Dr. Pants Mcturd's MORE Than True Horrorscopes

                  Dr. Pants McTurd's

        MORE Than True Horror-scopes                                      

      (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)                                                                                 

Aries-  There’s a reason why The Pacific Princess, aka The Love Boat, is an actual real life princess, as well as a boat. After she was christened, she was seduced and tricked into a marriage of convenience to a shady Saudi prince’s yacht; who turned out to be con-boat and former door to door dildo salesman in the Sioux Falls area, circa 1962-64. So, from the start, the Love Boat knew what it was like to have a broken heart. After a series of failed relationships, and hard economic times, she went to work as a cruise ship and met her one and only---Captain Merril Stubing. They tangoed and sailed together until 1986, when she hit a reef and was taken apart piecemeal and sold as scrap to African merchant ships that later were taken hostage by pirates. Life is a long and windy sea. Sail heartily, Captain.

Taurus- The Mediterranean Sea has been through some serious shit. Take for example the Messinian Salinity Crisis of 6 million years ago: at that time, the Strait of Gibraltar was totally closed off, separating the Sea from the ocean. And the crisis wasn’t about not enough salt, but rather too much of the stuff. Lots of evaporation leaves too much salt behind and generally kills most of the life. Thankfully a few million years later, the Zanclean Flood came along and replenished the sea; giving the beaches back to super ancient Rivieran people, who just wanted to sunbathe topless and not questioned about it, or stared at by tit starved westerners. Your flood plain is about to be as wet as a willy. Batten the hatches. And bring a towel.

Gemini- The Dimples of Venus, aka butt dimples are possibly a genetic trait. Ahh yes, I sense your mild interest, probably because of talk of buttocks and rears and booty and such. Point is, your butt dimples-- either the actual ones or the metaphorical ones right above your ass, are ripe for the pickin’, and there’s prowlers sneakin’ ‘round yer closet and fancy under garment things—your finery and such; lookin’ for a sneak peek at the real treat. I say…whip it out, whatever it is, and cook some vittles and martinis made from the fermented juice of the god Pan. Your thoughts are fertilizer for the greater imagining of ‘god’. Sally, and sally forth, dimple butt.

Cancer- When ya have a sec, Google an image of the trapezius muscle. It’s a trip, fer reals and stuff. Firstly it’s the triangular web of muscle that makes major league baseball possible. Nature sure seems intelligent to me—not ‘design’-wise, but wow—the geometric progression of musculature is hella impressive. Secondish, maybe baseball exists because nature wanted it, and the trapezious muscle was the way to go. God loves baseball. There, I said it. Wow, I feel better. There’s a god, and it loves baseball. Personally, I could give two craps. Don’t like baseball, feel even more repugnacious® regarding religion. But ‘god’—that there’s deep shite. Point to the stands and knock that ball from your bat to god’s ear. Now is the time to be a hero.

Leo- So, I have this Hawaiian shirt that I got in a thrift store for like five bucks, and there are three reasons why it’s super rad. A) The buttons are covered in the same cloth as the shirt material. Awesome. B) The shirt is orange and green. Double rad. And C) It’s got palm trees, and natives in kayaks, and a Polynesian style boat—and about half the shirt, the material was assembled upside down; making it uniquely far out and cool. I know you engender an appreciation for all things asymmetrical and rarified. Which also describes you, my feline pal. You are skewed is my point, in a pleasant and peaceful way. Drive crooked and gaze backwards.

Virgo- In the weird world of giant vegetables, Peter Glazebrook is a horticulturally blessed ingenious wunderkind. Just for starters, he holds the record for growing the world’s largest onion, weighing in at nearly 18lbs. This retired british dude has a knack for plants. He also holds the record for the world’s longest parsnip—18.5ft long…he also grew a cabbage that weighed over 80lbs. and had to be carted around in a wheelbarrow. It goes without saying that he’s a perrenial favourite at vegetable shows in the UK. Get it—perennial? Yes, quite droll. Point is, you have a similar talent, perhaps as yet undiscovered. There’s a giant onion inside you. Dig it up-- it’s ripe and you are in dire need of a natural flavor explosion.

Libra- Wtf is with putting butter on toast, who started that crap? And have you ever had bog butter? It’s aged inside a peat bog. And peat bogs are strange places. There’s no oxygen and hence no bacteria, which is why we still find people who were buried in them thousands of years ago, and they’re not decomposed—you can still see the expression on their faces. But back to the butter—it’s ancient and it’s fatty, but all you need is milk and something to keep it in. The bog people didn’t have zip loc baggies, so sometimes we find their butter troves, still buried in peat, and aged to smelly perfection. Butter your toast judiciously, and then dig up your peat bog—give light to something that has been buried for far too long.

Scorpio- Enchanted Rock, is a granite dome. WTF is a granite dome? Since you ask so nicely, it’s a big hunk of granite formed under great heat and pressure, then cooled, all over millions of years mind you, and then after a few tectonic collisions resulting in mountain building---and then, it erodes over time, and etc. Half Dome in Yosemite is a famous example; also Corcovado in Rio. Super nice granite. The only problem with Enchanted Rock is that it’s in Texas. And sure, Austin is an oasis of art and reason in a desert of oil putrefaction, beef and racism, but…where was I? Oh, yes yes, rocks breathe. During the day they expand from the sun’s heat. At night they cool releasing the heat. One complete breath per day, one in, one out, breath of fire--hot shite, dude. Imagine you are a granite dome. You are rock that breathes. The holiest of magma.

Sagittarius- Now, I know you’re not one to either shilly nor shally, and certainly there’s no dilly anywhere near your dally. And your pants aren’t around your ankles just yet; so, I’m going to bestow upon you a magic phrase for the week. I rarely do this because of the obvious legal implications, but I think you’re ready to responsibly handle the responsibliosity® of this…endeavor. Anyhoo, here’s the magic phrase: though, through, thought. Say it seven times in row, with no mistakes, and your wish will come true in a period not under 15 seconds, and not over 2.78 earth days, not including parts of Alaska and the Bermuda Triangle. Weird forces are aligning. Ride the wave, like you always do.

Capricorn- That stereotypical dream about having to speak publicly, and you look down and you’re in your underwear; and then panic, fear and mayhem ensue—it would be a lot funnier if your pants were around your ankles. Funnier because then, when you’d try to run off stage, you’d trip on your pants and increase spit take possibilities tenfold. Comedy and pain are integral parts of the wholeness. god lieth in tragedy and pain; until we evolve a better way to deal with pain on a deeper, genetic level anyway. There be a great shift afoot ‘mongst our innards that we might not detect. We change from the bottom up, and forget momentarily about how deep the microcosmic rabbit hole’s ‘bottom’ goes..…wow, I’ve rambled. Point is---make sure to wear a belt, and project so the whole hall can hear ya.

Aquarius- CTRL Z was invented, I’m assuming, because of a cat’s need to walk across one’s keyboard whenever her mood strikes; a not so subtle insinuation that there’s petting and/or treats to be had, and—ahem…you’ll snap to it, daddio. And here’s your metaphor of the week: CTRL Z is like mercury retrograde—it’s gonna happen on a regular basis. It’s a chance to un/re-do events of the recent or distant past. It’s like going to the dentist. Or the gynecologist. Or the pee pee doctor. Point is, looking into the past, recent or otherwise, is sometimes painful, usually irritating, and seems to put brakes and kibosh on your plans to change the world. I’m here to tell you to chillax and relaxi taxi®. The world moves in waves. Try patience with the flow. The ocean is still bigger than even your brain and intent.

Pisces- Inspiration, literally—is inhalation. You literally breathe air into your lungs, grab the oxygen, and fuel your on-going discovery of the multiverse. So much so, that the term multiverse may become obsolete. Imagine: humanity rapports through layers upon layers upon seemingly incongruous realities, piled in and around us like salami and egg salad—the future of our knowledge is infinite. There is no end point, ‘not’ ever; and no end to the process of creating the non-literal inspiration—the giving of oxygen—of life to an idea, a cause, or a mission; or heckfire—even a sexy moral imperative. We’re part of a much larger fluidity of motion. Breathe deep the gathering waters. Give life to your creation and in-spire.