Dr. Pants McTurd's

               MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                                           

              (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)                                             

Aries- There are many things I prefer not to be caught dead doing; and whilst you ponder whatever malapropisms and/or silly ass metaphors that your sassy little brain can conjure up, I’d like to discuss briefly, the oddness of the expression. For example: I wouldn’t be caught dead eating spinach on a Tuesday. Put aside for a moment the other oddness of someone having a fetish for leafy vittles—a veggiepervie® btw; point is, you’d rather be dead than to be doing x, y or z; which hopefully doesn’t involve anything too kinky that you can’t handle. And usually when we use this expression, it’s for something frivolous, like I’d rather be caught dead than making veggie porn out in Ventura. My question to you is: what would you prefer to be caught living doing? And should you do it naked? (btw, count 6 down and read)

Taurus- I hate that I love Cheez-Its. Unmonitored, I would regularly shovel handfuls of them gullet-wise for hours and days on end--just one of my issues. However…steel yourself if you dare read the ingredients; which start out harmlessly enough with flour, and then casually lead up to MSG, corn syrup solids, disodium inosinate, yellows # 5 and 6, and of course sodium stearoyl lactylate. Whatever the F that is. And our life expectancies are somehow holding steady?? And if this is merely the bellwether of processed food, then wtf are we headed for? A foodpocalypse?? Will we become more chemistry than man? Your mantra for the week is: I am literally what I eat. I am literally what I eat. I am literally what I eat. I am literally what I eat. Eat well, and you’ll feel like yourself again.

(btw, count 6 down and read)

Gemini- The moment I discovered that the word crawfish is also a verb, meaning to back out of something, I realized that the possibilities are truly endless. Shortly after, I discovered the word obconical; which I’ll discuss later after I wrap my brain around it---despite its verisimilitude, it’s a pretty funky concept. Porpoise-- also a verb. Who knew? I purposely propose that your purposeful porpoising is pathological and preternatural, and yet…premeditated, dispassionate, and replete with a quality that at best can only be described as jejune, or even lackadaisical, possibly even merely prophylactical re the at large idioms that plague our groins and lips. I throw down a simple challenge: your brilliant mind is already free—now, learn to fly. Take the green pill.

(btw, count 6 down and read)

Cancer- Pot, kettle. Pot, kettle. Pot, kettle. Black as pitch, ebon like a moonless night, or the emptiest of spacetime. Our thoughts and feelings regarding others are skewy and screwy. Case in point par example: I opine x or y about so and so, and then I wonder—why did I think that about him/her? And then I turn to what is usually a very biased mirror and unto myself, I overthink the whole process til I nullify or side step any potential need to correct my course through a prickly emotional mine field, filled with sadness bombs and shrapnellian® intrusions into my little space that I—DAMMIT, I- and only I, inhabit in this weird gooey spacetime matrix thingy, where I am the individual, and no thing can take my freedom, just like in that movie with all the kilts. I say, throw less stones, and instead use them in the garden of your mindscape. (btw, count 6 down and read)

Leo- Turns out, the word porpoise is also a verb. My flabber has also been gasted! Yeah, whew! Take a breath—Also, did not know that in a weird latin root way, it basically means sea pig. But wait—there’s more… It also means to leap clear of the water. Yes, smartass—like a porpoise. The purpose of porpoising probably has something to do with seeing what’s up ahead. Maybe some land, maybe get a whiff of whatever is on the horizon. It makes for more efficient travel that can take you farther in the search for the ever elusive that lies ahead of us all—a simple trick that proves quite advantageous—mammals that live in water…weird right? (btw, count 6 down and read)

Virgo- I’ve never owned a bird, either as a pet or to use as communication between myself and the front lines of whatever war I’m fighting—probably for no reason. I have nothing against birds and generally love animals; exceptions being things like gnus and ocelots—they simply refuse to abide by any reasonable code of ethics or morals. And to be honest (usually a mistake) I have no plans to ever own a bird. I would own an alpaca before a bird. Funny thing is, like Darwin, I find birds fascinating. They’re oddly intelligent, genetically ancient, and adapted beautifully to an environment that reeks of air and freedom. They were mammals before we were mammals in a way I’ll have to explain later due to its inherent complex codices. Interpret and discuss. (btw, count 6 up and read)

Libra- For your ‘scope this week, I turn things over to the great Danny Elfman: No one beats him at his game / For very long but just the same / Who cares, there's no place safe to hide / Nowhere to run--no time to cry / So celebrate while you still can / 'Cause any second it may end / And when it's all been said and done . . . Better that you had some fun / Instead of hiding in a shell / Why make your life a living hell? / So have a toast, and down the cup / And drink to bones that turn to dust / 'cause no one, no one, no one, no one . . .  No one lives forever!! Party on Wayne---but with purpose and love, leaving all mercy unstrained; fomenting wildly compassionate uprisings in the streets, taming traffic snarls and engendering peaceful un-violence. You’re in charge, we’re all counting on you. (btw, count 6 up and read)

Scorpio- Your levels are currently at full moon and partial eclipse viscosity. The upcoming bumps and hard curves will correspond in equal and/or opposite g-forces; meaning that whatever seismic upheavals that portend truthiness---they are mere fictions of reality based television. Full moons reveal truth---in the stark reality of moonlight, which arguably, may contain more shadow than light. Get to the point, Pants! Okay, tell no one or thing, but---the destiny of truth and fate are co-mingled with articles of pure chance. The subatomic moves in ways we cannot perceive—unless you have an ear to the ground and a Large Hadron Collider. This particular full moon is YOUR time--scorpionically based. Therefore, ride the wave(s) and ready your talons. (btw, count 6 up and read)

Sagittarius- The following is a list of weird projects that you may want to pop into your hopper over the next week or so: A) How to build your own yeti. B) How to cook chicken in a vacuum. And C) How to mutate your favorite animal, get it to bite you, so you can gain super powers. Personally I would go with C. So—here’s my horror-scopial advice for the week: Pick a power animal. Then capture it. I would start small. Snaring a wild moose is not for the newly initiated. Then, mutate it. My favorite method is accidental overload of gamma radiation. But the interwebs is full of cool ways to irradiate pretty much anything. Then, piss the animal off. Odds are, a bite will ensue, and the change will begin. Fer real tho, choose the animal wisely. Don’t get caught in the albino alligator nightmare that I witnessed in Florida. Also be wary of flying creatures—lots of air traffic these days- very dangerous. Embrace the weird. (btw, count 6 up and read)

Capricorn- I don’t believe in Canada. Like, literally, I don’t believe it exists. You can point to all the maps you want, I just don’t think it actually exists. I mean, c’mon—mounted police? Moose wrestling and caber tossing? I’m not an idiot—Canada is a metaphor, for what no one knows. But I think it will be important in your up and coming week. I’m not saying that you’re going to learn how to play hockey while shotgunning beers; nor should you learn to speak a weird semi-intelligible English. Nevertheless, you are headed northerly. Maybe you’re aiming your moose towards an aurora borealis. Maybe your magnetic field needs adjusting and the extra light will help you see where to tweak. Maybe you want to see the world’s largest totem pole. Go; pay a visit to the imaginary Canada in your mind. And say hi to RUSH for me. (btw, count 6 up and read)

Aquarius- The Aqua brain is like the cheetah in the savannah of the human mindscape. Ours may not be the most intelligent sign, but we’re at Warp9 before the other ships even get out of space dock. The human brain is elastic and stretchy. Not now, but next time I’ll lay down my theory about how Plastic Man was a metaphor for our cranial speed records…but for now, back to the concept of elasticity—or rather a fluidic universe through which we can fold the folds of our minds in, around, up and down and even into places that don’t exist yet. Our brains are octopussian®, able to get through the tiniest and wormiest of holes, using only flexibility and sheer will. I can’t even deal with how cool we are. Now get outta here and go invent something, ya squirrely genius…

(btw, count 6 up and read)

Pisces- I don’t know if you’re ready for the sheer volumes of pleasure that are en route to your face at this very moment. It makes a deluge look like a drippy faucet. I know you’ll handle it in your inimitable fashion, so easy peasey, my little lemon squeezey. Here’s how your week’s going to unfold: Friday, you’ll be longing for something, perhaps intangible, that will lose face time due to social or work obligations. Saturday, you will be tempted to eat a hot dog or some other cured and overly processed meat, but you will decline politely and opt instead for the leafiest of greens. And then around 11pm, you’ll yearn yet again, but this time it will be for a tangible thing—some thing real—existing in spacetime and everything; and you will dream of it all night long. Until Sunday, when the object of your drives and machinations will produce an aurora borealic cacophony of taste and colour and divinations supreme, coinciding with multiple orgasmic pleasure. Sunday—that’s your fun day. I suggest doing some stretches. (btw, count 6 up and read)

                                      Dr. Pants McTurd's

                                MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                                                pantsmcturd.blogspot.com

                             (unassociated with horror, nor scopes of any ilk)                                                         

Aries- Your obscure latin power phrase of the week is: Otium cum dignitate. Use it liberally when you lack the power to relaxi your taxi and/or easy your peasey.  It’s greek for leisure with dignity. Ahh, the greeks—the original hippies, all peripatetic and whatnot, probably smoking something from those pushers up in Delphi—oracles, my mediterranean ass! Point is, this ‘verse tis’ain’t ’bout desserts, deserves, nor divinating futurism; BUT RATHER…our brains require healthy spacetime to grow and produce- greenhouse like, conditions that benefit our upward and diversified evolution. Leisure with dignity. Rest without regret. Pleasure sans pain. Power up: and otium cum dignitate the crap out of it. De-stress with dignity, design and desire. 

Taurus- Lots of people say to me, ‘Hey, Doc Pants—do you believe in astrology?’ And I say, ‘Don’t be stupid, Timmy- astrology has nothing to do with belief. It has to do with math.’ In fact, it’s all math; and it’s been practiced for thousands of years. Our relationship with the sky has lessened dramatically since the advent of indoor plumbing; let’s face it, pooping indoors is just way nicer. We used to be tied to the sky for survival as we were tied to the land. Sure the land, and sea are where all the food is; but the sky leads us home, or mayhap onto our next meal. The sky is our calendar, allowing us to push our brains futurewise because we’ll know exactly when to plant. And finally, Timmy, the sky is our imagination; because we can stare into it whenever we want to re-connect with infinity. My advice for the week: Look up. Don’t be a Timmy. Let your mind wander, and your soul will join you mid flight. PS: Don’t read Gemini. Don’t.

Gemini- Warning: the following is rated R, so read accordingly. Your weird and randomly generated power word of the week is: Fascicle. Whether it’s muscle--all sinewy like a cut of perfectly cooked flesh; or a crazy story that you read to me, over a series of nights, whispered softly, a relaxing and aural delight; near dreamtime, where reality becomes fasciclic®—faceted in a multi orgasmic way that layers your story cakelike, festooned with erotic angels, frosting and frothing their way to a fragrant fellated finale of frivolous fuckery… Where was I..? Ah yes, fascicle… layers…multi-causal-infractions, and pov’s colliding simultaneously. Go boldly, Gemini---but cautiously and with passionate intent.

Cancer- Your power punctuation mark for the week is: the semicolon. Yay! I guess…how important is the semicolon? No one knows. One time, this particular well known author (cough..Shakespeare..cough) realized that his plays would make no sense if it wasn’t for the semicolon. And when the Queen outlawed the use of semicolons in all staged theater in 1602, Bill wasn’t worrie’d; he knew that Francis Bacon would be able to convince the Queen to rescind the unjust law; and since Francis was the actual author of the entire Shakespeare canon it seemed a 17^th century no-brainer. Punctuation is nutty, right? This week, you won’t need the whole colon-- just the semi. Punctuate judiciously and generously; and connect your thoughts and dots.          Btw, read Gemini--- if you dare. Not a challenge. Just an idea.

Leo- I got your vibe. It goes a little something like this: Yes, I also dig Beck—he’s groovy, man; and while I simultaneously waver philosophically re his scientological ways, here’s the over-arching thing: I too, am choking like a one man dustbowl, and likewise, I’m still a wino throwing frisbees at the sun, and running like a flaming pig; and sure, I quit my job blowing leaves, telephone bills up my sleeves…but really—L Ron Hubbard? The whole alien thing with the e-meter or whatever the hell…? WTFudge? Same with Tom Cruise; he’s cool, but really…? And Travolta…uff da. Even Charles Manson quit that ‘church’; so did William S. Burroughs. Point is, life is conflicting. We can judge Beck for his musical talent, or his weirdo belief system. Or perhaps we should do both. I say, crank the volume to 11 and ponder a world of relative incongruity.

Virgo- Sure, I’ll beat a dead horse, but never--never, around the bush. Who wouldn’t, right? Speaking of, there are so many ways to skin a cat, but if you swing the dead cat, you’ll probably hit at least a goodly score many of whatever you were hyperbolizing—granted, not on purpose or in a sociopathic way, but still---whoa, might want to peek in to your subconscious there- might be some buildup of unresolved whathaveyous. Metaphor up quick here, Pants…..Okay the Doc is back IN, and the test results are cool: you are poised to overcome all the ridiculous metaphors and idioms that blur the line between literal and juiced up nonsense. Go visceral and dance like a drunken marsupial—the time has come.

Libra- Bruno Mars can take that ‘Just the Way You Are’ song and shove it up his teen titillating ass. The imagery and style of that song causes my bile to raise the threat of chemical warfare in the ol’ alimentary canal. His sister Veronica is so cool and hot, that you’d think Bruno wouldn’t be anywhere near that annoying. Now, Billy Joel and ‘Just the Way You Are’—that’s a pop hit of a different chord. Granted, he wrote it for his first wife that he later divorced for a supermodel, but the sentiment is nice. Bruno’s just trying to get twelve year olds laid. Billy writes for adults, people who’ve been down the path a bit. I know---it’s just business, so don’t hate Bruno, I get it. See if you can apply that to your own fervent dislikes. It’s just business, don’t be a Bruno hater for no reason.

Scorpio- I’m going to poop a dinosaur fossil for you; one that is balls deep inside a transient transoceanic fishy matrix-- justifiably and daintily righteous—not like Nixon or Christ, or Paar or Carson; but like a momentary fractal, sometimes sideways and most likely borne of a constabulary conflagration of sideways eights and distended aortae, that will most likely lead down dead end hallways with many cautionary tales behind mystery dportals. Howeversome-ever®, your mesozoic is looking particularly fresh right now. I say, grab a stegosaurus, a 24 pack and some quaaludes---this week is gonna get weird; also to purposely mention, volubly verbose, trans-continental, and interplanetary.  Also, don’t read Taurus. Or Leo. Don’t.

Sagittarius- I know you’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but now is beautifully designed moment for you to sequester yourself in another language. It will not happen overnight, it’s a process; but it will make your already elastic brain a little more stretchy and healthy; and you will live longer and happier. A foreign tongue automatically bridges the gap twixt class, socio economic status, race, emigrational positioning, politics---everything. To grok someone, you walk a mile in his or her idioms, sayings and expressionisms. En español, the word for language is lengua, which also means tongue. So, just pick a tongue--any tongue and dive in. Your mouth is ripe for a new level of conversation. 

Capricorn- There’s always lot’s of loose talk about the whole soul thing; and its corollary—reincarnation; as well as the impermeability and infinite existence of an intangible thing that must be believed in to exist; and the lack of scientific evidence of a soul is simply unsupportable. But hey—maybe we currently lack the technology and math to define a soul—like a god particle or some other intangible quanta of matter that science geeks assure me exists—and then go on to tell me that existence is impossible to define due to a break down in language, or lengua--Maybe nothing’s real. Mayhap nothing exists. Frak and Dingleberry!, do you know what this means?!?! Neither do I. You ponder and get back to me; but for now--believe no thing.

Aquarius- One of the shittiest doldrumic ass hats one inevitably wears is the inadvertent, unplanned and unintentional insult to another person’s sensitivity or character that arises because of the dreaded foot-in-mouth disease that affects even high brained people, such as our illustrious selves. And while the quality of mercy is not strained, and despite the fact that feelings of guilt are remnants of evolutionary incidentalism, can I please wash your feet?; like Teresa, or Pope Francis, or from one lover to another? Despite our cranial capacities, Aquarians are rarely greedy, insensitive or cruel, but we can be temporarily unaware of our surroundings, due to a nomadic imagination and unexpected outbursts of genius brain lightning. Point is, if you’re going to feel guilt, you should also explore the flip side---forgiveness, a light heart, and infinite compassion. 

Pisces- Depending on your sexual orientation, your power fish of the week is either the weedy seadragon, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phyllopteryx, or the leafy seadragon, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leafy_sea_dragon. The relative rarity and inevitably endangered status of these marvelous creatures, designed by god or nothing, or evolution, or Charlie Darwin—who knows, and who cares; they are fan-frakking-tastic. And the males give birth and take care of the kids?—who knew? Figures that they’re from down unda… Point is tho, merge your fishy mind with the dragon’s fishy mind, and you will double your already impressive aquatic powers. Aquaman??! You’ll be able to kick his telepathic fish-controlling ass. Legion of Awesome!!

                                      Dr. Pants McTurd's

                                MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                                                pantsmcturd.blogspot.com

                             (unassociated with horror, nor scopes of any ilk)                                                         

Aries- Your obscure latin power phrase of the week is: Otium cum dignitate. Use it liberally when you lack the power to relaxi your taxi and/or easy your peasey.  It’s greek for leisure with dignity. Ahh, the greeks—the original hippies, all peripatetic and whatnot, probably smoking something from those pushers up in Delphi—oracles, my mediterranean ass! Point is, this ‘verse tis’ain’t ’bout desserts, deserves, nor divinating futurism; BUT RATHER…our brains require healthy spacetime to grow and produce- greenhouse like, conditions that benefit our upward and diversified evolution. Leisure with dignity. Rest without regret. Pleasure sans pain. Power up: and otium cum dignitate the crap out of it. De-stress with dignity, design and desire. 

Taurus- Lots of people say to me, ‘Hey, Doc Pants—do you believe in astrology?’ And I say, ‘Don’t be stupid, Timmy- astrology has nothing to do with belief. It has to do with math.’ In fact, it’s all math; and it’s been practiced for thousands of years. Our relationship with the sky has lessened dramatically since the advent of indoor plumbing; let’s face it, pooping indoors is just way nicer. We used to be tied to the sky for survival as we were tied to the land. Sure the land, and sea are where all the food is; but the sky leads us home, or mayhap onto our next meal. The sky is our calendar, allowing us to push our brains futurewise because we’ll know exactly when to plant. And finally, Timmy, the sky is our imagination; because we can stare into it whenever we want to re-connect with infinity. My advice for the week: Look up. Don’t be a Timmy. Let your mind wander, and your soul will join you mid flight. PS: Don’t read Gemini. Don’t.

Gemini- Warning: the following is rated R, so read accordingly. Your weird and randomly generated power word of the week is: Fascicle. Whether it’s muscle--all sinewy like a cut of perfectly cooked flesh; or a crazy story that you read to me, over a series of nights, whispered softly, a relaxing and aural delight; near dreamtime, where reality becomes fasciclic®—faceted in a multi orgasmic way that layers your story cakelike, festooned with erotic angels, frosting and frothing their way to a fragrant fellated finale of frivolous fuckery… Where was I..? Ah yes, fascicle… layers…multi-causal-infractions, and pov’s colliding simultaneously. Go boldly, Gemini---but cautiously and with passionate intent.

Cancer- Your power punctuation mark for the week is: the semicolon. Yay! I guess…how important is the semicolon? No one knows. One time, this particular well known author (cough..Shakespeare..cough) realized that his plays would make no sense if it wasn’t for the semicolon. And when the Queen outlawed the use of semicolons in all staged theater in 1602, Bill wasn’t worrie’d; he knew that Francis Bacon would be able to convince the Queen to rescind the unjust law; and since Francis was the actual author of the entire Shakespeare canon it seemed a 17^th century no-brainer. Punctuation is nutty, right? This week, you won’t need the whole colon-- just the semi. Punctuate judiciously and generously; and connect your thoughts and dots.          Btw, read Gemini--- if you dare. Not a challenge. Just an idea.

Leo- I got your vibe. It goes a little something like this: Yes, I also dig Beck—he’s groovy, man; and while I simultaneously waver philosophically re his scientological ways, here’s the over-arching thing: I too, am choking like a one man dustbowl, and likewise, I’m still a wino throwing frisbees at the sun, and running like a flaming pig; and sure, I quit my job blowing leaves, telephone bills up my sleeves…but really—L Ron Hubbard? The whole alien thing with the e-meter or whatever the hell…? WTFudge? Same with Tom Cruise; he’s cool, but really…? And Travolta…uff da. Even Charles Manson quit that ‘church’; so did William S. Burroughs. Point is, life is conflicting. We can judge Beck for his musical talent, or his weirdo belief system. Or perhaps we should do both. I say, crank the volume to 11 and ponder a world of relative incongruity.

Virgo- Sure, I’ll beat a dead horse, but never--never, around the bush. Who wouldn’t, right? Speaking of, there are so many ways to skin a cat, but if you swing the dead cat, you’ll probably hit at least a goodly score many of whatever you were hyperbolizing—granted, not on purpose or in a sociopathic way, but still---whoa, might want to peek in to your subconscious there- might be some buildup of unresolved whathaveyous. Metaphor up quick here, Pants…..Okay the Doc is back IN, and the test results are cool: you are poised to overcome all the ridiculous metaphors and idioms that blur the line between literal and juiced up nonsense. Go visceral and dance like a drunken marsupial—the time has come.

Libra- Bruno Mars can take that ‘Just the Way You Are’ song and shove it up his teen titillating ass. The imagery and style of that song causes my bile to raise the threat of chemical warfare in the ol’ alimentary canal. His sister Veronica is so cool and hot, that you’d think Bruno wouldn’t be anywhere near that annoying. Now, Billy Joel and ‘Just the Way You Are’—that’s a pop hit of a different chord. Granted, he wrote it for his first wife that he later divorced for a supermodel, but the sentiment is nice. Bruno’s just trying to get twelve year olds laid. Billy writes for adults, people who’ve been down the path a bit. I know---it’s just business, so don’t hate Bruno, I get it. See if you can apply that to your own fervent dislikes. It’s just business, don’t be a Bruno hater for no reason.

Scorpio- I’m going to poop a dinosaur fossil for you; one that is balls deep inside a transient transoceanic fishy matrix-- justifiably and daintily righteous—not like Nixon or Christ, or Paar or Carson; but like a momentary fractal, sometimes sideways and most likely borne of a constabulary conflagration of sideways eights and distended aortae, that will most likely lead down dead end hallways with many cautionary tales behind mystery dportals. Howeversome-ever®, your mesozoic is looking particularly fresh right now. I say, grab a stegosaurus, a 24 pack and some quaaludes---this week is gonna get weird; also to purposely mention, volubly verbose, trans-continental, and interplanetary.  Also, don’t read Taurus. Or Leo. Don’t.

Sagittarius- I know you’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but now is beautifully designed moment for you to sequester yourself in another language. It will not happen overnight, it’s a process; but it will make your already elastic brain a little more stretchy and healthy; and you will live longer and happier. A foreign tongue automatically bridges the gap twixt class, socio economic status, race, emigrational positioning, politics---everything. To grok someone, you walk a mile in his or her idioms, sayings and expressionisms. En español, the word for language is lengua, which also means tongue. So, just pick a tongue--any tongue and dive in. Your mouth is ripe for a new level of conversation. 

Capricorn- There’s always lot’s of loose talk about the whole soul thing; and its corollary—reincarnation; as well as the impermeability and infinite existence of an intangible thing that must be believed in to exist; and the lack of scientific evidence of a soul is simply unsupportable. But hey—maybe we currently lack the technology and math to define a soul—like a god particle or some other intangible quanta of matter that science geeks assure me exists—and then go on to tell me that existence is impossible to define due to a break down in language, or lengua--Maybe nothing’s real. Mayhap nothing exists. Frak and Dingleberry!, do you know what this means?!?! Neither do I. You ponder and get back to me; but for now--believe no thing.

Aquarius- One of the shittiest doldrumic ass hats one inevitably wears is the inadvertent, unplanned and unintentional insult to another person’s sensitivity or character that arises because of the dreaded foot-in-mouth disease that affects even high brained people, such as our illustrious selves. And while the quality of mercy is not strained, and despite the fact that feelings of guilt are remnants of evolutionary incidentalism, can I please wash your feet?; like Teresa, or Pope Francis, or from one lover to another? Despite our cranial capacities, Aquarians are rarely greedy, insensitive or cruel, but we can be temporarily unaware of our surroundings, due to a nomadic imagination and unexpected outbursts of genius brain lightning. Point is, if you’re going to feel guilt, you should also explore the flip side---forgiveness, a light heart, and infinite compassion. 

Pisces- Depending on your sexual orientation, your power fish of the week is either the weedy seadragon, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phyllopteryx, or the leafy seadragon, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leafy_sea_dragon. The relative rarity and inevitably endangered status of these marvelous creatures, designed by god or nothing, or evolution, or Charlie Darwin—who knows, and who cares; they are fan-frakking-tastic. And the males give birth and take care of the kids?—who knew? Figures that they’re from down unda… Point is tho, merge your fishy mind with the dragon’s fishy mind, and you will double your already impressive aquatic powers. Aquaman??! You’ll be able to kick his telepathic fish-controlling ass. Legion of Awesome!!

                  Dr. Pants McTurd's

         MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                                

       (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                                                                 

Aries- So, foy is this word that I imaginated one afternoon whilst mid crossword, and thought, could foy be a word? It seemed suspect, so I looked it up, and apparently foy, dammitall®, is indeedily a word. Not oft used, probably not even in an esoteric and moldy 15^th century way; but I guess my seemingly rambling point is probably that, to quote the Bueller, life moves pretty fast; if you don't stop and look around once and a while, you could miss it. Slow down, you move too fast, you’ve got to make the moment last… Your mission is to make a toast, take a journey, and go on a groovy adventure. Even if you don’t leave town---cheers and god speed.

Taurus- If you don’t believe I can connect the tyrannical king Nimrod the Evil to Bugs Bunny, then you better hold on to your panties. Nimrod was a powerful despot, but hey—who hasn’t felt more powerful than god, right? I suppose we all have our Abrahams ready to knock us off our pedestals. Anyhoo--I figure most tyrants make good hunters, what with the need to smite and all; which brings me not yet to Bugs, but to Elmer Fudd. Bugs calling Elmer a nimrod ushers into the 20^th century an updated definition for an ancient word; simultaneously bringing king nimrod down to the lowest level of stupidity in continued payment for his sins. Mock evil and we win. It’s how we rise above the bad shite that inevitably goes down. Find your Bugs, and mock the evil. Mock it good, Doc.

Gemini- Man vs man. Man vs nature. Man vs society. Man vs banana peels casually tossed from car windows onto sidewalks replete with unaware passersby’s destined for fateful spills. Man vs giant mutoid octopus donuts. Man vs Klingon. Wait, my head is spinning… I don’t want to argue grammar here, I just disagree with its tactics sometimes. Pain as a teacher? Piffle! Just so we can justify why terrible things happen? And here’s both th’ rub and th’ poison’d and ink’d prick—MAN vs HIMSELF. The seppuku sword of Damocles, destined for an eternity of pyrrhic emptiness ---WHOA! Hey, hold your four horsemen—you can totally relax and stay beautiful. You’re tubing down a nice river headed for a kick ass lake with ducks and otters and picnic tables. It’ll be fun; there’s sandwiches and cookies and bourbon! Groovy.

Cancer- There’s been much radioactive quackery emanating from the southern portion of you ancestral mountains, and yet-- the rate of decay will only enhance your powers. And far to the north, the poppies have had a warm wet spring and the opium tinctures are being prepared by enthralled Lotus Landers. Keep an eye out in your local grasslands and steppes tho; I smell snake oil, barnum and/or hokum, and fraudulence and calumnies that threaten the enclaves of usually burgeoning life on your tidally affected supercontinent. Luckily, your astro weather report is full of madly sunny days lost somewhere on a mediterranean coast. From here, your map looks like a sun lit tapestry, whose only reason for existing is to be seen and pondered and maybe napped upon. Breathe deep the groovy sun.

Leo- Gird your loins, is not usually a welcome phrase. Later in the day, after lunch and preferentially a beer, a hammock and a quick snooze, possibly after either snuggling or preferentially canoodling-- maybe I can handle a little girdling, but not before noon fer sure. And by maybe, I mean no, most likely not ever, not even if we were invaded by fascist aliens, armed with butt probe drones and watered down beer. Unfortunately, the hobbit-like existence I’d like to live tends to be interrupted from time to time with noisy jerks telling me to hold fast my crotchal regions, and I get all tense. I’m NOT telling you to gird anything. Unclench at least forty percent and it’ll be cool with all multiversal® powers that be. No butt probe aliens. You’re cool.

Virgo- Relax, and have a Death in The Afternoon. Not the novel, but rather the cocktail invented by the author. Of which he said, “Pour one jigger absinthe into a Champagne glass. Add iced champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness. Drink three to five of these.” He’s right; three to five of those babies and it’s a farewell to more than just arms. Besides your pants, there’s no more war, no more atrocities—just boobies and happy endings and six toed cats. I’m not endorsing you drink five of them—you’re no Dr. Pants to be sure…but this week, feel free to indulge—wisely that is, in a forbidden fruit, a taboo, or a sexy moral imperative. I’ll meet you at Hemingway’s place for happy hour, and you can tell me all about what may have been hallucinatory and yet seemed so real and life changing.

Libra- Your power animal for the week is a crocodile from Burundi named Gustave, who has allegedly eaten over 300 humans and has never been caught; partially due his Rambo-like craftiness, but also his size—estimated at over 2000lbs. Gustave is not a croc you want to meet in a dark alley after the dessert bar at the Carnivore’s Buffet ran out of seagull sundaes. And nobody really worships crocodiles anymore, what’s up with that? They even got booted from the zodiac. We got a goat and a ram, but no croc. I call bullshite. I’m NOT saying that you should go Hannibal and snatch unsuspecting people from the street and eat them wholesale; but I AM saying that you possess the strength of ten Gustaves. So…the buffet opens at 5, dress casual, and remember to smile those powerful reptilian whites.

Scorpio- Your power flora of the week is the King Clone, a stinky creosote plant that lives near Mojave; mostly because it’s a pretty short commute over to Edwards AFB. King Clone has been carbon dated as one of the oldest living organisms on earth, at over 11,000 years. If you don’t know creosote—it smells like a combination of roofing tar and dinosaur farts—you, howsomever, smell way better. Nonethenevertheless, you and this desert bush possess similar qualities; for example, even in extreme droughts—both the temporal and emotional kinds—your roots can hold water better than a ShamWow!; protecting you for future deluges and cyclical seasonal snows. You are a wise and possibly immortal creosote plant. Live strong, stinky.

Sagittarius- You are beagle nosed and eagle eyed, not to mention wild, riled and never tired. You’re the leader of the freshly notar- and motor- -ized Shotgun Bear Army®; trained by a master in leg sweeping, twisting the pig, and decrying righteously the foully unjust, the cretinous and the cruel, the takers and the never givers—people who play politic with principles---OUR principles, which are intended to fuel our healthy appetite for life’s bounty, the blessings of existence and the plaudits of self examination and catharsis; psychological evolution that leads to the next level, the next incarnation of a soul’s journey through weird fibroid strings dancing ‘mongst mysteriously dark matter. You are ready for anything. No thing can stop you.

If you’re gonna be a bear-- be a GRIZZLY!!

Capricorn- The Carpathian Mountains have given us so much---nosferatu, goth fashion, and bad guys from ill fated Ghostbusters sequels. Submitted for your approval: the chamois. However, before your ‘scopes grand finale that contains a ShamWow! metaphor, let’s start with the goat-antelope bovid called, a chamois, that lives, guess where---Carpathia. Whew, okay, long intro—so the skin of the chamois is super absorbent, and then blammo® centuries later---the ShamWow! takes care of your wettest and clumsiest needs. And yes, I could ham handedly hand down a Cap ‘scope comparing you either to the transylvanian goat, or something vague about being able to soak up a lot of water. But my point is about the history of stuff. The evolution of stuff. The causes and catalysts behind every effect and affect. The eternal and omnipotent chamois. Long live Carpathia. And ShamWow!

Aquarius- "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of god.”  Not to get preachy--as if I could give two shites about the new pope; but we finally get a spiritual leader whose first speech was about taking care of the poor and disenfranchised; as opposed to check out my fancy pope pomp and circumstance, with the cool shoes and jewelry fetish. Point is, we all spend a lot of time trying to get rich, and inevitably dying in the process. And I rarely predict anything for a future oriented sign such as you and me, but I feel that in the next week you may have to thread the needle. Humility will save you many bactrian and avoidable conflicts. Irrelevant addendum: does the pope shit in the woods? I’m guessing no—there’s probably a private papal shitter.

Pisces- I’ll be your huckleberry. I guess... I’m not sure if that means that I’ll threaten you with a gun fight and tuberculosis; or if it means that despite being a metaphor for someone of little consequence-- I’ll be your Huckleberry-- as in Finn, who may seem like a lowly person, but who Twain himself described as the most free and independent of anyone. You be the huckleberry this week and you make the call. I say you go with the latter. Let the world remain ignorant regarding your misnomed nature. You don’t have to play the fool, but you’re not that fast of a draw, and you don’t have TB-- I checked. Do what you know—be free.