Wednesday, October 17, 2012


                        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 19th 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 11th 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.

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