Dr. Pants Mcturd's MORE Than True Horrorscopes

                            Dr. Pants' Eerily True Horror-scopes
                               
disclaimer: satire is still satire even when you add chocolate chips.

this week: if i don't exist, then you're not reading this.

Aries- You Aries weirdos remind me of a perpetual motion machine. Unfortunately, they don't actually exist. It's a type of machine that runs forever, always maintaining the same energy of momentum because somehow--there's no friction, drag, or any emotional baggage slowing it down. I reckon you folks have endless energy, which makes you both attractive and annoying. So remember, as you near the speed of light, all your baggage will become weightless, just like the formula, e=m-something times another number symbol... Fight the Friction and Free Our People!

Taurus- We are all floating on an endless sea of hasty generalizations, misleading vividness, overwhelming exceptions, false precision, impotent meanderings, and divine intentions with potentially diabolical outcomes; all in the hopes of finding solid footing on a watery world. Fins are for fish, and I guess some mammals too, but not me; I've feet and thumbs and a brain bigger than a walnut. There is no dimension upon which I will not transgress. Join me in my quest, and... we will totally stop for avocado ice cream and a dolphin sandwich on the way.

Gemini- According to Hoyle, a pig's orgasm lasts thirty minutes. Holy bacon, lettuce and tomato, that makes one ponder-- pigs might be the nearest sibling we have, evolutionarily and personality-wise speaking;  but think in terms of a pig... average life of 7 years, living in crap, eating crap, discognizant™ of their own crapulence-- and destined to end up as part of a scramble or glazed with applesauce; not a respectable way to live one's life, regardless of the promises of enlightening tantric sex and unending orgasmilations™. One orgasm at a time, and go easy-- the end of the journey is not the reason for the journey.  

Cancer- You're a corkscrew catheter. No wait, you're a carpetbagger with a cacophony of clever cat skills. You are a cantankerous crock pot, containing cretinous kafka-esque cable cars and carved casanovas. You're a crackpot cardboard cut-up, kayaking carnivorously up a creatine creek, creating calming catastrophes, cautious cartwheels and krazy coolness. If you were a cocktail, I would drink you. If you were a waterfall, I would go buy a barrel.

Leo- Can one die without ever having lived? Can the Three Fold Death suffered by the likes of Merlin be transmogrified into a Three Fold Birth? Can one be reborn in this life without dying? So much trivia to occupy one's mindtime and spacetime; the idea that we must suffer to be reborn is so 19th century Pseudo European Bhuddist Enlightenment™. "Seek thou rather to be hanged encompassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her."--Othello Act1 Sc3... Whoever or whatever your 'her' might be. As Joseph Campbell says. "Follow your bliss."

Virgo- "I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness."--- not my words, but in complete agreement with my personal edict aimed directly into your face. You are sunshine, a complimentary cocktail; you're a just out of the oven chocolate chip cookie; and a cold beer on a hot day after pouring concrete and watching football. You're the tops, the bomb, the shizzle in my nizzle or some crap like that. Now, get over yourself and get me an ice cream sandwich and a boilermaker.

Libra- If I were a painting, I would be Scream by Edvard Munch, not really a  surprise to anyone who knows me. You, however, are a far more serene master of your environment. I see you somewhere in the impressionists, evoking the sacred balance between the reality and the non reality that exists with us all the time. No surprise that the first day of Libra is a day of equal day and night all over the earth; one austere moment in time. For your birthday, consider hitting an art gallery, putting on roller skates and enjoying the masters' reflection of your own image.

Scorpio- Near my house, there's a little strip mall, that looks like it was painted by the same guy who also does a lot of children's clown theater work. Anyway, it's called Codman Corner. Codman. Who else but a member of the Codman family would consider that a good name for a anything? I don't know who this Cod Man is, but he and his corner annoy me. I had a keen salient point here... Oh yeah, put your faith in the Cod Man. If he can't do it, no one can! Seriously, though, trust no one. And it's never too late to invest in some new fish slippers.

Sagittarius- You remind me of this one time, when this guy said to me at like 6:15am on this weird day last week, he said: "When I get back from makin' love to my woman in roughly 45 minutes, I like to have me some eggs. A big plate of eggs. You dig?". I still don't really understand what the hell he was talking about, but it was so extraordinary that I'm sure it has some deep yet sideways bearing on my life. Since you're pretty weird, let me know if you figure out the link between eggs and sex. Also, keep an ear out for weird stuff; the river of time is moving occasionally backwards these days.

Capricorn- "Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.",... Iago's villainy is equaled only by his succinct pragmatic sagacity. Sure, using wisdom solely in the pursuit of self aggrandizement and whatever passes for earthly riches in your book, is awesome fun that is sometimes frowned upon by the authorities. But I say, keep it up!  You can stop and smell the flowers when you're six feet under them. You're a rock, you're an island, and you don't have to look both ways when crossing the street. This week cars will stop for you. Probably, anyway..

Aquarius- Fine, let's keep this simple. An idea, or for that matter even the tiniest thought inside that nebulous brain of yours, is light--literally light. Neurons firing is like lightening in a bottle, your medulla creating a miracle out of pure nothing. The same energy that pushes life forward in this dimension, also creates our ideas, beliefs, creeds, philosophies and our devotion, our love, affection and spiritual invocations. Yours is an especially noisy bottle of lightening, and often more chaotic than most. Stay loosely focused and become the lightening rod. You are Prometheus, act accordingly.

Pisces- "Colorless green ideas sleep furiously", is a sentence written by Noam Chomsky that he claims is grammatically correct, but completely nonsensical. I'm sure this egghead's point was couched inside some other reasonable ontological argument, but personally I think Noam Chomsky is nonsensical and without grammar. I heard the guy wore his underwear outside his pants and prayed to a god he called 'Stinkus Feetus', which was actually just a pile of his dirty socks. May all your ideas be not limited to green, but all the shades wavelengths of visible light; and please sleep furiously, dignified, spiritually, and with your mind open to guardian angels whispering to you from up on high.