Dr. Pants Mcturd's MORE Than True Horrorscopes

                                       Dr. Pants McTurd's

                MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                       pantsmcturd.blogspot.com

                            (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                 

disclaimer: Satire doesn’t always have pathos. And yet…

Doc P’s Word of the Week: Scaramouch. Will you do the fandango?

Fear not...lest ye take faith from thy breast to thy head...thou art perfectly made for branch stepping and jet stream gliding...as only skydivers know, the earth is made to catch you...                

--Legum the Fatuous circa 1283

Doc P’s tip for grokking: try reading from the top on down rather than being a typical actor and just looking for your lines. This meandering liturgy may yet hold sense, but only as a whole.

Aries- The humanly designed zodiac starts with fire by no accident or improper planning. Nay rather, the ‘verse started with fire—a brilliant blast of nothing into something, that eventually spread out into the nothing that didn’t exist beforehand, creating strings of weird crap and strange gyrating math quizzes that will ever befuddle our limited scopes. The path of the beam flows thusly: fire into earth, from earth springs air, which carries water from high to low, saturating our existence and known plethora into being. Higgs, you do us proud. You are no frankenstein—you are the flame---the torch—the fiery whatnot that began our intrepid search for self. Burn, baby—burn, but not before reading.

Taurus- Here’s the blasted rub: if our present species of humanoids, beat out all the other species for eco-dominance®, all the Australopithicae, the Erectae, and the Neandertalish- those of high and low brow that ran along side our massive stride---homogenizing our identities to a single framework, because evolution in this case, preferred one species to many. The needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many, the popular, or the majority, regardless of their moral morass. Further, evolutionary homogenization continues to this day with culture vs identity vs (hopefully) self aggrandizing beatification. I swear we are one. Yet the evidence purports that our modus operandi must be nefarious and secular. And yet Allah praises infinite diversity. As does Yahweh and Jesus and Confucius. But it was Darwin who put a provable name to ethereal falderal. Environmentally supported infinitesimals and a constant drive to unify, under any banner, so long as the end is the beginning of heaven. Rub not thy fate, but rather see thou diversity. You could become more powerful than you could possibly imagine.

Gemini- The Road to Dushanbe is littered with well meaning content, intended for lighter minds to convey a more meaningful sense of ironic urgency and plans for inaction and/or flatulency. Our irritated bowels stink of poppies grown for warlord pleasure, enslaving the mind AND soul AND FUTURES OF MEN AND WOMEN OF EQUAL WEIGHT, VOLUME, VOMIT AND INTELLECTUAL DISPLACEMENT—merely for more coin of the realm, more heartless power struggles and intrigue ‘scaping, like we are all hedges needing to be trimmed. Hold—cruelty and disharmony and mistrust—all favor survival; not a pretty one to be sure, nor moral, nor jesus man worthy; but a win is a win, right? Even the gods had to battle one another, til there was only one. Monotheism cost us dearly, and limited our scopes. Harvest Demeter; she will accompany you on the Road to Dushambe and aide you in sorting the riches of existence.

Cancer- Our dissonance is not yet tactile, miles lay between us…which in olden times, meant how many wheels, do ya kennit? Likely spent in a limited environment with few options and even less chance for betterment. Imagine a yurt circa 15,000 BCE somewhere near Alberta, Canada’s fat yet comely cousin---but to wait for you…is my only choice. I will fool myself into believing that my choice is worthy…but it portends a certain ominous moment, whence our paths do cross, and the intended seriousness of our meeting comes to a forced point, a fork in the road, where we must choose to bond, or flee….but if there could be, in the midst of atoms and alignments and certain luck---that moment where you and I locked eyes and determined one way or t’other, your gaze was never going to leave my sight.

(If there be any hope to sense making, try reading from the top down.)

Leo- I don’t believe myself, of course. Romantical idealism couched in the vague erection that I’m just a human person, and regardless of the imposed limitations, whose boundaries are pushed constantly by tides of never ending grace and repetition---devotion to massaging the earth, ever gentler as time’s arrow shoots starwise. The earth moves toward the gentler side of the stream always, a violent past ever farther behind---it’s all pure math…masses and volumes and physik and Bauhaus, but without the jingoism, and replete with jasmine overtones flecked with lavender barbs of real time saturnalia…like being cooked in the cokiest coke plant, under the fire of the flatulence of the gods who would bestow us life, at even the greatest cost---the lives of the gods themselves… and here we sit.

Virgo- The other day, my old car did something I haven’t seen before. I preface this with the knowledge I had, irrefutable in nature, that I had 1/3 of a tank of gas—for reals and for certain, so attests the always perfect hindsight. Anyhowdy, the gas needle literally started going up and down, from a third to zero, the 1/8 of tank warning light flashing on and off to the random beat of time, acceleration, gravity and the emotionality of the Higgs Field. I wanted to take this weird needle behavior as a sign, an omen, harbinger, an augur or prophecy that would provide foreknowledge, and therefore safety from the coming storm, and safety for all my demons hiding in closets hidden and root cellars unknown. The depths—the bowels, the fervent desire to show our roots to heaven, and skyclad ourselves in suits of joy and freedom. 

Libra- And here I must reiterate that quality of mercy is not strained. It doth falleth like the gentle dew and what have ya. But I’m talking about real time here…in the now. If I wish to bestow mercy…A) is it mine to give? or is’t yours to claim, like birthright or perfect oneness? B) thou must show mercy upon thyself because if god grants forgiveness, it would be the first wish he/she/it/holy spiked lemonade—would give you…and then in theory, the only denier is thyself…god wants everything for us—for you specifically, but it must test faith (evolutionary trickery) through the polar opposite---from one frozen end of the globe to t’other. Blast and crikey! More conspiracy minded fools no doubt wouldst be up in pretended arms, kicking and belching their opposition to this dense wild or that pure virgin; all the while blocking me from paucity and saving me from myself, so that they will stand for me, so that I can stand for me…and freedom equals freedom.

Scorpio- Yet this tail is mine—nary yours, thou feline trampler and scoundrel of trifles, thou truffle scuffler ye! Yet fret naught---for I harvest every rock, distance and polarity that canst, wouldst, and demandeth an iota of attention from bleary minded foolish foals that wander amongst your titties and/or tambourines. Walk not forward, I pray and parry you; and tarry not! Instead, Keanu this one---translate it via the blue pill, all déjà vuey, and Fishbourney---sojourned down one rabbit’s hole and transversed up and into a plane---or better yet, a brane not entirely sectarian, and most certainly sexual, yet always diplomatic and unbiased. The failures of our own egos are mere trinkets for display, medals chestwise and value short, save those of true valor---the ones that give without offer of penance or moment of doubt---the rare ones---the fallen whom we name in heart and song, and on our daily prayers and committees. Rise up on me; espouse and regale me with your taut little tale.

Sagittarius- Posit. Posit…posit!: in re the gregariousness of your innards---and yes, I wholeheartedly refer to the intestines, or guts, or…entrails- no mundane politics here---naysomever, I must ask again this ridiculous question. When the world favors only the orbital---or the plane of false negation—No. I mean that in perpetuity, is the annual tax beneficiaryosity of the average middle class wage earner---no doubt a product of environment and reaganomics, but still---could I—a mere middleman twixt foul error and titillating numb nippleness benefit from knowledge and planning aforethought? Yayeth, I sayeth. Dumb down, but not out and internal pressures aside, don’t squat for naught but shit or shinola—and blessed be ye shouldst thou knowest differences twain. Stand and deliver that pizza.

Capricorn- And now let us to the Havelock-- a monument of pyramidal grandeur, and whathaveyous. Right typical gent—a parlour boarder and Stockton-on-Tees, died of dysentery after a distinguished career, but thankfully after the day had been won, and those who died, rewarded heavenside and triple homicided unto the likes of (nearly) Issaac, or Job, or Pryor, and countless thousands outmatched by british steel, and practised wargames. The subcontinent surely thanks his valor, regardless of original sin, with a statue—I’m thinking near trafalgar---but surely no---not a man of the First Afgan War. Not the Russians mind you---and no, not the US, but the brits who began conflict in order to bring about empire. You are an island capable of conquering the world, or at least a lagoon or two. Get in the boat, and fear not the wind, for like ‘Lizbeth of Olde, it is at your back.

Aquarius- We are coureur des bois---runners of the woods; addicted to the promise of adventure and the freedom to roam, whether that be the backwaters of new france, or some far away planet that cries to be acknowledged; or the fertile oceans of thought and intuition that exists betwixt our ears in endless azure plains and branes of imagination turned reality. We make friends with strangers, even though we be the stranger in an ever stranger land. Survival depends on amity. Luckily, marriage à la façon du pays suits us well. We are married to the search and to the seeking, a true appreciation of emptiness that only the aboriginal can understand. We will intermarry thusly, saving our pursuits for the not yet known, seen, or pondered over. And when woods cease to be, we will find new ones, or ways of making new ones. Rien ne sert d'être vivant s'il faut qu'on travaille. In other wordliness, seek thou not to make a living, but rather make a life.

Pisces- And now, let us to piscesan waters that drown reason and pitfall all travellers. Water is the universal solvent- tidal cumin and salt and bromide that tans all hides further and farther toward a muddier and sloppier solution. I now know you are water borne plant—meaning that the evolution of water, combined with essences of matter and silt and fine cosmic dust have evolved greenwise and chlorophyll and heliotropism, yearning ever greater for a further star. Pisces are water, become plant, become light, become stars, become nurseries of cosmic birth orders pumping from nebulae to nebulae, birthing galaxy upon hoarder of life bespectacled and hen speckled merely by these wayward sons of mother earth; paving the road to hell with love and fortitude, because Pisces is the alpha and omega, and Virgo merely a looky-loo, staring at galaxy collisions in mid town traffic. You, Pisces, are backwards living, but hella forward dreaming.