Dr. Pants Mcturd's MORE Than True Horrorscopes

    Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes
                              
disclaimer: Satire does require a mayan calendar to know that the world                                           is coming to an end.

this week: She is not my lost love, because I still love her.

Aries- The tippy top of our phallic ode2the G-Wash is both shiny and pointy. The crown on the Washington Monument is made of aluminum, which in the 1880's was almost as pricey as silver. And all over again, a faction calls for going back to a gold economy, because special interests (cough), the infamous "they" can afford to buy airtime, probably on (cough) FoxNews (cough) selling something (cough), who's owned by that super old aussie D-bag with the god complex and a gross lack of morality, who apparently thinks he's Nixon's down unda' brutha® reincarnated, BUT WE ARE NOT going to let some down unda' panda humpers get a hold of our precious sun ever again. Happy solstice, your birthday and psychic renewal will be here any minute. No cough.

Taurus- Comet Lovejoy was indeed discovered by a dude named Lovejoy. When I discover my comet or weird space rock that I get to name, that one tiny space rock that might be part of the early universe hurtling through space, well shit man, it causes me to feel even smaller and more insignificant than I already feel amongst so many billions around the world breathing my air and eating my sandwiches. Point is, Lovejoy discovered three comets, there's three Comet Lovejoys, and one of them just went right into the sun's corona, I space shit you not. We have one Lovejoy down. One down. The other two are safely in your orbit and bringing you strange cosmic ice from the beginning of the universe.

Gemini- William Randolph Hearst actually printed in his newspapers that someone ought to put a bullet in the President. And then someone shot the President. And then they made a law that said you can't say crazy shit like that. Hearst also wagged the dog and made his own war happen. He basically killed McKinley and started a war. And he made a star out of his mistress, put her in movies, real classy like. Nice. I like driven people who don't withhold their brilliance from the world because of silly sundries like ethics or morals. It's our innate right to do whatever we want, because we can. Freedom incarnate. Political will forged out of the bonds of centuries of slavery to a pharaoh, a king, a dictator, a despot, or tyrant who would use our individuality as a plowshare while robbing us of our limited time. Take some time off this week. Your pyramid will wait.

Cancer- The Italians and the Irish piss me off, regardless of their places in my genetic history. Both tomatoes and potatoes are New World fruits, that is to say, there were no taters nor t'maters in europe until 1500. It wasn't long before the Old World co-opted these delights for their own, as if pasta sauce was invented in Rome, or chips were first deep fried in downtown Dublin. As if they hadn't stolen enough from the cultures of Mesoamerica, they take Incan potato au gratin and Aztec gazpacho. Someday when an alien space pod lands in downtown Kankakee or Kenosha and we co-opt his weird smelling space grog and call it Jed's Homemade Space Gumbo®, then, my friend, then we can avenge our pre columbian asiatic brothers.

Leo- The most profound of the Brady Legacy's multiple crowning jewels  is the episode entitled "Bobby's Hero". And, yeah, I capitalized Legacy, suck it, Alice. Anyhoo, Bobby gets obsessed with Jesse James, right and so they bring in this super old timey cowpuncher type straight out of one of the Duke's greatest oaters, and this old guy proceeds to tell Bobby how he knew Jesse, that Jesse killed his Pa, and that you shouldn't idolize a coward. Deep Brady shit. Embroil this slantwise Bradyverse®: you are Bobby, and there's a super old dude, probably driving a van, who's on his way over here right now to teach you a valuable lesson about cowboys and Johnny Cash songs. Buy him lunch.

Virgo- Palpitate this, despite its inevitable entropy: You breathe at the perfect rate to bring in the perfect amount of oxygen, nitrogen and pollutants into your hot little air bags to keep your heart beating and blood pumping to feed that big fat brain that regulates your perception of the 'verse as well as your entire being, like Shiva holding you palmwise turned naked toward  accepting eyes, in whose reflection is you ad infinauseum®, over and over, infinite love, where does god end and you begin. It's perfect. You are the perfect prefect to peruse le stream du consciousness flowing endlessly to le cosmic eau. You are naked, and you are perfect.

Libra- You're Sam the Butcher bringing Alice the meat. You're a french boulevard that's really big and well lit that I can't remember the name of. You're an eagle in a world of blind mice armed with nerve gas. You're a mammoth-trapping tar pit, a new jingle, and a bar of soap made of heavenly oats and god's balls. Nothing can stop you. Nothing wants to stop you. No one is even watching you right now. Go nuts. Do something you've never envisioned yourself doing. Go jump out of a plane driving a motorcycle naked, or whatever. You have nothing to lose and a good story to tell your friends later. Bring the meat.

Scorpio- All my topias are always dys, never u. Would I even recognize the u if I was sitting in it? And even if I did, would I find a way to destroy it, so that I could long for it, and crusade to regain it? Holy frog farts, dude, so I create the dys in order to destroy the u? Wtf is that cosmic buffoonery? Follow my bliss just so I can murder it later on? Destroy what I love, create what I destroy? Logic clusterf*ck-- brain folding in on self-- creating wormhole and parallel universe where I am acting rather reacting, where I stop fighting the tide, accept it and float lovingly downstream. But it's a mere shadow of the river I'm in now in this 'verse. You're right, Dave. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. You be u, I'll be dys.

Sagittarius- Dunce caps are a cruel punishment, usually reserved for free thinkers and creative types, who only put gum in Shelley Walker's hair because the teacher was hella boring and Shelley smelled like orange blossom and breakfast in May on some intimate Parisian rue. Iron maidens, however, are reasonable punishment for those who refuse to abide the common wisdom with all their fealty and soul. Personally I'm into tickle parties, especially when followed by pillow fights, bourbon, and orgies. You get this one life, right? So you have to be unabashedly driven to find your own delights and exploit the hell out of them. I'm sure you agree. See you at the party.

Capricorn- My life is Mystery Science Theater. There's three smart ass peanut gallery types down front, making snide comments about the bad 80's movie I'm in, probably about a ski competition and a group of friends who find a magic gnome who ends up eating their brains. I succumb to the flesh eating gnomes from the mountains where a ski lodge was built on the cemetery of ancient native americans who come back in the form of gnomes to eat the brains of virgin teens---ah screw it. The plot is odiously tedious. Your 80's movie is really good though, it stars Chuck Norris and Adrienne Barbeau. Ready yourself for ass whooping fun.

Aquarius- The purposes of groove and the necessity of funk is a state of mind not over matter, but inside of it. It is pure pompitus and worthy of prolonged exposure. You should be spending a minimum of 6.8 hours per week in multiple acts of getting down, funky, uncorked, freakified, sans pants, cheeky monkeyed, bar room brawled, bruised, screwed and tattooed. Your brain needs a chthonical reboot, not in the form of drugs or pointless self effacement, but a radical change of perception followed by a mythological reinstatement, a rebirth into whatever form you choose. I recommend a creature with the body of a red assed baboon and the head of a bhudda.

Pisces- You were nobody in way back olden times if you didn't have a nice rod. Take Aaron's rod for example, his rod turned other rods into snakes and then ate them. Moses used it to part the Red Sea. It also made magic almonds and could be used as a scepter that one could use to smite various people or cities, whole cultures even. I bet it could also help negotiate a better deal on that used Saab you've been ogling. Grab a hold of a really nice rod, preferably made out of sapphire, wrap a snake around it, go to that warehouse where the Ark of the Covenant is being stored, and then get inside of it, with your eyes closed(!),  and stay there for one and a quarter fortnights. The regenerating sands of god's sarcophagus will and replenish your soul. And you will be young like when the earth was new.