Dr. Pants Mcturd's MORE Than True Horrorscopes

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

                     

                                 

disclaimer: How many Transits of Venus have there been? The answer is calculusable, but Newton is dead and we are amidst this one, swimming beneath the forest, were it not for the trees.

this week: In Camelot, we eat ham and jam and spam a lot.

Doc P’s Word of the Week: doodlesack. It is indeed a sack, but not the kind you think.

Aries-  I swear the following is true bullshit: The state beverage of 20 different U.S. states is milk. My intellectual takeaway from this information is twofold: 1) we have official state beverages and no one told me, what the fudge?, and 2) milk, really? Nebraska couldn't decide, so made a split decision, milk and Kool-Aid. Indiana though, went way forward. Their state beverage is water. Water. Granted, the giver and sustainer of life, the universal solvent even, but really, water? Hoosier water. Maird. That's why California is the greatest state-- we chose wine. In legislatus veritas, no? Call your congressperson and toast them with a big fat glass of cabernet.

Taurus- Bill and Ted’s Hella Bogus Adventures, Part 3: Timealiscious. Surf’s up and the time is right. I’ll write the treatment. Wait, shut the front door—what about an animated show on AdultSwim? Pilot episode with special guest stars---full disclosure: I’ve already talked to Keanu, and he’s in. The San Dimas Totally Tubular Animated Awesome Show®. I’m not married to the title, but it is clearly rad and gnarly. Your horrorscope for the week, should you choose to accept it, is to get us in a room where we can make this deal happen. The time machine phone booth awaits.

Gemini- Hey, where’s our remake of Big Trouble in Little China, with a cameo for Kurt freaking Russell? And where the fudge was he in The Expendables? Why are we not running a studio? Greatest American Hero is begging for a new interpretation, and even though my hero Robert Culp has passed, I am ready to step up into the role. And don’t get me started on the revamping of the show Manimal that I’ve had planned since that show’s early demise. I have several other brilliant ideas, and your horrorscope should you have the cajones to accept it, is take all your brilliant ideas and spread them to the world, regardless of the snickering you may her behind you. Your ideas will pay off, but you must believe in them and ignore the naysaying nabobs.

Cancer- Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitan is the longest name for a place in the world at a ridiculous 85 letters. It's like a stroke for your tongue and a coronary for your frontal lobe. It's a hill in New Zealand, that in the Maori language roughly translates to: 'The summit where Tamatea, the man with the big knees, the climber of mountains, the land-swallower who travelled about, played his nose flute to his loved one'. How a population with a mostly oral history tradition can keep track of this verbose lore leads me to believe the Maori must be operating on a higher level. I recommend you channel, emulate and star in as many Maori dreams as your brain can handle. For extra oomph, use your nose flute.

Leo- Newly discovered by scientists deep in the ocean, a creature called a 'pigbutt worm' resembles most closely a floating, disembodied buttocks. Don't believe me?--Google it. It feeds on 'marine snow', organic material sinking from the photic to the aphotic zones, recycling its energy and eventual rebirth in the ocean's oxygenless depths, most closely resembling our eternal journey through the Tao. I find it ironic that such a beautiful analogy is a poop eating worm that looks like a pig's butt. Meditate on that and get back to me.

Virgo- It’s a cruel irony that the blue whale, the earth’s largest mammal has the smallest genitalia. The females too. It’s a real issue that isn’t being covered by the mainstream media and the talking heads that dominate political discussion, turning tiny whale junk into another lost cause. At least we’re still allowing certain cultures to hunt our small cocked brethren to extinction though. Maybe their junk is so small because of how cold the water is. Put a whale on land, and it becomes porn star worthy. I’m anxious for the day when sea mammals evolve and move onto the land and use their giant genitals for good, for the betterment of their race and our integrated society.

Libra- Your charisma, your juju, your mojo, your je ne sais quoi—your sorcery is imperceptible at close range until one looks deeply into your irises; flora that bring to the mind of a star gazer, a more impressionistic time, where the world was allowed to be softer, less brazen and full of soft serve ice cream on hot summer days that seemed endless when we were young, because time, then, was infinite. A day could last forever. Life existed in between sleeps, which were more frequent that desired. Your karmic charisma is divinely conferred and resplendent in the eyes of the creator. Your joie de vivre should be in The Smithsonian. Your mucho macho mojo should be reproduced by an environmentally friendly company and given as booster shots to all the children of the world. You are the fifth element. Act accordingly.

Scorpio- Ok, so Cytheria is a Greek Island, one of two that purport to be the birthplace of Aphrodite. Yeah—the Aphrodite. And from our current perception, the concept of a god seems somewhat archaic. Not nearly archaic enough for the likes of a certain Professor Dawkins, with whom I don’t completely disagree, nevertheless&anyhowdy, there never were any gods, just us humans, some of whom have the ability to seem godlike; but as time progresses, how we perceive history and time and gods, evolves; and perhaps, Aphrodite was a real person, believed to be a god and orally transmuted as a god down through the generations because back then, we had more gods amongst men/women. Today we simply have a lot more “permanently” recorded history to muddle our thoughts and complicate and copulate our philosophy. You are Aphrodite, mother of all.

Sagittarius- Guillaume Le Gentil—what a pisser. In 1761 he tried to see the Transit of Venus out in the Indian Ocean, to lay out some heavy calculations that would have made his name synonymous with the likes of the great Emmy Noether(!) Sadly, he got waylaid by war, politics, and gunpowder. Trying again 8 years later, the weather stopped him. He was obsessed with the Transit and not surprisingly went mad. He returned home to find his wife remarried, his estates bankrupt, and the next Transit not occurring till 1874, well out of reach. He wanted to have his head frozen, so he had his body interred in a glacier. With global warming, he might have another chance in 2117. I hope you don’t go as far unto madness to reach your goals. Be cool, and let them come to you.

Capricorn- A famous Sanskrit verse tells us that “our present is the result of all our yesterdays, and the future depends on how well we live today”. Well... today I would like bourbon for breakfast and black licorice for lunch, and then a nap. I want the return of Naked Tuesdays and an easier way to get my fix. I want freedom for my brothers and sisters, who even today, suffer bondage and persecution. I want underwear that doesn't hamper my balls' natural range of motion. I want to become chocolate, so that I can experience one of your own obsessions. I want many things. Get out of your sleepy bunk, sailor-- this may become funk-a-liciously weird and esoterically slippery.

Aquarius- This week, a Transit of Venus occurred which only happens in pairs, separated by 8 years and spread across over 100 years. The next one will not occur til 2117. If, by happenstancing, you are alive in 2117, will you, provided your memory remains intact depending on what percentage robot you are, please think back to this moment, in the now, as you read these words, and write down your observations? Is there a connection between the you that existed in both events years apart? Does the past feel irretrievable, or have we foundried a way to cement the two temporal dimensions, creating a passage of travel, a virtual panama, so that we may traverse the strings as easily as our ancestors perambulated on moonbeams and tickled sacred ivories, that cannot forget, because quite simply, it’s not in their natures.

Pisces- You pisces folks are full of it—full of unconditional love, not for yourselves of course—what a waste of time, but rather for others around you, hell- even people you haven’t even met yet. And while it may be your most attractive quality, it’s also why you and I are triflingly at odds, close quarters and a five cup coffee maker. You are a blowhard of love, you spew like Old Faithful, like a nectar of effluvium and ambergris, spouting love from your blowhole, until I am forced to harvest it, not merely for the bounteautiful® purity of it of, like the illustrious black pearl, or emerald diamond hybrid, aka a diamorold®, but because I hope you take your medicine as forthrightly as you give it out, so that as your new spring coalesces into grace and personal bean sprouting.