Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire is not always funny, but it is eternally granted the divine wisdom of truth.
this week: Sometimes, she likes to be turned upside down and inside out, as well as right ways wrong ways. Your challenge is to know when she wants it.
Aries- What level has your smiling achieved? Are you professional grade? Do you smile at inappropriate times, or always at the proper moment, effectively veiling your true sociopathic intentions? Perhaps you're an introverted smiler, only turning that frown up side down ways in seclusion away from eyes that would pry into your private vat of undeserv'd evaporating happiness. My guess is that you are a reluctant smiler, that once commited can easily go full speed, teeth enjoying their time in the sun, diaphragm convulsing with giggles, probably at a ribald rejoinder passed between two lovers that just need one more nudge to get together in order to occupy, unionize and promisculate®. Nudge and proceed with lustful zeal.
Taurus- Don't take shit for shinola. If you're gonna be a bear, be a grizzly. Screw the basket, put all your eggs in your pants, do a fancy butt dance and go downtown on molly brown's up side down frown. Be the best, be the greatest, order your martini extra dirty and tell people your name is Bondage... James Bondage. Eat a really spicy macho burrito from the questionably hygienic taco truck down the street that you've been morbidly curious about, chug some coffee liqueur, ditch your pants and go streaking. Skid mark your way into 2012, and make sure your friends and family know that you haven't gone mad. You've gone right.
Gemini- Snorri Sturluson, twelfth century Icelandic historian, poet and politician, regardless of how silly his old viking language sounds, was not an idiot. We raise our ancestors to the level of gods, calling upon them if we need strength before battle, or if we get sucked into a game of naked Jungian Jungle Jenga® when we're really wasted on pear schnapps. It's a process that endlessly repeats itself going back thousands of generations, leading us backward in time not to god, but to something ineffable and driven that creates life and consciousness out of apparently nothing at all. Your true ancestor is the sub nuclear orb that infuses us with life like an amoebic frankenstein. Worship her, but do not blind yourself with obedience.
Cancer- The troposphere is lovely this time of year/ for a bargain basement/ for a cocktail / and some empathic time to bend your ear / and afterwards curl your toes and melt your fears / into alchemic cauldrons that toil and trouble / boil and bubble / and never cease to amuse your god-like nose / and your oh so royal panty hose / circumferencing® your head / far as a person can see / but enraptured of fog you will never be / save for the making of a toast and future wishes / best proffered while on bended knee / supplication and worship my lips only fees.
Leo- Time travel is only possible if time actually exists and if there is an acceptable standard, all sizes and temporalities applicable unifying theory; in addition to a provable definition for something that is not only subjective, but irrefutably linked to the "precise" location in spacetime that one's "mass" theoretically inhabits, according to the depth of one's personal gravity well, which is inherently unprovable in any conventional sense or understandable quantity. --Blimey, the Fatuous circa 12846 BCE
in his treatise on sexual vs platonic love in upright primates. Grok it, Crockett and integrate this ∫. ∫ . ∫ .. ∫ . ∫ =∆
Virgo- I dreamt a bee stung me in the palm of my hand. I remember vividly the stinger I pulled from my flesh. I felt no pain, but my first thought based on previous experience was that my hand would soon swell to the size of a water balloon filled with liquid metal and irate bee piss. My first thought was about damage, the down side, the lead lining in my cloud of inevitable pain. Granted, evolution is a good teacher, and negative reaction to pain isn't a surprise, but I think I missed god's point, again no surprise. My real thought in the dream was about the miracle. I'm conscious and sentient and can experience a bee sting in a dream world that I invented, that as far as I know has no reality save for the neuroses my neurons inhabit. Holy nipple sticks, dude.
Libra- Reality is inherently undefinable. However, I can say with all the certainty of a possessed fetal pig that you are not living in "it". Furthermore, whatever warped wooly world you live in is probably more reasonable than the bullshit reality that the rest of us have been espousing with all our simian glory. However, your window of reality based righteousness will inevitably degrade into one that even the most blindly despotic of us would deem unsafe at any speed. Enjoy your moment in the sun, and douse us with your transdimensional logic. Soon, you'll just be another one of us wack-a-doos, searching in vain for a reasonably priced and yet soft toilet paper.
Scorpio- The devil usually resides in the details. He/She/It/Cow digs hanging out there due to the relatively small amount of sense that dimension makes. When you get down to the very small, the very very very very very very small, the sub sub sub atomic where space is not space, but small 'strings' of energy and funky particles both existing and not simultaneously, where chaos seems to create order, matter, reality, ideas and eventually belief- that is the devil's creative playground where he conjures the mischief and disorder that manifests in your overhanging firmament. Make the devil your friend, it'll confuse the hell right out of him/her/it/hotfudgesundae.
Sagittarius- The bone eating snot flower is for real. It loves to burrow into the bones of whale carcasses and suck out the lipids. For now, you're safe. However, due to over-whaling, the snot flowers, also known as zombie worms will be moving inland shortly. There's billions of them. There's going to start in the valley and move to the Hollywood area after the housing market improves and we can get on with letting banks make legislation. By 2050, 1 in 5 americans will be a snot flowerian, and 2 of every 9 marriages will be of mixed species, human and snot flower. They have no gender, however, so expect lots of court battles over marriage rights. This week you will have an epiphany that will induce you to fight for your right to marry any panda you choose, provided it's a mutual arrangement and not another sham panda marriage attempting to defraud the US government. Go forth and "god's" speed.
Capricorn- The future never ceases to piss me off. It thinks it's so fucking smart and that I can't control it. It accuses me, in the present no less, of fear and loathing, of panic and meltdown, of genius and madness, of my oversized ego dominated by past pain and ghosts that seem to have nothing better to do than loiter my brain's haunt. It tells me what I want to hear, and unfortunately for me, I'm an idiot who wants the impossible, or at least the unlikely. I am a turd in the grass waiting to decompose, transmutate and transmogrify, and give myself willingly up to god. God is the future and it's imperative that I get there first, so I can end his mad reign. Screw him anyway. You probably wouldn't understand what I'm talking about, so never mind. Especially in the future.
Aquarius- Say yes. Repeat it with every breath for the next 36 years. Say yes regardless of the fear that stalks, the demons that haunt, or the tickle fairy who's out of work due to recession with less money to spend on organized tickling. Yes opens more doors than no. Yes makes babies happen and dessert to be ordered. Yes makes tornadoes of awesomeness that throw you skyward into your next big moment. Yes is eternal. Yes is ripe and bursting. Yes is alchemic, forging will into beauty, art, invention, compassion, philanthropy, acceptance, jeans that really fit your particular butt shape, and vast plantations of soy beans and hemp cropping up in your third eye's vision quest for peace on earth, food on every plate, and love in every home. Say yes, and reap royal rewards.
Pisces- You are the eternal springtime of my maculated mind. You are everything I despise and everything I love. My alpha plus omega to the power of three. You are my lost muse that I can never recover. Nor should I. We are perfect twin branes, bound neither for peaceful coexistence, nor collision and therein, total destruction. You're the crack in my pipe, the coca in my leaves, my destruction waiting in the wings for me to slip, to misspeak and flub my lines, causing personality meltdown and a dire need for id replacement therapy. You are a scourge, a pox, a plague, an hourly promise breaker, and an imminent scandal. Thank the heavens I know you.
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