Dr. Pants McTurd's
MORE Than True Horror-scopes
(not associated with
horror or scopes of any ilk)
♈ Aries –The time where you don’t think, and you
just go, just do, just activate your pleasure areas and centers are upcoming
and nigh, and I suggest you begin gearing up. The equinox is 4 weeks away, and
hence your birthday times, and ergo rebirth, and therefore death changing its
mind back into life. You’re so close to balance, just hang tightly. When soon
the sun shines via the power of the constellular Aries, all restraints will
loosen and true star light will embiggen and unleash your true intent. Prepare
thyself for exquisite torture.
♉ Taurus –In the week ahead of you, the Dr. Pants
wants you to imagine that you are emanating from the perspective of two six
year old best friends that are on a bus ride home from school, watching the
myriad world go by, and commenting on it from that pov—what their world feels
like and what it makes them think. In the now, for this end of this February,
NOW, is dreamtime…and the distance between strings is exceptionally thin. Don’t
judge what you see, just remember it—save you it can.
♊ Gemini –The flower and the bee must work together
in order to be mutually beneficial—coexistant—separately evolved partners,
perhaps even of their own consent and conscious planning. Perhaps because
not-god dreamt of a flower, and of itself it had no anima, no soul, and what
was missing was its mate, its other, its fraternal twin sibling of a variable
matrilineal heritage—We are approaching a spring equinox, and it’s nigh time to
reconcile one’s disparate realities. Unite, you(s) allegedly divided Gemini.
♋ Cancer –Wherever you may find your corporeal self
in the current currents of spacetime—yes, as if the universe is literally like
an ocean, with different energy waves moving through it, but at a higher level
of calculus than you’re used to—bear in mind that leaping from tide pool to
tide pool is intended to be smooth, but can seem like an impossible jump. When
you’re ready, and you’ll know—just leap, and the next pool will appear. Go
Crabs!
♌ Leo –Drama and bullshite and falderal, as well
as nabobism and horse poop and forgotten time spent in wasteful means due to an
absent emotional incognito matrix, not to mention all the coy elizabethan fru
fru, blah blah, blah de blah…de Blah. Here’s your future, which I doubt you’ll
heed: this week, whatever you do, take a half hour, while the actual bricks and
mortars are open, and go buy yourself something cool. Doesn’t have to be
expensive, just cool. You’ve earned it.
♍ Virgo –The nigh time of our current sun is the
solar time of your star child cousin—the fishy, yet earthy Piscean aquatic
vertebrates with stubby little legs, attempting to evolve and explore the land.
What if—What IF, the primordial slimy fish-folk—who must have desired a new
environment, a new creative space to breathe air—yes, those Pisces types that
are dramatically able and handy at forging new destinies and incarnating new
fortunes at the drop of a genomic g, t, c, or even a—I’m just sayin—it might be
a good time to emulate your astrologically elder sibling. For now and nigh,
think pescatarian and breathe through your gills.
♎ Libra –I’d advise you to wear a silly hat, but
not one that would hide your cherubic features, which I’ve arbitrarily decided
is what you’re totally like—cherubs...little angels, happy or determined to be
so, even amidst harrowing times and brow furrowing frustration, usually at the
glacial pace of such trife and tribble—as in the parlance of our time—it’s a
damn bunch of shite. Poverty, suffering and inhumanity amidst all this wealth,
technology and innovation? W…T…Frak ? Yet you are an angel, and so be ware of
your power.
♏ Scorpio –Your elder water sign is having a birthday
time, and I posit that Scorpios could benefit from some older sibling Piscean
thinking. Scorps often like diving deep, delving and searching by torchlight
into the recesses of the human experience. Pisces also behaves like water, but
while you are deep ocean, Pisces is the whole ocean, moving as one entity,
regardless of the disparate degrees of atomic environs. Emotion and intellect,
and hopefully without the inflated ego. Think fish, and kiss a Pisces friend.
♐ Sagittarius –I know—you want to rev your engines and
go, just go, run unrestrained and free, catching warm updrafts and practicing
with your new Deadelian wings. However, before you take a short hike off a long
cliff, the Dr. Pants would like to remind you that this is a transformationally
quiet time of year for the flaming archer residing in your cardiac region. Even
the largest of creation, the biggest of bangs probably took the not-god a good
while in pre-not-time to plan out. Incubation time. Gestation. Work your mind,
not your wings…just till spring…just 4 weeks…and…BLAMMO.
♑ Capricorn –The time for frakking around is done. Your
procrastination and apparent love of inaction is thoroughly depraved, and
requires dismantling. Time is of the essence and better habits are the
watchwords, so put your pants on, and show me the dance I know you’ve been
distancing from, and shake that fine funky ass of yours to a rhythm that’s been
restrained toward the chthonic spectrum. Even if for no reason, go out and
rattle and jar and create and fornicate. Luck favors the bold. Go now.
Aquarius
♒ -The Dr. Pants
has saved us—the royal US, the We/I, Aquarius US, for last in his/my
prognosticating, and wow—are things looking UP! I/You/We’ve spent the last
several months in emotional quarantine, despite our birthday sun times—possibly
as a result of various perceived threats from outside sources of potential
leeching and moray eel sucking bastards—whether real or imaginary—and shite,
Dude! I/We—the Royal WE could really use a massage! Okay? So, the Dr.
Pants…I/We/Our, recommend literally that—You/I/We get a serious massage and
just chill—preferably with someone that you want to know better and more naked.
You/We/I—are/am…the key(s) to a more beatific and adventurous future.
♓ Pisces –If your birthday is nigh, you are truly
born at a strange cusp—all aerated from ironical and not actual water, teeming
with ideas, first amongst raised hands and ready answers, and ill equipped to
deal emotionally, probably because of all the blood flow to certain parts of
the brain that are, shall we say, non-amygdallic? And then somehow reverse
osmosizing and liquidating, becoming tidally accustomed, and emotionally in
control of one’s own climatic zone, and heartily surging forth because of the
simple discovery that your cusp moves as the ocean does. Happy Birthday, and
dream of large women.
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