Dr. Pants McTurd's

          MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                         

      (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                                                                 

Aries- A wigwam and a teepee are two different things that serve the same purpose. The world of tents is varied indeed. But don’t fret frivolously; we’ll save the endless third rail of bivouac vs. lean-to debate for another yurt. Today, I’d like to discuss the chum, the fly, the igloo, and the aforementioned yurt; possibly the most misunderstood of human made shelters, aside from the obvious and ignominious igloo. Shelter. It’s important. And hey—it’s your special times of allthe months. You’ve hit the garage with perfect timing. There’s a spot right up front and exit friendly. You should, by all accounts, be one happy ass camper. If not, tune up, turn on and drop trow. Throw caution to the wind, it’s more than likely going to catch your fire. Happy birthday, chum!

Taurus- In some weirdo country, it’s good luck on the first day of every month to say, “Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit” as you go about your day. Something good will happen, or whatever nonsensical reward based brainwashing can do for ya: win the lottery, find your mojo, whatev; but wait—cancel that text…this could work! But rabbits creep me out despite their cuteness. Maybe I just need to pick my own power animal and by end of April I’ll be rewarded with something just for willing it to be so, like rich beyond the means of any other living soul now and in perpetuity, and eventually I’’’ have my own orbiting hangout pad, where my rich friends can come visit aboard my personal space shuttle. Classy, right? The first is Monday. Pick your power animal and say it aloud, just to make sure…Don’t take the ocelot though, cause that’s mine. Ocelot, ocelot, ocelot!!

Gemini- I’d like to take a moment to blabber, palaver, piffle and prate; then prattle, tattle, gabble, and gibber, and eventually settle and hone in on the clacking, and maundering of your corporeal hotness, wrap you like a burrito of sexual gooeyness that transcends this plane, this brane—transmogrifying onto a higher platform of pleasure and love. Just kidding—let’s go get some chicken wings and watch hockey, and then get high and watch kung fu movies till we pass out. Wait, what? Point is, that your intellect and physical beauty are some seriously sick shite. Let me be your mirror…wait—whoa, I…you almost enthralled me there…wield your mighty sword judiciously, for it bears a gravitational responsibility for both intellect and empathy, simultaneously.

Cancer- This week, your challenge divines in the form of the following query: Are rabbits autonomous? Do they possess the right of self determination? Do rabbits even give a shite about such political fruffery and pointless yabbida yabbida? Also, do rabbits possess a collective unconscious? Are they individuals AND a collective, driven by the needs of the many, rather than the few or the one? Do you think rabbits would be Star Trek fans? I totally think so… All those other questions, I have no frakking clue. Also, if you examined your own autonomy, what would you find? You go dig in the dirt for a bit and get back to me. You will be healed upon return, so fear not your alleged wounds.

Leo- You lions are so frakking humble. You’re king/queen(s) of the whatever; and paranoid gazelles are the proof. We know you’re cool. You know you’re cool; so, let’s just eliminate all the pants in the room and get down to business, you feline celebrity sexpot… What? Wait…my point is that you might want to expect some infamous repercussions in the near immediate timespace frame…as in, the world might be on the hunt for a piece of your proverbial jungle king ass. Being wanted by anyone’s law is no day in the park on a Sunday with George, I can tell ya. But I think you’re ready. Enjoy the languid, hopefully esoteric pace of a true monarch.

Virgo- So, I’m chillin’ with a cold beer—Anchor Steam if you must know—one of the finest American beers. Yes, the Dr. can be hoppishly snobbish. Anyhoo, And I’m holding the bottle and I start pondering the wicked idea that the heat my body generates is warming the beer ever so slightly, transferring energy across the impossibly small divide between the macro and the micro of this alleged continuum; beneath the atoms and the electron even; smaller than a quark, smaller than whatever the hell Higgs-Boson is. Timespace moves through us, in a wave—which brings me back to my beer. No, in vino veritas is not my point, Dude. Let Hawking worry about the stuff that’s too small to see. Chill, have a beer and notice for a while, the world that moves through and around you faster than even light. Yep, it’s deep shite, suck it up; and engender and engineer your usual sense of leonine calm amongst all of the every thing.

Libra- Hurrahs, hoorays, and a dash of huzzahs are the main types of hoopla and big doin’s that are poised to imperil your recent contemplative isolation and retreat from the workaday world, where love is complicated and dense and annoying, like a chocolate cake that looks amazing, but as things progress, you discover it contains something bullshit, like cocoanut, or raspberries, or chicken. Seriously, wtf, who puts chicken in a cake? Probably the british… Where was I? Oh yes, big stuff on your horizon and within your eminent domain: Check this out: I have no idea what it is, but I can smell what your wind is blowing out. And you reek of fruitful change. Doldrums will vanish. So, check yourself, lest you won’t wreak yourself proverbially…you’ll be right as rain by morning.

Scorpio- Soon you will be visited by the spirits of seven trees. They bring messages about your life that are hidden in the forest that surrounds us. I predict the fourth one will be a whopper—don’t ask me how I know that. Some trees outlive humans by thousands of years. I assume they soak up the knowledge of timespace over ‘centuries’: through the roots, their bark and their leaves; and then store it digitally somehow inside their rings and innermost chloryphic pathways; preserving history, built on cellulose, I s’pose. I also s’pose trees soak us up, holding onto little pieces of our innards and psyches; the ones too hot to handle ‘midst our momentary format. They’re our roots, holding our feet to the ground, protecting us from long lonely chilly nights bereft with tales of the un-seeable and ever distant. Btw, say hi to the redwood for me, his name is Clive and he likes smiling, watching beach volleyball, and overwrought hyperspacial metaphysical jibber jabber. Peace, in as well as out, and to all.

Sagittarius- I just vibed your theme song: “We're gonna do it! Give us any chance, we'll take it. Give us any rule, we'll break it. We're gonna make our dreams come true. Doin' it our way. Nothin's gonna turn us back now, straight ahead and on the track now. We're gonna make our dreams come true, doin' it our way. There is nothing we won't try, never heard the word impossible. This time there's no stopping us. We're gonna do it. On your mark, get set, and go now, got a dream and we just know now, we're gonna make our dream come true. And we'll do it our way, yes our way. Make all our dreams come true, and do it our way, yes our way, make all our dreams come true for me and you”. You own that shite. You own Milwaukee.

Capricorn- For your pleasure, I present the word dingus. Here we go: its first definition is: a gadget, device or object whose name is unknown or forgotten; as in, “Hand me that dingus, will ya? Which dingus? The thing---my dildo, it’s right there. Oh sure, here ya go, here’s your dildo”. Its second definition is exactly what you’re expecting, a dingus is a male’s pee pee portion; as in, “I have a little dingus that helps me clean the venetian blinds.”  Or as in, “Jimmy, shake your dingus and put it away!” We’ve all been there, right? No judging. Just listening. Accepting. Bonne chance, with your dingus, ya dingus. May the dingus be with you and yours.

Aquarius- From an aerial viewing of the grand scheme of the evolution of human consciousness, we see that mankind first disseminated out of Africa, and on to almost everywhere on the globe. And those tribes lost touch with those that moved on, headed north, or just decided that ‘here’ was a nice place to park. As humanity’s numbers grew and we became more successful in adapting to environmental change and a brain evolving at the speed of a runaway dromedary, we slowly began to get to know each other again. Granted one result has been war and hate, but still—maybe there’s progress in there somewhere. Case in point, the spread of photojournalism helped fuel the end of the Viet Nam War. We’re moving now at light speed, compared to the past. Hang on tight-- it only gets weirder.

Pisces- You are the perfect size to be a professional jumping rabbit. Dude, I can’t make this stuff up: throughout northern Europe and UK, rabbit jumping competitions are a hopping success. It’s like a cross between the American Kennel Club and an Olympic equestrian event. Most of the rabbits I know personally seem to do little else besides eat, poop, sleep and look cute. But these crazy rabbits can jump! The record being some 39 inches---over three feet, man—neat, I guess! I sense the eating pooping rabbit deep in your innards, is awakening from a long slumber and ready for a nice spinach salad. Prepare for jumping. Time to touch the sky. Stretch your weird bunny legs and prepare for a spring full of action, adventure and cheese. Sproing!®.

                   Dr. Pants McTurd's

         MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                                            

     (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                                                                 

Aries-  You’ll have to read Leo first before proceeding. Sorry, but your intellect is worth the extra homework. I’ll wait til you’re finished…

Point is, I have been attempting to stall you. It’s the first day of spring—your time of year to do whatever the fudge you feel like doing. Happy birthday, this is your equinox. Not that I really espouse the idea that you are a balanced individual. I mean, you pop out the womb at the start of the astrological year (the western one anyway), and hey, it is an equinox after all, which seems to prefer to propel you futurewise and headlong into bold choices and occasionally rash decisions with surprisingly happy outcomes. Spark a blue flame that heals instead of burns. This year is yours.

Taurus- The propaganda you’ve been disseminating is coming through bloody loud and boomingly clear. I have no idea what you’re selling, but people are lining up to be spoon fed your version of the way things actually work--the real scoop and the straight poop. I drank your Kool-Aid, man, and I’m tripping balls...I would like to posit however, that the Kool-Aid mascot---a giant pitcher of blood red fake juice that busts through the walls of your house to deliver sugary addictive chemicals to children—is probably a little dated. We get it-- corporations want our money. There are rich people to over feed. Where was I? Oh yes---your immediate future seems pretty cool. So, I guess…enjoy it and stuff. Peace out, and peace in. And fear not the fruity drinks that will undoubtedly teem and abound your imminent future.

Gemini- You’re an unlikely cowboy, a rescuer of the ill framed, and upholder of rights for those less endowed with either physical or mental prowess. You’re no savior—let’s not get ahead of ourselves—but you have a knack, a talent-- a certain je ne sais quoi—I don’t know what; like you’re a maverick that gives a shit. Like Kung Fu, and you’re just wandering the earth---and thwarting bad guys along the way, A Team style. You’re no Jules Winnfield —your wallet don’t say bad ass mofo on it or anything. Grow up, put your anger aside and travel, even if only in your mind. Imagine and create and engender justice. You’re genius at it. 

Cancer- A whale’s penis can weigh upwards of 150lbs. Ponder that shite, right? The hamster, on the other penis, requires a magnifying glass to see. My point? Size is relative? Mammals evolve penises according to the dictates of environment and speed of mutation, while supporting a brain capable of evolving into a ‘higher’ matrix? We’ll never know what my point was, because I’m tired now; my brain blasted with nightmares of a whale dick that outweighs me. That aside, --relaxi taxi® this week and take a deep cleansing breath. Everything you have is the perfect size, color and temperature. You’re sex magical. You’re a bonfire of vanity giving rise to a much humbler phoenix. Your junk is as big as a cetacean’s. Dive deep and fret not.

Leo- Phallusy® is a word I just made up, with several definitions: 1) when a man lies about the size alleged of his endowment. 2) a lie that is so bald and or bold faced, that one should be ashamed for committing such an egregious phallusy®. And 3) a penile implement, such as a dildo, that does not exist in our timespace, but has been theorized mathematically to ‘exist’, and whose verisimilitude is on CERN’s list of shit to conjure. If it exists, this dildo will be the last link in the physics chain that’s been stumping even super porno nerds for some time. Anyhoo, the expression, don’t believe your own hype, may be applicable to your upcoming week. Which side of the hype you should choose—is yours to decide. I suggest honesty with thyself, and nothing tween the twain.

Virgo- The Icelandic Phallological Museum is exactly what it sounds like. If you’ve ever had a desire to visit one location, which could house examples of all the penile or penile parts from all of the animals in Iceland---well, you have just found dong heaven. Apparently phallology is an ancient art-- who knew? And Sigurður Hjartarson has undertaken a mantel of great momentous gravity indeed. His mission: to gather all the different penises of Iceland under igloo; so that we can…study them, I guess. I don’t think it’s for mere titillation; but decide for yourself at www.phalus.is. Meantime, I say to you, Virgo person—gather all of your genitalia and even your metaphorical cajones—your mojo if you will—because there is an icelandic dragon penis out there stalking you. Yet fret not—you will be vaingloriously victorious. No penis can touch you. You are immaculate. 

Libra- This week, prepare thyself for a lot—and I mean a lot of themes and motifs dealing with deer penis; which according to some cultures holds healing and nutritional properties; just like turtle blood and tiger penis. Maybe Charlie Sheen had the right idea, but the wrong animal part. But keep in mind that the deer penis of the future is probably digital. So, the deer can keep their real penises, and we can invent a sustainable way to get pumped up on the blood and animal parts that inspired Viagra. We don’t have to espouse the antiquated cenozoic notion of an eye for an eye, nor even junk for junk. Your mojo is totemically composed of zeroes and ones and lucky sevens. Drink of the cybernated tiger blood. Do it now!

Scorpio- The Scorpio Guide to Understanding Aquarii, Part One: Our brains work in hypersonic flashes of sublimely lit insightfulness; that’s generally not emotionally based. We dip toes into the piscine subspace of the tangible reality, in order to pluck the answer or idea or revelation out of ‘thin’ air. Our minds are oft aloft on stony tangents that seem masturbatory and pointless to the untrained water sign. We’re hardwired into stuff that hasn’t happened yet. It’s like our own private inter-dimensional pool with a swim-up bar and happy hour all day, every day. Everyone else just isn’t privy to all the new shit, Dude. Hopefully an iota of this has been helpful. If not, you’ll catch up to our elect-ronic spin at some point past this present moment. 

Sagittarius- Okay, prep for a high density info load: Sag, Capricorn, Aquarii and the Pisces-- the last four signs of the zodiac, represent the oldest or most ‘mature’ signs—one fire, one earth, one air, one water. In that order across the zodiac btw---And while this is true for all groups of signs, for us more advanced ones, here’s the straight up schizznit: Depending on what date you fall in Sag, you may be more headstrong and less rueful of hasty action. Personally, I find Sag’s born within +/- a week of about Dec 2^nd to be the most…take no prisoners, take no shit kind of fiery badasses, compared to later mid month, whose galactic center positioning mellows their way into Capricorn; no doubt with equal amounts passion, but perhaps less willing to start random meaningless fires, but rather using flame as a catalyst. You are promethean—wield it wisely. 

Capricorn- You can vote at 18, but you can't drink till 21, however, you can be drafted--- should the need arise, due to alien/zombie invasion, or an asteroid, pole reversing, a super tornado made of ice and space alligators with laser weapons on their snouts--or maybe everyone just gets really sleepy and we all just drift away, colliding all brane-like; creating new multiverses ad infinauseum® forever and forever, amen. Apologies for my waxing of the rhapsodic, yet dulcet tones, but if I can vote on whether we go to war, but I can’t have a sip of beer in a legal fashion, then I call bullshit! WTFudge? Remember—this is the same country that made alcohol illegal. Something you can make at home---they banned. For the near future use your logic, avoid the draft and don’t take nobody’s illogical guff.

Aquarius- Dear Reader, the Dr. Pants is normally all up in your face and/or grill, brutally honest, and sans fear of etiquette, protocol or zombiepocalyptic® outcomes; where society breaks down Lord of The Flies style and poor Piggy has to eat a rock with his face; and the glasses are broken and that’s how they made fire, so even if we catch a boar, they won’t be able to cook it. What a pisser. Okay, so—mob mentality and rule by right of power by either strength or money are not necessarily good ways to run a railroad. However, in this moment, you are not Piggy. You’re not even Ralph Wiggum. You’re the adults who got to the island just in time to prevent further killing in the name of no reason. Help us save all of us.

Pisces- The sex strategy of zombie worms is both oddly fascinating and creepily masturbatory. The females are dominant and the males are all dwarf love slaves. Yep—zombie worms are like reverse harems. Don’t worry—they live in the ocean, they’re really small and they eat whale bones. You’re super far ahead of that bored game. Actually, you’re sitting in the fabled catbird seat—the crow’s nest, the throne of golden awesome butt massaging—why, your pole position is legs up and full throttle. No force in the multiverse, with a possible caveat re the strong nuclear force; I just have a feeling-—Nothing can stop you now. No thing. Not even dark matter. You’re a juggernautical dynamo and you’re about to hit Warp 9.

                  Dr. Pants McTurd's

        MORE Than True Horror-scopes                                      

      (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)                                                                                 

Aries-  There’s a reason why The Pacific Princess, aka The Love Boat, is an actual real life princess, as well as a boat. After she was christened, she was seduced and tricked into a marriage of convenience to a shady Saudi prince’s yacht; who turned out to be con-boat and former door to door dildo salesman in the Sioux Falls area, circa 1962-64. So, from the start, the Love Boat knew what it was like to have a broken heart. After a series of failed relationships, and hard economic times, she went to work as a cruise ship and met her one and only---Captain Merril Stubing. They tangoed and sailed together until 1986, when she hit a reef and was taken apart piecemeal and sold as scrap to African merchant ships that later were taken hostage by pirates. Life is a long and windy sea. Sail heartily, Captain.

Taurus- The Mediterranean Sea has been through some serious shit. Take for example the Messinian Salinity Crisis of 6 million years ago: at that time, the Strait of Gibraltar was totally closed off, separating the Sea from the ocean. And the crisis wasn’t about not enough salt, but rather too much of the stuff. Lots of evaporation leaves too much salt behind and generally kills most of the life. Thankfully a few million years later, the Zanclean Flood came along and replenished the sea; giving the beaches back to super ancient Rivieran people, who just wanted to sunbathe topless and not questioned about it, or stared at by tit starved westerners. Your flood plain is about to be as wet as a willy. Batten the hatches. And bring a towel.

Gemini- The Dimples of Venus, aka butt dimples are possibly a genetic trait. Ahh yes, I sense your mild interest, probably because of talk of buttocks and rears and booty and such. Point is, your butt dimples-- either the actual ones or the metaphorical ones right above your ass, are ripe for the pickin’, and there’s prowlers sneakin’ ‘round yer closet and fancy under garment things—your finery and such; lookin’ for a sneak peek at the real treat. I say…whip it out, whatever it is, and cook some vittles and martinis made from the fermented juice of the god Pan. Your thoughts are fertilizer for the greater imagining of ‘god’. Sally, and sally forth, dimple butt.

Cancer- When ya have a sec, Google an image of the trapezius muscle. It’s a trip, fer reals and stuff. Firstly it’s the triangular web of muscle that makes major league baseball possible. Nature sure seems intelligent to me—not ‘design’-wise, but wow—the geometric progression of musculature is hella impressive. Secondish, maybe baseball exists because nature wanted it, and the trapezious muscle was the way to go. God loves baseball. There, I said it. Wow, I feel better. There’s a god, and it loves baseball. Personally, I could give two craps. Don’t like baseball, feel even more repugnacious® regarding religion. But ‘god’—that there’s deep shite. Point to the stands and knock that ball from your bat to god’s ear. Now is the time to be a hero.

Leo- So, I have this Hawaiian shirt that I got in a thrift store for like five bucks, and there are three reasons why it’s super rad. A) The buttons are covered in the same cloth as the shirt material. Awesome. B) The shirt is orange and green. Double rad. And C) It’s got palm trees, and natives in kayaks, and a Polynesian style boat—and about half the shirt, the material was assembled upside down; making it uniquely far out and cool. I know you engender an appreciation for all things asymmetrical and rarified. Which also describes you, my feline pal. You are skewed is my point, in a pleasant and peaceful way. Drive crooked and gaze backwards.

Virgo- In the weird world of giant vegetables, Peter Glazebrook is a horticulturally blessed ingenious wunderkind. Just for starters, he holds the record for growing the world’s largest onion, weighing in at nearly 18lbs. This retired british dude has a knack for plants. He also holds the record for the world’s longest parsnip—18.5ft long…he also grew a cabbage that weighed over 80lbs. and had to be carted around in a wheelbarrow. It goes without saying that he’s a perrenial favourite at vegetable shows in the UK. Get it—perennial? Yes, quite droll. Point is, you have a similar talent, perhaps as yet undiscovered. There’s a giant onion inside you. Dig it up-- it’s ripe and you are in dire need of a natural flavor explosion.

Libra- Wtf is with putting butter on toast, who started that crap? And have you ever had bog butter? It’s aged inside a peat bog. And peat bogs are strange places. There’s no oxygen and hence no bacteria, which is why we still find people who were buried in them thousands of years ago, and they’re not decomposed—you can still see the expression on their faces. But back to the butter—it’s ancient and it’s fatty, but all you need is milk and something to keep it in. The bog people didn’t have zip loc baggies, so sometimes we find their butter troves, still buried in peat, and aged to smelly perfection. Butter your toast judiciously, and then dig up your peat bog—give light to something that has been buried for far too long.

Scorpio- Enchanted Rock, is a granite dome. WTF is a granite dome? Since you ask so nicely, it’s a big hunk of granite formed under great heat and pressure, then cooled, all over millions of years mind you, and then after a few tectonic collisions resulting in mountain building---and then, it erodes over time, and etc. Half Dome in Yosemite is a famous example; also Corcovado in Rio. Super nice granite. The only problem with Enchanted Rock is that it’s in Texas. And sure, Austin is an oasis of art and reason in a desert of oil putrefaction, beef and racism, but…where was I? Oh, yes yes, rocks breathe. During the day they expand from the sun’s heat. At night they cool releasing the heat. One complete breath per day, one in, one out, breath of fire--hot shite, dude. Imagine you are a granite dome. You are rock that breathes. The holiest of magma.

Sagittarius- Now, I know you’re not one to either shilly nor shally, and certainly there’s no dilly anywhere near your dally. And your pants aren’t around your ankles just yet; so, I’m going to bestow upon you a magic phrase for the week. I rarely do this because of the obvious legal implications, but I think you’re ready to responsibly handle the responsibliosity® of this…endeavor. Anyhoo, here’s the magic phrase: though, through, thought. Say it seven times in row, with no mistakes, and your wish will come true in a period not under 15 seconds, and not over 2.78 earth days, not including parts of Alaska and the Bermuda Triangle. Weird forces are aligning. Ride the wave, like you always do.

Capricorn- That stereotypical dream about having to speak publicly, and you look down and you’re in your underwear; and then panic, fear and mayhem ensue—it would be a lot funnier if your pants were around your ankles. Funnier because then, when you’d try to run off stage, you’d trip on your pants and increase spit take possibilities tenfold. Comedy and pain are integral parts of the wholeness. god lieth in tragedy and pain; until we evolve a better way to deal with pain on a deeper, genetic level anyway. There be a great shift afoot ‘mongst our innards that we might not detect. We change from the bottom up, and forget momentarily about how deep the microcosmic rabbit hole’s ‘bottom’ goes..…wow, I’ve rambled. Point is---make sure to wear a belt, and project so the whole hall can hear ya.

Aquarius- CTRL Z was invented, I’m assuming, because of a cat’s need to walk across one’s keyboard whenever her mood strikes; a not so subtle insinuation that there’s petting and/or treats to be had, and—ahem…you’ll snap to it, daddio. And here’s your metaphor of the week: CTRL Z is like mercury retrograde—it’s gonna happen on a regular basis. It’s a chance to un/re-do events of the recent or distant past. It’s like going to the dentist. Or the gynecologist. Or the pee pee doctor. Point is, looking into the past, recent or otherwise, is sometimes painful, usually irritating, and seems to put brakes and kibosh on your plans to change the world. I’m here to tell you to chillax and relaxi taxi®. The world moves in waves. Try patience with the flow. The ocean is still bigger than even your brain and intent.

Pisces- Inspiration, literally—is inhalation. You literally breathe air into your lungs, grab the oxygen, and fuel your on-going discovery of the multiverse. So much so, that the term multiverse may become obsolete. Imagine: humanity rapports through layers upon layers upon seemingly incongruous realities, piled in and around us like salami and egg salad—the future of our knowledge is infinite. There is no end point, ‘not’ ever; and no end to the process of creating the non-literal inspiration—the giving of oxygen—of life to an idea, a cause, or a mission; or heckfire—even a sexy moral imperative. We’re part of a much larger fluidity of motion. Breathe deep the gathering waters. Give life to your creation and in-spire.

              Dr. Pants McTurd's

     MORE Than True Horror-scopes

(not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                        

Aries- According to Hoyle, the planet with the shortest known orbital period, aka KOI-55.01B, orbits its host in 5.76 hours. Time there must literally fly. Imagine, a whole day in less than six hours. According to current physiology, you’d be sleeping a third of that just to stay alive. Eating a slice of pizza would take around 6 seconds. Falling in love might take a heartbeat. Just like it does here on earth. In a moment, life can change drastically, regardless of the pace of your continuum. Yet fret not—your upcoming orbital period suggests finding such uncommon buried treasure as love in a heartbeat. Perhaps even a New York minute.

Taurus- There have been many lands lost over the course of earth’s history. Our planet is still cooling and shifting to this day. Just ask the people of Atlantis, or Thule, or Hyperborea, or Avalon. Don’t even get me started on Gondwanaland or Pangaea. The land your standing on was once molten and deep inside the earth. Then, upheaval; then volcanism, then cooling and subducting and shifting and eroding, and etc. Heck—all the atoms in your body have been doing something else on this earth for a long damn time. Every thing has been some part of some other thing. This inflationary entropic process is endlessly serene. And yet fret not---Avalon is due to return in yet another unexpected form. Possibly any minute.

Gemini- Laser Lemon and Lemon Yellow seem suspiciously similar, even in the prolific Crayola world. And Mauvelous seems a bit too on the nosey. However, Neon Carrot seems to imply ‘future’—I guess; but then there’s Outer Space. Yeah, it’s a color---I’m also disappointed. But then, Purple Pizzazz, Razzmatazz, Razzle Dazzle Rose, and Screamin' Green lead me to think that the world will be all right. Like, everything’s gonna be all right; as long as Tickle Me Pink and Unmellow Yellow don’t show up. They’re jerks. Color your world—inventively and subconsciously adroit.

Cancer- Your safe word for the upcoming week is: ‘Shazaam!’: The S is for Solomon, the H for Hercules, A is for Atlas, Z for Zeus, A for Achilles, and M for fleet footed Mercury. You’re wise, invincible, persevering, god-like, subtly flawed, and fast like a rabbit orbiting the sun in a mere 88 days. Boom shak-ka-laka--Boom. When you’re tired of making love and being all alone, when your dreams seem parsecs away, while a parade of numskulls and nabobs dirty your vision and visage—YOU open up those lungs and shout, Shazam! You will see clearly as if the rain were gone, like a geometrically perfect crystal forged in the heart of a sun. You divine.

Leo- Fortunately, you get the hardcore truth in your face ‘scope of the week: YOU’RE A LIONESS/LION, so deal. All current astrological data persists upon a morally imperative insistence upon wherein your grokking of chicken hypnosis will be key to an ecologically sound psychological development. I’ll just let that sink in…. Meanwhile, transcendentalize this crap: swing your metaphorical chicken roundwise, and then ride your subconscious ego rocket toward the rockiest and storm strewn beaches this earth currently offers. You are a giant meat hunting feline with wings of azure gold. Nothing can stop you. Fly, fly like a lion-eagle. Chimera!! 

Virgo- Let’s go metric momentarily for a moment’s meander. Initially, the meter was equated to the length of a pendulum’s swing. Then, sciencey folks thought it should be based on a unit of length equal to one ten-millionth of the distance between the North Pole and the Equator. But the inherent iniquities of physics due to things like mass, gravity and fractals made that seem stupid and/or ill advised. Finally, the scientific method prevailed, bringing us our current definition: the length of the path travelled by light in vacuum during a time interval of ¹⁄_299,792,458 of a second. Whaaa?--- Our multiversal POV evolves over time. YOUR understanding changes over time. Maybe you’re the same person; maybe knowledge has changed you innately somehow, which alters your perception. Maybe you’re a figment of your own imagination. Ponder that shit and grab a ruler. There’s stuff to measure.

Libra- Huckle Buckle Beanstalk is a super fun game. It’s also known as Hide the Key, Hunt the Thimble, as well as Hide the Handkerchief and Hunt the Slipper. While I too immediately conjured images of a weird sex game, possibly involving a bear costume and lots and lots of honey; but before we go there, I’m referring to the children’s game where you pick an object, say a tuba, for instance--and one kid hides the tuba and then the other kids try to ferret it out; and upon finding it yell, Huckle Buckle Beanstalk! The fun seems endless. Point is, the multiverse sometimes loses stuff on purpose and then brings it back. You lost something, I’m guessing around late last November. Close your eyes. Make a wish. Now… count to three.

Scorpio- Saxifraga oppositifolia is your power flora for the week. Farther north than even you have travelled, grows this hardy and edible plant. It grows on the northernmost point of land on the planet-- Kaffeklubben Island--gabh mo leisgeul. Yep, it’s Danish for coffee club—long story. Arctically interesting, its flowers are purple; and if this thing ever figured out how to evolve thumbs, we’d be in trouble. This plant may prove nearly impossible to find, but you will chance upon it, either figuratively or literally—And it will blow you damn doors off. Power to the purple, people.

Sagittarius- Your power animal--or spiritual totemic force, for the week is the largest organism we believe has ever existed—the Blue Whale. Weighing in at around 190 tons, and 30 meters in length, this cetacean behemoth was almost hunted to extinction. Just its tongue can weigh up to 3 tons. And their calves actually drink milk—400 liters a day! Adults require up to 8,000lbs of krill a day. They’re beautiful and undeserving of man induced extinction, and WE are the species which has outgrown resource availability. WE are the dinosaurs; and to preserve THEM, we as humans should behave differently with regards to our sonar infested, sewage filled oceans. Your power animal is massive—your heart weighs 1300lbs and it can hold an entire multiverse. Fight for your right, to swim with the whales. Dive deep.

Capricorn- The Dibble Glacier Ice Tongue® is not a sex toy, nor sex position; although, you’d be wise to copyright that shit STAT and ASAP. Tangentially, humanity has been watching ice freeze and thaw itself into a dew of mountainous and sometimes merciful proportion ere present time. Surely, as we watch our planet thaw thusly, should we not look to the ‘spirits’ of our ancestors for survival tips? Ice floes the size of Jamaica are headed our way—yet be not afeared. We’re not the currently undisputed kings of the food chain just because of the whole thumb thing. And yeah, the oceans are gonna be less salty and cooler; which might effect vital currents like the Gulf Stream—good luck Wales! And we get to see it. Sweet. And weird. Breathe deep the gathering glory.

Aquarius- Before we judge OctoMom, check this here schnizzet: Feodor Vassilyev, an 18^th century Russian peasant, and his wife—according to Guiness---gave birth to 69 children; in the form of 16 sets of twins, 7 sets of triplets, and 4 sets of quadruplets—in a mere 40 years! The house must have smelled like used diapers for decades. BTW, 67 of them survived into adulthood—97% success rate. My point is twofold: Alpha: Don’t tell me what you can’t do—I don’t care; and Beta: Your future is prolific and abundant and transoceanic and un-freaking-stoppable. Go big. Be prolific.

Pisces- You have been aboard The Lost Ship of the Desert now for some time. Legend speaks of a massive ship, possibly a spanish galleon lost in the Colorado River Flood of 1862; or a viking ship known to locals as the Serpent-Necked Canoe, that has been rumored to be seen stuck in the desert sand. The ship may or may not lie at the bottom of the Salton Sea, which is so polluted, it may never be safe to go down and retrieve it. This ghost ship has temporarily kidnapped your soul—not of ill intention, but rather to give you respite and succor, and contemplation from a weary life. YOUR ghost ship is due in port any minute. Prepare to disembark and head for the sea, where there is no limit to your intricate neptunian sojourns.