Dr. Pants Mcturd's MORE Than True Horrorscopes

     Dr. Pants McTurd's Eerily True Horrorscopes
                               
disclaimer: There is no cure for satire, and only fascists look for one.

this week: Turkey Season is officially open. Time to oil up the ol'    musket and plot me some murder.

Aries- I'm trippin' on total protonic reversal, crossing the streams, man and I know you can dig it. So, the other day I broke a plate. Not a big surprise, persistent distracted clumsiness is one of my more palatable charms. But this plate didn't just break, it shattered, divesting itself into a tumult of shards. In less than a second it ceased being a plate and became something else entirely. Smash. Heartbeat. Change. Don't blink, creative destruction is waiting for you to look the other way.

Taurus- Even though you are the youngest earth sign, your agent the Bull is old school, circa 4300 BCE, so NOT common, right! Bull worshipping cults were deemed awesome all the way from Egypt to Assyria. The ankh, also known as the symbol of life came also into existence about that time, the ankh actually representing a bull's vertebrae. It took Charlton Heston breaking up your all night golden bull calf saturnalias to bring an end to the Age of Taurus. Luckily, the 'verse is circular-ish and one day far off, your descendants will be worshipping you all over again. Mmmmmmm-- bloodletting and zoolatry...

Gemini- Your acts of barbarism and carpetbagging of late have aroused the prurient interests of the local thought police, and I'm pretty sure that someone has been tailing you in an over the top red Ferrari that sticks out like a sore thumb in a wet finger contest. I'm not saying it's Magnum, but it might be, and his mustache can hella beat up your mustache. So, as your attorney, I say flee. Enjoy Venezuela and have some tajadas and miche.

Cancer- The Erdős number predates the six degrees of Kevin Bacon. But some Hungarian math geek doesn't slide off the tongue with the same coolness as the Baconator®; I mean, that guy was in Footloose, dude... and this Erdős guy is just some savant genius with fifteen honorary doctorates and two weird accent marks. He wasn't even in any movies, certainly none about the freedom to dance, or the one where he got paddled in a frat house hazing. Thank you, sir, may I have another. Speaking of asses, steady and ready yourself for a friendly paddling, followed by your favorite ice cream and a short PSA about just what is holding you back from achieving your highest aspirations. The movie is both irrelevant and poorly cast. Take notes.

Leo- You have a benign realism that inspires your chest skyward in a prideful show of cat-like indifference in and de-spite of the oncoming onslaught of officious snarkiness that our 'verse often favors in lieu of a simple hello and a no malice aforethought fist bump / fake shoulder hug that is usually reserved for the empty brains of hipster douchebags. So be only slightly wary, out of the corners of your conscious eyes, your snout will inevitably get swatted. Dust off and get going. My baby doesn't like the corner and she's got work to do.

Virgo- The Articles of Confederation were the constitution before the Constitution had any actual constitution. Although, its original title added the phrase.. and Perpetual Union. Yikes. Perpetual, really? Can't we do anything in this country in the spirit of experimentation and science, upon which this country is allegedly founded? We have to hopscotch all the way to forever promises and unbreakable betrothal and other such useless hullabaloolistic™ snipe hunts? Let's just see how this goes and if we're a good match, and as soon as I see something perpetual, I'll send you a telegram using smoke signals in the shape of a diamond ring and a steak dinner.

Libra-  Intercourse, Virginville, and Blue Ball are all located in the sex obsessed state of Pennsylvania. However, I prefer to summer in Spread Eagle, Wisconsin-- your choice of fetish comes with an aged cheddar and a beer! Threeway, Virginia is also nice, if a bit exhausting. My biggest dilemma is deciding which Climax to visit... I usually end up there eventually. There's 4 Climaxes-- Georgia, Michigan, New York, and North Carolina. I wonder if in another 'verse somewhere, there's an Anticlimax? I assume it would be in New Jersey. Meet me in Wisconsin and we'll have a go of it. Let's burn our pants and live in the wild.

Scorpio- The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is exactly that. It's a giant patch of garbage of indeterminate size floating in the ocean, and yeah, it's indeterminate. We have no idea how big it is. We know more about the size of Dick Cheney's secret safe than we do the size of the huge-tastic™ floating garbage pile we've created that is nebulously menacing our sushi population from afar asea. On the bright side, we've named it, so that's cool. The GPGP, (distastefully clever, I think...) is sure to be claimed by the first refugee nation to ever get their own island. My friend Tom says though, that you don't have to live like a refugee. Swim to the mainland, my friend, the water is getting murderous.

Sagittarius- Martin Van Buren is easily one of the front runners for dorkiest President. You remember-- balding guy, mutton chops, Trail of Tears. Wait, not dorkiest, most Cheney-like, full of ulterior motives and dark operandi. Lots of nuts in lots of secret vices, guys like that they all have the same tell-- a greedy far away stare that hearkens back to the time of robber barons who turned useless patches of land where pointless agrarians were "living" into black gold, ridiculous profits, and of course the inevitable wagging of one's privates right in the face of public good and common human decency. Don't be a Buren.

Capricorn- I don't want to freak your shit out, but only the top half of you is a goat. Your bottom half is a fish.You're a sea-goat, whatever the hell that is. The constellation Capricorn has its origins in Babylonian times, the goat representing the rise of folks like the Sumerians (Gozer worshippers....) and the Akkadians (Count Vigo lovers...) from the swamp on which it was built. The horns of the sea-goat may represent the cities of Ninevah and Babylon, one on the Tigris, one on the Euphrates. You are civilization itself rising from the fertile primordial soup in our shared natal crescent that spawned all organized human life as we know it. No pressure though.

Aquarius- Animals sniff each others' butts to make sure that they're cool, and only after one's ass is determined acceptably enmitous™, can the foreplay of slobbering and ball chasing commence. All very predictable. I say, seduce your quarry by leading him/her/them to some dark boudoir where where the only thing you two/three/etc leave standing is the sweet smell of sex and sounds of passionate stroking. And do it when they least suspect it. Your unpredictability makes you lip smacking good. It also makes people willing to pay any price for what you got in your pants. Invest in your own deep pockets.

Pisces- Boston, San Fran and D.C. are all built on swamps. Sorry, reclaimed wetland that I rightly call swamps. Hong Kong Disneyland and the Hong Kong Airport-- total morass. A solid one-fifth, 20 freaking percent, of the Netherlands is former quagmire. Speaking of you, your uliginose is the moistest uliginose I've ever attempted to row my dinghy into. It's full of complex life forms of the highest order of ascendancy. Most cities destroy the wetland in favor of high rises, but yours is a superior intellect. Your psychic city floats serenely poised atop, maintaining your effulgent sweaty under bog. Your insides are sultry and tropical and teeming with life; and your exteriors are glass and steel forged from multi-versal compassion.