Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire is like a sand dune. An amorphous synecdoche of shifting realities, and we are but riders on a molecular storm.
this week: FYI ad BTW, the number forty, aka 40, or as palavered in certain punkified circles as double dumbass on you.. is a fake number, and deserves no quarter nor succor, nor mercy.
Aries- When I say that everything is math, I don't mean that I'm a nerd and you should feel entitled to mock, ridicule or hijack me into an impromptu sing song version of the periodic table of elements; which in re the aforementioned, I can recite even while under torture, backwards to forwards, as well as in ancient Long Islandian® from longways to sideways, also as well as and in or out of context. I reckon the multiverse is rightly complexified™, and our grok of it grows exponentially, what with time's arrow moving ever "forwards". Furtherly™ more, fret not-- what remains unexplained and unexplored will be in due time. The 'verse wants to be heard and understood, forgiven and caressed, and then released back into the wild. You are god's juggernautical™ shepherd, act accordingly.
Taurus- Water chestnuts are total bullshit. I don't sanction them from my gullet, but they twist my knickers big time. The question I implore you to consider is this: How many chickens have you eaten in your lifetime? If you added up the wings, breasts and thighs, bbq'd or otherwise, how many bird carcasses have you ingested? A thousand? Ten thousand? Say we reckon one fowl per week for 30 years, that's over 1500 birds. How many fish? How many potatoes? How many pieces of chocolate? How many bottles of wine? How many regrettable moments spent kissing and/or groping somewhere dark and forbidden, with somone that was unavailable and distraught, both mutually motionless in a world of constant change and incessant loneliness coupled with the mad pursuit of freedom, sexual, socio-political or otherwise? Breathe deep, samsara is ubiquitous and well intentioned, despite its fangs and bloodlust.
Gemini- I'm a man, yo. I eat chicken. I eat cured meats, raw meats, even tofu that's seasoned in some way to replicate real meat. I eat meats of all ilk and font. F to the A to the bacon bacon bacon pancakes with a side of sausage and a turkey sandwich and a pizza laden with the flesh of animals that, no I didn't kill personally, there's this automated thing deep in our peripheral, where the miasma of death and the screams of electrically beheaded cows are far from our precious ears. It's the only logical way to harvest bovinely the lonely sausages of our future poops and ever present coronary artery disease. I digress. You are blessed, stuff your meat hole with unapologetic pride and have a hot dog smothered in veal, smothered in whiskey and and dripping with opiates. Cows taste yum.
Cancer- There are few things as irritating in this life, as wet socks, particularly when one suffers from chronically cold feet from late October to March. Winter-- bah and piffle, I say. And don't get me started on slippers. Something about them vexes and demeans me, which only elevates my inherent mistrust of footwear that claims to be both indoor and outdoor--- I call bullshit. But enough about my bipedal fetishism, let's get down to you and your immediate future, which only I can predict, and supply an adequate to mediocre interpretation of. Your feet and the earth have been in constant contact for the vast majority of your life. Fact is, that bipedalism has been around even longer than penis envy. Get a foot massage and preempt a war with yourself, the result of which would only result in needless suffering. Be yourself. Be what you're like.
Leo- What are the odds of a fortunate mistake? Like penicillin or LSD. Or when you took a wrong turn going home that one time and you discovered the greatest sushi place in the world tucked into the corner of a mini mall that you never go near, because it doesn't have a yoga studio, and there's a menacing group of street toughs hang out in the parking lot. Accidental discoveries are like a mutation, a catalyst that creates change within our matrix. Environment changes our phenotype, which changes our genetic structure. It's true, you can look that shit up. Environment affects our identities, and how we grok the 'verse, and who we are at the molecular freaking level. Germinate with bhudda-like focus, for the tree that you're growing internally is a redwood, and it's going to need some serious space.
Virgo- People who don't trim their nose hair usually have the bushiest schnozzi™,or schnozziolas™, as we used to call them back in east Jersey during the intervening time between the depression, the panic of blah blah blah, and the inevitably ever increasingly difficult to properly balance expense vs gain vs how many more children should be exploded by homemade bombs, before we quantify our perpetual obsession with profit. The nose thing is about courtesy. Must I be forced to stare at your nasal shrubbery and listen to your drollery? I suppose to some, the proboscis is a victory garden. Check out these medal winning nose hairs! It's like prick waving, brightly colored plumage, or the confirmed presence of an undercover cloaca that's been hiding out in your croc's midbrain for, oh I reckon nigh on coupla' score, and maybe even a fortnight. I say braid your nose hairs, show us your cloaca and start a revolution, for the establishment is a blasphemy, and you are full of righteous vim and/or vigor, aka balls.
Libra- You are a frozen wasteland and a tumult of ice cream made with milk from an icelandic yeti, aptly named Yorgin-Fluggin®. When they raise the bar for you, you sidestep it and hit the dive bar down the crooked street that believes itself to be straight. You are not what you want to be, nor what you think you are, and not even what others think of you. You are a sly melange of brink-, gun, and oneup- manship vaporized together, despite your liquefactional phenotype, and alchemied® into a rotten angelic methane dispersal that stings my nostrils like gasoline, yet sucks me in for more, and then more, and then more, the opiate of opiates, the fruitiest of the fruit; you put the ut- to the most and the peanut to the brittle. My Muse is a pox. Your ease and beauty are dreamt of only in higher realities.
Scorpio- When I feel the need for speed, and/or to get properly funkified®, I always choose the sponsor that really speaks to my demographic, and makes me feel like I'm the life of the party cause I tell a funny joke or two. Despite the possibility that deep inside, I'm blue. Blue like Picasso. Blue like oceanic abysses where life thrives under immense pressures, creating shortsighted odds that even Vegas would lose money on. We are creatures of habit. Repetition is like a bran muffin, or some under-ripe prunes sprinkled with nuclear wing sauce. You're approaching Rocky Mountain High, colorado style with the green salsa and coma inducing orgasms. It's your time to ride the snake. Just be home by a Thor'sday near you in a theater around the corner. Your just desserts will be ready.
Sagittarius- When I say things like 'I reckon', it makes me feel folksy, not in an uneducated hayseed way, but in a way that makes me feel connected to my ancient visigoth roots. I'm half visigoth on my mother's side. They say that's the important side when determining blood lines. Anyhowdy, I reckon that you're due for some reconnoitering of the most pedestrian sort. You will find yourself in a shoe shore, or a 7-11, or maybe a massage place where the endings are always sad; and it will be from that vantage point, from the most jejune of circumstances, that you will commune with ancestral spirits, those who bore you, those to whom you owe your very existence. They will tell you how proud they are of you, and make you privy to visions of your future, where the love you give is equal to the love you take.
Capricorn- You don't want to eat too healthy, there's a chance you'll live longer. Inevitably you will increase the number of years that you'll require assistance with most of your bowel movements. Unless they invent a robot butt wiper®. One could argue that the bidet is to date our best conception of such a helpful device. I assume bathroom assistants of the future will be called something like the Butt Buddy®. But, look, we're good friends, right, and when you get super old, and poop everywhere, and you need your butt wiped... I'm gonna be there, dude, for you, for all your poopy pants needs, cause you're my pal. I am gonna work really hard on that robot thing though. Happy Birthday, you old stubborn goat son of a bitch.
Aquarius- The brown throated sloth is the only animal on earth that that is immune to ennui. Fish are the most chronically melancholic, probably due to the inevitability that every time your tail is turned there's a silent predator about to swallow you whole and/or eat your egg sac that you had surmised cleverly hidden in that tide pool back in Laguna. But sloths exist in an entirely other temporal reality. What we see as the sloth is only an after image, a reflection from another reality. They are transdimensional slow motion tree climbers, and the tree they climb is the main artery through which all multiversal energy flows. These totemic titans are entrusted with the totality of totalities, the wholiest™ of holies and the undergarments of the divine. Make friends with a sloth, buy him a big fat cup of berries and soak up his transversal enlightenmentness™.
Pisces- The winds of change are often flatulent in nature. Far too seldom do they smell like a dryer sheet picked right off the tree. Change is a miasma, intended to be smelly. For example, take that rutabaga that you had for lunch. You ate it, sucked all the usable energy out of it via that workhorse of a colon of yours, and then that energy became some skin cells you needed, or judging from your fondness for late night peppermint schnapps and jalapeno milk shakes, probably some new liver cells. Good thing those organs recycle, huh? So here's your personal weather report: my Super Psyched Psychotropic Radar Machine 9000® (also a microwave---convenient, right?), tells me that some super rancid winds are blowing your way. Remember they always smell bad coming in, but once the storm passes, your changed air will be fresh and clean as if your life had a cosmic laundry day.
a weekly Horrorscope, appearing every Thursday...
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire repeats itself only once a lifetime, for the well is deep as is the panoply of ever changing targets.
this week: I've always wanted to use panoply in a sentence without sounding like a jerk. Can I have another shot at it?
Aries- Yadda yadda pain is a teacher, we evolve because of and through adversity, blah blah blah. Gimme a break, let me win the lottery just once, I mean really, is it too much to ask for a million free dollars? Money is freedom, right. And there are those whose self interest is focussed like a white hot laser, there are those who would keep us from our freedom, keep us from our inalienable human rights. Freedom is no priviledge, I am not required to earn it, it is my birthright and never the twain shall cleave my divergement™. Wherever our revolutionization™ ends, know that I'm with you, brother/sister/lover/possibly close relative/soulmates-- just the three of us, we can make it if we try. You and you and I.
Taurus- I refuse to spell tomorow correctly. Likewise with suprise. What the fudge is with all the extra r's in the world? And don't get me started on gh combos. Shove this in your Funk & Wagnall's: lite, nite and brite. And hey you, ph's of the world-- you're on notice too. The world's ending this year alright. We're headed for a future where we waste no time holding on to what are now illogical spellings based on a thousand years of barbarian hordes, visigoths and vikings, and murderous romans hacking out our evolutionary alphabet from our shared past, lest we repeat it. Or maybe we should hold on to the past. Light, night, bright, tomorrow and surprise. If we are not our history, who are we? Call Joseph Campbell and stock up on canned goods.
Gemini- The tangential and tertiary quality with which you move is supine, lupine and unapologetically vulpine. Look 'em up, those are real words. And their legitimacy is founded upon our mutual agreement of non binding and ethereal contracts, whose nature is undeterminable and flagrantly foiled by self flagellators, who would rather whip themselves than feed someone who's hungry, or imagine a world that he/she/you/us/we is not the center. The chains of your self-imprisonment are nearly rotted through with rust. Summon the strength of the four winds, or horsemen, or Tops that you can finagle over to your weird crusade, for dragon fighting is near. Yet fret little, the dragons often get winded, becoming easily catchable and trainable, like seals or politicians. Your victory is intensely assured.
Cancer- The other day, I really wanted a piece of gum. I was headed out, long drive across town, and I picked this jacket out of the closet that I only wear like twice a year. Don't know why. It's actually a nice casual jacket, that rare piece of clothing that combines functionality and me not looking like a complete slob, despite my cheap shoes, nary a brand name in sight because we still allow items made by children to be for sale here in america because profit + cheap skins/pelts/cotton blazers = righteous profiteering. Anyhoo, got in the car, felt something in my pocket, and voila!, a gift from past me to future me... a pack of gum that I bought six months ago, and BINGO BANGO!, I got gum. My point, though rambling, is that you should make a present for yourself that you'll find in the future. Make your own wormhole.
Leo- Holy fishmongers, you guano crazy son of a gunner's mate first class that sailed on the SS Verne back in 1812, the war that time made me confused in regard to and etceteras®. The war was over, but people kept shooting, and you had that hallucinatory episode where you thought that all of us were communist pagan zombie worshipping brain humpers, and that nuclear monkeys were about to invade the Ardenne Forest with flatulence bombs®, so you decided to post all the lurid pictures of your ex girlfriends' mothers on FB, and were later questioned and released, some say by the hair on your chinny-chin. You are a twisted tyrannical testament to the wonderful diversity of Allah, Bhudda and my recently late Great Uncle Al. But you dress groovy and everyone digs your scene, so feel free to engender transcendence in- and ex- ternally. The sun is your only equal.
Virgo- It is foolish to think that if science and conscience ever find parallel lines, and fringe factions of society stop blowing shit up, that we could end poverty in this world. Surely not disease. Surely there is no hope for an end to capitalistic fervor and need for power as is our birthright and ubiquitous obsession. The list of humanity's needs is long, and we are subject to the randomness of events out of our control, so how does the will of one person, the life force of merely one human being in the face of ever increasing billions supposed to reconcile the opposing sides of this matrix we've built ourselves into and are now floating together amidst a sea of? We all know you know the answer. Engage.
Libra- Is it foolish to think that if science and conscience ever find parallel lines, and the fringe factions of society stop blowing shit up, that we could end poverty in this world? What about disease? Surely there is no hope for an end to capitalistic fervor and need for power as is our birthright and ubiquitous obsession. The list is long for humanity's needs, and we are subject to the randomness of events out of our control, so how is the will of one person, the life force of merely one human being in the face of ever increasing billions supposed to reconcile the opposing sides of this matrix we've built ourselves into and are now floating together amidst a sea of? Questions with no answers quickly fester. Order a pizza and relax.
Scorpio- Evolutionary math drives my fascination with ferreting out every facet of our fickle foibles. After tedious study, one could argue that the complexity of god's science, which used to be called magic, and before that alchemy, and before that, ugg ug ugg ugg-- look I said in the interview that my neandertal was at best, kitchen fluent..., I'm just saying that when it comes down to an instinctively created context, that our genes, nay and lo our very atoms are god's blueprint®. We lack the stamina to comprehend the sheer immensity of it all, because fer reals-- infinite is infinite, and wow, that's large and untenable. I say, tread cautiously and hoist a high petard, for there are pirates about our brains, ones that would steal our booty and keelhaul our freedom.
Sagittarius- Words with double L's really twist my nads. We get it-- make an L sound with my big fat mouth. Shuuuuut up. You don't need to hit me over the head with it. And don't get me started on the word paralel, or balroom, or ilegaly. Who decides this crap? I say we rise up, revolutionizate™ and declare that english need not be so obtuse. How about we stop subjecting people who want to learn our beautiful language to needless over lettering? It's a new era, the future is happening faster and faster; and we deserve, nay.. 'tis our right and our destiny that speling be made less needlesly overly complexicated® and divisive. And yes, I'm aware of how speling bees would be affected, but dammit, we're talking about the free market of language. Plant a flag in the future, my fellow furry lamas!
Capricorn- Pragmatism is not a whirling dervish, though both their divinations end at the same doorway to "understanding". Now, add wine, preferably red and pontificate: In vino verisimilitude® and skepticism are the proverbial holy grail. Agrippa made a religion out of non belief, that is to say, that to question everything proves that nothing is provable, therefore: the sum of all fears appears to be a holy pulchritude, a siren in the form of fermented grapes that transcends us into the next realm, where logic is open ended and nothing is certain because that is not in its nature, certainty is a myth. Truth is beauty and beauty truth, but only from a certain point of view. Currently yours is the fabled cat bird seat. More wine?
Aquarius- Redundancy is akin to peeing into your friend's potted plant in front of the entire wine and/or cheese party, proclaiming, that this land is our land, and that you can pee any place you want. We Aquarii are constantly under pressure to use our lightning like brains to come up with new shit all the time. It's annoyingly fun. However, being human will inevitably gravitate to the tedious, despite my insistence otherwise, and that's when I reach for a sedative. Something mild, possibly bourbon based, but guaranteed to lift my palette, my senses, and my bravery. It's after the third B&B&B that I begin to repeat the same joke, the same story, the same ribald tale of a cockfight I once officiated... against my will, long story. But for now, relax, and stay coolly aloof. It's almost our birthday and bourbon is our friend until Lent.
Pisces- I burned the crap out of my hand the other day. Turns out that yes, that coffee was hot. Lava hot actually. The heat of a thousand white hot suns took control of my energy field, but mind over matter, stabbing my urge to pout like a four year old, I got hold of the physical sensation of pain, and I held sway over it, took it to court and restrained it, preventing it from wresting from me the reins of my senses, all the while telling myself that I am stronger. I can morph the pain into a an esoteric plaything with the flick of a mental switch, pain's supremacy will only devolve, I will heal, and my my hurt and my innermost desires may remain in quiet hibernation, no longer subjected to the glaring light of the thousand white hot suns, which remind me of your presence, of your warmth and your separation of church and state. What a pisser. And I'm sorry for our loss, but I grok its necessity and pragmatism. Be well.
disclaimer: Satire repeats itself only once a lifetime, for the well is deep as is the panoply of ever changing targets.
this week: I've always wanted to use panoply in a sentence without sounding like a jerk. Can I have another shot at it?
Aries- Yadda yadda pain is a teacher, we evolve because of and through adversity, blah blah blah. Gimme a break, let me win the lottery just once, I mean really, is it too much to ask for a million free dollars? Money is freedom, right. And there are those whose self interest is focussed like a white hot laser, there are those who would keep us from our freedom, keep us from our inalienable human rights. Freedom is no priviledge, I am not required to earn it, it is my birthright and never the twain shall cleave my divergement™. Wherever our revolutionization™ ends, know that I'm with you, brother/sister/lover/possibly close relative/soulmates-- just the three of us, we can make it if we try. You and you and I.
Taurus- I refuse to spell tomorow correctly. Likewise with suprise. What the fudge is with all the extra r's in the world? And don't get me started on gh combos. Shove this in your Funk & Wagnall's: lite, nite and brite. And hey you, ph's of the world-- you're on notice too. The world's ending this year alright. We're headed for a future where we waste no time holding on to what are now illogical spellings based on a thousand years of barbarian hordes, visigoths and vikings, and murderous romans hacking out our evolutionary alphabet from our shared past, lest we repeat it. Or maybe we should hold on to the past. Light, night, bright, tomorrow and surprise. If we are not our history, who are we? Call Joseph Campbell and stock up on canned goods.
Gemini- The tangential and tertiary quality with which you move is supine, lupine and unapologetically vulpine. Look 'em up, those are real words. And their legitimacy is founded upon our mutual agreement of non binding and ethereal contracts, whose nature is undeterminable and flagrantly foiled by self flagellators, who would rather whip themselves than feed someone who's hungry, or imagine a world that he/she/you/us/we is not the center. The chains of your self-imprisonment are nearly rotted through with rust. Summon the strength of the four winds, or horsemen, or Tops that you can finagle over to your weird crusade, for dragon fighting is near. Yet fret little, the dragons often get winded, becoming easily catchable and trainable, like seals or politicians. Your victory is intensely assured.
Cancer- The other day, I really wanted a piece of gum. I was headed out, long drive across town, and I picked this jacket out of the closet that I only wear like twice a year. Don't know why. It's actually a nice casual jacket, that rare piece of clothing that combines functionality and me not looking like a complete slob, despite my cheap shoes, nary a brand name in sight because we still allow items made by children to be for sale here in america because profit + cheap skins/pelts/cotton blazers = righteous profiteering. Anyhoo, got in the car, felt something in my pocket, and voila!, a gift from past me to future me... a pack of gum that I bought six months ago, and BINGO BANGO!, I got gum. My point, though rambling, is that you should make a present for yourself that you'll find in the future. Make your own wormhole.
Leo- Holy fishmongers, you guano crazy son of a gunner's mate first class that sailed on the SS Verne back in 1812, the war that time made me confused in regard to and etceteras®. The war was over, but people kept shooting, and you had that hallucinatory episode where you thought that all of us were communist pagan zombie worshipping brain humpers, and that nuclear monkeys were about to invade the Ardenne Forest with flatulence bombs®, so you decided to post all the lurid pictures of your ex girlfriends' mothers on FB, and were later questioned and released, some say by the hair on your chinny-chin. You are a twisted tyrannical testament to the wonderful diversity of Allah, Bhudda and my recently late Great Uncle Al. But you dress groovy and everyone digs your scene, so feel free to engender transcendence in- and ex- ternally. The sun is your only equal.
Virgo- It is foolish to think that if science and conscience ever find parallel lines, and fringe factions of society stop blowing shit up, that we could end poverty in this world. Surely not disease. Surely there is no hope for an end to capitalistic fervor and need for power as is our birthright and ubiquitous obsession. The list of humanity's needs is long, and we are subject to the randomness of events out of our control, so how does the will of one person, the life force of merely one human being in the face of ever increasing billions supposed to reconcile the opposing sides of this matrix we've built ourselves into and are now floating together amidst a sea of? We all know you know the answer. Engage.
Libra- Is it foolish to think that if science and conscience ever find parallel lines, and the fringe factions of society stop blowing shit up, that we could end poverty in this world? What about disease? Surely there is no hope for an end to capitalistic fervor and need for power as is our birthright and ubiquitous obsession. The list is long for humanity's needs, and we are subject to the randomness of events out of our control, so how is the will of one person, the life force of merely one human being in the face of ever increasing billions supposed to reconcile the opposing sides of this matrix we've built ourselves into and are now floating together amidst a sea of? Questions with no answers quickly fester. Order a pizza and relax.
Scorpio- Evolutionary math drives my fascination with ferreting out every facet of our fickle foibles. After tedious study, one could argue that the complexity of god's science, which used to be called magic, and before that alchemy, and before that, ugg ug ugg ugg-- look I said in the interview that my neandertal was at best, kitchen fluent..., I'm just saying that when it comes down to an instinctively created context, that our genes, nay and lo our very atoms are god's blueprint®. We lack the stamina to comprehend the sheer immensity of it all, because fer reals-- infinite is infinite, and wow, that's large and untenable. I say, tread cautiously and hoist a high petard, for there are pirates about our brains, ones that would steal our booty and keelhaul our freedom.
Sagittarius- Words with double L's really twist my nads. We get it-- make an L sound with my big fat mouth. Shuuuuut up. You don't need to hit me over the head with it. And don't get me started on the word paralel, or balroom, or ilegaly. Who decides this crap? I say we rise up, revolutionizate™ and declare that english need not be so obtuse. How about we stop subjecting people who want to learn our beautiful language to needless over lettering? It's a new era, the future is happening faster and faster; and we deserve, nay.. 'tis our right and our destiny that speling be made less needlesly overly complexicated® and divisive. And yes, I'm aware of how speling bees would be affected, but dammit, we're talking about the free market of language. Plant a flag in the future, my fellow furry lamas!
Capricorn- Pragmatism is not a whirling dervish, though both their divinations end at the same doorway to "understanding". Now, add wine, preferably red and pontificate: In vino verisimilitude® and skepticism are the proverbial holy grail. Agrippa made a religion out of non belief, that is to say, that to question everything proves that nothing is provable, therefore: the sum of all fears appears to be a holy pulchritude, a siren in the form of fermented grapes that transcends us into the next realm, where logic is open ended and nothing is certain because that is not in its nature, certainty is a myth. Truth is beauty and beauty truth, but only from a certain point of view. Currently yours is the fabled cat bird seat. More wine?
Aquarius- Redundancy is akin to peeing into your friend's potted plant in front of the entire wine and/or cheese party, proclaiming, that this land is our land, and that you can pee any place you want. We Aquarii are constantly under pressure to use our lightning like brains to come up with new shit all the time. It's annoyingly fun. However, being human will inevitably gravitate to the tedious, despite my insistence otherwise, and that's when I reach for a sedative. Something mild, possibly bourbon based, but guaranteed to lift my palette, my senses, and my bravery. It's after the third B&B&B that I begin to repeat the same joke, the same story, the same ribald tale of a cockfight I once officiated... against my will, long story. But for now, relax, and stay coolly aloof. It's almost our birthday and bourbon is our friend until Lent.
Pisces- I burned the crap out of my hand the other day. Turns out that yes, that coffee was hot. Lava hot actually. The heat of a thousand white hot suns took control of my energy field, but mind over matter, stabbing my urge to pout like a four year old, I got hold of the physical sensation of pain, and I held sway over it, took it to court and restrained it, preventing it from wresting from me the reins of my senses, all the while telling myself that I am stronger. I can morph the pain into a an esoteric plaything with the flick of a mental switch, pain's supremacy will only devolve, I will heal, and my my hurt and my innermost desires may remain in quiet hibernation, no longer subjected to the glaring light of the thousand white hot suns, which remind me of your presence, of your warmth and your separation of church and state. What a pisser. And I'm sorry for our loss, but I grok its necessity and pragmatism. Be well.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Happy 2012...thank god the world ends this year because i really need a long winter's nap.
Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire is not always funny, but it is eternally granted the divine wisdom of truth.
this week: Sometimes, she likes to be turned upside down and inside out, as well as right ways wrong ways. Your challenge is to know when she wants it.
Aries- What level has your smiling achieved? Are you professional grade? Do you smile at inappropriate times, or always at the proper moment, effectively veiling your true sociopathic intentions? Perhaps you're an introverted smiler, only turning that frown up side down ways in seclusion away from eyes that would pry into your private vat of undeserv'd evaporating happiness. My guess is that you are a reluctant smiler, that once commited can easily go full speed, teeth enjoying their time in the sun, diaphragm convulsing with giggles, probably at a ribald rejoinder passed between two lovers that just need one more nudge to get together in order to occupy, unionize and promisculate®. Nudge and proceed with lustful zeal.
Taurus- Don't take shit for shinola. If you're gonna be a bear, be a grizzly. Screw the basket, put all your eggs in your pants, do a fancy butt dance and go downtown on molly brown's up side down frown. Be the best, be the greatest, order your martini extra dirty and tell people your name is Bondage... James Bondage. Eat a really spicy macho burrito from the questionably hygienic taco truck down the street that you've been morbidly curious about, chug some coffee liqueur, ditch your pants and go streaking. Skid mark your way into 2012, and make sure your friends and family know that you haven't gone mad. You've gone right.
Gemini- Snorri Sturluson, twelfth century Icelandic historian, poet and politician, regardless of how silly his old viking language sounds, was not an idiot. We raise our ancestors to the level of gods, calling upon them if we need strength before battle, or if we get sucked into a game of naked Jungian Jungle Jenga® when we're really wasted on pear schnapps. It's a process that endlessly repeats itself going back thousands of generations, leading us backward in time not to god, but to something ineffable and driven that creates life and consciousness out of apparently nothing at all. Your true ancestor is the sub nuclear orb that infuses us with life like an amoebic frankenstein. Worship her, but do not blind yourself with obedience.
Cancer- The troposphere is lovely this time of year/ for a bargain basement/ for a cocktail / and some empathic time to bend your ear / and afterwards curl your toes and melt your fears / into alchemic cauldrons that toil and trouble / boil and bubble / and never cease to amuse your god-like nose / and your oh so royal panty hose / circumferencing® your head / far as a person can see / but enraptured of fog you will never be / save for the making of a toast and future wishes / best proffered while on bended knee / supplication and worship my lips only fees.
Leo- Time travel is only possible if time actually exists and if there is an acceptable standard, all sizes and temporalities applicable unifying theory; in addition to a provable definition for something that is not only subjective, but irrefutably linked to the "precise" location in spacetime that one's "mass" theoretically inhabits, according to the depth of one's personal gravity well, which is inherently unprovable in any conventional sense or understandable quantity. --Blimey, the Fatuous circa 12846 BCE
in his treatise on sexual vs platonic love in upright primates. Grok it, Crockett and integrate this ∫. ∫ . ∫ .. ∫ . ∫ =∆
Virgo- I dreamt a bee stung me in the palm of my hand. I remember vividly the stinger I pulled from my flesh. I felt no pain, but my first thought based on previous experience was that my hand would soon swell to the size of a water balloon filled with liquid metal and irate bee piss. My first thought was about damage, the down side, the lead lining in my cloud of inevitable pain. Granted, evolution is a good teacher, and negative reaction to pain isn't a surprise, but I think I missed god's point, again no surprise. My real thought in the dream was about the miracle. I'm conscious and sentient and can experience a bee sting in a dream world that I invented, that as far as I know has no reality save for the neuroses my neurons inhabit. Holy nipple sticks, dude.
Libra- Reality is inherently undefinable. However, I can say with all the certainty of a possessed fetal pig that you are not living in "it". Furthermore, whatever warped wooly world you live in is probably more reasonable than the bullshit reality that the rest of us have been espousing with all our simian glory. However, your window of reality based righteousness will inevitably degrade into one that even the most blindly despotic of us would deem unsafe at any speed. Enjoy your moment in the sun, and douse us with your transdimensional logic. Soon, you'll just be another one of us wack-a-doos, searching in vain for a reasonably priced and yet soft toilet paper.
Scorpio- The devil usually resides in the details. He/She/It/Cow digs hanging out there due to the relatively small amount of sense that dimension makes. When you get down to the very small, the very very very very very very small, the sub sub sub atomic where space is not space, but small 'strings' of energy and funky particles both existing and not simultaneously, where chaos seems to create order, matter, reality, ideas and eventually belief- that is the devil's creative playground where he conjures the mischief and disorder that manifests in your overhanging firmament. Make the devil your friend, it'll confuse the hell right out of him/her/it/hotfudgesundae.
Sagittarius- The bone eating snot flower is for real. It loves to burrow into the bones of whale carcasses and suck out the lipids. For now, you're safe. However, due to over-whaling, the snot flowers, also known as zombie worms will be moving inland shortly. There's billions of them. There's going to start in the valley and move to the Hollywood area after the housing market improves and we can get on with letting banks make legislation. By 2050, 1 in 5 americans will be a snot flowerian, and 2 of every 9 marriages will be of mixed species, human and snot flower. They have no gender, however, so expect lots of court battles over marriage rights. This week you will have an epiphany that will induce you to fight for your right to marry any panda you choose, provided it's a mutual arrangement and not another sham panda marriage attempting to defraud the US government. Go forth and "god's" speed.
Capricorn- The future never ceases to piss me off. It thinks it's so fucking smart and that I can't control it. It accuses me, in the present no less, of fear and loathing, of panic and meltdown, of genius and madness, of my oversized ego dominated by past pain and ghosts that seem to have nothing better to do than loiter my brain's haunt. It tells me what I want to hear, and unfortunately for me, I'm an idiot who wants the impossible, or at least the unlikely. I am a turd in the grass waiting to decompose, transmutate and transmogrify, and give myself willingly up to god. God is the future and it's imperative that I get there first, so I can end his mad reign. Screw him anyway. You probably wouldn't understand what I'm talking about, so never mind. Especially in the future.
Aquarius- Say yes. Repeat it with every breath for the next 36 years. Say yes regardless of the fear that stalks, the demons that haunt, or the tickle fairy who's out of work due to recession with less money to spend on organized tickling. Yes opens more doors than no. Yes makes babies happen and dessert to be ordered. Yes makes tornadoes of awesomeness that throw you skyward into your next big moment. Yes is eternal. Yes is ripe and bursting. Yes is alchemic, forging will into beauty, art, invention, compassion, philanthropy, acceptance, jeans that really fit your particular butt shape, and vast plantations of soy beans and hemp cropping up in your third eye's vision quest for peace on earth, food on every plate, and love in every home. Say yes, and reap royal rewards.
Pisces- You are the eternal springtime of my maculated mind. You are everything I despise and everything I love. My alpha plus omega to the power of three. You are my lost muse that I can never recover. Nor should I. We are perfect twin branes, bound neither for peaceful coexistence, nor collision and therein, total destruction. You're the crack in my pipe, the coca in my leaves, my destruction waiting in the wings for me to slip, to misspeak and flub my lines, causing personality meltdown and a dire need for id replacement therapy. You are a scourge, a pox, a plague, an hourly promise breaker, and an imminent scandal. Thank the heavens I know you.
disclaimer: Satire is not always funny, but it is eternally granted the divine wisdom of truth.
this week: Sometimes, she likes to be turned upside down and inside out, as well as right ways wrong ways. Your challenge is to know when she wants it.
Aries- What level has your smiling achieved? Are you professional grade? Do you smile at inappropriate times, or always at the proper moment, effectively veiling your true sociopathic intentions? Perhaps you're an introverted smiler, only turning that frown up side down ways in seclusion away from eyes that would pry into your private vat of undeserv'd evaporating happiness. My guess is that you are a reluctant smiler, that once commited can easily go full speed, teeth enjoying their time in the sun, diaphragm convulsing with giggles, probably at a ribald rejoinder passed between two lovers that just need one more nudge to get together in order to occupy, unionize and promisculate®. Nudge and proceed with lustful zeal.
Taurus- Don't take shit for shinola. If you're gonna be a bear, be a grizzly. Screw the basket, put all your eggs in your pants, do a fancy butt dance and go downtown on molly brown's up side down frown. Be the best, be the greatest, order your martini extra dirty and tell people your name is Bondage... James Bondage. Eat a really spicy macho burrito from the questionably hygienic taco truck down the street that you've been morbidly curious about, chug some coffee liqueur, ditch your pants and go streaking. Skid mark your way into 2012, and make sure your friends and family know that you haven't gone mad. You've gone right.
Gemini- Snorri Sturluson, twelfth century Icelandic historian, poet and politician, regardless of how silly his old viking language sounds, was not an idiot. We raise our ancestors to the level of gods, calling upon them if we need strength before battle, or if we get sucked into a game of naked Jungian Jungle Jenga® when we're really wasted on pear schnapps. It's a process that endlessly repeats itself going back thousands of generations, leading us backward in time not to god, but to something ineffable and driven that creates life and consciousness out of apparently nothing at all. Your true ancestor is the sub nuclear orb that infuses us with life like an amoebic frankenstein. Worship her, but do not blind yourself with obedience.
Cancer- The troposphere is lovely this time of year/ for a bargain basement/ for a cocktail / and some empathic time to bend your ear / and afterwards curl your toes and melt your fears / into alchemic cauldrons that toil and trouble / boil and bubble / and never cease to amuse your god-like nose / and your oh so royal panty hose / circumferencing® your head / far as a person can see / but enraptured of fog you will never be / save for the making of a toast and future wishes / best proffered while on bended knee / supplication and worship my lips only fees.
Leo- Time travel is only possible if time actually exists and if there is an acceptable standard, all sizes and temporalities applicable unifying theory; in addition to a provable definition for something that is not only subjective, but irrefutably linked to the "precise" location in spacetime that one's "mass" theoretically inhabits, according to the depth of one's personal gravity well, which is inherently unprovable in any conventional sense or understandable quantity. --Blimey, the Fatuous circa 12846 BCE
in his treatise on sexual vs platonic love in upright primates. Grok it, Crockett and integrate this ∫. ∫ . ∫ .. ∫ . ∫ =∆
Virgo- I dreamt a bee stung me in the palm of my hand. I remember vividly the stinger I pulled from my flesh. I felt no pain, but my first thought based on previous experience was that my hand would soon swell to the size of a water balloon filled with liquid metal and irate bee piss. My first thought was about damage, the down side, the lead lining in my cloud of inevitable pain. Granted, evolution is a good teacher, and negative reaction to pain isn't a surprise, but I think I missed god's point, again no surprise. My real thought in the dream was about the miracle. I'm conscious and sentient and can experience a bee sting in a dream world that I invented, that as far as I know has no reality save for the neuroses my neurons inhabit. Holy nipple sticks, dude.
Libra- Reality is inherently undefinable. However, I can say with all the certainty of a possessed fetal pig that you are not living in "it". Furthermore, whatever warped wooly world you live in is probably more reasonable than the bullshit reality that the rest of us have been espousing with all our simian glory. However, your window of reality based righteousness will inevitably degrade into one that even the most blindly despotic of us would deem unsafe at any speed. Enjoy your moment in the sun, and douse us with your transdimensional logic. Soon, you'll just be another one of us wack-a-doos, searching in vain for a reasonably priced and yet soft toilet paper.
Scorpio- The devil usually resides in the details. He/She/It/Cow digs hanging out there due to the relatively small amount of sense that dimension makes. When you get down to the very small, the very very very very very very small, the sub sub sub atomic where space is not space, but small 'strings' of energy and funky particles both existing and not simultaneously, where chaos seems to create order, matter, reality, ideas and eventually belief- that is the devil's creative playground where he conjures the mischief and disorder that manifests in your overhanging firmament. Make the devil your friend, it'll confuse the hell right out of him/her/it/hotfudgesundae.
Sagittarius- The bone eating snot flower is for real. It loves to burrow into the bones of whale carcasses and suck out the lipids. For now, you're safe. However, due to over-whaling, the snot flowers, also known as zombie worms will be moving inland shortly. There's billions of them. There's going to start in the valley and move to the Hollywood area after the housing market improves and we can get on with letting banks make legislation. By 2050, 1 in 5 americans will be a snot flowerian, and 2 of every 9 marriages will be of mixed species, human and snot flower. They have no gender, however, so expect lots of court battles over marriage rights. This week you will have an epiphany that will induce you to fight for your right to marry any panda you choose, provided it's a mutual arrangement and not another sham panda marriage attempting to defraud the US government. Go forth and "god's" speed.
Capricorn- The future never ceases to piss me off. It thinks it's so fucking smart and that I can't control it. It accuses me, in the present no less, of fear and loathing, of panic and meltdown, of genius and madness, of my oversized ego dominated by past pain and ghosts that seem to have nothing better to do than loiter my brain's haunt. It tells me what I want to hear, and unfortunately for me, I'm an idiot who wants the impossible, or at least the unlikely. I am a turd in the grass waiting to decompose, transmutate and transmogrify, and give myself willingly up to god. God is the future and it's imperative that I get there first, so I can end his mad reign. Screw him anyway. You probably wouldn't understand what I'm talking about, so never mind. Especially in the future.
Aquarius- Say yes. Repeat it with every breath for the next 36 years. Say yes regardless of the fear that stalks, the demons that haunt, or the tickle fairy who's out of work due to recession with less money to spend on organized tickling. Yes opens more doors than no. Yes makes babies happen and dessert to be ordered. Yes makes tornadoes of awesomeness that throw you skyward into your next big moment. Yes is eternal. Yes is ripe and bursting. Yes is alchemic, forging will into beauty, art, invention, compassion, philanthropy, acceptance, jeans that really fit your particular butt shape, and vast plantations of soy beans and hemp cropping up in your third eye's vision quest for peace on earth, food on every plate, and love in every home. Say yes, and reap royal rewards.
Pisces- You are the eternal springtime of my maculated mind. You are everything I despise and everything I love. My alpha plus omega to the power of three. You are my lost muse that I can never recover. Nor should I. We are perfect twin branes, bound neither for peaceful coexistence, nor collision and therein, total destruction. You're the crack in my pipe, the coca in my leaves, my destruction waiting in the wings for me to slip, to misspeak and flub my lines, causing personality meltdown and a dire need for id replacement therapy. You are a scourge, a pox, a plague, an hourly promise breaker, and an imminent scandal. Thank the heavens I know you.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire does require a mayan calendar to know that the world is coming to an end.
this week: She is not my lost love, because I still love her.
Aries- The tippy top of our phallic ode2the G-Wash is both shiny and pointy. The crown on the Washington Monument is made of aluminum, which in the 1880's was almost as pricey as silver. And all over again, a faction calls for going back to a gold economy, because special interests (cough), the infamous "they" can afford to buy airtime, probably on (cough) FoxNews (cough) selling something (cough), who's owned by that super old aussie D-bag with the god complex and a gross lack of morality, who apparently thinks he's Nixon's down unda' brutha® reincarnated, BUT WE ARE NOT going to let some down unda' panda humpers get a hold of our precious sun ever again. Happy solstice, your birthday and psychic renewal will be here any minute. No cough.
Taurus- Comet Lovejoy was indeed discovered by a dude named Lovejoy. When I discover my comet or weird space rock that I get to name, that one tiny space rock that might be part of the early universe hurtling through space, well shit man, it causes me to feel even smaller and more insignificant than I already feel amongst so many billions around the world breathing my air and eating my sandwiches. Point is, Lovejoy discovered three comets, there's three Comet Lovejoys, and one of them just went right into the sun's corona, I space shit you not. We have one Lovejoy down. One down. The other two are safely in your orbit and bringing you strange cosmic ice from the beginning of the universe.
Gemini- William Randolph Hearst actually printed in his newspapers that someone ought to put a bullet in the President. And then someone shot the President. And then they made a law that said you can't say crazy shit like that. Hearst also wagged the dog and made his own war happen. He basically killed McKinley and started a war. And he made a star out of his mistress, put her in movies, real classy like. Nice. I like driven people who don't withhold their brilliance from the world because of silly sundries like ethics or morals. It's our innate right to do whatever we want, because we can. Freedom incarnate. Political will forged out of the bonds of centuries of slavery to a pharaoh, a king, a dictator, a despot, or tyrant who would use our individuality as a plowshare while robbing us of our limited time. Take some time off this week. Your pyramid will wait.
Cancer- The Italians and the Irish piss me off, regardless of their places in my genetic history. Both tomatoes and potatoes are New World fruits, that is to say, there were no taters nor t'maters in europe until 1500. It wasn't long before the Old World co-opted these delights for their own, as if pasta sauce was invented in Rome, or chips were first deep fried in downtown Dublin. As if they hadn't stolen enough from the cultures of Mesoamerica, they take Incan potato au gratin and Aztec gazpacho. Someday when an alien space pod lands in downtown Kankakee or Kenosha and we co-opt his weird smelling space grog and call it Jed's Homemade Space Gumbo®, then, my friend, then we can avenge our pre columbian asiatic brothers.
Leo- The most profound of the Brady Legacy's multiple crowning jewels is the episode entitled "Bobby's Hero". And, yeah, I capitalized Legacy, suck it, Alice. Anyhoo, Bobby gets obsessed with Jesse James, right and so they bring in this super old timey cowpuncher type straight out of one of the Duke's greatest oaters, and this old guy proceeds to tell Bobby how he knew Jesse, that Jesse killed his Pa, and that you shouldn't idolize a coward. Deep Brady shit. Embroil this slantwise Bradyverse®: you are Bobby, and there's a super old dude, probably driving a van, who's on his way over here right now to teach you a valuable lesson about cowboys and Johnny Cash songs. Buy him lunch.
Virgo- Palpitate this, despite its inevitable entropy: You breathe at the perfect rate to bring in the perfect amount of oxygen, nitrogen and pollutants into your hot little air bags to keep your heart beating and blood pumping to feed that big fat brain that regulates your perception of the 'verse as well as your entire being, like Shiva holding you palmwise turned naked toward accepting eyes, in whose reflection is you ad infinauseum®, over and over, infinite love, where does god end and you begin. It's perfect. You are the perfect prefect to peruse le stream du consciousness flowing endlessly to le cosmic eau. You are naked, and you are perfect.
Libra- You're Sam the Butcher bringing Alice the meat. You're a french boulevard that's really big and well lit that I can't remember the name of. You're an eagle in a world of blind mice armed with nerve gas. You're a mammoth-trapping tar pit, a new jingle, and a bar of soap made of heavenly oats and god's balls. Nothing can stop you. Nothing wants to stop you. No one is even watching you right now. Go nuts. Do something you've never envisioned yourself doing. Go jump out of a plane driving a motorcycle naked, or whatever. You have nothing to lose and a good story to tell your friends later. Bring the meat.
Scorpio- All my topias are always dys, never u. Would I even recognize the u if I was sitting in it? And even if I did, would I find a way to destroy it, so that I could long for it, and crusade to regain it? Holy frog farts, dude, so I create the dys in order to destroy the u? Wtf is that cosmic buffoonery? Follow my bliss just so I can murder it later on? Destroy what I love, create what I destroy? Logic clusterf*ck-- brain folding in on self-- creating wormhole and parallel universe where I am acting rather reacting, where I stop fighting the tide, accept it and float lovingly downstream. But it's a mere shadow of the river I'm in now in this 'verse. You're right, Dave. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. You be u, I'll be dys.
Sagittarius- Dunce caps are a cruel punishment, usually reserved for free thinkers and creative types, who only put gum in Shelley Walker's hair because the teacher was hella boring and Shelley smelled like orange blossom and breakfast in May on some intimate Parisian rue. Iron maidens, however, are reasonable punishment for those who refuse to abide the common wisdom with all their fealty and soul. Personally I'm into tickle parties, especially when followed by pillow fights, bourbon, and orgies. You get this one life, right? So you have to be unabashedly driven to find your own delights and exploit the hell out of them. I'm sure you agree. See you at the party.
Capricorn- My life is Mystery Science Theater. There's three smart ass peanut gallery types down front, making snide comments about the bad 80's movie I'm in, probably about a ski competition and a group of friends who find a magic gnome who ends up eating their brains. I succumb to the flesh eating gnomes from the mountains where a ski lodge was built on the cemetery of ancient native americans who come back in the form of gnomes to eat the brains of virgin teens---ah screw it. The plot is odiously tedious. Your 80's movie is really good though, it stars Chuck Norris and Adrienne Barbeau. Ready yourself for ass whooping fun.
Aquarius- The purposes of groove and the necessity of funk is a state of mind not over matter, but inside of it. It is pure pompitus and worthy of prolonged exposure. You should be spending a minimum of 6.8 hours per week in multiple acts of getting down, funky, uncorked, freakified, sans pants, cheeky monkeyed, bar room brawled, bruised, screwed and tattooed. Your brain needs a chthonical reboot, not in the form of drugs or pointless self effacement, but a radical change of perception followed by a mythological reinstatement, a rebirth into whatever form you choose. I recommend a creature with the body of a red assed baboon and the head of a bhudda.
Pisces- You were nobody in way back olden times if you didn't have a nice rod. Take Aaron's rod for example, his rod turned other rods into snakes and then ate them. Moses used it to part the Red Sea. It also made magic almonds and could be used as a scepter that one could use to smite various people or cities, whole cultures even. I bet it could also help negotiate a better deal on that used Saab you've been ogling. Grab a hold of a really nice rod, preferably made out of sapphire, wrap a snake around it, go to that warehouse where the Ark of the Covenant is being stored, and then get inside of it, with your eyes closed(!), and stay there for one and a quarter fortnights. The regenerating sands of god's sarcophagus will and replenish your soul. And you will be young like when the earth was new.
disclaimer: Satire does require a mayan calendar to know that the world is coming to an end.
this week: She is not my lost love, because I still love her.
Aries- The tippy top of our phallic ode2the G-Wash is both shiny and pointy. The crown on the Washington Monument is made of aluminum, which in the 1880's was almost as pricey as silver. And all over again, a faction calls for going back to a gold economy, because special interests (cough), the infamous "they" can afford to buy airtime, probably on (cough) FoxNews (cough) selling something (cough), who's owned by that super old aussie D-bag with the god complex and a gross lack of morality, who apparently thinks he's Nixon's down unda' brutha® reincarnated, BUT WE ARE NOT going to let some down unda' panda humpers get a hold of our precious sun ever again. Happy solstice, your birthday and psychic renewal will be here any minute. No cough.
Taurus- Comet Lovejoy was indeed discovered by a dude named Lovejoy. When I discover my comet or weird space rock that I get to name, that one tiny space rock that might be part of the early universe hurtling through space, well shit man, it causes me to feel even smaller and more insignificant than I already feel amongst so many billions around the world breathing my air and eating my sandwiches. Point is, Lovejoy discovered three comets, there's three Comet Lovejoys, and one of them just went right into the sun's corona, I space shit you not. We have one Lovejoy down. One down. The other two are safely in your orbit and bringing you strange cosmic ice from the beginning of the universe.
Gemini- William Randolph Hearst actually printed in his newspapers that someone ought to put a bullet in the President. And then someone shot the President. And then they made a law that said you can't say crazy shit like that. Hearst also wagged the dog and made his own war happen. He basically killed McKinley and started a war. And he made a star out of his mistress, put her in movies, real classy like. Nice. I like driven people who don't withhold their brilliance from the world because of silly sundries like ethics or morals. It's our innate right to do whatever we want, because we can. Freedom incarnate. Political will forged out of the bonds of centuries of slavery to a pharaoh, a king, a dictator, a despot, or tyrant who would use our individuality as a plowshare while robbing us of our limited time. Take some time off this week. Your pyramid will wait.
Cancer- The Italians and the Irish piss me off, regardless of their places in my genetic history. Both tomatoes and potatoes are New World fruits, that is to say, there were no taters nor t'maters in europe until 1500. It wasn't long before the Old World co-opted these delights for their own, as if pasta sauce was invented in Rome, or chips were first deep fried in downtown Dublin. As if they hadn't stolen enough from the cultures of Mesoamerica, they take Incan potato au gratin and Aztec gazpacho. Someday when an alien space pod lands in downtown Kankakee or Kenosha and we co-opt his weird smelling space grog and call it Jed's Homemade Space Gumbo®, then, my friend, then we can avenge our pre columbian asiatic brothers.
Leo- The most profound of the Brady Legacy's multiple crowning jewels is the episode entitled "Bobby's Hero". And, yeah, I capitalized Legacy, suck it, Alice. Anyhoo, Bobby gets obsessed with Jesse James, right and so they bring in this super old timey cowpuncher type straight out of one of the Duke's greatest oaters, and this old guy proceeds to tell Bobby how he knew Jesse, that Jesse killed his Pa, and that you shouldn't idolize a coward. Deep Brady shit. Embroil this slantwise Bradyverse®: you are Bobby, and there's a super old dude, probably driving a van, who's on his way over here right now to teach you a valuable lesson about cowboys and Johnny Cash songs. Buy him lunch.
Virgo- Palpitate this, despite its inevitable entropy: You breathe at the perfect rate to bring in the perfect amount of oxygen, nitrogen and pollutants into your hot little air bags to keep your heart beating and blood pumping to feed that big fat brain that regulates your perception of the 'verse as well as your entire being, like Shiva holding you palmwise turned naked toward accepting eyes, in whose reflection is you ad infinauseum®, over and over, infinite love, where does god end and you begin. It's perfect. You are the perfect prefect to peruse le stream du consciousness flowing endlessly to le cosmic eau. You are naked, and you are perfect.
Libra- You're Sam the Butcher bringing Alice the meat. You're a french boulevard that's really big and well lit that I can't remember the name of. You're an eagle in a world of blind mice armed with nerve gas. You're a mammoth-trapping tar pit, a new jingle, and a bar of soap made of heavenly oats and god's balls. Nothing can stop you. Nothing wants to stop you. No one is even watching you right now. Go nuts. Do something you've never envisioned yourself doing. Go jump out of a plane driving a motorcycle naked, or whatever. You have nothing to lose and a good story to tell your friends later. Bring the meat.
Scorpio- All my topias are always dys, never u. Would I even recognize the u if I was sitting in it? And even if I did, would I find a way to destroy it, so that I could long for it, and crusade to regain it? Holy frog farts, dude, so I create the dys in order to destroy the u? Wtf is that cosmic buffoonery? Follow my bliss just so I can murder it later on? Destroy what I love, create what I destroy? Logic clusterf*ck-- brain folding in on self-- creating wormhole and parallel universe where I am acting rather reacting, where I stop fighting the tide, accept it and float lovingly downstream. But it's a mere shadow of the river I'm in now in this 'verse. You're right, Dave. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. You be u, I'll be dys.
Sagittarius- Dunce caps are a cruel punishment, usually reserved for free thinkers and creative types, who only put gum in Shelley Walker's hair because the teacher was hella boring and Shelley smelled like orange blossom and breakfast in May on some intimate Parisian rue. Iron maidens, however, are reasonable punishment for those who refuse to abide the common wisdom with all their fealty and soul. Personally I'm into tickle parties, especially when followed by pillow fights, bourbon, and orgies. You get this one life, right? So you have to be unabashedly driven to find your own delights and exploit the hell out of them. I'm sure you agree. See you at the party.
Capricorn- My life is Mystery Science Theater. There's three smart ass peanut gallery types down front, making snide comments about the bad 80's movie I'm in, probably about a ski competition and a group of friends who find a magic gnome who ends up eating their brains. I succumb to the flesh eating gnomes from the mountains where a ski lodge was built on the cemetery of ancient native americans who come back in the form of gnomes to eat the brains of virgin teens---ah screw it. The plot is odiously tedious. Your 80's movie is really good though, it stars Chuck Norris and Adrienne Barbeau. Ready yourself for ass whooping fun.
Aquarius- The purposes of groove and the necessity of funk is a state of mind not over matter, but inside of it. It is pure pompitus and worthy of prolonged exposure. You should be spending a minimum of 6.8 hours per week in multiple acts of getting down, funky, uncorked, freakified, sans pants, cheeky monkeyed, bar room brawled, bruised, screwed and tattooed. Your brain needs a chthonical reboot, not in the form of drugs or pointless self effacement, but a radical change of perception followed by a mythological reinstatement, a rebirth into whatever form you choose. I recommend a creature with the body of a red assed baboon and the head of a bhudda.
Pisces- You were nobody in way back olden times if you didn't have a nice rod. Take Aaron's rod for example, his rod turned other rods into snakes and then ate them. Moses used it to part the Red Sea. It also made magic almonds and could be used as a scepter that one could use to smite various people or cities, whole cultures even. I bet it could also help negotiate a better deal on that used Saab you've been ogling. Grab a hold of a really nice rod, preferably made out of sapphire, wrap a snake around it, go to that warehouse where the Ark of the Covenant is being stored, and then get inside of it, with your eyes closed(!), and stay there for one and a quarter fortnights. The regenerating sands of god's sarcophagus will and replenish your soul. And you will be young like when the earth was new.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire is a lighthouse, a beacon and a dessert after a crowful meal.
this week: You can crane your neck, but if you neck with a crane, you'll get pregnant.
Aries- We all step in poop. I choose to believe that it is the poop's origin which is the of the utmost of importance in determining one's fate, much like chicken bones in a tea cup. One's fortunes invariably vary according to the defecating animal in question. In the "business", we call that poop zero. Not to get tangential, but poop is always involved, am I right? Nevertheless I can tell by the state of your current underfoot poopprint® that possibly due to subconscious dieting or even a negative impact diagonal design that you are overdue for a sorely needed mojo enhancement. Your genitals are there to help you in times of crises. Scrape it off, put it in a brown paper bag, find your spiritual doorstep and.. light.. it.. up.
Taurus- In 17th century France, an invitation to a salon was quite the affair. Rather than hair and nails, it was a gathering of people (generally women) held to amuse one another, to refine taste and increase the knowledge of the participants through conversation, literature and ideas. A female think tank. Hoity and/or toity to be sure, but in olden times the intellectuals were those who could afford to be so. Flash forward in the evolution of the salon and you get the founders hammering out a constitution, or the fun loving guys who brought us the atomic bomb, or further still the folks who sat around and planned the Iraq war over coffee and eggplant sandwiches. When planning your next salon, invite smart people, make finger sandwiches shaped like real fingers and spread the breadth and wealth of your enlightened self.
Gemini- Try not to get your knickers in a twist, but you're in a deluge and riding naked in a barrel headed straight for Calamity Falls!®. Ah yes... hyperbole, the enemy of the fearful and the tiny of rectum. Don't take my word for it, plunder yourself a new future! Your mettle is beyond reproach and your intelligence superb even in its infancy. Abjure those who would fight against you, take no part in their little passion play full of fretful word barbs and oral slashing. You are a dignitary, behave as such, despite their apparent lack of manners. Show me, don't tell me that your crotch glands reek of awesome.
Cancer- The 1990's were the 1920's. Now it's the 1930's again: endless crises struggling for air in a meatless ragout of questionable capitalism, soaring unemployment, and dangerous experimental politics. I'm hopeful that when we get around to repeating the 1970's, I will still be young enough to enjoy the drugs, the risky sex, the rebirth of disco, a young Spielberg and Lucas before they started to piss me off, the re-release of the improved Ford Pinto (no explosions!), and a simpler time when you could buy fake guns for your kids to play with that looked pretty much identical to real weaponry. The new Cold War with China is already getting started, so I'm getting excited about the prospects. Stand by me because-- next stop, the 1950's. Prepare your El Vis ®.
Leo- Never Say Never Again is double-OO-awesome. Even though it's a remake of Thunderball, and it's the only Bond not produced by Eon Productions, and you bet-- lawsuits, acrimony and the not unanticipated prick waving. Anyway, Connery had this great toupee, worked even under water. Also an early role for Kim Bassinger and weird cool Max von Sydow temper tantrums, who I'm willing to bet is creepy in real life too. And directed by Irvin Kershner, yeah... Empire Strikes Back, so derrr- awesome, right? And Rowan Atkinson, Mr. frikkin' Bean is in it too, so yeah probably my favorite Bond. As for the title, Connery said he'd never play Bond again. Never say never. You're next. What what was it that you foreswore again?
Virgo- I have a new bug policy. Bugs that I find inside my house, provided they possess some measure of non disgustipating® respectability like spiders and crickets, I will do my best to capture in some hastily devised contraption, such as a cup and a piece of paper, and then release outside, back into the wild where they may be free to copulate or do whatever. Call me racist, but ants, despite their close kinship to our own worker engrossed society, will all come to a squashing end under my fist of justice. In fact, I freely admit that I enjoy killing ants, not everyday mind you and never while pleasuring myself, but when the time necessitates and they have invaded my domicile uninvited. Spiders and crickets do good by us, they eat other bugs. Ants are only out for themselves. Adjust your bug policy appropriately, including all of your human-bug relations.
Libra- The coffee houses of the 1600's were what Starbucks aspires to. Coffee was relatively new to the west; ideas and thinking were popular back then, not bullshit like now times. They were places for discussion, "a place for virtuosi and wits, rather than for the plebes or roués who were typical patrons of the alcoholic drinking houses". I do not, however advocate teetotalling® your world until you see the clear sober light of day. As Homer said, "I prefer illusion to despair", but I would recommend that during your typical engagement of mind bending alteration, that you find some moments to discuss the ins and outs of the philosophy of the evolution of your person within the con and sub texts of the 7 billion sharing air with you right now. The world is not what you think.
Scorpio- You are a mythological mustilid. You are a scintillating scimitar, slicing and scavenging on carcasses avoided even by carrion. Eat of the dead. Eat of their history. Chew thoroughly and swallow and digest and defecate, and ponder. You are a dragon, a wyvern, a wyrm and a cockatrice, eater of snakes and crocodiles. Your mouth is electric and your feet reverberate with the syncopated jumps and sprints and jigs and air walking that your conscious mind wills into being out of string theory and breakfast cereal and sitting up in bed out of a sound sleep knowing, sensing that this is a moment of your own mortality, but only of the body; the spirit is infinite and ever existing. You are a neuronic string dancer and the king's most prized fool.
Sagittarius- My propensity for discounting the assets and blessings in my life is rivaled only by my short memory and lack of focus. Speaking of which, I like cinnamon rolls, in fact I'm a bit of a connoisseur, a cardamonaphile® to turn a phrase, but eventually I sate myself with sugar, or alcohol, or sex, or or self pity, or running full speed into whatever wall I can find, and then when I'm retracing my steps as to how I got such a concussion, I remember briefly the blessings that I'd discounted and forgotten, as if they were only the beginning of my ego's leaps into obsession. Not good enough, never going to be good enough, are they? Will I ever be good enough? Never. Wait. Breathe. A brief sky dalliance and and then return to alight on this earth, this grand firmament, albeit only a temporary refuge for my spirit.
Capricorn- 23 Across, Kyrgyzstan border town, three letters. Crap, all I know are Kyrgyzstan border towns with four letters. Up yours, Will Shortz. Really, that's seems like a relevant enough clue? Sounds like you got into a corner and had to punt, and got lucky that there actually is a town called Osh, which I assume is the headquarters for the eponymous home supply company. I call bullshit anyway, with your Wiki-degree and your fancy pants, and hey, there's no secret puzzle here, pal. I mean = you stink. I pray that you can recover more relevance than Will or I in your search for epic truthiness.
Aquarius- Should you find yourself of a mind, as oft I am wont, that none of this be real, our legs dependent upon strings of questionable fictional samsara, then you will surely reflect and emulate my obsession with nondisambiguation™. Rather than clear, I muddle. I oppose order, until I don't, until clarity is needed, then I don my best stout zephyr and blow moroccan fog to its saharan demise to be dispersed like my brain's effluvium after a much needed enema. Find your muse, and use the crap out of it/her/him. It's your only hope.
Pisces- When I orders a pizza pie from my local paisan, I always tips big, see. I figure, hey-- you know me, I like pies, I tips yous nice right, yous makes it hot and spicy, capiche? Give and freakkin' take, you dig, spartan soul child? Random intersecting points, nucleic nexii where we can interface with each others' individualitinessocity®, and grope each other sans eyes searching for our soft wet spots in the hopes of satisfying these reptile brains and limbic loins. For yous only da best. But hey, don't forgets my tip. Pizza ain't free. I heard from this schizoid minstrel that only love is.
disclaimer: Satire is a lighthouse, a beacon and a dessert after a crowful meal.
this week: You can crane your neck, but if you neck with a crane, you'll get pregnant.
Aries- We all step in poop. I choose to believe that it is the poop's origin which is the of the utmost of importance in determining one's fate, much like chicken bones in a tea cup. One's fortunes invariably vary according to the defecating animal in question. In the "business", we call that poop zero. Not to get tangential, but poop is always involved, am I right? Nevertheless I can tell by the state of your current underfoot poopprint® that possibly due to subconscious dieting or even a negative impact diagonal design that you are overdue for a sorely needed mojo enhancement. Your genitals are there to help you in times of crises. Scrape it off, put it in a brown paper bag, find your spiritual doorstep and.. light.. it.. up.
Taurus- In 17th century France, an invitation to a salon was quite the affair. Rather than hair and nails, it was a gathering of people (generally women) held to amuse one another, to refine taste and increase the knowledge of the participants through conversation, literature and ideas. A female think tank. Hoity and/or toity to be sure, but in olden times the intellectuals were those who could afford to be so. Flash forward in the evolution of the salon and you get the founders hammering out a constitution, or the fun loving guys who brought us the atomic bomb, or further still the folks who sat around and planned the Iraq war over coffee and eggplant sandwiches. When planning your next salon, invite smart people, make finger sandwiches shaped like real fingers and spread the breadth and wealth of your enlightened self.
Gemini- Try not to get your knickers in a twist, but you're in a deluge and riding naked in a barrel headed straight for Calamity Falls!®. Ah yes... hyperbole, the enemy of the fearful and the tiny of rectum. Don't take my word for it, plunder yourself a new future! Your mettle is beyond reproach and your intelligence superb even in its infancy. Abjure those who would fight against you, take no part in their little passion play full of fretful word barbs and oral slashing. You are a dignitary, behave as such, despite their apparent lack of manners. Show me, don't tell me that your crotch glands reek of awesome.
Cancer- The 1990's were the 1920's. Now it's the 1930's again: endless crises struggling for air in a meatless ragout of questionable capitalism, soaring unemployment, and dangerous experimental politics. I'm hopeful that when we get around to repeating the 1970's, I will still be young enough to enjoy the drugs, the risky sex, the rebirth of disco, a young Spielberg and Lucas before they started to piss me off, the re-release of the improved Ford Pinto (no explosions!), and a simpler time when you could buy fake guns for your kids to play with that looked pretty much identical to real weaponry. The new Cold War with China is already getting started, so I'm getting excited about the prospects. Stand by me because-- next stop, the 1950's. Prepare your El Vis ®.
Leo- Never Say Never Again is double-OO-awesome. Even though it's a remake of Thunderball, and it's the only Bond not produced by Eon Productions, and you bet-- lawsuits, acrimony and the not unanticipated prick waving. Anyway, Connery had this great toupee, worked even under water. Also an early role for Kim Bassinger and weird cool Max von Sydow temper tantrums, who I'm willing to bet is creepy in real life too. And directed by Irvin Kershner, yeah... Empire Strikes Back, so derrr- awesome, right? And Rowan Atkinson, Mr. frikkin' Bean is in it too, so yeah probably my favorite Bond. As for the title, Connery said he'd never play Bond again. Never say never. You're next. What what was it that you foreswore again?
Virgo- I have a new bug policy. Bugs that I find inside my house, provided they possess some measure of non disgustipating® respectability like spiders and crickets, I will do my best to capture in some hastily devised contraption, such as a cup and a piece of paper, and then release outside, back into the wild where they may be free to copulate or do whatever. Call me racist, but ants, despite their close kinship to our own worker engrossed society, will all come to a squashing end under my fist of justice. In fact, I freely admit that I enjoy killing ants, not everyday mind you and never while pleasuring myself, but when the time necessitates and they have invaded my domicile uninvited. Spiders and crickets do good by us, they eat other bugs. Ants are only out for themselves. Adjust your bug policy appropriately, including all of your human-bug relations.
Libra- The coffee houses of the 1600's were what Starbucks aspires to. Coffee was relatively new to the west; ideas and thinking were popular back then, not bullshit like now times. They were places for discussion, "a place for virtuosi and wits, rather than for the plebes or roués who were typical patrons of the alcoholic drinking houses". I do not, however advocate teetotalling® your world until you see the clear sober light of day. As Homer said, "I prefer illusion to despair", but I would recommend that during your typical engagement of mind bending alteration, that you find some moments to discuss the ins and outs of the philosophy of the evolution of your person within the con and sub texts of the 7 billion sharing air with you right now. The world is not what you think.
Scorpio- You are a mythological mustilid. You are a scintillating scimitar, slicing and scavenging on carcasses avoided even by carrion. Eat of the dead. Eat of their history. Chew thoroughly and swallow and digest and defecate, and ponder. You are a dragon, a wyvern, a wyrm and a cockatrice, eater of snakes and crocodiles. Your mouth is electric and your feet reverberate with the syncopated jumps and sprints and jigs and air walking that your conscious mind wills into being out of string theory and breakfast cereal and sitting up in bed out of a sound sleep knowing, sensing that this is a moment of your own mortality, but only of the body; the spirit is infinite and ever existing. You are a neuronic string dancer and the king's most prized fool.
Sagittarius- My propensity for discounting the assets and blessings in my life is rivaled only by my short memory and lack of focus. Speaking of which, I like cinnamon rolls, in fact I'm a bit of a connoisseur, a cardamonaphile® to turn a phrase, but eventually I sate myself with sugar, or alcohol, or sex, or or self pity, or running full speed into whatever wall I can find, and then when I'm retracing my steps as to how I got such a concussion, I remember briefly the blessings that I'd discounted and forgotten, as if they were only the beginning of my ego's leaps into obsession. Not good enough, never going to be good enough, are they? Will I ever be good enough? Never. Wait. Breathe. A brief sky dalliance and and then return to alight on this earth, this grand firmament, albeit only a temporary refuge for my spirit.
Capricorn- 23 Across, Kyrgyzstan border town, three letters. Crap, all I know are Kyrgyzstan border towns with four letters. Up yours, Will Shortz. Really, that's seems like a relevant enough clue? Sounds like you got into a corner and had to punt, and got lucky that there actually is a town called Osh, which I assume is the headquarters for the eponymous home supply company. I call bullshit anyway, with your Wiki-degree and your fancy pants, and hey, there's no secret puzzle here, pal. I mean = you stink. I pray that you can recover more relevance than Will or I in your search for epic truthiness.
Aquarius- Should you find yourself of a mind, as oft I am wont, that none of this be real, our legs dependent upon strings of questionable fictional samsara, then you will surely reflect and emulate my obsession with nondisambiguation™. Rather than clear, I muddle. I oppose order, until I don't, until clarity is needed, then I don my best stout zephyr and blow moroccan fog to its saharan demise to be dispersed like my brain's effluvium after a much needed enema. Find your muse, and use the crap out of it/her/him. It's your only hope.
Pisces- When I orders a pizza pie from my local paisan, I always tips big, see. I figure, hey-- you know me, I like pies, I tips yous nice right, yous makes it hot and spicy, capiche? Give and freakkin' take, you dig, spartan soul child? Random intersecting points, nucleic nexii where we can interface with each others' individualitinessocity®, and grope each other sans eyes searching for our soft wet spots in the hopes of satisfying these reptile brains and limbic loins. For yous only da best. But hey, don't forgets my tip. Pizza ain't free. I heard from this schizoid minstrel that only love is.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: I drink your milkshake.
this week: There's no 'end' in 'friendship'. Except that there is.
Aries- After a heated debate I had the other night regarding the differences vis a vis sweaters vs sweatshirts; vis a vis zipper, no zipper, hood, no hood, my grandma made this for me, or simply that I'm allegedly "stalking" Bill Cosby... anyhoo, the conflict nearly erupted into fisticuffs, probably due to the scotch that started the time sucking vortex of mootlessness™, and then epiphany: the pursuit of minutia is advantageous to our survival, even though it occasionally leads to war. Everything we experience we catalogue, we dissect, we study, we eat information with our eyes and poop it out our brainholes. And friend, not to get weird on you, but your brainholes need a good scrubbing. You have... dense build-up. Unclog, brother, unclog.
Taurus- A most hidden perfect fruit of democracy is your right to verbalize any crazy political thought regardless of how stupid it makes you look. Despite their defunctitude™, the Know Nothing Party of the mid 1850's has had many bigoted incarnations, most recently the birther movement. Within the strata of any society, there will inevitably be a layer of rock so intolerant, so fearful, so ignorant that their logic mandates proselytizing their political will onto others in an effort to form a perfect society, which of course sounds like such a great idea, right? Ignorance is the enemy of compassion. Engender knowledge and you will be truly free. Know something, know anything and all.
Gemini- In The Apotheosis of George Washington, our first president and british ass kicker, the G-Wash is depicted as man becoming god, hence the fresco's catchy title. I love artists who don't need to fall back on hyperbole to make a point. I'm building my own pedestal out of a paste I make from old espresso grounds and bat guano, which is no fun to harvest, but makes great pedestal cement, despite of the constant threat of a rabid infarction trauma®, and of course the ever present miasma of bat guano wafting heavenwards toward my enlightenedness. Forge your own pedestal material and become Rodan, embody Bernini, channel Chillida, and ask Dali for a dance. Ascendancy is your birthright. The guano is mine.
Cancer- Raintree County, posit: the multiverse is so big and so old that all of this has happened before. You are but one part of one cycle of the ever weaving cosmic fabric. You are a semi-sentient grain of sand on a cosmic beach, tossed about by crashing branes. That said, it's time to speak of rock solid foundations and the floating piece of broken off glacier on which you've been squatting. Soon you will sail into more tropical waters, and the need for a permanent base not made of pre-cambrian ice shelf will become imperative. When you find your mainland, decorate it to your taste and then eat some cocoanuts to cure your ice scurvy.
Leo- A bunghole is no laughing matter. It's the hole drilled into a cask or a barrel so that you can get the booze out, get your drunk on, and then you stuff the hole with a cork, also known as... a bung. Now, I know what you're thinking. How am I going to ruin this perfectly well meaning 'scope about how cool history and words are and shit, into an orgy of butthole references using childish imagery of peoples' nethers, replete with taint jokes that will prove nauseatingly puerile. Yeah well, you don't know me. You don't know the one who dreams of you at night, who longs to kiss your lips, and wants to hold you tight. Your bunghole is your business.
Virgo- This week I recommend you strive to be a little more Boss Tweed and a little less Andy Gibb. A little more Paul Newman, a little less Darrel Strawberry. A bunch more David Copperfield, but not the magic one. Timothy Leary, not Squeaky Fromme. Bite into a chocolate torte of Scarlett Johanssen, but not the paella of Eva Peron. And for crap's sake, not any, repeat, nary a molecule of Red Skelton, he weirds me out despite his national treasurosity™. Furtherlymore® you can bring Tesla or even that greedy jerk Alva Edison all the way downtown, but stay away from Newton, he has nothing to do with figs or any sweet fruit filling, and his theories are as outrageous as his choice of knickers. Find the middle path. Be the tightrope.
Libra- No.5 is alive and Ally Sheedy is hot on your trail. No disassemble. No disassemble! And yes, butterfly pretty. but keep your eye on the ball here: Ally is coming for you. She will stop at nothing. You and your precious little breakfast club will be nothing but fodder for her wargames. Saint Elmo will avail you not, your armada is in a stormy sea of peril. I recommend you return to spain, tell the king to get over her, I mean I thought the dude is gay anyway, so what does the king of spain want with a wife, right? Also keep an eye out for a NOVA Robotics van and/or anyone named Gutenberg. Steve gets "hungry" during the full moon.
Scorpio- Heads up and fair warning: this may sound a bit like an alarum back-asswards®, but you are about to go ass over tea kettle, arms akimbo and dangerously close to the margin of error plus or minus two jigawatts. Just one more double bonus leprechaun four cherries no lie straight up winner winner chicken dinner, and you will double forfeit all terms and conditions void where uninhibited, etc, etc per anno domine in the patrae ad infinauseum® and suckem the big fat one, amen, and so say we all. However, despite overwhelming odds, the dragon-mounted serpent king will not be victorious over your soul. Henceforth and forthwith and in all known dominions, as per the Treaty of Xargon 7 circa 2417, you are free and clear as of etc, etc, et. al., circa this thursday. Party on, Garth.
Sagittarius- Transdermal®, subliminal, and sub-irregular-fontainebleau are the wicked ways of your sorcerous plots and chaotic deus ex machiavellian machinations. You are hypersonic and sonambulatoriously® absurd. Lest I run afoul of your hair trigger temper, forgiveness I beg, but your abrasions and your damning evidence and your bunny socks are distracting me from the point at hand. We are individuals, you and I. As usual, Captain Kirk's wisdom is deep and wise, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known." Damn the Dickensian world of yesteryear, go forth, Sky-Archer. Fill thy plate with mannic® honey as reward for thy true arrow's work.
Capricorn- "Humor is the spiciest condiment in the feast of existence", or so said, Lucy Maud Montgomery. I say the spiciest condiment is Uncle Chester's Jalapenopallooza Sauce®, the number one cause of blindness in Calaveras County! And it clearly says on the bottle, KEEP AWAY FROM EYES. Also don't spill any on your lap, especially if you're eating tacos at three in the morning while sitting naked in your kitchen. I am often without pants and find it liberating and mentally stimulating. However, and this is sage advice so I expect you to actually read this part: KEEP AWAY FROM GENITALS. Uncle Chester is a pallooza for your mouth, not your junk.
Aquarius- There is no such thing as a solid. What appears to be solid is actually composed of a ridiculous amount of space. Atoms may seem packed together creating matter, but there is actually more space between those atoms than there is anything solid. Furtherlymore™ our bodies may be 78% water, but we are 99% empty space. Well... it's not empty space, but that is an entirely other kettle of fish of a different colour, sub-nuclearly speaking. your current manifestation of self is spiritual energy gathering up atoms and squashing them together in a way that makes your ass look super good in those pants. Trippy shit, space cadet.
Pisces- One of the Great Smog Events of the 20th century occurred in Donora, Pa. in 1948, when an air inversion trapped pollution from the local zinc smelting plant covering the town for a day, killing 20 and nauseating everyone else. Coal burning and an anticyclone are responsible for the Great Smog of London in 1952, which lasted several days, killing an estimated 4,000 people. Ergo, smog events suck. Your current brown out is about to be swept out to sea, however, and in the clear light of unsullied atmo you will find your biggest desire (and ironically your biggest fear) to be standing right in front of you with open arms and waiting lips.
disclaimer: I drink your milkshake.
this week: There's no 'end' in 'friendship'. Except that there is.
Aries- After a heated debate I had the other night regarding the differences vis a vis sweaters vs sweatshirts; vis a vis zipper, no zipper, hood, no hood, my grandma made this for me, or simply that I'm allegedly "stalking" Bill Cosby... anyhoo, the conflict nearly erupted into fisticuffs, probably due to the scotch that started the time sucking vortex of mootlessness™, and then epiphany: the pursuit of minutia is advantageous to our survival, even though it occasionally leads to war. Everything we experience we catalogue, we dissect, we study, we eat information with our eyes and poop it out our brainholes. And friend, not to get weird on you, but your brainholes need a good scrubbing. You have... dense build-up. Unclog, brother, unclog.
Taurus- A most hidden perfect fruit of democracy is your right to verbalize any crazy political thought regardless of how stupid it makes you look. Despite their defunctitude™, the Know Nothing Party of the mid 1850's has had many bigoted incarnations, most recently the birther movement. Within the strata of any society, there will inevitably be a layer of rock so intolerant, so fearful, so ignorant that their logic mandates proselytizing their political will onto others in an effort to form a perfect society, which of course sounds like such a great idea, right? Ignorance is the enemy of compassion. Engender knowledge and you will be truly free. Know something, know anything and all.
Gemini- In The Apotheosis of George Washington, our first president and british ass kicker, the G-Wash is depicted as man becoming god, hence the fresco's catchy title. I love artists who don't need to fall back on hyperbole to make a point. I'm building my own pedestal out of a paste I make from old espresso grounds and bat guano, which is no fun to harvest, but makes great pedestal cement, despite of the constant threat of a rabid infarction trauma®, and of course the ever present miasma of bat guano wafting heavenwards toward my enlightenedness. Forge your own pedestal material and become Rodan, embody Bernini, channel Chillida, and ask Dali for a dance. Ascendancy is your birthright. The guano is mine.
Cancer- Raintree County, posit: the multiverse is so big and so old that all of this has happened before. You are but one part of one cycle of the ever weaving cosmic fabric. You are a semi-sentient grain of sand on a cosmic beach, tossed about by crashing branes. That said, it's time to speak of rock solid foundations and the floating piece of broken off glacier on which you've been squatting. Soon you will sail into more tropical waters, and the need for a permanent base not made of pre-cambrian ice shelf will become imperative. When you find your mainland, decorate it to your taste and then eat some cocoanuts to cure your ice scurvy.
Leo- A bunghole is no laughing matter. It's the hole drilled into a cask or a barrel so that you can get the booze out, get your drunk on, and then you stuff the hole with a cork, also known as... a bung. Now, I know what you're thinking. How am I going to ruin this perfectly well meaning 'scope about how cool history and words are and shit, into an orgy of butthole references using childish imagery of peoples' nethers, replete with taint jokes that will prove nauseatingly puerile. Yeah well, you don't know me. You don't know the one who dreams of you at night, who longs to kiss your lips, and wants to hold you tight. Your bunghole is your business.
Virgo- This week I recommend you strive to be a little more Boss Tweed and a little less Andy Gibb. A little more Paul Newman, a little less Darrel Strawberry. A bunch more David Copperfield, but not the magic one. Timothy Leary, not Squeaky Fromme. Bite into a chocolate torte of Scarlett Johanssen, but not the paella of Eva Peron. And for crap's sake, not any, repeat, nary a molecule of Red Skelton, he weirds me out despite his national treasurosity™. Furtherlymore® you can bring Tesla or even that greedy jerk Alva Edison all the way downtown, but stay away from Newton, he has nothing to do with figs or any sweet fruit filling, and his theories are as outrageous as his choice of knickers. Find the middle path. Be the tightrope.
Libra- No.5 is alive and Ally Sheedy is hot on your trail. No disassemble. No disassemble! And yes, butterfly pretty. but keep your eye on the ball here: Ally is coming for you. She will stop at nothing. You and your precious little breakfast club will be nothing but fodder for her wargames. Saint Elmo will avail you not, your armada is in a stormy sea of peril. I recommend you return to spain, tell the king to get over her, I mean I thought the dude is gay anyway, so what does the king of spain want with a wife, right? Also keep an eye out for a NOVA Robotics van and/or anyone named Gutenberg. Steve gets "hungry" during the full moon.
Scorpio- Heads up and fair warning: this may sound a bit like an alarum back-asswards®, but you are about to go ass over tea kettle, arms akimbo and dangerously close to the margin of error plus or minus two jigawatts. Just one more double bonus leprechaun four cherries no lie straight up winner winner chicken dinner, and you will double forfeit all terms and conditions void where uninhibited, etc, etc per anno domine in the patrae ad infinauseum® and suckem the big fat one, amen, and so say we all. However, despite overwhelming odds, the dragon-mounted serpent king will not be victorious over your soul. Henceforth and forthwith and in all known dominions, as per the Treaty of Xargon 7 circa 2417, you are free and clear as of etc, etc, et. al., circa this thursday. Party on, Garth.
Sagittarius- Transdermal®, subliminal, and sub-irregular-fontainebleau are the wicked ways of your sorcerous plots and chaotic deus ex machiavellian machinations. You are hypersonic and sonambulatoriously® absurd. Lest I run afoul of your hair trigger temper, forgiveness I beg, but your abrasions and your damning evidence and your bunny socks are distracting me from the point at hand. We are individuals, you and I. As usual, Captain Kirk's wisdom is deep and wise, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known." Damn the Dickensian world of yesteryear, go forth, Sky-Archer. Fill thy plate with mannic® honey as reward for thy true arrow's work.
Capricorn- "Humor is the spiciest condiment in the feast of existence", or so said, Lucy Maud Montgomery. I say the spiciest condiment is Uncle Chester's Jalapenopallooza Sauce®, the number one cause of blindness in Calaveras County! And it clearly says on the bottle, KEEP AWAY FROM EYES. Also don't spill any on your lap, especially if you're eating tacos at three in the morning while sitting naked in your kitchen. I am often without pants and find it liberating and mentally stimulating. However, and this is sage advice so I expect you to actually read this part: KEEP AWAY FROM GENITALS. Uncle Chester is a pallooza for your mouth, not your junk.
Aquarius- There is no such thing as a solid. What appears to be solid is actually composed of a ridiculous amount of space. Atoms may seem packed together creating matter, but there is actually more space between those atoms than there is anything solid. Furtherlymore™ our bodies may be 78% water, but we are 99% empty space. Well... it's not empty space, but that is an entirely other kettle of fish of a different colour, sub-nuclearly speaking. your current manifestation of self is spiritual energy gathering up atoms and squashing them together in a way that makes your ass look super good in those pants. Trippy shit, space cadet.
Pisces- One of the Great Smog Events of the 20th century occurred in Donora, Pa. in 1948, when an air inversion trapped pollution from the local zinc smelting plant covering the town for a day, killing 20 and nauseating everyone else. Coal burning and an anticyclone are responsible for the Great Smog of London in 1952, which lasted several days, killing an estimated 4,000 people. Ergo, smog events suck. Your current brown out is about to be swept out to sea, however, and in the clear light of unsullied atmo you will find your biggest desire (and ironically your biggest fear) to be standing right in front of you with open arms and waiting lips.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Dr. Pants McTurd's MORE Than True
Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire should be seen and heard and in your face and beer flavored.
this week: Whatever you're expecting, that's not it. This is also not it.
Aries- Intuit this in your cap and smoke it: IN-Tu-IT, as in you are 'In-To-It'. Allow your mind to wrap the celestial enigma in neurons and intellect and grok the crap out of it, poop it out through a fertile spiral arm, and flush it toward some irreversible end-- the black hole, the portal at our galaxy's center, your spirit evolving towards its true angelic nature. You are 'In To It', space cowboy. Maurice, my friend you are knowledge from within. You are the pompitus of love. Buy yourself some super yogurt, digest that bacteria and create your own galaxy full of unicorns and never ending waffle service.
Taurus- As we perceive it, the nature of time seems irrefutable, irreversible, and irascible. We are subject to ripples, eddies, cosmic tides, string waves® and brane collisions that we currently lack the power to predict. The 'verse seems a maelstrom with occasional bouts of peace and seemingly interminable struggle and strife. That said, it's almost fudge season and the time of year when all of us northern hemisphereans can unite in the spirit of eating and wearing warm clothes. The next galactic collision is still four billion years away, so have some fudge and enjoy the eye of the cosmic storm.
Gemini- Sports are the last acceptable refuge for our gladiator blood sport thrill seeking ids that got us through the last ice age when there was real struggle for survival. Our ancestors fought wooly mammoths with spears for crap's sake. Spears. And I suppose, intellect and collectivism, early socialists perhaps? The survival of the group and the individual depends on not stomping on anyone's head, but rather sharing and expanding upon the conscientious brain farts that squeeze out of each one of us. Shelve your need for in-your-face revenge orgies. The mammoths of the future will need slaying. Hugs not 'roids.
Cancer- The following is a true account of two brothers and a broken toilet seat from the future. Jokingly, one brother tells the other that his toilet seat is broken. No reason not to believe him, the other brother buys a new seat, comes home, wtf?, it's not broken. Meanwhile, the first brother breaks his own toilet seat, probably because he always sits his big ass down like a ton of bricks. Luckily the first brother just bought a new toilet seat-- how fortuitously coincidental. Or not coincidental? Is that the only kind of dental there is? Do we make the future happen with our mind powers, wtf? These are big questions, take your time, and sit carefully when using the throne.
Leo- The American Kennel Club is the only organization which is legally allowed to pursue eugenics. There are more breeds of dog than any other earthly animal. We make all kinds of fucked up dogs. It's creepy. Probably a good thing we draw the genetic enhancement line at canines. Our "natural" evolution is working out pretty good. We have a proportionate number of jocks, nerds, sociopaths, empaths, psychopaths, organizers, isolationists, do-nothings, poets, politicians, ditherers, warriors, lolly-gaggers, diplomats and lovers (and haters) of 16th century Italian art. Donatello, a polymath my ass!-- the guy coasted on his looks and his money. Be who you are, be what you're like. Your phenotype knows what it's doing.
Virgo- The U.S. has been supplying the world with weapons for a long time, at a tidy profit. Desperate for a silver lining, I suppose it's our attempt at unilateralism. But we've been missing a niche market-- endangered species, especially the primates with their opposable digits and problem solving abilities. Maybe fighting for their own existences with the aid of some semi automatic rifles and anti tank grenades would keep away the poachers and purveyors of bush meat, and teach those monkeys a lesson in survival. Of course to absolve ourselves of the blame for escalating the Ape vs Human WWIII of 2035, we should probably just finish chopping down the rainforests, and all the apes can come live in the mega-cities of the future, side by side with humans. Peace in our time. Arm the apes!
Libra- The word apology has ancient roots. In ancient Greece, it was a form of rhetoric, in which a believer in a certain ideology, usually religious in nature, would defend their position using logic. A vindication; I'm right and here's why. Over time, as the past became the now, apologetics evolved into admission of sin, culpability, guilt, perhaps the very creation of the superego taking its cyclical turn at bat influencing our collective unconscious. Reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, and our unbitted lusts. Compassion, empathy, widespread pandemic shit giving, alms for the poor, and a cure for all ills and pain. A true panacea. A world without sin. Fuckin-A.
Scorpio- Pluribus hubris cunnilingus is not someone who's into having oral sex on a bed of hundred dollar bills. It is, however, a cautionary tale. Money is freedom. One could argue that we're slaves, the free market system a sham, forced down our throats as the only viable means of survival. However, money gives our upward societal mobility better traction. Education is evolution. In most of human history, only the wealthy could afford to be educated. Knowledge is power. Money is freedom. Time is money. The business of America is business. You can't make a frog wear striped pajamas after Labor Day. Money is an arbitrary sword, and it's under your influence; wield it as you would your private parts at the opposing armies of darkness.
Sagittarius- The reverse evolution of 'Check yourself before you wreck yourself' is 'Shake it, but don't break it'. I verified that in an independent study when I watched Silver Streak on tv the other day for the umpteenth time. The previous incarnation of this sage advice was in the 1930's with the saying, 'Mmmyeah, see...', which in the late 1800's translated to something like, "Get out of my knickers, you bum-goggler!'. I posit that everything has happened before; the 'verse is that old and that big. Meanwhile, in your current incarnation, your next evolution is imminent. May I suggest something along the lines of, 'Snap the crack, you defunct haberdasher'. Inspire the future, and don't forget to pass along what you have learned.
Capricorn- For about 8 months in 1974, Herb Albert was the only thing that made sense in a world gone mad. Buh-buh-buh-buh-baa-baa-baa-ba, and repeat until you finish that third martini. It was also the last time anything coming out of Tijuana didn't attempt to turn your alimentary canal inside out. I surmise that it's the power of the trumpet-- a noun and a verb btw (neat!). I propose that trumpets are harbingers of peace, clarity and prodigal returns to wombish™ safety. It's a fallacy that angels use them to call souls to the final battle-- total tripe. This 'verse ain't got no final anything. An angel's trumpet is the all clear signal. Olly Olly Oxen Free. It's safe, come home. Dinner's ready, and there's beer and whiskey.
Aquarius- The intersection of water, air and earth, casually known in some circles as the "beach" is my favorite nexus and doorway to something that is much larger than myself. I can run no further once I reach the coast. Acceptance is so difficult inland, where there is no respite from matters familial, financial, or fraternal. But the beach... is to contemplate the farther world, one where our intellect is not the center, but rather a salty drop in a cosmic ocean. The world is a grand firmament and our view is divine. Ocean plus sand plus air equals a confluence of atoms and energy and thence glorious multi form matter in infinite variety. Run your ass to the beach, stop trying to fix, and observe.
Pisces- My newly invented Dread Removal Device® has been approved by all government regulatory agencies and is available for widespread use. Also, despite current projections of over population, dwindling resources and lack of oxygen, ozone, and it turns out helium (who knew...?), keep in mind that life is long and life is good. Dread is not a way of life, it's a hairstyle. Put down your boulder for five seconds, you look ridiculous carrying a big stupid rock. And if you order your DRD® online, you get a free trident. Drop your dread and you will once more rule the seas with your trident of awesomeness.
Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire should be seen and heard and in your face and beer flavored.
this week: Whatever you're expecting, that's not it. This is also not it.
Aries- Intuit this in your cap and smoke it: IN-Tu-IT, as in you are 'In-To-It'. Allow your mind to wrap the celestial enigma in neurons and intellect and grok the crap out of it, poop it out through a fertile spiral arm, and flush it toward some irreversible end-- the black hole, the portal at our galaxy's center, your spirit evolving towards its true angelic nature. You are 'In To It', space cowboy. Maurice, my friend you are knowledge from within. You are the pompitus of love. Buy yourself some super yogurt, digest that bacteria and create your own galaxy full of unicorns and never ending waffle service.
Taurus- As we perceive it, the nature of time seems irrefutable, irreversible, and irascible. We are subject to ripples, eddies, cosmic tides, string waves® and brane collisions that we currently lack the power to predict. The 'verse seems a maelstrom with occasional bouts of peace and seemingly interminable struggle and strife. That said, it's almost fudge season and the time of year when all of us northern hemisphereans can unite in the spirit of eating and wearing warm clothes. The next galactic collision is still four billion years away, so have some fudge and enjoy the eye of the cosmic storm.
Gemini- Sports are the last acceptable refuge for our gladiator blood sport thrill seeking ids that got us through the last ice age when there was real struggle for survival. Our ancestors fought wooly mammoths with spears for crap's sake. Spears. And I suppose, intellect and collectivism, early socialists perhaps? The survival of the group and the individual depends on not stomping on anyone's head, but rather sharing and expanding upon the conscientious brain farts that squeeze out of each one of us. Shelve your need for in-your-face revenge orgies. The mammoths of the future will need slaying. Hugs not 'roids.
Cancer- The following is a true account of two brothers and a broken toilet seat from the future. Jokingly, one brother tells the other that his toilet seat is broken. No reason not to believe him, the other brother buys a new seat, comes home, wtf?, it's not broken. Meanwhile, the first brother breaks his own toilet seat, probably because he always sits his big ass down like a ton of bricks. Luckily the first brother just bought a new toilet seat-- how fortuitously coincidental. Or not coincidental? Is that the only kind of dental there is? Do we make the future happen with our mind powers, wtf? These are big questions, take your time, and sit carefully when using the throne.
Leo- The American Kennel Club is the only organization which is legally allowed to pursue eugenics. There are more breeds of dog than any other earthly animal. We make all kinds of fucked up dogs. It's creepy. Probably a good thing we draw the genetic enhancement line at canines. Our "natural" evolution is working out pretty good. We have a proportionate number of jocks, nerds, sociopaths, empaths, psychopaths, organizers, isolationists, do-nothings, poets, politicians, ditherers, warriors, lolly-gaggers, diplomats and lovers (and haters) of 16th century Italian art. Donatello, a polymath my ass!-- the guy coasted on his looks and his money. Be who you are, be what you're like. Your phenotype knows what it's doing.
Virgo- The U.S. has been supplying the world with weapons for a long time, at a tidy profit. Desperate for a silver lining, I suppose it's our attempt at unilateralism. But we've been missing a niche market-- endangered species, especially the primates with their opposable digits and problem solving abilities. Maybe fighting for their own existences with the aid of some semi automatic rifles and anti tank grenades would keep away the poachers and purveyors of bush meat, and teach those monkeys a lesson in survival. Of course to absolve ourselves of the blame for escalating the Ape vs Human WWIII of 2035, we should probably just finish chopping down the rainforests, and all the apes can come live in the mega-cities of the future, side by side with humans. Peace in our time. Arm the apes!
Libra- The word apology has ancient roots. In ancient Greece, it was a form of rhetoric, in which a believer in a certain ideology, usually religious in nature, would defend their position using logic. A vindication; I'm right and here's why. Over time, as the past became the now, apologetics evolved into admission of sin, culpability, guilt, perhaps the very creation of the superego taking its cyclical turn at bat influencing our collective unconscious. Reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, and our unbitted lusts. Compassion, empathy, widespread pandemic shit giving, alms for the poor, and a cure for all ills and pain. A true panacea. A world without sin. Fuckin-A.
Scorpio- Pluribus hubris cunnilingus is not someone who's into having oral sex on a bed of hundred dollar bills. It is, however, a cautionary tale. Money is freedom. One could argue that we're slaves, the free market system a sham, forced down our throats as the only viable means of survival. However, money gives our upward societal mobility better traction. Education is evolution. In most of human history, only the wealthy could afford to be educated. Knowledge is power. Money is freedom. Time is money. The business of America is business. You can't make a frog wear striped pajamas after Labor Day. Money is an arbitrary sword, and it's under your influence; wield it as you would your private parts at the opposing armies of darkness.
Sagittarius- The reverse evolution of 'Check yourself before you wreck yourself' is 'Shake it, but don't break it'. I verified that in an independent study when I watched Silver Streak on tv the other day for the umpteenth time. The previous incarnation of this sage advice was in the 1930's with the saying, 'Mmmyeah, see...', which in the late 1800's translated to something like, "Get out of my knickers, you bum-goggler!'. I posit that everything has happened before; the 'verse is that old and that big. Meanwhile, in your current incarnation, your next evolution is imminent. May I suggest something along the lines of, 'Snap the crack, you defunct haberdasher'. Inspire the future, and don't forget to pass along what you have learned.
Capricorn- For about 8 months in 1974, Herb Albert was the only thing that made sense in a world gone mad. Buh-buh-buh-buh-baa-baa-baa-ba, and repeat until you finish that third martini. It was also the last time anything coming out of Tijuana didn't attempt to turn your alimentary canal inside out. I surmise that it's the power of the trumpet-- a noun and a verb btw (neat!). I propose that trumpets are harbingers of peace, clarity and prodigal returns to wombish™ safety. It's a fallacy that angels use them to call souls to the final battle-- total tripe. This 'verse ain't got no final anything. An angel's trumpet is the all clear signal. Olly Olly Oxen Free. It's safe, come home. Dinner's ready, and there's beer and whiskey.
Aquarius- The intersection of water, air and earth, casually known in some circles as the "beach" is my favorite nexus and doorway to something that is much larger than myself. I can run no further once I reach the coast. Acceptance is so difficult inland, where there is no respite from matters familial, financial, or fraternal. But the beach... is to contemplate the farther world, one where our intellect is not the center, but rather a salty drop in a cosmic ocean. The world is a grand firmament and our view is divine. Ocean plus sand plus air equals a confluence of atoms and energy and thence glorious multi form matter in infinite variety. Run your ass to the beach, stop trying to fix, and observe.
Pisces- My newly invented Dread Removal Device® has been approved by all government regulatory agencies and is available for widespread use. Also, despite current projections of over population, dwindling resources and lack of oxygen, ozone, and it turns out helium (who knew...?), keep in mind that life is long and life is good. Dread is not a way of life, it's a hairstyle. Put down your boulder for five seconds, you look ridiculous carrying a big stupid rock. And if you order your DRD® online, you get a free trident. Drop your dread and you will once more rule the seas with your trident of awesomeness.
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