Dr. Pants Mcturd's MORE Than True Horrorscopes

 

      Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                                 

disclaimer: Satire offers no refunds or exchanges because… caveat emptor, bitches!

this week: “If you do follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living” –J. Campbell

Doc P’s Word of the Week: PERIPATETIC. Let’s walk and we’ll talk, like the greeks of old who preferred logic over war, and reason over destruction.

Aries-  I’ve invented a new yoga pose. It’s called the Fetal Beetle®. It’s assiduously painful and crippling for your spine. It’s only been achieved by a handful of people in the world, and nary a one of them is ambulatory or coherent today. Breathing during the Fetal Beetle® is so painful that’s it’s comical, will probably result in lung acidosis like in that Reiner movie, which was a play. But not a play with Tom frakking Cruise, I’ll tell you what--suck it, theater dorks! Anyhowdy, aside from likely brain damage, achieving the pose will make you sterile and flatulent, I that order. It will also make all food taste like feet, as well as causing ninja invasive butt fungus, or NIBF®. But wait, there’s more! After you come out of the coma produced by the Fetal Beetle®, you will be enlightened and at total peace, with genitalia besotted to your wildest fantasies. At which time, I’d like to sell you this bridge that I know about with a motivated seller.

Taurus- Addiction isn’t all bad. I reckon every behavior is either/both genetically hard wired, and/or learned, passed from parent to offspring, or born of a dynamic environ where change produces phenotype mutation right there in the field in real time. Thereforely, I posit that in some other form, in a time past, that the chemical processes in the brain that have evolved into what we now negatively connote as addiction, was at one point-- beneficial to our evolution. Yes, addiction is in theory anyway, partly good. And yes, I just threw up. The alchemy that took billions of years to evolve after something as trivial as a ‘larger than normal’ Bang, are indeed, at times, advantageous. If they were they wouldn’t exist. Thatsaidhereinthedisclaimerlieth: Don’t seek opium; seek science.

Gemini- It’s better to be poor than to be a fat man in the eye of a needle. Fat, because it’s implied that he’s greedy and unsharing with the thin man at his gate. Wake up, it’s much too late. Take the space between us and fill it up. Fill it up some way. It’s the space that separates us, creates distance where there is none. I promise you, this is all a fight for resources, whether it’s oil, food, water, emotional reassurance, proper parenting, a perfect donut, or a handful of sand to represent how short our time is on this earth. Feed the poor. Shoe the children. Because it is right to do so. And the men who hold high places shall be the ones who start to mold a new reality, preferably one where we don’t make child soldiers, starve undeserving populations, and steal the souls of men and women we have never met only because they stand on soil we crave. Let reason rule us all, and don’t get anything stuck in your eye.

Cancer- Yes, you could go all in. Or you could leave the table and go up to your room and plot your escape from the ego baiting mecca that promotes only greed, avarice, and the slow burning urge to be better than you already are; which on the surface seems like a good thing to strive for-- to be better than you are. To want more of everything is a perfectly reasonable trait that is generally advantageous in a society that evolves because of chemically based desire. Yet… is not desire sometimes based on a falsely assumed deficit within your own psyche? Like everything in the ‘verse, it a double sided dimension we’re in. To want is good. To believe yourself not good, unless x, y, or z happens, and that you’ll be a better person after you attain those things, is a rotten way to believe. You already have everything; you just need to remember that you do.

Leo- I guess potpourri smells good, if you like dried berries and crap. I was recently given a bottle of Poo-pourri Crap Shooter, which you spray into the bowl after dropping friends at the pool, which in turn will prevent your significant other from becoming hateful of your smelly sojourns, producing discontent over the long haul of your friendship, which may or may not result in a restraining order, costly court dates, and legislative proctologic exams. However, the Poo-pourri smell isn’t that great; frankly it reminds me of burnt knuckle hair… nevertheless&therefore, the Fetal Beetle® does one thing very well. Its crappy stink masks my crappy stink, thus reversing the inevitable future history of colon related break-ups and heartache. Potpourri serves a vital evolutionary purpose--- keeping us together at all costs regardless of stink. Don’t stink bad—stink yummy.

Virgo- I’ve decided to Émile Zola your ass and penetrate your most inner sanctum/santorum with a hale and hearty J’accuse! Not because I don’t relish the condimentary lifestyle you’ve chosen to accompany your sidecar fetish, which is part of your innate feral charm and gastric pendulum swings. Ergotherefore&whatnot, I cry bullplop on your attempts to de-, re- and/or in- construct the coming generations, ignoring the ills and injustices of the past. Yea, the double edged sword of knowledge vs. ignorance of the past. Perhaps we do repeat it, and maybe it’s a balance between acknowledging and comprehending the past, and saying, No(!), J’accuse, you fat plumbed stinker; this time it’s different. This time I make plans and god doesn’t laugh, he nods in acquiescence, and thanking me for bringing something new to the cosmic table, rather than the same ol’ same olllllllllllllllllllllllllllll….. Go binary, and multiply.

Libra- I doubt you realize this, but the tauntaun is an omnivorous reptomammal (self explanatory), and comes in three flavors: glacier, scaly, climbing, and giant. Asidedly®, you don’t want to meet the giant tauntaun in a dark alley unless you’ve got a red light saber and a bottle of space gin. I will stand over here for a moment while that information oil baths over you, dawning a new age of understanding and ken and Lucas oriented entertainment. Little known talent of the tauntaun? They’re super accurate at spitting. A tauntaun with a lot of midichlorians can spit right into your eye up to a parsec away, which if that means time and not space, then that could mean light years, and all your friends will be long dead, and you’ll be left wondering, who am I, really, with a bunch of gooey tauntaun spit all over your face. Keep you eyes open for space poodoo getting slapped in your direction. 

Scorpio- Mr. Roper is transdimensional. He transcends timespace. As prima facie evidence, I submit to the court this primary and damning evidence: in a show that jumped the shark somewhere in first season, they let Mr. Roper break the fourth wall with sneery lascivian creepiness, implying a more ribald, verboten and homophobic point of view. They made him creepier than he already was. As an aside, I’m pretty sure that Peg Bundy is a rip off younger version of Mrs. Roper, but that’s for another ‘scope. Point is that when Mr. Roper looks into the camera, I feel like he’s putting his smuttiness into me. And I would not normally advise this, but I want you to find your inner Roper. I want you to let him out just a bit. Let your inner creep out into the light. He’s bored. And a bored creep is a dangerous creep.

Sagittarius- Your luscious blathering is endearing and mathematically verifiable, but impossible to resist or interpret. You’re indefatigable and surreptitious, and there is no bear trap in the earthly realm that could snare your clever feet. I fire syllables at you in random fashion; your way of dodging and paratroopering reminds me of Trinity; and the way she taught him to dance, after being so long in utero. The three pronged dimension you created so long ago, that started rivers a-flowin’, bellowin’ and a-burstin’, and all the divots and valleys that we all inevitably inhabit and retreat to when we get frightened by the sheerness of the ‘verses’ scope. This dimension is ripe and fertile and full of the moments that your tongue so ineloquently upends and tumults in saults of summers that never seem to end. ‘Nuff said. Eat some citrus.

Capricorn- I don’t know why I hate Bob Seger. Wait, yes, I do. It dates back to the mother frakking Chevy commercial with the Like a Rock crap that plagued my ocd’d brainwaves in the 80’s, when I was searching for my near adult identity amidst a sea of acne and pathos; unsuccessfully trying to erase from my mind the image of that damn red Chevy climbing up an absurd mountain of rocks, which probably has its own page-long legal disclaimer against, on about page three of the owner’s manual. I’m a child of the 60’s parents, whose media and philosophies urged me in the direction of not selling out, and maintaining the voracity of my soul, spirit, intellect, not to mention my future works and deeds. Sellout, Bob Seger! But, Dude… money=roof+safety+food=survival in a more pleasant fashion than sleeping in the savannahs, and grasslands, which are now overpasses, bridges, and  – an assayed and smelted metal monster of self incriminating infrastructure. Go ahead, sell out. Buy some food. Translate your existence into a house of pancakes with cosmic toppings, grab a vat of maple and go directly to town, bonnet and all.

Aquarius- Your congress, sexual or otherwise, has been incongruous and slave waged of late. Yetbut fret not. Legislative bodies will soon be in session, and forced into bipartisanship, whereupon, they will enact laws designed to augment and bolster your cockles and inner vesicles; and whatever else you have that needs defrosting. The smoke filled back room deals that have been keeping your bills from the house floor, where you might do some good, are about to be broken up by the Justice Police®. Your adversary’s filibuster has run completely out of steam and he’s been taken to recuperate in rehab due to exhaustion brought about by his own insatiable hubris. The cherry blossoms are about to bloom on your national mall. Follow them, and they will lead you to a phallic monument dedicated to our greatest american hero, the guy who stuck it to the brits, up yours, ‘king’ george! We am unbound and unfettered.  

Pisces- What was taken from you, I cannot give back to you. No one can. It is your birthright. You must claim it. Stick your flag in it, with your newly designed family crest. Tell the world who you are in whatever fashion you deem appropriate. As long as you’re not hip on crossing the rubicon, everything is going to work out brilliantly. Wait, hold thought-- nuts to that. Who cares if anyone else knows? What’s important is that you know, and can admit it freely to yourself and to anyone who would challenge your core beliefs, which despite the rumors have remained intact. The totality of who you are is entirely in your hands. This is a dream and you’re in control. It’s time to take back the grasslands and realistic  dreams of a prairie that goes on forever, past even the mountains and the sea, past all obstacles that would hinder your clarity or peace. You are transcendently chocolate and justifiably righteous.