Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                       

                                 

disclaimer: Satire is my business. And business is good. Not monetarily, but in terms of availability and cost per market share and whatnot. It’s the best investment we got right now, considering all the hubble bubble.

Doc P’s Word of the Week: makebate. Look it up yourself, jerky. I’m neither your mommy nor your dictionary.

Aries-  There are only two US states that have passed legislation declaring an official firearm. Utah for example, has decided that the M1911 pistol is good god fearing symbolism that represents what Utah is all about. Not to be outdone, Arizona quickly followed suit, making the Colt Single Action Army revolver its official state gun. Arizona also lets most people openly carry a loaded firearm visible to others in a belt holster, gun case or scabbard. Finally a place for me and my scabbard to live in peace! It’s also legal for most Zonies to carry a concealed weapon without a permit. I’m hoping you’ll declare your official state weapon something more civilized---like the pen; which will always be mightier than the sword. Plowshares. Stability. No need for scabbards.

Taurus- Genius is a term so casually thrown around that it has been known to lie with the most vile of wrong headedness as in: awesome, killer, rad, brilliant, fo shizzle, neato, etc. adinfinnauseum®. Granted, as population increases, the amount of genius and/or awesomeness will become more rampant and available to the average radical dude. Which, in turn, changes the definition of words like ‘genius’, or ‘tripping balls’. And in english, we deal in idioms and metaphors---changing the way we use our brains---in particular the speed at which our brains work, evolve, and deal independently with a bizarre matrix where the future always happens after the past, and never before. Point is, genius is relative, and plot holes are plot holes, regardless of the genius of the creator.

Gemini- According to a 2011 survey by Travelodge, about 35 percent of British adults still sleep with a teddy bear. This already feels awkward: 1) How did Travelodge acquire this information? 2) Why doesn’t spellcheck correct the word ‘travelodge’ until I spell it without a lower case T? Should I be concerned about the infiltration of corporate desires into a world where three companies own pretty much everything? 3) Really? A third of travelling business oriented Brits travel with an actual teddy bear? Should I be concerened? 4) Is there a website where teddy loving Brits can go to meet other teddy obsessed limeys? And why haven’t I set up that website and gotten rich off the Teddy Brits®? www.naughtyteddybits.com is my ticket to financial independence. My meandering point is that even the weirdest piece of information can spur you multi tentacled brain toward new weird heights of genius and inspiration.

Cancer- You are a fluvial landform, heading longways and strangways, but always downriver, and only occasionally at flood stage; full of restless quiescent river monsters and catfish the size of saber toothed carnivores of bygone ice ages. You cut your way to and fro across ‘scapes and sounds, leaving rivers and lakes, and the promise of future prosperity for those who refuse to desecrate the land, thanking it for its bounty and life giving essences. And if you’re not educing any of those qualities…you are a traitor to you cancerial sign, and a traitor to a species that has survived our onslaught and fed us for a millennia, despite the poisoning of our oceans, or very life, our very existence. Find a tree. Give it a hug. And thank the river for feeding it.

Leo- There are precious few pamphleteers these days. What a pisser. It’s all left to missionaries and religious nuts whose proselytizing falls mainly on deaf ears as we enter the age of aquarius and religion becomes science, and we believe in a higher god, and a higher purpose---to grok the frak out of this ‘verse, and move on to the next one, preferably in a warp capable luxury space RV. Maybe the 21rst century version of the pamphleteer is the blogger—not to be confused with a writer, although down the line, bloggers will likely be elevated to the likes of Hemingway, Shakespeare, or even Bill O’Reilly. The medium changes, but the song remains the same—continuity through the disjointed vacuum of spacetime. Pamphlets are the conveyance for crazy and sane ideas—our thoughts and designs becoming transferable amidst the stringy connections of the collective conscience. Common Sense, friend---common sense.

Virgo- You are a mixed bag. Much in the style of William Jennings Bryan and Orson Scott Card---those tri-named bastards. Card is one of my favorite writers. And I just found out he’s Mormon. And I don’t hate Mormons, but anyone espousing faith of any kind might not qualify as genius. But Card is such a brilliant guy. Frak, I’m torn. And it’s a good thing that Bryan is dead because he and I would have to have some pretty serious talks about the flip side to his literate genius. He was for Prohibition and against Darwinism. How brilliant people can adhere to false ideas and untruisms®, is beyond me. Your mixed bag is not nearly as disturbing. Yours is more like brownies and broccoli. Stale bread and a perfect pour of a perfect beer. A dove and a hawk. A jingle and a jangle. A savory and a sweet. A little hither and a tad yon. Try to keep the balance.

Libra- I have just invented a new quandary. You can thank me later. So…you come upon a sealed jar full of live buzzing bees. I call it ‘the quandary of the jar of bees’. And one must ask oneself the inevitable question: 1) how did the jar get full of bees in the first place? Seems like not such an easy task. Bees hurt. Some of them kill. 2) what if the bees are Africanized honey bees that could in fact kill me? Should I be concerned with their individual freedoms, as creatures with some inalienable rights, that even if they don’t exist on paper right now, they will; and I will go down in history as a bee racist? Or a species-ist? 3) So…I’ve decided to leave the jar of bees alone and go my relatively merry way. Is it cruel to leave the jar in the sun? If I put the jar in the shade, is that more human, even though their death is the ultimate outcome no matter what. Crap, dude. Take a nap and get some lingonberry pancakes.---it’s going to be a long night.

Scorpio- The squirting cucumber is not a sex toy. It’s real name is ecballium elaterium, and if you’ve chosen it as a pet name for your genitals or the genitals of that someone special in your life, it’s time you knew the truth about the squirting cucmber. Yes, it looks similar to your average cucumber, but this is one of those rare plants that can actually move. To reproduce, it squirts a stream of mucilaginous liquid that contains its seeds. It’s generally poisonous, but can be used to treat sinus infections. Legal Disclaimer: I’m not recommending that you smear squirted cucumber ejaculate up your nose. I do recommend that we take a moment to revel in the glorious variety in the plant world. They are far older than our own species, and possibly far wiser. Lay us down in fields of green chlorific warmth, from whence we all first sprang. Let us commune with the earth and let the plants show us how to squirt.

Sagittarius- Thankfully, the Pope has been infallible by definition and law since the late 1800’s. Sure, there’s caveats. What would religion be without caveats? Non-binding, probably. In the realm of taoism, mayhap. Like if the holy father speaks ex cathedra for example, or if he’s in the middle of a stroke or possibly even religious ecstasy brought on by sipping wine and counting the church’s assets and wondering what to do about the whole vow of poverty clause that’s technically in his contract. The real holy figures walked the walk. The truly divine know your shoes and have walked in them to activate the all too rare empathy gene, which allows my eyes to be yours, even if only for a spell. Wear my shoes and you shall know my soles. 

Capricorn- William Jennings Bryan has pissed me off once again. Yeah, yeah I know—he’s dead. But the spirit of his wacky ideas lives on in the likes of the tea party. Yeah, I won’t capitalize things of little merit. Bryan was a bimetallist. No, not the pervy kind. Well maybe, I mean he does remind me of a more intelligent jim bakker. Anyhowdy, he was against the gold standard and in favor of a silver based economy, claiming it would engender more freedom for all Americans; not to mention a less stable economy and possibly $80 a gallon gas and $20 loaves of bread. Literati who espouse such philosophies with beautifully written words like, "You shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold", which of course injects theism into what should be a discussion based on an understanding of the principles of Darwinian economic. Keep your eyes peeled for some sound mother fudgin’ theory, and not fear based tripe.

Aquarius- The remnants of past history (what other kind, right?) are all around us, even if in decreasing numbers. Redwood trees evolved from a chemically different earthly timespace, when more oxygen was available to spur such prodigious growth. Today’s redwoods are the heartiest, halest, strongest, most environmentally defiant trees that have survived to present day. The age of our own species pales in comparison. They are our true forebears, crossing continents amidst planet cooling, shifting on plates of cooled outer surface, which in this cosmic moment of mesas and plateaus, we are fortunate to exist. We are witness to the slow death of the planet that trees once dominated. Point is, even there is ever a larger story than can be dreamt from your perspective. And that will never change. In this ‘verse, there is always ‘more’.

Pisces- The white mulberry is the fastest plant in the world. Its stamens, or “junk’ as kids call it today, you know—in the parlance of our times…anyhowdy, its stamens act as a catapult which shoot the pollen into the air at over half the speed of sound---that’s about 350mph at sea level. Holy crap. And I assume that where Roddenberry got the idea for that one Trek episode where Spock got spewed on by some alien plant, and fell in love with one of the indigenous super hot and scantily clad drug addicts from Planet Opium. Point is, just like Spock had to figure out---or at least what the human half of him knew, that when you get spewed on by a plant, don’t believe everything you feel. Or wait-- no. believe everything you feel, but hold tight before you resign your commission. 

Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes

           

disclaimer: Satire is bullcrap, and so is your face.

this week: Sorry, I don’t know what got into me. Here, have some paella.

Doc P’s Word of the Week: antimetabole. It takes one to know one. Wherever you go, there you are—which are probably more in the realm of a chiasmus, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.

Aries- Agape, agog, and akimbo, with past checkered, but never plaid, is your immediate future for the next four and a half days. By Tuesday, all this weirdness will once again return to hum and/or drum, banal, jejune, sans élan, avec détente, and coiled within a bubble of safety and normality, like a snake with a belly full of rat. So prepare to be jarred, floored, double taked and taken, bowled over and under, split seamways and lengthwise; transforming all of your previous assumptions into a slippery green fog that blows seaward, once the Whales enter the Bay, providing the protection from the mundane and controlled legislated calm. Use your guile and wile wisely and on the down low. The Whales of Entropy are en route!

Taurus- By virtue of…how skeletal, and vaguely implying a level much deeper than even artichoke hearts and divine spoonerisms. Virtue is good—the goodest good that can possibly good, of all the goods in the entire realm of goodness and gooditude. Example: ‘To act by virtue of one’s legitimate authority’. I am a rightful individual, able to stand for my own defence by virtue of MY AUTHORITY. What we don’t have here, is a failure to communicate. What we do have here, is intrinsically goodness, despite outward appearances; because we are inherently created and imbued with the divine right of kings—because we say so. Period. By virtue of all that you consider holy, and the virtuosity radiating from your spirit---light the world with all your might. As always, the time is nigh and ripe for something simple, something heartfelt, and something right.

Gemini- After a two liter bottle of something carbonated is cracked, and you don’t finish it in one large caveman swig, what is the best way to store it in order to minimize the carbonation loss over time? My physicist days are over and I refuse to do math, so my best guess is that if the cap is screwed back on tightly, the best spot is in the fridge. I figure at lower temperatures, there’s less molecular movement, and hence higher pressure---we got that jive thanks to ol’ Bob Boyle back in the 1600’s—the bonds between the carbonation and the sugars should remain more stable at lower temperatures because the pressure inside the bottle will be greater than at room temps. There, I’m glad we got that settled. As temperature goes down, pressure goes up—and vice versa. In this instance, you are the open two liter---find your preferred state of rest and comfortable pressurization. Don’t get the bends.

Cancer- Let’s talk about your aureola. Not to be confused with your areola, which I will deal with momentarily. The aureola is a radiance surrounding figures in representations of a sacred visage. It’s a halo—seen in religious art across all cultures, whether it’s Jesus, Buddha, Vishnu, an Imam or my cousin Frank, who actually was the inspiration for most of the Baroque period. Usually the halo isn’t just around the head, but around the entire body; as if the holiness gradient on these folks is unchartable, even if you were Knud IV, king of denmark in the 1000’s---(my favorite of all the Knuds). There is a vibrant aureola surrounding you at all times, as if you were art incarnate. This week, hang out with people who love you for your inner AND outer beauty. And we will haply worship at your temple mount.

Leo- I wonder…if Han Solo hadn’t changed his mind and come back for some hero time, would Luke have been shot in the ass by his father? I assume not because, at that point, he didn’t know it was father was trying to shoot him in the butt, and he certainly didn’t know he was about to blow up his father’s house. Weird. Since my original intent of point making, this line of interrogatory dumbness has come to a strange trifold taper: 1) the Father issues---whole weird kettle of fish. 2) Is Solo the other half of the good side of the Force? The Yin to Luke’s Yang? More kettle, more fish. 3) Bummer that one of Han and Leia’s kids becomes a Sith. 4) I will miss you, Chewbacca. 5) I wonder if he will miss me? 6) Happy (nearly) Birthday.

Virgo- You want to get a perspective on how much microscopic life follows us everywhere we go, and probably even out weighs us in terms of actual mass; put your iPhone, iPad or any mobile device under a microscope, preferably electron powered, and take a gander at your screen. To further the gross-out, do the same with a $20 bill, or if you dare-- the surface of your toothbrush. For only the truly strong of constitution, try looking atomically close at your intestinal lining. Hydrogen to helium to oxygen and nitrogen, to one celled organisms, and eventually us a ‘while’ later, in all our bacteria infested glory. We’re basically just walking bacteria transporters. Giant taxicabs for the tiny of cell count. What is their purpose? What do they want? Where are they taking us, and will there be cocktails? What of cocktails? What?! Get yourself a nice colonic, a strong dirty martini and take the day off.

Libra- I often forget that in my younger life, so many things didn’t exist that exist now, and the new crap seems to fling me personal and facewise in a true constancy, that I can hardly expect myself to keep up—what with Moore’s damnable law and the irrefutable math, proofs and evidence and whathaveyou, that just make me eager for cookies---freshly baked, with chocolate and butter and things rich in the bounty and bosom of the earth. We eat the earth all the time. We are what we eat, and therefore: we are the earth---or at least a healthy subsidiary of it; a colony, all obsidian and self obsessed, and determined to further the matrix into ever more complicated helixes of various---awwww, look at me, I’m rambling again…Let’s all be glad that the Dude is out there, taking it easy for all us sinners. The Dude Abides.

Scorpio- You are elusive like a broken spectre—a glockenspectre, or a brocken bow… light being split and splintered, and ringed in the shapes of a halos that deceive and lure me deeper into the foggy forest of your redwoods, through which I tromp in search of you; in lieu of you, shoeless and soulless. The moon is your illuminer, for she searches for you as well. Or perhaps she’s only trying to help me find you. Maybe you don’t exist without her. Or she’s funking with my wild head, treeing me owlwise and spiderprone, all branches and brambles, futilely hoping I will eventually learn my lesson and stay far from woodside  under openair and skyclad. Chasing the ethereal is madness surely. One can only hope to appreciate it when our eyes get enough light to see it and drink you in.

Sagittarius- Pluto is a messed up little dwarf planet, or in a preferred nomenclature hopefully somewhat less ignorant, a little planet. Pluto and Charon, its largest moon, are tidally locked, meaning their attraction for each other is so ‘great’, that Pluto and Charon always have the same side facing each other; much in the same way that our moon always shows us the same face. In addition, Pluto’s orbit is elliptical, so that sometimes it’s closer to earth than even Neptune. These are weird facts that I want to occupy your mind with, whilst over here, behin’st my back, I wave a magic wand, resulting in weird fairy tale type crap that whisks you away into a realm of fantasy jerk off time, and you end up finding your true destiny, which, spoiler alert---involves the ukulele and a dragon. Reality check: You will never see Pluto close up, sorry--but your Dragon is on its way. Take music lessons stat.

Capricorn- For now, we are still ahead of the machines. Case in point: it takes spellcheck less than a second to decide if I’ve spelled the word antidisestablishmentarianism correctly and whether its place in the sentence is grammatically correct. Guess what? Up your spellcheck; I’m already on to the thoughts for the next sentence, from my imaginative brain, that you’ll never fully achieve, you robot flesh eating monster!---and I don’t cite as proof MERELY old episodes of Star Trek, or Bladerunner, or countless Asimov books, but we humans will always be on top of the evolutionary tr----oh crap, this just in—machines already smarter than us, the challenge remains: who will learn to control the other first? I say humans, because of Rutger Hower. Think back on him and his travails. Learn from him you could. Rutger. Hower…

Aquarius- The efficacy of the ‘5 second rule’ is variable and affected by several environmental factors. 1) The gradient level of filth that the floor exudes. Is it a bathroom at the beach, or the kitchen of a germaphobe with a lot of time on his hands? 2) The inherent value of the food dropped. Is it cauliflower? Then throw it away immediately. Or is it a brownie? Is it a pot brownie? How much can be scraped off while maintaining the brownie’s integrity and endorphin educing choco power? 3) How much more pot brownie is left in the pan? Do the needs of the few or the one--mainly me-- outweigh the needs of the many? What is my responsibility to the group dynamic. Am I my brother’s pot brownie keeper? This week, keep your floors clean and all your ridiculous questions will be answered.

Pisces- The more I attempt to ill conceive, the more I self deceive; I require to perceive a different value system relying of another string, and suddenly I’d become vaporous and vapid amidst the world of collective consciences---what a strange breakdown: con & science; skeptic vs fact, indolent vs bored vs ennui vs out, out, out, out, ou, outttt, outttttt……..OKAY. Major Tom, this is MIssion Self Control, and Tom Cruise has left the building, possibly even the closet, so mind your p’s and q’s; because you are a Solo, distantly Han related—a rogue’s gallery of rebels and rapscallions that err to the side of perceived right and get hot chicks and princesses just by walking in the room. All you need is a good blaster by your side and you will be ready to explode that death star that’s been occluding your sun through so many angry regimes and ritual bloodletting.

      Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                      

                                 

Disclaimer : Satire is not borne of flesh; it is immaculate, innate and endemic, infused and atomized from the very bottom up, the darkest matter that the ‘verse can engender or the Collider can reproduce.

Doc P’s Wild Word of the Week: borne. Not the Jason one, and no, not the Argonaut, and it’s not quite a divan, but what a strange past participle of a nounverb-- and then the French had to mess with it.

Aries-  Your snowclone has me confuzzled. Let me properly exacerbate my ideaments for perfect mutual nomenclature. I only blandish, and will not repeal. The figurementosis regarding our impending purple nurptuals is defocative of entanglements that I propose we do not emulate, nor implementize. Sorry for the obtuosity, but the right angled defense merits no look-see, and bears no relations to the congress, sexual or otherwise of cave dwelling monotremes and election winning ped- and dema- gogues. Fart clearwise and straight-on, lest we enfume ourselves with the head cheese of blind eyes, and sitting when we should be standing, and lying pronewise skyward, when we should be engaged and enamored, transmogrified and released from this feral life projection. Snap to it.

Taurus- Collectors are strange folk. Within the realm of the reasonable and not deal breakers, are the following: coins, wine corks, comic books, thoughts, baubles, geegaws and items sundry in nature. However, if you’re Desiderius Erasmus Roterodamus, 15^th century dutch humanist and wearer of cool hats, you would collect greek and latin proverbs---the epitome of niche markets. Hey-- I kid the nerds, cause I love ‘em. Heck—part of the tribe, right? Anyhowdy, if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have evidence that the human brain, the collective un- and conscious, society in its entirety, that’s moving along at a steady plateau’d millennial pace… And possibly due for a malfunction, a time warp, something mutational and leap worthy, a wormhole, a systematically ensured accident, fusion powered to take us to another plateau, one hopefully with a better viewing station than that glass bottom rip off at the Grand Canyon; so that we can see our collection from a larger point of view.

Gemini- “I know nothing of your church; at the very least it contains people who will, I fear, overturn the whole system and drive the princes into using force to restrain good men and bad alike. The gospel, the word of God, faith, Christ, and Holy Spirit – these words are always on their lips; look at their lives and they speak quite another language”---Erasmus from a letter to Martin Luther at the birth of protestantism. And speaking of science based solutions to societal conflicts of interests that often devolve into war, pointless backbiting, needless bloodshed, and time wasting jibber and/or jabber, keep on your radar the concept of allowing your emotions in a gentle flow, and choose to react in a differently, possibly one more in line with your big brain and beautiful lips.

Cancer- My favorite part of the story that created this idiomatic gem: He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her, is that Jesus was trying to save a prostitute from being stoned by a crowd of judgmental jerks, who demand purity from everyone but themselves. Perhaps he and Mary Magdalene were in love----perhaps because he was the only man to accept her, for who she really was, and not her profession, her enslavement, or possibly her only option other than starvation. Everyone is worthy of compassion because everyone is worthy of compassion. No qualifiers, no entry fees, no fine print, no born here automatic semantic induction banning all interlopers because of the insular nature of the group dynamic bullcrap. The gene pool, like the temperature of the Gulf Stream, is changing minutely, affecting a large swath of the ecosystem’s building codes in ways for which we are unprepared. Hence evolution. Ergo compassion for all. Sina qua non, we are one and we are not.

Leo- In a perfect ‘verse, the native american’s long term justice for rape, and the theft and destruction of land, liberty and future, is the tobacco plant. The west brought a plague or two with them, and in return the west received a fer reals plague---one that’s truly long term and impossible to eradicate, for demand will never cease. Black Death, smallpox, HIV, distracted drivers---are small potatoes compared to the sheer velocity of deaths and disease caused by just one plant. Even heroin doesn’t reach that level of barbarism, betrayal and murder. The tobacco plant species is trying to kill us and we’re subsidizing it. Corn, wheat and sugar are also at the starting gates in the race to kill humans. I don’t blame them—we do grow, harvest andd eat them. I’m not saying you have to give up rum or corn bread, I’m just saying to keep a multi faceted eye on your surroundings. Too much of a good thing can be murder. Beware the plants.

Virgo- Nemo auditur propriam turpitudinem allegans, aka no one can be heard to invoke his own turpitude, aka pleading the Fifth, aka look, pal I didn’t do nuthin’ and you can’t prove nuthin’, and not to mention, nuthin’ to see here, move along now, please disperse, else my force jabbing water cannons and chemical fogs will swab your decks and lay you pronewise tits up. How civilized we be! Luckily, you have nothing to hide and no cause for a policified response. Every traffic light in your travels will be green, and the roads empty. You are without turpitude or calumny or greed. It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little thankful, but you deserve it. And while you do have to keep your eyes open for the signs, there be nothing but success on the road ahead. Drive safe, drive fast and put the top down--- you are the wind.

Libra- ‘Take Me Home, Country Road’ by John Denver, is somehow not the officially sanctioned state approved song in the state of west virginia. Ironically, the two times I’ve been to Oktoberfest, all the oomp-oompa bands in all the beer tents play ‘Take Me Home, Country Road’ along with several thousand sing along bavarians, at least once an hour; or in beer time, about once every 20 euros. But understandably, the western virginia is not nearly as caught up in a mainstream media machinations, as is nearby D.C. or trend-watching Iowa. Maybe they haven’t heard of John Denver because it’s still only 1962 in the west virginia. Maybe ‘Rocky Mountain High’ is contradictory and mutually exclusive and unpalatable to the distinctive virginian sense of decorum. Find your song, get it through your infernal legislative cerebrum, and use it to fight evil. Go now!

Scorpio- Lappish Hag's Love Potion--- my own version which is laced with some mucuna pruriens, preferably soaked for 30 minutes prior to infusion, add in a healthy serving of mamajuana, and a candlelit screening of a sexified horror film, that in itself is aphrodisiacal, because the desired effect is two (or more) people huddling very close in dirty sexy terror. I’m just guessing at some of the plans, plot and schemes in that scorpionic brainstem of yours, that always seem so focused on licking out all juicy forest tidbits and sliding them wholesale into any and all waiting mouths. Speaking of slippery juices, an appetizer of oysters is a moral imperative to make way for the potion to work its magic. Two Lappish Hags coming up! Drink deeply, count to three, and we are one.

Sagittarius- There are two states in these here united ones that do not currently have a state sanction official song. Don’t panic. One is New Jersey, and it’s probably better they don’t. The other is Virginia, which is embroiled in a battle to ditch the old state song, ‘Carry Me Back to Old Virginny’, which reeks of colonialism and likely, racist tendencies. And the lyrics, ‘take me home, country road, to the place I belong, just regular not west virginia, mountain mamma….’, don’t organically roll off one’s palette. I know for a fact that you have many anthems, but now is the time to choose one that will become your ballad of triumph for the next few weeks. Sing it, hum it, whistle it, or bang it out on spoons at any moment of doubt or bear attacks and it will see you through unharmed and unbent and un-eaten by a bear.

Capricorn- Go figure, a guy named Pope was catholic. Back in the days of Alexander Pope, it was illegal in england to let catholic children be educated, let alone come within 10 miles of london. And I refute the argument that legislated racism creates brilliance from adversity, or that genius will always triumph over the ways of tyrannical and the myopic, but then there’s his beautifully written line: “Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear”. It’s Taoism in the face of organized gangs that run like pit bosses over the intellectual freedoms and aspirations of the trodden and the patriotic snakes that have been diced into triskaidekian triadic deism, phobic of anything vaguely smelling of non- corporality or conformity. You and the river are one.

Aquarius- The world is often wrought and fraught with bromide platitudes and sinfully pointless raconteurs reciting pledges borne of misguided authority, their typically vapid word vomits always self righteous, always self important, and like a city built as an aerie, their giant heads swirl evolution’s gait in a fashion more violent and upheavally oriented than would the slow vibrations of an aesthetic, a llama, a Lama, or a slow poured Guinness with a perfect head, whose flavor stays on your moustache after the beer has begun its journey down the alimentary canal, feeding energy into blood, and delusions central station way, so as to fuel one’s belief in in vino veritas… the train keeps going, even though the next stop is imminent. Obtusely speaking, watch your angles and don’t comment on them, at least for now. Drop the wrought and ditch the fraught.

Pisces- Buddha seems to me like a light spanker. Yahweh, more of a smiter. There’s no telling with the likes of multi armed Shiva what she may do or undo to you; and I’ve no clue where the rule stands on even writing the word Mohammed. And if there’s extra penalty for writing Mohammed in italics, who knows?! But I guess there’s dudes named Mohammed, so I gotta be okay. Same with Jesus--- lots of dudes named Jesus, and perhaps due to upbringing, the original Jesus seems a smidge passive aggressive to me. With karma, you jiggle in a gentle spin cycle in a washer that’s moving at light speed, splitting dark matter like butter with a hot knife. And even though sometimes the view stinks; we have a front row seat. Spank me, Buddha, spank my karma.

      Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                         

disclaimer: even without freedom, satire exists. even when forced underground, it’s power to bubble topward, freedonian style is inevitably micro-tomic.

this week: up your nose with a rubber hose. fer reals and shizzle, yo.

Doc P’s Word of the Week: cretin. It was racist to call someone that like 2000 years ago. It’s cool now though.

Aries- As the self proclaimed ‘Sultan of Sandusky’, aka Bud ‘the buddy’ Normalson, once said, ‘the Stetson–Harrison method of producing a positive Throckmorton sign, is superior to the more poisonous, dihydrogen monoxide treatment, aka anti-torture, which inevitably and collectively assaults our senses and removes our id’. I don’t know what the hell he was talking about, but because it’s in quotes AND italics, not to mention the all caps on the ‘and’ indicating a stressed importance of, I guess, the combination of verbs, is what really packs the proverbial punch. Some of what we’ve discussed here has been real, painfully real indeed; and yet some of today’s palaver is of less value than the contents of your average landfill or septic system. As you sift through the flotsam, try to remember that there is a spoon, but it won’t help you if you really want oatmeal.

Taurus- La Belle Époque, at the time anyway, was not so belle. Eras get named in retrospect—the Roaring 20’s, the Victorian Age, the Summer of Love, or that one decade where everyone refused to wear pants or pay their rent. After time for analysis has passed and we are well on to the next crisis, disaster, corporate malfeasance, palinesque forays into foreign countries to secure energy---which we need---but I’m just sayin’…In the moment, when events are piled skywise and linearlike, we react--figuring shit out when we have time, even a moment’s pause—breaks happen, but sometimes we don’t get to choose when. I predict that you will find yourself in the iris of the eye of the storm, and the karmic donkey you’re riding will foist you indefatigably successward and skyhigh.

Gemini- Caution: what you are about to read may blow your mind and entwine you in ways that will rightly earn you the nickname ‘cosmic grapevine’. You will feel an inescapable need to tattoo yourself with an image, a glyph, a phrase, a totem, or just the safe word of your significant other; so that you can remember at a glance, have that thought, that photostatic copy in your head of events that have now gone the way of the auk, the dodo, Bare Bottom Tuesdays® at my favorite local bar, and the age of being able to eat lard without all the self flagellation and perceived morality. You are on a precipice that leads only to higher ground and safe havens for your sacred cows and pet projects.

Cancer- I’m a fan of the Manilow, or a Fanilow®, which is sort of like a DeadHead, or a ParrotHead, or heaven forefend, the average cretin who pays money for one of those Chipmunks movies in 3D---those people are truly insufferable, as is their choice in entertainment. I grew up listening to Lola and Tony’s exploits (on LP, no less…), that inevitably ended in tragedy, because of one jealous man with a fondness for diamonds—no doubt the bloody kind. Not to mention, but I will—he wrote the opening credits song for one of my favorite Colin Higgins movies; and more needless to say, but I will anyway: Mandy---you came and you gave without taking. No lie---I like the Manilow. I am a Fanilow®. But it’s your birthday time…Right now, YOU write the songs; songs that make the whole world sing. You make Manilow look like a bucket of six day old chicken. This is your bucket of chicken. It is fresh. Use it well.

Leo- I don’t know why there’s no rest for the wicked. I’m just going to watch this pot of water till it boils. I won’t be hasty, and consequently, I’ll waste precious little. Likewise, I will sew a stitch in time somehow and consequently, save nine of something. The grass is always greener, but only to changes in depth of field and light refraction due to the presence of swamp gas. If money doesn’t grow on trees, then I guess I need a real job. Two birds in my hand will probably make poop there, and I’d prefer they did that in the bush. Not to mention that I’m pretty sure that even if I had two birds in hand, I don’t think I could snap their little necks; I mean, I’d have to be pretty damn hungry. In the meantime, keep trying to lead that horse to water. He has to drink eventually right? Keep your eyes open and your body will follow.

Virgo- You are like a spherical cow in a vacuum. No, not by mass; but rather akin to an answer to a question that is merely the facsimile, factotum and synecdoche of an implication of a hint confirming only slightly that subatomic matter possesses any reality that bears relevant to your current position in this ursine river of your discontent. But nay, via my spherical cow magic eight ball, I can see a fork coming your way. I could predict if you’ll go left or right, but only if you remain a spherical cow in a vacuum. Not to paralyze your analyze, or jerk your metaphorical chain, but when the fork comes—you will know what to do, for there is only one path, sort of. Don’t worry, just tend to your herd and feed your soul.

Libra- Hofstadter's butterfly, with all its inescapable geometric beauty and high concept mathematical falderal, is no comparison to your butterfly. And if you don’t have one, now is the perfect time to invent your own butterfly sigul, btw, because now is the time in your life when you are supposed to acquire such symbolism, such totemic glyphs are your birthright; you’ve earned them like stripes or medals, or scars both skin deep and psychic. As you walk this path, you become more of who you are. In some societies, you don’t earn your name even, til you have passed certain age related tests, which mold your psyche into new folds, branes, dimensions and strings, creating the new version of you. Pretty straightforward process, really. Find your butterfly, it’s time. 

Scorpio- Let’s talk physics cause I know you can handle it---specifically shear thinning, which is an effect where a fluid's viscosity—the measure of a fluid's resistance to flow—decreases with an increasing rate of shear stress, aka a pseudoplastic. One can observe this effect in such crazy stuff as lava, ketchup, whipped cream, blood, paint, and nail polish. Don’t run out and stick your face in lava, but I do recommend you try to apply this concept to things in your own psyche. There are ideas, beliefs, feelings, id, urges, drives and moral imperatives that move and evolve slowly, changing viscosity, becoming real and unreal, manifesting your reality out of nothing but mere subatomic soup, that in itself is without definition, save what we assign it. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, dude. And your viscosity is sublime.

Sagittarius- You and three other signs are the heralds of the solstice and the equinox. Sag, Pisces, Gemini, and Virgo are known as mutable signs. At the end of your cycles, the earth reaches a major turning point in its tilted angle towards the sun. From Sag, Capricorn takes over and the earth starts tilting from its maximum angle, all pendulum-like and starts moving slowly back the other way. Imagine—you were born at a time when the earth was hitting the top of the pendulum swing, its mass reaching a momentary endpoint in a millennia-long wobble, that has eased its way into our seasons, our beliefs, our holidays, our identities. Sag is change---change from one to another, hearkening back to a time of endless seasonal change, and an island of safety in which we can exist, at least for a time. Your energy is potent. Use it wisely.

Capricorn- Hecate got the shaft. And I don’t know who she is to Hecuba or her to Hamlet, but she was the original trinity, way prior to nonsensical monotheism---trying to squish everything into one-ness, into a singularity---especially considering our ‘verse has been spreading wider and stranger ever since bangs of big nature; and that a mere god particle could be the end-all-be-all particle that unifies our theories. Hecate is your watchword for the week. Another, in the long list of women who have had their titles and lands stripped, their prestige and reputation relegated to whores, evil doers and secondary to a male trinity; which is no way to run a railroad---even though the train, the track and newtonian physics may be the scientific equivalent of the monotheistic trinity. Patterns repeat. They mutate as well, but repetition is far more likely. Stay alert and ready for anything.

Aquarius- Ketchup. Or Catsup. Also known as that boring salty almost flavorless symbol of american capitalism at work, actually comes from a chinese word meaning ‘pickled fish brine’. Mmmmmm…fish brine. And this is just the tip of the iceberg lettuce of pseudoplastic trivia I’m about to lay on your burger. 1rstly, let’s talk Fancy Ketchup, which has a higher tomato solid concentration than other USDA grades, aka more tomato for your catsup dollar. 2ndly, ketchup is included in a weird list of non-newtonian fluids, that is to say, it deviates from basic rules of how most fluids move, hence the term pseudoplastic (read for scorpio below). 3rdly, ketchup was secretly instrumental in the botched Bay of Pigs fiasco that cemented the forced impoverishment of an entire island. That, however is a longer story. 4thly, the point is that even the blandest objects have the most fascinating of histories. Don’t discount condiments, and don’t discount your own history, which is replete with details even you never imagined possible.

Pisces- If you fear you’ve gone skitterwise and sideangled, and imagine yourself to be in a lackluster jungle adventure movie with Chuck Norris, Lou Gosset and Jon Rhys Davies, while the truth lies somewhere closer to you parading ‘round your ‘partments in a thrift store bought neophyte “private’s” uniform’, sans pants, polishing off your ninth appletini, and barking orders at non existent simulacrums and ripoff homages to better movies with Duvall and Brando, consider yourself on mandatory RandR. Back in the real world, it’s summer; we still retain relative control of the daylight hours in our hemisphere (the northern one--), doughnuts are plentiful, and your timeline is right on schedule. There remains multitudinous futures for you, relax and move with the current. Jungles become deserts, due to climb and climate.