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 –The question you will face this week regards zombies, which the Dr. Pants assumes are being developed by the military for use as a weapon or maybe just a deterrent, but the question will be this, and we need a decently solid answer if we’re to survive the zombie viral pandemic of 2019—keep that on the DL btw, no need to panic the masses before it’s time to panic. So…here’s the big question: do zombies watch porn? Does the recent condom law apply to zombies?? Furtherly, will zombie porn push regular human porn out of the San Fernando valley? What of valley porn? What of it?? Fight the future!! 

♉ Taurus –Your power birthday creature of the week is the tardigrade! Congratulations, I guess, and felicitous natal blessings upon all you bulls. A tardigrade btw, is a water dwelling segmented micro-animal. They’re a teensy .5mm in length and can survive at temps at nearly absolute zero! Which, if you seen regular zero, the absolute is indeed far more intense—just imagine the pressure that water would have to be to get to absolute zero. Oy vay, right? Life is springtime and burgeoning, and able to survive at ridiculous depths—driven to survive, because even if there is no actual god, there is this one ever changing moment of NOW. Happy birthday—your current market conditions are bullish to an absolutely absurd degree.  

♊ Gemini –Nihilism is such bull crap, right? They believe in nothing? Do they believe in dark matter? The Dark Side, what? It’s exhausting ignoring your innate beliefs, and tenets and dogmas and rituals, be they religiously oriented or nay, more to the obsessive compulsive side, repetitive stress injury sort of thing… The Dr. Pants’s point is, is that belief is hard wired into our genes, we ooze belief because it’s a brilliant paradigm for an advantageous evolution that has treated us decently, despite wars and plagues and Lucas retooling Star Wars. Belief is inescapable. Whatever you believe—pretend it’s a pool, and don’t think, just dive.

♋ Cancer –Have you been hiding from the recent eclipse cycle and solar new year deep inside the innards of a palazzo of a Lombard collector? If so, it’s time to dub your movie back into english, and restore, rejuvenate, and yes, you’re still smokin’. Warm seas and inviting breezes are calling, and hibernation is officially kaput and kybosh’d®. The beach, the water, all of the liquid world is sloshing itself into the coming frenzy of an impending solstice, the world’s oceans just roiling with life and an insistence that mankind merely believes that he/she/we are the top of the food chain, but that SHE is far more powerful, more ancient, and crikey—gave birth to all us monkey bipeds. This week, seek thou the big Mamma Earth.

♌ Leo –You know what the Dr. Pants hates most? No, it’s not avocado pancakes—it’s red lights. RED makes him so angry! Whats with all the stopping? We’re in a car that is designed, built and literally driven to MUTHER FRAKKING GO, am I right?? Okay, frak, let’s cool the collective jets—and wait, were we talking about the Dr. Pants, or the Leos aka you? Yes, YOU, the royal You, the editorial—metaphorically speaking, from now til your natal celebrations and equinox next, don’t stop believin’, take only yes for an answer and knock on doors til your knuckles bleed red with the blood of the never say die King of the Yunque. Find your inner Puerto Rico. Caress your roots and build a temple that will make your neighbor’s temple look like a pile of puke. And unfortunately, you will have to stop at some reds, dammit.

♍ Virgo –This week, you will meet a short handsome stranger. He, she, or whatever you kinky Virgins are into, this handsome stranger will incite your hopped up brainial area with a thousand ideas at once, regarding the past, the NOW moment, and the ever evolving future, and hopefully who’s going to win the next SuperBowl—besides the fans—we’re always winners! The Dr. Pants’s point is, is that a chance encounter—and yes, all encounters have an equal probability of chance—I guess, sort of… Okay, maybe forget I told you about the stranger—which is likely, knowing your ilk—boozy booze booze, am I right? So, in conclusion, nothing will happen this week. What droids? Move along.

♎ Libra –the first time the Dr. Pants laid eyes ‘pon a Libra sun, it were a scandalous delight, reminiscent of—why does reminiscent contain the word scent? Ah yes, your natural recently bathed self is resplendent and difficult to nail down, in earthly terms. The Pants am reminded of a beach, somewhere near Nice, Fr, coastally refulgent with good vibes and wine that induces lounging, transposed over centuries and eons of pondering and palavering until we arrive coincidentally at this moment. Libra = air. Air necessitates inspiration. Breathe, and repeat, and no thing could even dream of obfuscating or getting all up in your junk. L'anarchie et l'entropie, mais avec compassion. Respirer et puis répétez, s'il vous plaît, mon ami.

♏ Scorpio –The stage is yours for the next little while. We’re approaching the one time of year containing a Scorpio full moon that just recently began with a partial eclipse new moon, under rejuvenating Taurean sunlight. In fact, posit thusly: Taurean sunlight, enfirmed and embiggened with the heat and vibrancy of eternal life in an eternally endless multiverse, well… shite, that’s right up your bowling alley. Nigh, your moon will be buxom and clearly cratered and hella spot lit, right after the sun just reminded us who’s really in charge of lighting this particular corner of the ‘verse. Now is the time to be the lightning, time to the forward the Light Brigade. Into the valley of eternal life, rode the six hundred. This NOW—this now, is your time.

♐ Sagittarius –I sense that the astral equine in you is attempting to bolt and head for more heavenly skies, but this Dr. Pants urges restraint only up till the last possible second, when no one could be expected to hold back a spilling forth of divine earthly bliss. Play smart rather than desperate, for it will reward you in the long and shortest of terms. Grab your reins and save expedience for another day. That said………….Abandon ALL restraints and withholdings. They mean squat diddly poop farts. Restrain thyself ONLY if necessary to protect & serve a greater good or the family jewels. Elsewise, mount up and ride, ride until you’re done. 

♑ Capricorn –Earth. One of the old school elements. Posit this: how long did it take our current species to transmogrify their environs into understanding of their environs, and eventually toward some hope of controlling those environs and, well…taking over and engendering more and more intricate beliefs systems, dominating the food chain, and potentially the entire continuum, with our incessant need to create THE NEXT MOMENT, AND TO FOSTER A FUTURE OF INTENDED DELIGHTS? It took many millions of years. Don’t worry about it. You were built for this mountain, you silly billy goat. Lots of sunlight, go climb—climb up.

Aquarius ♒ -This recent eclipse cycle is the perfect time to discuss your penchant for a recent dalliance into the self fulfilling samsara of the paraklausithyron, aka in ancient troubadourian lingo, a lover’s lament at a door. Point is, is that the Dr. Pants is not so subtly implying that for too long you’ve been clinging to the comforting blankie of something or someone that you thought contained a gravity that, well…had a perfect orbit to fall into. So why has it been fighting you? The Dr. Pants suggests, finding another door, or maybe a wormhole, to a same or similar end, or maybe toward a brighter star. All roads lead to heaven, or at least the next ‘verse. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. Think around the corner.

♓ Pisces -You put the lever in clever and the pickle in the tickle. And the Dr. Pants doesn’t need to you the inform the likes of you, you fishy fish fry you, that the party in your pants, professional or otherwise, is bright and burgeoning, pulsating and archetypically erect, engorged with the lifeblood of a billion billion billion googolplex of gentalia, all firing in unison for an almost uncomfortable period of time, but mos def, soul cleansing—like a soul enema. You clever lever, you. Despite recent setbacks, you’re in prime shape for some ass kicking and name dropping to achieve an absurdly bright and immediate future that will explode to the face and amaze balls. Surf’s up. It’s way up.