Dr. Pants McTurd's

           MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                                   (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                     

Obscure Quote of the Week: Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody's face but their own.  –J. Swift

Doc P’s Word of the Week: Hapax legomenon. I’m not going to repeat it…

Aries-  I love Wikipedia—pretty much anything with wiki in front of it. It sounds quick and accurate, like alleged buses in Honolulu. Sorry for the big BUT, but the existence of a Wikiquote page for Scoobey Doo, makes me doubt my entire reality, and fear that we take “art” too seriously; as if art no longer reflects life, but IS life, and we model our behavior after what we see on a vid screen, sucking information through the eyeballs of our teeth that grind endlessly on bones of internetted info, pre-dispositioned to drag us this way or that, like the will of a fisherman, trolling where his will and knowledge go, with the tides and with his/her angler’s balls. From a macro perspective, perhaps it’s always been this way. Currents of space dragging us somewheres. Grab a paddle, but rest easy—the ocean is a friendly one.

Taurus- I’m pretty sure nothing good comes in slurry form. A flurry sounds like ice cream and a blizzard probably has bits of cookie in it, but slurry evokes images of dangerous chemical processes and profit driven multi nationals, bent on paving over the world with their newest form of lab borne goo. It’s oozing down all our throats the second a television is turned on. Like the Blob, it rolls through your neighborhood, trampling your tulips and strangling your house pets. Fight the future, I say! Slay the slurry of discontent that makes light of our struggling masses. Fear not the river of rotten that attempts to encircle our camp. Say no to bullshit and slurry, and you will ever be free.

Gemini- What’s in a name? Perhaps we should ask Sojourner Truth; or Increase Mather. How about Christian Ponder or Andrew Luck? Or to be safe, let’s stick with John Brown or John Doe. Keep things simple, lest we assume a mantel greater than our ability to carry throughout our boulder pushing lives. Regardless of your name, heavy lies the crown of centuries of forbears and antecedents, those poor brave souls who came before you, and donated some eggs and sperm, hopefully for the betterment of the future, and a permanent place in the timeline of earth. I’m of the other school of thought—one’s name is merely for the first part of the voyage. Once asea, and trials and hardship, and personal growth toss your ship about a bit-- one should choose their own name. I’m going with Stargazer Bonafide. Find your name, and claim it. You’ve earned it.

Cancer- Red state, blue state—bullshit, walks—and often talks. Radical change equals the buzzword of the day, and I feel for you in the strangest and most ethereal way; like we’re angels or fairies, bound here for centuries, trying to make it one more day-- one more day til union, one more day til the boulder we’re pushing uphill finds an apex, and we rest together, peacefully sanguine and relatively unharmed by the mere passage of time. The challenge is to always be seeking balance—which might not normally be your forte, or even in your list of qualifications. Balance to weigh the good of love and cognitive sonorance, with the illogic and evil of the entropic world. Love all that you see, but with a wary eye that leans towards mercy and absolution. Purple state. Walk the walk.

Leo- There is a balance to be had between power and control and assumed autonomy, and the allowance for the innate free will of people at large. At least, I would hope. But the matrix of all this is tenuous and predicated on a rube-goldberg machine, that we hope ends up at the right place after we drop the ball in the bucket and hit the golden dinger. First you get the money, then you get the power. And then the women. Or men, depending on your taste. Or maybe its chocolate-- or gold, something impermanent and tasteful, that jacks up your sense of well being and fortitude. Your travails are legend and taoistic and well travelled, and I assume you know the way of several cultures. Drop the dime, and save the time---the machine is already in motion—Reap the whirlwind.

Virgo- The history of human migration on this here planet is astounding. Centuries upon centuries of scouring the earth in order to find sustenance, a frontier, a reason to exist, and possibly a way back to whatever god that created us. Take the Inuit for example, also known as the Thule people, who were pre-dated by the Dorset culture, made it all the way from the Bering Strait to Greenland, and possibly met the Vikings; and hey—people being people, they may very well have done the Ice Age Horizontal Mambo®, spreading DNA all the way back to Europe and into the Americas. We are all one---literally—one species. You’re a smart cookie though, and I don’t want to give you more of the same juice you’re already drinking. My point to your face and mouth hole is this: The world is massive, far bigger than you have ever imagined, and that’s saying something. Consider the possibility that you’re not Hamlet, but rather Horatio—or the grave digger. Take heart and grab a shovel.

Libra- Let’s talk some fancy root words, yes? Inspire. Conspire. Transpire. Now consider the relationship betwixt the twains of these beguilers three: Inspire means to animate with life, literally to breathe life. Conspire means that we do it together, two make one. Transpire means to let out the air of life, so that those atoms may find their way to their next destiny after being transformed within your lungs, giving your being life, chemically altering oxygen into fuel, and releasing CO2. Breath in. Let us breathe together, and then breathe out. And then repeat for a lifetime. Brilliant. And the best part is, that’s all you have to do. The rest of the universe will lay itself out as your feet walk the path. Breathe.

Scorpio- Life cannot solely be comprised of wholesale destruction and wanton widespread orgies. All things hidden and secret, taboo and non secular—are merely to entice your mood. And they are merely half the coin. Yet, as one needs an anthropological frontier, one must also assume one’s place in history—or not, I guess I don’t really care, but point is, that we dig, and we dig and we dig, in the hopes of discovering out purpose, our origin, and our future—that we temporarily plant a flag in the underwater ice, like russians or counter terrorists, affirming our survival. Transformation is your key word and lodestone. Use it wisely, for ig-naughts abound.

Sagittarius- The level at which you operate is oft maligned and never truly understood. You take the good, the prehistoric and the positronic, and you fine tune your amplitude into an effective, usually gastronomic amplifier, that mollifies your sin and redoubt, qualifying you for the level of sinner turned saint—a cosmic phoenix from the ashes, and whatnot. You are fire that gives life, the glow that emanates from all of our centers—our chakras—our ancient places of rebirth right here in our own bodies. You are ancient, despite the newness of your energy. You don’t ride on the wings of eagles—you are the eagle—the sky lord. You are skyclad in feathers of pure light. Nice work if you can get it. Ride on, Valkyrie.

Capricorn- Over time, there have been many people of societal importance. Some sway more than others the tide of history and the effect of this dimension. You got your Lincoln, your Napoleon, your Buddha, a little Moses, some Michael Jackson, etc. However, if we go with the butterfly effect—not the Kutcher movie, but rather a sound principle in chaos theory—the smallest action can create massive action in the future, hence the butterfly who flapped its wings in China 6 months ago that caused Hurricane Sandy this week. You may not hold the brush that makes broad strokes or swaths of you-colored paint in this multiverse; but your actions have impact greater than you can imagine, or will ever be lucky enough to witness. Flap away, my little monarch, and wait for the bang.

Aquarius- Knowledge of everything is elusive by nature, or at the very least, the idea that the sum total of everything is calculable--nay, definable...is a burden that inspires our motor function, and the burning race of synapses, and the chemical change of intuitive foresight into real and usable material, with which we may plan better, feel better, and live better—if we choose. BUT… even if we choose, the future can always throw curveballs and change-ups, gutters and strikes—regardless of the intended aim of our arrow of truthiness. God just might play dice with the universe—electrons existing in all places simultaneously, creating the fabric of spacetime, so that we can all experience a small section of it, and if we’re lucky, a synecdoche, pieces of the whole that represent the entirety may be ours for the opting. Bon chance, mon ami.

Pisces- Your deep seated membranes and a ionic, iconic and/or ironic plagiarism confounds even the scurviest of dogs, be they flagless freebooters or captains of industry, why—the power and corrigible authority lies in your will. Brain stems, elastic like preternatural axotyls, living cavelike and disjointed, psychic yet all undaunted, bereft of beach and foundering sans light and hope, save for the mercy of the empath. You, who can feel all moods and penetrate all false fronts-- you must be exhausted...and yet you fight on. Pushing for further mutation, more amplitude, and hopefully endless love—like an ocean of love that transcends, transforms and is indeed, the very7 engine that drives our souls through the multiverse. You are ready for any albatross that comes your way. Save the bird, save the planet.

                       Dr. Pants McTurd's

        MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                      

                            (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                 

Random quote of the week: A knight errant who turns mad for a reason deserves neither merit nor thanks. The thing is to do it without cause. --Cervantes

Doc P’s Word of the Week: acephalous. Ask Ichabod about this one.

Aries-  For those who can actually translate music to and from the written language, and thereby translate into their own heads and minds the true nature of tempo and of mood, as well as  intent of the artistic soul, even though they had potentially never heard any such sound previously—these people astound me. To read off the page what is ostensibly an emotional collaborative effort betwixt an unruly army of musically enhanced ambidextrians, and crossed with an ego driven alpha male, who probably enjoys too much Mahler and empathizes with Salieri—is marvelous. There is a secret language that you share with precious few. Reap it, tongue it, and drive it into the mouths of babes so we may time travel on your words.

Taurus- For your consideration, The Seven Percent Solution, starring some british guy I don’t know as Sherlock Holmes, but Robert Duvall as Watson, and Alan Arkin as Sigmund Freud who tries to cure Holmes’ hearty cocaine addiction with the promise of psychiatric reform even for those of us who are beyond the intelligence of most mortal men. Oh, and Larry Olivier as Moriarty. I’m emotionally erect just thinking about it. Nominated for two Oscars---extra points if you can name the categories. Best part about the film is that under hypnosis, Freud discovers that his father murdered his mother for adultery and then commited suicide. Moriarty was Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s math teacher and was the person who gave the boys the bad news, thus incurring a lifelong mistrust of Moriarty by the Holmes brothers, despite his being quite the opposite of a crime lord. A) check this movie out. B) Find out why the rights are tied up and dvd’s are hard to come by, and C) let’s organize a revival screening of a film that deserves some air time.

Gemini- Annie Edison Taylor was the first person to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Amelia Earhart was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic. Gertrude Ederle was the first woman to swim across the English Channel. Junko Tabei was the first woman to scale Everest. Sally Ride---first woman in space. My point to you Geminis, is that regardless of your current genital situation, this is an excellent time to be the first at something unbelievable. So unbelievable in fact, that you may have to do it a second time in front of a witness for anyone to believe it. To save yourself the time, set up a camera and record your upcoming first. Maybe you’ll finally clean the bathroom. Maybe you’ll be the first person on Mars. Although the truth is probably somewhere between those two poles. Dream big. Go bold.

Cancer- Enigmatologists are a strange lot. They sit around all day trying to figure out puzzles for me to unhitch and unfurl; deliberately making ways to cloud and obscure, encode and deconstruct, so that I may enjoy the unraveling, the disrobing—the reconfiguring of something that has been put another way and ensconced in mystery---and all for my joy at discovering their ruses and mazes and figures of speech. But what a strange lot they must be—to want to disguise reality, usually in plain sight, and always at the slap of my own forehead. I bring up this seemingly unrelated nonsense in order to apply it to your life. Let’s palaver: The mysteries and puzzles of your life were created by you. You are your own enigmatologist, having invented what appears to be a conundrum about why you do what you do, and why you like what you like. But there isn’t really a puzzle to solve; only your own devices to dismantle and undress. It’s time to employ your own inner cruciverbalist and move past the mystery.

Leo- To put it metaphoric & bluntly; the worm has turned. Maybe not in its grave, but turned nonesomeevertheless. Who shall inherit the earth? The meek shall, and that must mean that we’ve been stepped on for long and hard enough—to the point where even an invertebrate would strike back, changing the battle toward an undeniable edge. To quote the Bard: “To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.” Yeah, that’s a lot of words, but chaw on this: the worm at tequila’s bottom will be yours. Eat it, and draw its power for your upcoming test of strength. Victory is unavoidable and well deserved.

Virgo- If the rivers of heaven flowed wine, would we not be divine alcoholics? If in heaven, there is happiness and chocolate and freedom from worry and needless wars of unholy attrition, that the earthly realm is replete, will we find salvation? What about contentment? And what of future security? Or the immigration issue? What about the economy, stupid? Do we wear pants in heaven? I hope not. Is the level of our discourse equal to our level of intellect, which goddammit, I know is higher than the alleged national average. Will we ever be free of the competition for volume in a very crowded Amazon? If the rivers of heaven flowed white with juicy juicy cocaína, would we be satisfied in this—the average life, the under-spoken, the ill-begotten, and the totally corporeal? I have no idea. For now, stay fit and alert, and enjoy the passing of moments with a modicum of wine, in which there floats a murky truth.

Libra- I would be the last to argue that we are not in the violent death throes of near criminal insanity; or at the very least a rabid insatiable attraction for one another’s blood treasure and soil; HOWEVER, I would say that we should either get it on-- or one of us has to leave the state. Seriously, the tension is killing us both. Wait—don’t go, I’m sorry—it’s just that I’ve been burned before; you know, once bitten, twice fuck you, and probably a Gotye song drowning in kleenex and an adult diapers, holding my wet kisses to me and only myself. At last, a modicum of reason, and as soon as I’m in Arizona, or preferably Hawaii, we’ll both be able to lead normal productive lives. But wait…don’t go. Destiny is laid out before us, and we have a ticket to ride. This is then—at Bell’s Beach…and we can surf off into the storm, to return to Valhalla from whence we came.

Scorpio- Someday, you and I--we’ll take part in a giant monkey wedding. There will be lemurs and orangutans, and bonobos and other somewhat related rodentine outlaws gnawing and conniving their way into a rather flourishing existence that makes perfect sense given their innate gnawing and sneaking talents; based on what environment dictates of course, as well as the availability and endurability of previous models that survived every oncoming cataclysm, from plague to drought to over abundance of certain chemicals known by the state of California to cause rectal cancer, and/or impermanence of being, aka non-corporeality; and covering our collective and individual butts, from ruin and/or damnation; and yet nay and nevertheless, I say to thee: get ready for the party; break out your monkey wine, put on your red shoes and dance the blues.

Sagittarius- The idea that a self assuming moral person could get up in front of an audience of millions and commit such lies, such calumnies, such frakking abominations of verbiage and lying intent, with deeper purposes of maligning and obfuscating---why, it’s beyond a rational person’s purview! And I dare say, an unforgivable blight on the wart of the nose of humanity that one would ever consider such a dastardly deed, with the only purpose of continued self imprisonment, and self imposed isolation, compounded by the inevitable upcoming terminus of this here train we been a ridin’, why, I am appalled… that we’re all just standing around picking our noses and pissing windward. Live direct. Drive with purpose. Now is the time. Vote early and often. Stick it to the man, and lose the fraught, fear, and self-undermining. Stand and deliver it to his fat face.

Capricorn- It’s always about the approach. Lifting, barreling, transversing, obfuscating---the intention matters not, but rather the aim and intent of your desire, that defines your outcome. Case in point: You should say ‘I love you’ to something everyday, and you should mean it. Should it be your significant other, your cat, a sandwich, or maybe an ethereal concept that has been driving your dreams til past time when bovines come home and squat palaver style ‘mongst your kitchen and pyre, drowning in recipes for destruction and pointless proclivities toward self immolation and intense schadenfreude. The approach is of the utmost importance because it will determine your landing; whether it’s on a safe planned runway with required safety features and intelligence apropos of your abilities; or a haphazard jungle kamikaze style die hard cluster fuck. Approach with forethought and care are not always possible, but do your best.

Aquarius- There’s something very strange about the walnut. Let’s palaver. Firstly, for a nut, it’s pretty soft. I’m suspicious from the get-go, (and hey, cashew—I’m on to your shit too). Secondish, it tastes like a tree. Don’t know how I know that, since my tongue, or lengua…is unfamiliar with no-holds-barred licking of trees in my local forest-- but let’s move on as I’ve revealed too much. Thrice: I refuse to believe it is complimentary to the chocolate chip, be it semi-sweet, full sweet, or peanut butter infused. And I don’t want to invoke a cookie enhancer riot, but please---there shall be no segregation of tastes! Separation does injury to my physical volume, and withholds rather, the injustice of non-universality—I know us all to be equals-- compatriots, compadres and people in service of each other and for those in need. Life is good—pass it on. And bring cookies.

Pisces- You’re playing music in the shower at such a strange hour, and my mind travels and wonders to what the devil you be up to. Or scrubbing. Or drubbing. Or what houses you may be blowing down regardless of their material make up. The candles in the room grow weary with intersecting winds, portending certain doom, I’m sure of it. But then… I count my symbols and I remember it’s best not to portend, or future-scape; it benefits me most not to permit my drizzles to become torrents, lest my full sails become impotent with doldrumic inactivity, and I founder on a sea of irreversible sadness and not a waterfall in sight. Like Annie Edison Taylor, I’ve made my barrel, and my intent to ride it over Niagara is equal only to my steel resolve to grab life by the balls and make downtown history on a shoestring budget. I suggest you do likewise.

                        Dr. Pants McTurd's

            MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                     

                  (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                 

disclaimer: Satire is always funny, so grow up and buy some kleenex.

Obscure quote of the week: The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but to those who see it coming and jump aside.      ---Hunter Thompson

Doc P’s Word of the Week: rumpus. Not your rear, but there is a special room for it.

Aries- You put the fun in funicular. You’re a hot jazz lick double four time, with Ella scatting up front, and Corea on the drums, and Coltrane blowing my door off. You’re a ’72 Dodge with a Lamborghini engine straddling lanes and controlling the flow; you’re under the radar and breaking sound barriers in all types of atmos—be they oxygen nitrogen, or the helium hydrogens of the gas giants. You’re a cosmonaut juggernaut jamming frequencies and creating sub light variations in the temples and eyes of the known world. Bear these metaphors in mind as you streak through the multiverse this week, for your tail is full of star dust and your heading is galaxywide, and sunbound.

Taurus- Roy Scheider = awesomeness. Specifically, let’s discuss Sorcerer, which bombed at the box office in 1977, in part because it came out the same weekend as Star Wars. And probably because it was a remake of a French film called Wages of Fear, which has a much better title, especially considering the movie has nothing to do with magic. It was directed by William Friedkin, who made French Connection, btw, so holy crap, this film must have some street cred. Okay, enough meandering and Sheider glad handing--Friedkin said this about the film: “The Sorcerer is an evil wizard and in this case the evil wizard is fate. The fact that somebody can walk out of their front door and a hurricane can take them away, an earthquake or something falling through the roof. And the idea that we don’t really have control over our own fates, neither our births nor our deaths, it’s something that has haunted me since I was intelligent enough to contemplate something like it.” In closing: A) Roy Sheider = awesomeness incarnate. B) Rent this movie, and C) contemplate your fate, but don’t get wrapped up in it—it’s not here yet.

Gemini- Before we take the A train to downtown Fist City, to plot our demise, let’s stop and take a second, Butch. The Bolivia of the 19^th century, was about land raping and plundering and white people doing what, unfortunately, they do very well. Today’s Bolivia is no place para un robo. It’s a populated place of intense diversification and conflict. And if I may, an appropriate metaphor for the rainforest, as a place of maximum evolutionary speed. In a rainforest, the environment is ripe for diversity—lots of rain and oxygen, producing a higher rate of species emergence—a higher rate inside a matrix of elevated activity. Right now you’re in Bolivia—an environment with a high rate of diversity and a high propensity for faster and faster change. And don’t even mention China! Massive population with exponential growth! Uff and da. Hit the brakes just a little. There’s no need to speed up the future at a rate that is simply unadvisable. Start with Corcovado, man…quiet nights and quiet chords, man.

Cancer- One major issue not touched by either candidate is about the definition of prosperity. What exactly is the level of prosperity that will leave the average American satisfied? Does prosperity necessarily involve wealth? Does it involve access to basic health care? How about the ability to travel, or raise a family? What is the function of prosperity in our day to day existence? Jesus didn’t have any prosperity, except in his heart. He was poor as the lepers whose feet he washed. What exactly is prosperity? How do we get some? Do I already have it? Does it matter? Can I pass it down to my kids? Did I get any? If so, where is it now? Wtf? Does prosperity mean that I can eat out tonight? Let’s grab a pizza pie and figure this out.

Leo- Deciding what is right and most forthright and most advantageous is still a guessing game in the end. Sure, you can say that I feel a certain way, and believe that decision to be the right one, but the math of everything is more complex than, do I circle A or B, do I go left or right, should I report that income to the government, and etcetera. I really feel like Red 23 is coming up for sure, but then it’s actually Black 5, and my money goes down that little hole. And the effect is much more dire with a human being should the guess be a poor one, or should circumstances rise out of our hands and melt into the chaos of the ether. We can only do our best, go with our guts when appropriate, and figure it out sciencewise and geometric when our guts take a hike. There’s the forest and the trees, and hopefully we’ll get lucky and see the difference. Bon chance, mon ami.

Virgo- Judging by how dirty my keyboard gets, I really like the comma, the question mark, the number 7, and there’s a bunch of quite noticeable oily smudge marks on those weird slashes above the return key that I swear I never use. Not to mention the colon/semicolon is a disaster. And my right is either more active or more oily than my left—no idea why. And I take forever to clean it. I figure it’s better if I don’t know what I’m writing. But for you, let’s take the metaphor a bit further. What areas of your life have an overabundance of oily smudge marks that denote, most likely, over use—at least injudicious use of the B, or maybe you’re really hooked on F8. I once knew a guy whose delete key was unreadable. In closing,…A) clean your keyboard, B) wash your hands more often, and C) keep an eye on your obsessions—they are a smudgy window to your soul.

Libra- November and December finally upon us, and with them, the “rainy” season here in Los Angeles (preferably pronounced with a hard ‘g’) where maybe once a week, we get a little rain to make up for the 10 months prior without a drop. And within Los Angeles, we have two distinct camps of thought. One side always curses the rain, like it’s an abomination of weather, like the world is ending—like putting up with rain 2 months of the year is such a burden; while the other camp is comprised of people who’ve emigrated here from cold weather states—and all they do is praise the rain, and pray for it never to leave. Oooh, actual weather! Personally, I think all the tourists should leave. I’m addicted to So Cal sun, and become disproportionately seasonally affected when it’s cloudy for more than 5 minutes. Point is, grab an umbrella. Rain’s a-comin’.

Scorpio- The whip is probably the first human invention to break the sound barrier. As one cracks it, the tip of the whip moves faster than the speed of sound and creates a small sonic boom. I picture you as an expert whip cracker. Your hands are made for the ingrained and ancient wooden handle. Your mind is warped and woven like the braided leather that is ready for scientific expansion of your passionate spirit and healing heart. Your momentum is always conserved, but the potential of your energy might one day break the light barrier; which I suggest is a better use for your talents than that of harassing cattle or hunting ptarmigans. Seek thou rather to whip your booms to a frenzy in the next dimension, where we require neither food, nor clothing—merely love.

Sagittarius- To describe your upcoming week, I will refer you to the Münchhausen Trilemma. I know, I know---bringing up the Münchhausen is probably not what you want to hear, but this is how bat shit crazy your week might get. The Trilemma refers to an incident when Münchhausen got stuck in a swamp and pulled himself—and his horse—out of the swamp by his own hair. I know, I know---stupid and impossible. Not quite as impossible as the time Münchhausen rode a cannonball; but nevertheless, this week you might accomplish an even stranger task, breaking several physical laws and riding a metaphorical cannonball into the 11^th dimension. No one will believe your ridiculous tale, but that doesn’t matter. Go deep with the weirdness. It will make sense later on.

Capricorn- Benjamin Franklin Drawing Electricity from the Sky is a painting by Benjamin West. You should Google it—it’s super neato. In it cherubs hold the kite string, while Franklin holds on to the key, which is transferring the lightning right into Franklin’s hands. As a historical sidenote, Franklin only devised the experiment on paper, and some french dude actually made it happen. Howsomenevertheless, the idea that Franklin actually channeled lightning is an apt metaphor for you. There be unknown energies in the air, that can be harnessed, but only if you’re willing to try. I suggest that you may hold this talent innately; but you still have to open your mind to the real possibility that from god’s mouth, to our ether, and into your palm is the most direct path back to god itself. Ride the lightning, brother. And if you have cherubs, deploy them.

Aquarius- When you break the speed of sound, like that wackjob who jumped 23 miles the other day, you won’t hear the sonic boom. You’re moving faster than the sound can travel, so the boom is behind you, like the waves behind a boat. Often we know not what havoc we wreak in our wakes. And I don’t advise looking back while travelling at supersonic speeds, you might get whiplash. The key is to look forward, and doing your best not to plow through plowshares or community gardens while attempting record breaking velocities. The Aquarian mind is like a comet, streaking through space on long trips around the sun. Despite vast temperature gradients, our logic is either cold, or hot, but it’s always supersonic. And the ice crystals we leave behind are seeds for humanity to use and build upon. So don’t fret your wake, or the lack of sound—your movements are universally felt and generally benign.

Pisces- Once you discover that you carry within your psyche a dark passenger, I believe it’s your duty to control him before he controls you, or your actions, or ultimately-- your fate. Perhaps everyone has such a stowaway, perhaps such a character is an integral part of our nature—the last holdover from a far away past when the jungle or the ocean was filled with possible terrors amidst long primordial nights. Many people aren’t even aware that he’s there, this shadow self, this other, this id, that wants things that do not make for good company, and even worse wish to plot your own downfall, perhaps simply because he can. Disparate forces at work inside one’s own personality should be accounted for and controlled; at least that’s what I believe, having met my own darker self. Perhaps you think the Ripper inside you should be allowed to roam free. Ahh, free will—and the choices we must endure. Choose wisely.

                         Dr. Pants McTurd's

           MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                       

                                  (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                 

disclaimer: How dare you satirize me and expose my inconsequential foibles!

Doc P’s Obscure Quote of the Week:

In this world, shipmates, sin that pays its way can travel freely, and without passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all frontiers.

--Herman Melville

Doc P’s Word of the Week: Cheval de fries. Don’t get hung up on one.

Aries-  Howsomever & cumdiddily, your percivalian intrigues and balzackian foibles will prove a pleasure to your literary tongue and jackaloped ears. And I mean that literally. Your cheval de fries is impenetrable and you are safe from any and all outlying border threats. Your frontier is safe. For now. Eventually, you’ll want to redefine those border and hinter lands; maybe expand, or find a new frontier all together. But in the now, the rabbits still run wild, as does the asparagus. There mayhap even still exist a wooly mammoth or cats with sabered teeth. Who knows what’s out there! This week is the fine line between two diametrically opposed proclivities: 1. Let the wild stay wild and unknown for as long as possible. And 2. Explore, learn, and write down so that future folks may build knowledge upon knowledge until we ourselves become sky clad sky scrapers Walk the line, Johnny.

Taurus- This week, your life may resemble a cross between the movies Cannonball Run and Hawmps! Firstly, you may have to run a race---maybe not cross country and probably not with Dom DeLouise or Jack Elam, but something is going to make you sprint for a finish line. Secondly, you may have to use some pretty weird transpo to get there. If you decide to go the camel route, I recommend the Bactrian, or just a plain ol’ llama. They spit far, far less. Also, be ready for a pretty sore crotch. Travelling on humpback, especially in a race, is not easy on the nethers. So, in closing: maintain a ready stance, get some healing butt cream, and ride the wild camel. The journey will beodd, to say the least.

Gemini- The Zeroth Law of Robotics, as laid down by the great and wise Asimov, states: A robot may not harm humanity, or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm. Sounds great---a little abstraction to expand what was already a really nifty set of robot rules to prevent schwarzenegger terminator futures (or STF’s); HOWEVER, and I hate to be the one with the big but here, but how is a robot to determine what defines humanity. Or the definition of harm? I can’t even do that myself. What seems to be evil can produce positive evolutionary changes down the road. And vice versa, good things can make evil down the chain. Asimov, where are you now when we need you, pal? I guess now it’s up to you. Yeah, you. You’re humanity’s best hope. Get to work.

Cancer- Whether twixt or twain, free to roam or fenced in, either inseparable or asunder--lie disparate forces, separated by a deity that spanned and survived long before us, as I understand it anyway---and who could empathize more than you could imagine—more than any human being to date has ever achieved. Why, you ask? Because this deity has been everywhere, done everything, and contrived the entire multiverse out of nothing—maybe out of an imaginary nothing—the most nothing that nothing has ever been. I’m not even sure that nothing exists. How can it? It’s nothing. No-thing. This nothing crap is really something! Keep an eye on your nethers and no-things. Mystery is afoot and possibly afoul.

Leo- Fear, in the 1950’s, led the CIA to illegally experiment on Americans with mind altering drugs (LSD), to brainwash and control whole populations if necessary. To make it even more nefarious, the CIA set up brothels in San Francisco, and would watch the johns through one way mirrors, as they were given acid without their knowledge, in something called Operation Midnight Climax. No joke. Atrocities in the name of protection and self preservation, even though the methods used changed the very foundation of who we are as a free people. Justifiable homicide. Reasonable war—bullshit ideologies. Don’t buy anything. It’s just this week’s buttload of crap that THEY are trying to sell you. Don’t be a J. Edgar. Repeal and revoke all assumptions and ignorances—asafp.

Virgo- The rent check on your Area 51 bounced and I’m afraid that all your secrets are now subject to a wider viewing audience. I know you’ve got some aliens in there and maybe the ship they rode in on, but hey, you snooze, you lose, oui? The good news is that the public at large is mentally ready to accept proof of aliens, and no longer require shielding from whatever it is that you been hiding in your shame closet for far too long. Show me the aliens, I can take it! It’s darn near inconceivable that aliens don’t exist---that life evolves in other places, along the same principles that it did here on earth. The universe is ridiculously large, so odds are good that whatever you got, I’ve seen before—maybe not literally, but across a dimension of empathy and pure love that permeates every level of the multiverse. Turn your Area 51 into a park, and go for a picnic. 

Libra- The Three Laws of Robotics, as laid down by the great and wise Asimov are: 1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. 2. A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. And 3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws. And despite some semantics that might gum up the philosophical works, it all seems pretty simple. How the three laws turn against us in 2046, when robot servants develop ids and egos, and rise up and enslave humankind—well, I just don’t know. From my heart and from my hand, why don’t people understand my intentions? Lesson: all rules and laws will be broken. It’s not an if, but a when. Prepare thyself.

  

Scorpio- The odds of seeing a feral camel in the southwestern United States are not good. After a brief attempt at military use in the 1800’s, a few escaped camels turned wild, but they eventually dwindled to a number that camel enthusiasts refer to as a zero sum game. No more American wild camels. What a pisser. Howsomever, and I don’t want hype your high hawmped hopes into bactrian gullibility here, but this week you have an excellent chance of randomly bumping into one of these freaky ungulates. When you do, remember: this is your power animal---follow it. If you can, bring some water for yourself, for this magically humped beast may lead you on quite a journey. Maybe even to the top of the known world. Probably should bring a sandwich too.

Sagittarius- What I love about Sagittarius the most is your willingness to do stuff at the drop of nearly any random hat. Want to drive to Vegas right now? Yeah. Wanna start a community garden, so that everyone can participate? Yes. How about skydiving? Sure! Moonlit skinny dipping ? Hell, yeah! You guys just go, go, go—and sans hesitation. Do it, and analyze it later. And it’s amazing how often that attitude pays off. Maybe luck favors the prepared mind. Maybe we should all be a little more prepared to pick up any dropped hat like a gauntlet of daredevil philosophy. Sag, the Archer---shooting arrows of will and intention and id at targets that haven’t even appeared yet. Good show, future seer—spacetime actuator—you Nutter Butter, you. Hey---feel like an adventure? Damn straight. You lead, I’ll instigate.

Capricorn- The effect of your pendulum is unusually inverted. Somehow it swings through an arc of spacetime that seems incongruous and bubbly. Also, the value of pi in your system is closer to 4 than it should be, and if necessary, I will alert the local space constables to your illegal and unwarranted warping of our continuum. But you’re a maverick—and I get that, it’s just that pi has a value that isn’t supposed to change as you go through the universe—at least not this particular plane of it anyway. You want to change pi? Go do it in some other dimension where they allow that sort of debauchery. I’m not saying don’t be a maverick—it’s a very loveable and sometimes annoying trait, but c’mon—your irregular space bubbles are weirding all of us out. Don’t trans-cendent just yet.

Aquarius- You know who designed a helicopter 500 years before Moore’s Law had its cumulative effect on the 20^th century? DaVinci. Yeah—a freaking helicopter. Oh, and he built a robot. Yeah, he actually built a robot. And granted it was Italian, so it took most afternoons off, but still---a freaking robot. Not to mention: a tank, a flying suit, a viola organista (a bowed keyboard), a parachute, hydraulic pumps, reversible crank mechanisms, finned mortar shells, a steam cannon, a giant crossbow, and hey—he was an accomplished painter and inspirer of Dan Brown books, the father of topographic and comparative anatomy, a cartographer, an astronomer, and an alchemist. Oh, and he developed a rudimentary theory of plate tectonics. I’m exhausted just reading about him. When you’re feeling like you can’t get anything done because your list is simply too freaking long, think about our Uncle Leo, and get to work.

Pisces- Between the depths of panicked sorrow that plagues your times, and heights of furious anger--justifiable because of its because righteous nature—lies a meditation pond with really fat koi, where one may sit and ponder the possibilities: the ups and downs, and highs and lows; as well as the should hads and would hads that too oft can dominate the conversation, producing electric madness that courses through your veins, removing you from your quietude and observational pace. Straight, no chaser—you need more pond time. You’re but a tadpole, despite the human nose on your non gilled face. Swim easy for now—the tides will come in soon enough.

                                  Dr. Pants McTurd's

          MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                                      (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                 

disclaimer: Is Satire actually satirical in and of itself? Let me cull some data…

Doc P’s Word of the Week: tartuffery. And yours is especially pungent.

Aries- You are no ordinary chrondite. Your chrondules are super molten and probably as radioactive as a truckload of selenium 77. Your silicate is hella olivine and pyroxenic, I would even go so far as to say feldspathic. And I don’t say that to just any ol’ geology major, nuh-uh, no sir. The sound barrier hasn’t been the same since you broke atmo. You’re literally insterstellar, intergalactic, and born amongst stars, forged in incredible heat; and landed here some 15,000 years ago, found by some dude in Mongolia a thousand years ago, who carved you into a statue of Buddha, which wasn’t found again til the 1920’s. You are a god carved from space god rocks. Shine on you crazy chrondite.

Taurus- I channel Howard Hesseman as often as I can. I grew up with him, identified with him, and on some level made my life’s two tentpoles are a hippie and a teacher; someone who is sinful at heart, but progressive and sympathetic to all causes human, and inevitable suffering. Dr. Johnny Fever inspired me to be a doctor. Dr. Detroit, which I never actually saw, but then Head of the Class, which yeah, was a remix of Welcome Back, Kotter, but still the guy has pathos, man. And heart. And love---sometimes unrequited, and too often fleeting, but L-O-V-E, man. And a lot of sarcasm. And pain. And pathos. And hey—he was in Spinal Tap. ‘Nuff said. Find your Hesseman. And channel the crap out of him.

Gemini- The Scottish Norwegian War of the 13^th century was a small war of no real consequence, involving minor skirmishes over a period of 3 or 4 years, and whose major battle was “indecisive”. Actually, I think it was quite decisive-- most of the land in the Hebrides (a set of isolated islands off the coast of Scotland) is not arable (farming friendly) as it’s mostly rock---although, they are one of the only places on earth that humans have developed crafting- basically pre-medieval socialism where land was tended by tenants and not a barony or a lord. Lots of sheep. Anyhowdy, fighting, fighting, fighting, and scene. Totally pointless killing over crappy farmland that we all still need, just to survive, but that for some frakking reason, blood needs be spilt, because that’s the way of things in a world of kill or be eaten. I disbelieve you, Scottish Norwegian War, and I hope this meandering horrorscope’s point is culled by your subconscious and distributed wisely throughout your limbic system.

Cancer- Disclaimer: I am NOT recommending you don a bear pelt, go into a postal battle trance and mow people down in the checkout line, or anywhere else that might incur or engender madness. HOWEVER—this week, in a metaphorical sense—you should be a BERSERKER---go big or go home, Duderino. Take whatever you’re passionate about, and multiply tenfold—a hundredfold, until your entire being is consumed by life and the full living of it, without remorse or guilt; and let it transport you to a level of consciousness that allows you to totally see your existence from a bird’s eye view. Let nothing stop you, not even a herd of dinosaurs running through your backyard, which shouldn’t exist anyway, but stay with me here—RUN WILD AND RUN FREE.

Leo- You can quote Lincoln to me till the proverbial cows come home to roost. You could regale me with the story of how a kid from nowhere found a bag of magic marshmallows—not the trippy magic kind—and saved his whole town from bankruptcy and irremovable remorse, with just the magic in his heart. You’re Sam the Butcher bringing Alice the meat. You’re Fred Flintstone driving around with bald feet. You’re an eagle, a poet, a genius, I know it. I’d follow you to the doors of hell, and help you pound on the big, probably iron doors, with I assume, giant knockers, with metal fists of fury that would equal the somatic booms of nuclear age times, when men dreamed bigger than was judicious or safe. You can do anything I can do, better.

Virgo- Tug of War was dropped from the Olympics in 1920. And I am still plenty pissed. As if the faint pull of sexual innuendo wasn’t enough with the tugging and implied back and forth of stereotypical sexual congress-- there’s all the mud—and the metaphorical contest between two equal and opposite forces—which is all we get in this dimension currently anyway—like democrats vs republicans, jam vs jelly, or pot vs booze. Personally, I say combinme the two, but that’s my hey-howdy. Point is, inside your innards lies a war betwixt an alleged light and dark. Yet, I say to thee—bullshit. There is no division. There is only the Force, and us standing together in unity of purpose and direction. What if there was no War? What if the Tugging was only for pleasure?

Libra- You are a true flâneur; a proper idler, and stroller; a loafer, a saunterer, and occasionally a sashayer—but never one to sashay in a needless hurry. An aesthetic peripatetic detached observer, using the streets as your imagination’s drawing board, and discovering the depths of intrigue betwixt cityscape and the mindscapes of its denizens, from high to low brow, and how they interact with their concrete jungle. But you are no badaud---you’re no mindless gawker with no purpose, no guts—no anima. You meander with purpose. The perfect blend of artist and scientist, researching your brilliance and dreaming your land and/or city ‘scapes. Let’s make love right here by this statue of Algernon and his pool of azure stars, before all this beauty slips away.

Scorpio- You are an empath and a wayfinder on my desire path, trampling vegetation and carving routes and footholds, creating future boulevards and super highways that will eventually clog my heart and rattle my brains with your traffic and sirens and billboards advertising sex and tawdry meetings amidst sweet images of youth and begrudgement of old age and infirmity. For now, you are merely a path, however, possibly the path; merely a shortcut through the woods, making sense of brambles and the seeming illogic of the layout of the trees. If we could only keep to the woods…rather than indemnifying our trysts in the midst of street corners and pedestrian kerfuffles that reveal everything to gawking strangers. But I digress…walk the path, be the path, and grab me a sandwich.

Sagittarius- You got the moves like Jagger. Except, fer reals and no take backsies. You’re one of the original Rock and/or Rollers. You’re a movie star. And even at nearly 70 earth solar years of age, you can still host SNL, doing an admirably good job, whilst withstanding 3 musical numbers. The county Kent builds ‘em strong. I don’t know why you strive for so hard and so long; or if the size of your english cajones, aka blarney stones-- are even measureable in our current dimension, but Duuuude…seriously, like the Wayne and Garth, I bow before your eminence and imminence—not literal fealty, mind you, but as a gesture of mutual respect. Don’t get a big head, I just think you’re awesome. Hike! Drive downfield like a limey juggernaut. Viva County Kent!

Capricorn- Time is out of joint and the spice is out of hand. My lips are sealed, and I’d rather be contraband. Nobody knows the troubles I’ve seen, and nobody does it better. You’re a James Bond look-a-like. You smell like a cheese steak. I wanna be pan fried along with your Watergates and sinful bedroomed nights. Hematology is just a hobby, and not to get Jersey on ya, but I been makin’ records since you were suckin’ yo mother’s dick. Hey, hey, hey..let’s be cool, let’s find the trim, cause you know I been pondering, I been thundering, and tearing asundering all of the logic and horseshit that plagues all humanity…But mostly it’s just me and your conscious—mind, I guess—but there’s all this other crap...or mayhap everything is crap, and we’re just vehicles for one celled life to procreate and assimilate along higher battle lines that I can’t articulate. Life can be tough shit. Eat it and smile.

Aquarius- Arthur Duck was an english law talkin’ guy and a member of ye ol’ parliament. But you are no Arthur Duck. Duck died in relative historical obscurity in December of 1648—not buried til May of the next year btw---kinda creepy by modern standards, but point is that he led a facscinating life, at least from the point of someone obsessed with really boring crap about beauracratical blabbity blah from like a million years ago. And why didn’t they bury him for like 6 months, wtf?? Point is, You’re no Duck. You’re a transdimensional tourist who summers on Planet  XJ-7 of the Centripidalian System in Galaxy FU-7HA, and winters on the Napoli Coast, and whose interiors are a rich panoply of chocolate desserts and deep sea’d wine lost for centuries until modern time erupted with techno-know-how and giants balls of pure adamantium. Drive deep, and deep six any Duck tendencies. Roar. 

Pisces- Your industrial history is replete with smokestacks, bread factories, and buffalo distilleries that are astounding in scope, considering the sheer building and manufacturing edicts and mandates brought down upon your gentle head, on top of centuries of neglect and promises of posterity, only to find a future full of donkey driven rivulets of pleasure and hamster-en-wheel waterfalls of insolence and unwarranted pain. And still you stand. Say it with me: I STAND. Life is an evolution of life that feeds on life, that feeds on life, that feeds on life, and etc ad infinaseum®. Eat the pain and poop it sideways, so as not to hinder your travel, or unenlighten your third eye and fourth hope.