Dr.
Pants McTurd's
MORE Than True Horror-scopes
(not associated with horror
or scopes of any ilk)
Aries- I suspect you might like to,
but you have never shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. You don’t really
want to be stuck in Folsom Prison listening to trains going by filled with
people having fun and travelling, who saw no need to gun anyone down just for
kicks and shits and giggles. And the guy you want to shoot might even deserve
it—that’s not my point is. My point is, is that there are better outcomes for
your angst. I doubt you’ll ever be rid of it, but as an old guy once said,
‘There are alternatives to fighting’, and then another more handsome guy said,
‘Hokey religions and ancient weapons
are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid’. And that guy shot first and
ended up in Folsom carbonite later. Here’s an idea: don’t take your guns to
town, son, leave your guns at home, Bill. You’re an astronaut, not a mercenary.
Act accordingly.
Taurus- Here’s why No Country For Old
Men is a shitty movie: They get you caught up in Brolin’s story, and even if
he’s not a good guy, we still want to know how his story is going to end. And
then right when the shite is about to go down, they cut forward in time and show
you the aftermath of what looked like a cool fight scene. And I get it—the
story is about the old man and how there’s no country for him anymore because
it’s just too violent—boo and hoo. Problem is, the old man is a minor
character. Wtf happened to Brolin? How did friendo guy kill him? You dumped me
off a cliff, Coens. Bah, I say, bah. Point is, this week don’t worry about
Tommy Lee, but rather your own Brolin ass—get it to safety; get it to country
that’s meant for the young at heart like yourself.
Gemini- We need an away getaway,
where warm trade winds blow off an ocean of no remorse, merely the ebbing and
flowing with the gravity and earth and orbits and intertidal cosmic forces of a
larger sea. An island, where anything grows, perhaps at times sans control, but
one that is lush with the lushiest of lives and sandiest of beaches. Hard to
reach fruit because of rocky travails confounding our steps would seem like a
pleasure cruise. It’s your birthday time—a singular time of year when your
emotional intelligence aligns with the intentions of a benevolent sun and a
reinforced moon to Jupiter ratio. Transcendentalize this, hombre—travel deeply,
be it in, or be it out—the world is yours. Drink till you are slaked.
Cancer-
As a primer on the rate of change in our obviously short lives, I submit for
your approval a 1974 commercial for Marathon candy bar, in which they tried to
make a metaphor with marathons and sea voyages. They filmed on an actual
replica of an 18th century naval vessel. Point of the name Marathon
being that this particular candy bar just keeps going and going—perhaps the
antecedent to the battery bunny, who knows---and never mind that they had an
animation where the candy is coming out of the wrapper, and it looks like a
really long turd. Point is, that seemed like a reasonable advertising ploy.
This week, come in to the now century. Wrap yourself in a starship and
futuristic hubba hubba. Leave the turds behind.
Leo- It’s time for you to be the
philosopher king, the kung fu guy who’s walking the earth, the benevolent
tyrant, a purveyor of violence and sex, but neither if it be truly harmful. Now
is the time for that big stick and a soft step. Imminently, time will be nigh
for you too embody restraint and wisdom and power and the ability to
squash---maybe bugs, maybe mortal enemies. An eye no longer equals an eye on
the open market, considering developing technologies that promise android
Viagra and robotic livers. With great power comes great responsibility. Heavy
lies the crown. Newtonian times, friendo…“When one body exerts a force on a second body, the second body
simultaneously exerts a force equal in magnitude and opposite in direction to
that of the first body.” Wield wisely, and see ya on the other side of the
coin. Or planet, or whatever.
Virgo- This week, you have the
captain’s express permission to splice the mainbrace and partake, along with
your crew—or posse if you’re a seasick landlubber, any number of grogs, glöggs, sex on
beaches, orgasms—screaming or otherwise, boilermakers—from Indiana or
elsewhere, hangman’s blood, brass monkeys, jaguar milks, gimlets, gibsons, gin
fizzes—sloe or fast, salty dogs, pink ladies, bumbos, bushwackers, moscow
mules, death in the afternoons, dirty white mothers, mama juanas, and/or
buttery nipples. In the words of the probably immortal Danny Elfman, “celebrate
while you still can, cause any second it may end, and when it’s over, said and
done, better that you had some fun, so have a toast and down the cup, cause no
one, no one, no one, no one, no one lives forever.”
Libra- Submitted for your approval:
Lincoln related irony no. 23: Edwin Booth, the George Clooney of the 1860’s, as
well as older brother to John Wilkes, shortly before the Lincoln
assassination—saved Lincoln’s oldest son from an incident at a train station.
The two happened to be near each other, when Robert Lincoln lost his balance
and nearly fell onto the tracks as a train began to move. Furtherly more
ironical, Robert Lincoln of course thanked Mr. Booth by name—Edwin, however had
no idea at the time that it was the president’s son. As a side note, Edwin was
not the schizoid nut his brother was. Point is, great mysteries are in front of
you, if you can see the forest despite the trees, and the Presidents from the
Providence.
Scorpio- Mimas is one of Saturn’s
moons, and here’s why it’s relevant to your gallivanting coffee drinking
lifestyle: it has the largest crater, relative to its parent body, of all the
craters in our solar system. The crater’s name is Herschel btw, and on an
equivalent earth scale it would be as large as Canada. Its walls are 5km high,
and we haven’t yet figured out how the impact didn’t destroy the whole kit and
caboodle. It also looks real similar to the Death Star, despite the fact we
didn’t get an image of it until 1980. Anyhoo, point is, either you have been
similarly impacted or you are destined to be, and—you have and/or will survive,
and probably go on to obscure fame, and hopefully fortune. Btw, Mimas in greek
mythology was a son of Gaia who had serpents for legs—so…you have that going
for you too. You’re indestructible…apparently.
Sagittarius- You’ve a knack for
arrows and archery and aim, but despite the summer temps, the fog is pea soup
thick, and what you thought was a good target may have been just a tree stump
that someone used as a toilet. You could fire blindly into the miasma, your arrow
possibly igniting the clouds with your inherent supersonic trans warp
capabilities—but that may cause more damage than good. And sure, one could make
the argument that arrows are let loose all the time in this world and who is
anyone to say that You, or I, or the royal We are responsible? We are free, We
are individuals, and Arrows are meant to be shot, else they lose their purpose
and will and…freedom. You could also wait for the fog to clear, which is
inevitable. Your call.
Capricorn- Most horoscopes promise
you stuff, or achievements, or epiphanies—and sure as shite we all like to hear
that there’s a trainload of good shit coming our way. But I—the Dr. Pants—am
not here to bullshit you. Don’t misread—there might be a trainload coming your
way---shite, maybe it’s loaded with angel farts and pants that really
compliment your ass. Point is—maybe what’s coming is what you make for
yourself. You’re the mayor—make the trains run on time and you and everybody
else can bask in the glory of the iron horse’s hopefully not cursed gold. I
hear your train a comin, it’s rollin’ ‘round the bend---but you ain’t stuck in
Folsom Prison, so let that lonesome whistle blow
your blues away. Be the train.
Aquarius- The only US
president to have ever filed a patent is, no surprise here—Lincoln. It wasn’t
for anything flashy—something about air filled bladders that would help lift
boats out of muddy Midwestern rivers---I’m a doctor, not an engineer--, but
here’s the point is: in 1858 he said, “Man is not the only animal who labors; but
he is the only one who improves his workmanship.” What an egalitarian aquarian
bastard, right? And he has the same birthday as Darwin? Frak---what have you
and I done? Not nearly enough, I say. But then Lincoln and Darwin had no
streaming Arrested Development to distract them. They also had long river and
sea voyages to allow for well exercised thought experiments. Take a trip, free
your mind, it has a wanderlust that needs to be fed.
Pisces- Your mission, and I suggest
you shut up and take it, is to become the pasquino that you’ve been repressing
in your innards for a time period exceeding even the most lenient of libraries.
Start by visualizing the most absurd injustice in your life that has possibly
plagued you since childhood. Then go to Italy, specifically to the Scior Carera in Milan. It’s a statue, but more than that, it’s a
pasquinade—and by tradition, it is the recipient of anonymous satire,
lampooning and pointed accusations regarding purposeful misconduct, that as a
society we have decided are the unacceptable croutons in our al fresco salad.
The present incongruities and injustices will no longer stand. Hear my silly
words and promote change. Go now.
No comments:
Post a Comment