Meet me in Wisconsin and we'll have a go of it. Let's burn our pants and live in the wild.
Scorpio- The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is exactly that. It's a giant patch of garbage of indeterminate size floating in the ocean, and yeah, it's indeterminate. We have no idea how big it is. We know more about the size of Dick Cheney's secret safe than we do the size of the huge-tastic™ floating garbage pile we've created that is nebulously menacing our sushi population from afar asea. On the bright side, we've named it, so that's cool. The GPGP, (distastefully clever, I think...) is sure to be claimed by the first refugee nation to ever get their own island. My friend Tom says though, that you don't have to live like a refugee. Swim to the mainland, my friend, the water is getting murderous.
Sagittarius- Martin Van Buren is easily one of the front runners for dorkiest President. You remember-- balding guy, mutton chops, Trail of Tears. Wait, not dorkiest, most Cheney-like, full of ulterior motives and dark operandi. Lots of nuts in lots of secret vices, guys like that they all have the same tell-- a greedy far away stare that hearkens back to the time of robber barons who turned useless patches of land where pointless agrarians were "living" into black gold, ridiculous profits, and of course the inevitable wagging of one's privates right in the face of public good and common human decency. Don't be a Buren.
Capricorn- I don't want to freak your shit out, but only the top half of you is a goat. Your bottom half is a fish.You're a sea-goat, whatever the hell that is. The constellation Capricorn has its origins in Babylonian times, the goat representing the rise of folks like the Sumerians (Gozer worshippers....) and the Akkadians (Count Vigo lovers...) from the swamp on which it was built. The horns of the sea-goat may represent the cities of Ninevah and Babylon, one on the Tigris, one on the Euphrates. You are civilization itself rising from the fertile primordial soup in our shared natal crescent that spawned all organized human life as we know it. No pressure though.
Aquarius- Animals sniff each others' butts to make sure that they're cool, and only after one's ass is determined acceptably enmitous™, can the foreplay of slobbering and ball chasing commence. All very predictable. I say, seduce your quarry by leading him/her/them to some dark boudoir where where the only thing you two/three/etc leave standing is the sweet smell of sex and sounds of passionate stroking. And do it when they least suspect it. Your unpredictability makes you lip smacking good. It also makes people willing to pay any price for what you got in your pants. Invest in your own deep pockets.
Pisces- Boston, San Fran and D.C. are all built on swamps. Sorry, reclaimed wetland that I rightly call swamps. Hong Kong Disneyland and the Hong Kong Airport-- total morass. A solid one-fifth, 20 freaking percent, of the Netherlands is former quagmire. Speaking of you, your uliginose is the moistest uliginose I've ever attempted to row my dinghy into. It's full of complex life forms of the highest order of ascendancy. Most cities destroy the wetland in favor of high rises, but yours is a superior intellect. Your psychic city floats serenely poised atop, maintaining your effulgent sweaty under bog. Your insides are sultry and tropical and teeming with life; and your exteriors are glass and steel forged from multi-versal compassion.
disclaimer: There is no cure for satire, and only fascists look for one.
this week: Turkey Season is officially open. Time to oil up the ol' musket and plot me some murder.
Aries- I'm trippin' on total protonic reversal, crossing the streams, man and I know you can dig it. So, the other day I broke a plate. Not a big surprise, persistent distracted clumsiness is one of my more palatable charms. But this plate didn't just break, it shattered, divesting itself into a tumult of shards. In less than a second it ceased being a plate and became something else entirely. Smash. Heartbeat. Change. Don't blink, creative destruction is waiting for you to look the other way.
Taurus- Even though you are the youngest earth sign, your agent the Bull is old school, circa 4300 BCE, so NOT common, right! Bull worshipping cults were deemed awesome all the way from Egypt to Assyria. The ankh, also known as the symbol of life came also into existence about that time, the ankh actually representing a bull's vertebrae. It took Charlton Heston breaking up your all night golden bull calf saturnalias to bring an end to the Age of Taurus. Luckily, the 'verse is circular-ish and one day far off, your descendants will be worshipping you all over again. Mmmmmmm-- bloodletting and zoolatry...
Gemini- Your acts of barbarism and carpetbagging of late have aroused the prurient interests of the local thought police, and I'm pretty sure that someone has been tailing you in an over the top red Ferrari that sticks out like a sore thumb in a wet finger contest. I'm not saying it's Magnum, but it might be, and his mustache can hella beat up your mustache. So, as your attorney, I say flee. Enjoy Venezuela and have some tajadas and miche.
Cancer- The Erdős number predates the six degrees of Kevin Bacon. But some Hungarian math geek doesn't slide off the tongue with the same coolness as the Baconator®; I mean, that guy was in Footloose, dude... and this Erdős guy is just some savant genius with fifteen honorary doctorates and two weird accent marks. He wasn't even in any movies, certainly none about the freedom to dance, or the one where he got paddled in a frat house hazing. Thank you, sir, may I have another. Speaking of asses, steady and ready yourself for a friendly paddling, followed by your favorite ice cream and a short PSA about just what is holding you back from achieving your highest aspirations. The movie is both irrelevant and poorly cast. Take notes.
Leo- You have a benign realism that inspires your chest skyward in a prideful show of cat-like indifference in and de-spite of the oncoming onslaught of officious snarkiness that our 'verse often favors in lieu of a simple hello and a no malice aforethought fist bump / fake shoulder hug that is usually reserved for the empty brains of hipster douchebags. So be only slightly wary, out of the corners of your conscious eyes, your snout will inevitably get swatted. Dust off and get going. My baby doesn't like the corner and she's got work to do.
Virgo- The Articles of Confederation were the constitution before the Constitution had any actual constitution. Although, its original title added the phrase.. and Perpetual Union. Yikes. Perpetual, really? Can't we do anything in this country in the spirit of experimentation and science, upon which this country is allegedly founded? We have to hopscotch all the way to forever promises and unbreakable betrothal and other such useless hullabaloolistic™ snipe hunts? Let's just see how this goes and if we're a good match, and as soon as I see something perpetual, I'll send you a telegram using smoke signals in the shape of a diamond ring and a steak dinner.
Libra- Intercourse, Virginville, and Blue Ball are all located in the sex obsessed state of Pennsylvania. However, I prefer to summer in Spread Eagle, Wisconsin-- your choice of fetish comes with an aged cheddar and a beer! Threeway, Virginia is also nice, if a bit exhausting. My biggest dilemma is deciding which Climax to visit... I usually end up there eventually. There's 4 Climaxes-- Georgia, Michigan, New York, and North Carolina. I wonder if in another 'verse somewhere, there's an Anticlimax? I assume it would be in New Jersey. Meet me in Wisconsin and we'll have a go of it. Let's burn our pants and live in the wild.
Scorpio- The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is exactly that. It's a giant patch of garbage of indeterminate size floating in the ocean, and yeah, it's indeterminate. We have no idea how big it is. We know more about the size of Dick Cheney's secret safe than we do the size of the huge-tastic™ floating garbage pile we've created that is nebulously menacing our sushi population from afar asea. On the bright side, we've named it, so that's cool. The GPGP, (distastefully clever, I think...) is sure to be claimed by the first refugee nation to ever get their own island. My friend Tom says though, that you don't have to live like a refugee. Swim to the mainland, my friend, the water is getting murderous.
Sagittarius- Martin Van Buren is easily one of the front runners for dorkiest President. You remember-- balding guy, mutton chops, Trail of Tears. Wait, not dorkiest, most Cheney-like, full of ulterior motives and dark operandi. Lots of nuts in lots of secret vices, guys like that they all have the same tell-- a greedy far away stare that hearkens back to the time of robber barons who turned useless patches of land where pointless agrarians were "living" into black gold, ridiculous profits, and of course the inevitable wagging of one's privates right in the face of public good and common human decency. Don't be a Buren.
Capricorn- I don't want to freak your shit out, but only the top half of you is a goat. Your bottom half is a fish.You're a sea-goat, whatever the hell that is. The constellation Capricorn has its origins in Babylonian times, the goat representing the rise of folks like the Sumerians (Gozer worshippers....) and the Akkadians (Count Vigo lovers...) from the swamp on which it was built. The horns of the sea-goat may represent the cities of Ninevah and Babylon, one on the Tigris, one on the Euphrates. You are civilization itself rising from the fertile primordial soup in our shared natal crescent that spawned all organized human life as we know it. No pressure though.
Aquarius- Animals sniff each others' butts to make sure that they're cool, and only after one's ass is determined acceptably enmitous™, can the foreplay of slobbering and ball chasing commence. All very predictable. I say, seduce your quarry by leading him/her/them to some dark boudoir where where the only thing you two/three/etc leave standing is the sweet smell of sex and sounds of passionate stroking. And do it when they least suspect it. Your unpredictability makes you lip smacking good. It also makes people willing to pay any price for what you got in your pants. Invest in your own deep pockets.
Pisces- Boston, San Fran and D.C. are all built on swamps. Sorry, reclaimed wetland that I rightly call swamps. Hong Kong Disneyland and the Hong Kong Airport-- total morass. A solid one-fifth, 20 freaking percent, of the Netherlands is former quagmire. Speaking of you, your uliginose is the moistest uliginose I've ever attempted to row my dinghy into. It's full of complex life forms of the highest order of ascendancy. Most cities destroy the wetland in favor of high rises, but yours is a superior intellect. Your psychic city floats serenely poised atop, maintaining your effulgent sweaty under bog. Your insides are sultry and tropical and teeming with life; and your exteriors are glass and steel forged from multi-versal compassion.
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