Dr.
Pants McTurd's
MORE
Than True Horror-scopes
(not associated with horror
or scopes of any ilk)
Obscure Quote of the Week: “Never attribute to malice that which can
be adequately explained by stupidity, but don't rule out malice.”--Heinlein
Doc P’s Word of the Week: nictitate. Nudge, nudge—A not so subtle
intimation that sexual congress is either implied or suggested.
Aries- From your chaste and pure of spirit astrolabe,
I can e- and de- duce the following bullshit, which I will attribute to spirit,
or destiny, or maybe free will… screw it—go the other way: deny your own
autonomy. Actually, wait..you should know that you’re free to choose whatever
at any time…’conscious’ decisions that will result in certain consequential
actions, that may or may not be entirely ‘favorable’ in the ‘future’. But when
does anything in this ridiculous multiverse have solely an up-side? Our lives
are mixed bags of joy and sorrow,
fear and regret, good take-out and over cooked eat-ins, orgasms and
diarrhea…and etcetera. Point is, that it benefits you, despite the inherent
illogic of it, to believe that you are master and commander. Or maybe it’s the
luck or wisdom to know the difference between a battle you can win and a battle
you can’t but lose. Count your blessings and know thy worst enemy to be a
preponderance of self doubt.
Taurus- This week, keep your unintended mind’s eyes
and ears open for the MacGuffin; or if you’re absurdly lucky—the double
MacGuffin; no, not the 1979 film directed by Joe Camp, who also directed Hawmps!—a personal favorite of mine
because one summer they showed on HBO pretty much daily, and it nicely took the
place of playing outside. Back on track—this week’s MacGuffin won’t be a
falcon, maltese or otherwise; nor will it be secret governement papers, pride
or revenge, or unobtanium, nor a sled named Rosebud; and I seriously doubt it
will the be a glowing briefcase. Conversely, it will also not be nothing. Your
upcoming MacGuffin is definitely something—and once you discover your true
driving force, everything will become illuminated.
Gemini- Before things get out of hand and you repel
and shun me with accusatory shouts of ‘Traitor!’;
or worse—‘Deist!’, let me re-avow my
continued commitment of understanding to what is at its tiniest of levels, a
Darwinian world where matter gets together and does cool stuff while in a time
continuum that moves forward in an ever changing yet slightly repetitive
environ. Beginning with a disclaimer is never a good start, btw, but anyhowdy,
I believe the existence of the
manatee is proof of a benevolent god. Right…that one—the one that doesn’t exist
except as a concept that drives brainwise and forward the wheels of
psychological evolution. The manatee shouldn’t exist. If the ocean had couches,
that’s where all the manatees would hang out, guaranteed. I say, be the
manatee. Grok and glean what you can before time moves on.
Cancer- Awesome sweaters are knit by conniving
loomers, and late bloomers are always percolating and scintillating in their
prosaic regalia, all effete and subdued; primarily due to the primordial nature
of their reptilian brains, and the building blocks of life that are scattered
in your wake. You’ve been knitting far asea for far too long. Come home to the
mountain, where the water is fresh, where salt won’t shorten your life. Be a
landlubber for a while…give it five minutes, we’ll rap about architecture and
the growing state of unease at all the conflict and sword crossing that is so
rampant before our eyes, and then we’ll down some wine and shoot some veritas,
and you’ll be right as rain. Head for land—the champagne will be perfectly
chilled.
Leo- There’s a guy—he’s dead now, so
whatever...who designed the world’s tallest column. Before you thank me for the
pointless factoid, just wait—there’s more. It’s over 500 feet tall and has a
220 ton star on the top commemorating the Battle of San Jacinto. Yeah, it’s in
frakking texas, so don’t mess with it. And someday, far in the future, should
it survive, it will qualify as a temple of the ancients; who had a questionable
history replete with plot holes, unfilled and untended by the socialist zombie
governments that take over what’s left of texas in the year 3023. They will
think us less evolved, or possibly equals in relative terms; like we think of
the Anasazi peoples, also of the American southwest—which by 2023, will become
a lush tropical rainforest. We might be dust in the wind, but make the most of
it. Heaven likes a good story, and so does ‘god’.
Virgo- The Giant Oarfish, also known as the King of
Herring, is indeed gigantic---some weighing up to 300kg—but it’s actually not a
herring at all, nor even part of the herring family. Wtf? Who made this guy
king of the herring? He’s an outsider to the herring world; a rabble rouser and
a pied piper of innocent fishes. It seeks to disenfranchise and leech off the
very belly of what is a relatively successful species that had thus far endured
millions of years on this fickle planet, even though they seem not too good at
eluding carnivorous enemies that chomp their asses to bits in the name of a
higher protein. Success equals sheer numbers sometimes. You gamble more, you
win more. You chase more love, the more love you catch. Do the math. As one
Liverpudlian put it, ‘the love you give is equal to the love you take’.
Libra- For a moment, let’s discuss the Buttered Cat Paradox. Firstly, cats
always land on their feet. Secondish, toast always lands buttered side down.
Ergoandsuch, if we strap buttered toast to a cat’s back and drop the cat off
the bed, say—then how will it land? The right side up cat, or the buttered
toast, thus negating the well documented cat righting reflex? It’s never been
proven, but I believe that the cat will come within some quantum distance of
the ground, defy gravity and just hover there until the cat’s attention is
distracted, which usually takes a quantum. In other words, I think the paradox
will, at least temporarily, suspend all physical laws and expectations. It’s
the nature of paradox, when either outcome is simply impossible. I’m not saying
you need to go out and tie some buttered toast to Fluffy; I’m merely predicting
the arrival of the impossible—the momentary suspension of all physical laws. The
freedom should prove astounding.
Scorpio- Victory through force. Peace via complacency.
Desire fraught with impatience. I cannot count the ways that you sidestep and
cinder block my alley ways and back streets. You are a sidewinder and a
sidestepper, bound for absolution amidst the fog of your own attrition and
guilt. Drop trow, I say! Your sweet bottom is made for light but firm paddling
and whispered nothings that transcend wormholes and the tightest of sundries.
The ultimate mystery of control is to be with someone who groks control,
and is arbitrary and malleable,
like clay, or jello in a mold—all pre-determined and static—no randomness to
get in the way of an unexpected windfall, or unplanned multiple orgasm.
Chemical frustration at the hands of morality and social code. You only get one
life.
Sagittarius- You are of the same badass ilk, as the likes
of one Fritz
Joubert Duquesne. Yes, yes, french names do sound funny, but seriously—Fritz
managed all of this in one lifetime: soldier, prisoner of war, big game hunter, journalist, war correspondent, anglophobe, stockbroker, saboteur, adventurer and spy. His
exploits are absurd. The guy in Catch Me
If You Can is bullshit compared to the Jobert. But as happens often in the
armchair quarterbacking of history, it’s still safe to say that he was not
necessarily a good guy. He was awesome cool, but divided, like Bourne or Bond,
whose willingness to kill is something to be considered gravely, whether at
heaven’s gate, or at the entrance exam for the CIA. Your business, however, is
not killing. You are Sagittarius, the archer; but your arrows are not weapons.
They are your desire for adventure, that you shoot at seeming randomness,
knowing all too well that it’s easy to strike gold---you just have to envision
it, and never sop trying. Fill your quiver, Joubert, and aim with your heart.
Capricorn- Regarding Lincoln, copious volumes have been
writ. Same with FDR, or JFK, and Christ!—the jesus/moses/mohammed/buddha
literature is ubiquitous! Regarding someone like Alfred C. Finn—precious
little, but there is some and it’s pretty neat. Regarding Harry Jones, of
Toronto, Canada circa 1823, who ran a successful taxonomy business before the
fur drought of 1846, much less has been writ. History is replete with untold
stories that may not contain the largess of societal impacts, but are
nonetheless fascinating; as well as a synecdoche to understand the macro puzzle
of the multiverse, and all of its ‘extra’ dimensions. ‘Point is, I’m no fancy
city lawyer, I’m just a country chicken looking for cornbread and some down
home lovin’. Write your own story. Some future reader may glean some knowledge
that you could ever imagine.
Aquarius- Once we grasp the tachyon, I will be able to
send a message to myself in the past, and therefore I should be able to change
my present—I’m pretty sure anyway, let’s discuss. The tachyon theoretically
always moves faster than light, which means that they exist backwards in time.
So, once we harness the tachyon and find a way to send messages, or matter for
that matter, like we’re currently learning to do with light waves—which don’t
violate the causality based word we live in now—I will be able to send a
message to myself last week to prevent myself from eating at that taco truck
parked near the animal hospital, thus saving myself from a weekend of intestinal
distress. Granted, there are probably better uses for the Tachyonic
Antitelephone, but that would be a good test of the equipment. Until I’m ready
with the tachyons though, we’ll just have to communicate in normal spacetime.
Enjoy the present, for we know not how soon it may change---hell, it could be
changing right now…and now again. And also now…
Pisces- Despite past instances, no one controls your
actions, and I beg you to stop doubting that; as well as taking this major
step, which will seem daunting and fearsome, but that the true ilk of which is
illusory and bullshit. Pisces (and Gemini) are the best at creating their own
reality—you’re masters of your own fate; and perhaps thinking that makes it so;
fuck all, I don’t know…what I do know could fit into a half a microchip, and
most of that crap is speculative at best. Use you most inner serpentine
instincts. Run naked with conviction and acceptance of your true abilities. No
thing can stop you; or save you, and all that ill begotten and undeserved
mantel of ‘responsibility’, laid upon
your untested shoulders before time was just, when nary enough seasons
had passed-- born of fire, despite your watery nature…. Swim, swim, swim-as if
your fins and blow holes depend on it.
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