Dr. Pants' Eerily True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: satire is still satire even when you add chocolate chips.
this week: if i don't exist, then you're not reading this.
Aries- You Aries weirdos remind me of a perpetual motion machine. Unfortunately, they don't actually exist. It's a type of machine that runs forever, always maintaining the same energy of momentum because somehow--there's no friction, drag, or any emotional baggage slowing it down. I reckon you folks have endless energy, which makes you both attractive and annoying. So remember, as you near the speed of light, all your baggage will become weightless, just like the formula, e=m-something times another number symbol... Fight the Friction and Free Our People!
Taurus- We are all floating on an endless sea of hasty generalizations, misleading vividness, overwhelming exceptions, false precision, impotent meanderings, and divine intentions with potentially diabolical outcomes; all in the hopes of finding solid footing on a watery world. Fins are for fish, and I guess some mammals too, but not me; I've feet and thumbs and a brain bigger than a walnut. There is no dimension upon which I will not transgress. Join me in my quest, and... we will totally stop for avocado ice cream and a dolphin sandwich on the way.
Gemini- According to Hoyle, a pig's orgasm lasts thirty minutes. Holy bacon, lettuce and tomato, that makes one ponder-- pigs might be the nearest sibling we have, evolutionarily and personality-wise speaking; but think in terms of a pig... average life of 7 years, living in crap, eating crap, discognizant™ of their own crapulence-- and destined to end up as part of a scramble or glazed with applesauce; not a respectable way to live one's life, regardless of the promises of enlightening tantric sex and unending orgasmilations™. One orgasm at a time, and go easy-- the end of the journey is not the reason for the journey.
Cancer- You're a corkscrew catheter. No wait, you're a carpetbagger with a cacophony of clever cat skills. You are a cantankerous crock pot, containing cretinous kafka-esque cable cars and carved casanovas. You're a crackpot cardboard cut-up, kayaking carnivorously up a creatine creek, creating calming catastrophes, cautious cartwheels and krazy coolness. If you were a cocktail, I would drink you. If you were a waterfall, I would go buy a barrel.
Leo- Can one die without ever having lived? Can the Three Fold Death suffered by the likes of Merlin be transmogrified into a Three Fold Birth? Can one be reborn in this life without dying? So much trivia to occupy one's mindtime and spacetime; the idea that we must suffer to be reborn is so 19th century Pseudo European Bhuddist Enlightenment™. "Seek thou rather to be hanged encompassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her."--Othello Act1 Sc3... Whoever or whatever your 'her' might be. As Joseph Campbell says. "Follow your bliss."
Virgo- "I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness."--- not my words, but in complete agreement with my personal edict aimed directly into your face. You are sunshine, a complimentary cocktail; you're a just out of the oven chocolate chip cookie; and a cold beer on a hot day after pouring concrete and watching football. You're the tops, the bomb, the shizzle in my nizzle or some crap like that. Now, get over yourself and get me an ice cream sandwich and a boilermaker.
Libra- If I were a painting, I would be Scream by Edvard Munch, not really a surprise to anyone who knows me. You, however, are a far more serene master of your environment. I see you somewhere in the impressionists, evoking the sacred balance between the reality and the non reality that exists with us all the time. No surprise that the first day of Libra is a day of equal day and night all over the earth; one austere moment in time. For your birthday, consider hitting an art gallery, putting on roller skates and enjoying the masters' reflection of your own image.
Scorpio- Near my house, there's a little strip mall, that looks like it was painted by the same guy who also does a lot of children's clown theater work. Anyway, it's called Codman Corner. Codman. Who else but a member of the Codman family would consider that a good name for a anything? I don't know who this Cod Man is, but he and his corner annoy me. I had a keen salient point here... Oh yeah, put your faith in the Cod Man. If he can't do it, no one can! Seriously, though, trust no one. And it's never too late to invest in some new fish slippers.
Sagittarius- You remind me of this one time, when this guy said to me at like 6:15am on this weird day last week, he said: "When I get back from makin' love to my woman in roughly 45 minutes, I like to have me some eggs. A big plate of eggs. You dig?". I still don't really understand what the hell he was talking about, but it was so extraordinary that I'm sure it has some deep yet sideways bearing on my life. Since you're pretty weird, let me know if you figure out the link between eggs and sex. Also, keep an ear out for weird stuff; the river of time is moving occasionally backwards these days.
Capricorn- "Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.",... Iago's villainy is equaled only by his succinct pragmatic sagacity. Sure, using wisdom solely in the pursuit of self aggrandizement and whatever passes for earthly riches in your book, is awesome fun that is sometimes frowned upon by the authorities. But I say, keep it up! You can stop and smell the flowers when you're six feet under them. You're a rock, you're an island, and you don't have to look both ways when crossing the street. This week cars will stop for you. Probably, anyway..
Aquarius- Fine, let's keep this simple. An idea, or for that matter even the tiniest thought inside that nebulous brain of yours, is light--literally light. Neurons firing is like lightening in a bottle, your medulla creating a miracle out of pure nothing. The same energy that pushes life forward in this dimension, also creates our ideas, beliefs, creeds, philosophies and our devotion, our love, affection and spiritual invocations. Yours is an especially noisy bottle of lightening, and often more chaotic than most. Stay loosely focused and become the lightening rod. You are Prometheus, act accordingly.
Pisces- "Colorless green ideas sleep furiously", is a sentence written by Noam Chomsky that he claims is grammatically correct, but completely nonsensical. I'm sure this egghead's point was couched inside some other reasonable ontological argument, but personally I think Noam Chomsky is nonsensical and without grammar. I heard the guy wore his underwear outside his pants and prayed to a god he called 'Stinkus Feetus', which was actually just a pile of his dirty socks. May all your ideas be not limited to green, but all the shades wavelengths of visible light; and please sleep furiously, dignified, spiritually, and with your mind open to guardian angels whispering to you from up on high.
a weekly Horrorscope, appearing every Thursday...
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Dr. Pants' Eerily True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: sometimes after a satirical event you may need to flush multiple times.
this week: mental divergence is not just for time travelers from the future
trying to stop a pandemic released by David Morse with a ponytail in 1997.
See what mental divergence can do for you today!
ARIES- Caligula didn't seem insane at first. He ushered in many democratic reforms, such as publishing the account of public funds, cutting taxes, and ensuring democratic elections. Sounds just like a certain George W. I know... ahhhh, benevolent tyrants! It wasn't long, however, before Caligula was replacing the heads of the statues at local temples with busts of his own head. And who could forget the whole appointing his horse to the senate debacle? One lesson to be gleaned is to keep an eye on your tipping point, it's a slippery slope and before you know it you're tossing innocents into the lion pit out of sheer boredom, or appointing your cat Lord Viceroy of the Republic of Wack-a-doos and Spoonerisms. Hold tight the reins, the future is here and it's messy.
TAURUS- Contrary to the tongue map, invented by Harvard psychologist Edwin G. Boring in 1901, the human tongue actually has taste buds for all tastes all over the tongue. You don't taste umami just in one spot, but all over that lolly-gagging tongue of yours. Which I know you were super concerned about. And really, Dr. Boring was studying taste buds? Poor, stupid Dr. Boring, everybody was listening to you, man, until it turned out you didn't know jack about the tongue. In your tongue's case, I cannot stress enough the importance of questioning the source, even if it turns out that savory does indeed happen all over, without human prompting, and completely out of your control. Good luck, cow boy/girl/person/Alf.
GEMINI- I really dig Socrates, and as a corollary, Galileo. He believed that we should be governed, not by democracy, where usually the most vocally aggressive voices are heard above the herd; but rather society is served best when ruled by wise philosophizing intellectuals, aka the philosopher king, aka I hope, Mr. Obama; because a learned person would govern fairly and sagaciously, without bias or prejudice; because a true intellectual understands the concept of 'I benefit the most, by the benefit of all'. That said, how are you doing on that front? Making progress, I hope. Please get me a sandwich on your way home.
CANCER- No matter how hard I try, I have some friends that I only communicate with electronically. No time for face time. Only enough focus for the purpose of immediate gain. Such a shame to ignore the long view of our friendship. Another casualty in an age where we're all more connected than ever, yet becoming somehow more isolated. A variegated life is a healthy one, I forget that all the time. So, when are we going to hang out? I know this great place right on the Seine, where they have the most amazing baked goat cheese and spinach salad and you can watch both the tourists and the local devout traipse in and out of Notre Dame, dreaming of salvation and the unfortunate but necessary trip back home to San Jose. Call me, let's do lunch.
LEO- A famous Sanskrit verse tells us that “our present is the result of all our yesterdays, and the future depends on how well we live today”. Well... today I would like bourbon for breakfast and black licorice for lunch, and then a nap. I want the return of Naked Tuesdays and an easier way to get my fix. I want freedom for my brothers and sisters, who even today, suffer bondage and persecution. I want underwear that doesn't hamper my balls' natural range of motion. I want to become chocolate, so that I can experience one of your own obsessions. I want many things. Get out of your sleepy bunk, sailor-- this may become funk-a-liciously weird and esoterically slippery.
VIRGO- How many random tourist pictures are you in the background of? My estimate is 14.3 pictures per year, assuming that you're not a hermit, idly wandering between stacks of old newspapers in your house, that are laid out, in your opinion, cleverly..., in the same design as the ancient maze at the ancient Palace of Knossus in Greece. My point is that you should try to horn in on as many pictures as possible this week. You're very photogenic and you will be welcomed like family; also, you may experience temporary nirvanistic™ nabobs of nothingness, so pack for two climates.
LIBRA- The sorites paradox asks the age old question, if you have a pile of sand, and you keep removing individual grains of sand from the pile, at what point does it cease to be a pile of sand? Down to one grain? Six? For me personally the answer is the same number as the the number of stars in the Milky Way. Anything smaller and we wouldn't be considered a galaxy, we would be considered a Dodge Caravan. Don't get lost in the counting, or you'll miss all the really cool piles of sand laying everywhere, that heretofore have gone underappreciated, especially the ones that have been trying to tell you something important.
SCORPIO- Pascal's Wager was posed by 17th century physicist Blaise Pascal wherein he states that even if the existence of god could not be determined through reason, a rational person should wager that he does exist, because living life accordingly has everything to gain and nothing to lose. In other words, even men of science want to hedge their bets against an eternity in hell. Fake it till you make it? Even if there is no god, and we're merely the reflection of life seen through a concave mirror-verse, where the real puppet masters-- a race of giant omnipotent and sadistic five dimensional rats, hold dominion over us and mock our every step? Perhaps I've said too much. Place your bets, the rats are watching.
SAGITTARIUS- A syzygy is an alignment, usually of three objects, like planets, or Gummy Bears, or destructive familial dysfunctions. The odds against such trifectas are not so crazy, they happen all the time. If nothing else, this wacky multiverse sure knows how to build stuff. Three is a great number, very solid, makes a great basis for anything, from holy trinities to donuts, both of which I always eat in threes for reasons I won't divulge in this public of a form. Looking at you right now, I see the number two. And three is fast approaching. Grab your socks and whatever rhymes with socks, and be ready for anything.
CAPRICORN- Socrates was Jesus before Jesus was Jesus-- fer reals. Before being convicted of being an intellectual by a jury of 500 of his "peers"-- as if the smartest man alive at that time could have 500 peers--; he took hemlock and became one of our earliest martyrs-- for freedom, dammit; freedom of intelligent expression, that the individual was as important as the ruling class or any fickle opinion of misinformed society at large. Don't take any shit this week, man. I also recommend not taking any hemlock.
AQUARIUS- If you meet the trickster god Loki, do not make any bets with him. Some Norwegian dwarves did back in the time before time, the wager about something trivial, and the consequence being Loki's head if he lost. He did lose, but when the dwarves came to collect the head, Loki said, Ok, just don't take any of my neck. This confounded the dwarves since the exact spot where the neck ends and head begins is historically a bit arbitrary. They argued for days. In the end, Loki kept his head, but the dwarves sewed his lips together instead. The lesson? Don't make bets where beheading might be the outcome. I'm speaking literally and metaphorically, of course.
PISCES- Absolute Zero at -459.67°F, is the point at which matter, even at the subatomic level stops moving. Imagine-- electrons stop spinning, all "solid" matter coming to a screeching halt. Seems to me, you've been hovering at such depths for too long. To avoid the bends on the way back up to normal spacetime, just relax and imagine your atoms, slowly getting back up to speed, until you reach the perfect pitch and vibration that you once were, when all the earth was green and soda cost a nickel. And then, call me, cause we haven't talked in forever.
disclaimer: sometimes after a satirical event you may need to flush multiple times.
this week: mental divergence is not just for time travelers from the future
trying to stop a pandemic released by David Morse with a ponytail in 1997.
See what mental divergence can do for you today!
ARIES- Caligula didn't seem insane at first. He ushered in many democratic reforms, such as publishing the account of public funds, cutting taxes, and ensuring democratic elections. Sounds just like a certain George W. I know... ahhhh, benevolent tyrants! It wasn't long, however, before Caligula was replacing the heads of the statues at local temples with busts of his own head. And who could forget the whole appointing his horse to the senate debacle? One lesson to be gleaned is to keep an eye on your tipping point, it's a slippery slope and before you know it you're tossing innocents into the lion pit out of sheer boredom, or appointing your cat Lord Viceroy of the Republic of Wack-a-doos and Spoonerisms. Hold tight the reins, the future is here and it's messy.
TAURUS- Contrary to the tongue map, invented by Harvard psychologist Edwin G. Boring in 1901, the human tongue actually has taste buds for all tastes all over the tongue. You don't taste umami just in one spot, but all over that lolly-gagging tongue of yours. Which I know you were super concerned about. And really, Dr. Boring was studying taste buds? Poor, stupid Dr. Boring, everybody was listening to you, man, until it turned out you didn't know jack about the tongue. In your tongue's case, I cannot stress enough the importance of questioning the source, even if it turns out that savory does indeed happen all over, without human prompting, and completely out of your control. Good luck, cow boy/girl/person/Alf.
GEMINI- I really dig Socrates, and as a corollary, Galileo. He believed that we should be governed, not by democracy, where usually the most vocally aggressive voices are heard above the herd; but rather society is served best when ruled by wise philosophizing intellectuals, aka the philosopher king, aka I hope, Mr. Obama; because a learned person would govern fairly and sagaciously, without bias or prejudice; because a true intellectual understands the concept of 'I benefit the most, by the benefit of all'. That said, how are you doing on that front? Making progress, I hope. Please get me a sandwich on your way home.
CANCER- No matter how hard I try, I have some friends that I only communicate with electronically. No time for face time. Only enough focus for the purpose of immediate gain. Such a shame to ignore the long view of our friendship. Another casualty in an age where we're all more connected than ever, yet becoming somehow more isolated. A variegated life is a healthy one, I forget that all the time. So, when are we going to hang out? I know this great place right on the Seine, where they have the most amazing baked goat cheese and spinach salad and you can watch both the tourists and the local devout traipse in and out of Notre Dame, dreaming of salvation and the unfortunate but necessary trip back home to San Jose. Call me, let's do lunch.
LEO- A famous Sanskrit verse tells us that “our present is the result of all our yesterdays, and the future depends on how well we live today”. Well... today I would like bourbon for breakfast and black licorice for lunch, and then a nap. I want the return of Naked Tuesdays and an easier way to get my fix. I want freedom for my brothers and sisters, who even today, suffer bondage and persecution. I want underwear that doesn't hamper my balls' natural range of motion. I want to become chocolate, so that I can experience one of your own obsessions. I want many things. Get out of your sleepy bunk, sailor-- this may become funk-a-liciously weird and esoterically slippery.
VIRGO- How many random tourist pictures are you in the background of? My estimate is 14.3 pictures per year, assuming that you're not a hermit, idly wandering between stacks of old newspapers in your house, that are laid out, in your opinion, cleverly..., in the same design as the ancient maze at the ancient Palace of Knossus in Greece. My point is that you should try to horn in on as many pictures as possible this week. You're very photogenic and you will be welcomed like family; also, you may experience temporary nirvanistic™ nabobs of nothingness, so pack for two climates.
LIBRA- The sorites paradox asks the age old question, if you have a pile of sand, and you keep removing individual grains of sand from the pile, at what point does it cease to be a pile of sand? Down to one grain? Six? For me personally the answer is the same number as the the number of stars in the Milky Way. Anything smaller and we wouldn't be considered a galaxy, we would be considered a Dodge Caravan. Don't get lost in the counting, or you'll miss all the really cool piles of sand laying everywhere, that heretofore have gone underappreciated, especially the ones that have been trying to tell you something important.
SCORPIO- Pascal's Wager was posed by 17th century physicist Blaise Pascal wherein he states that even if the existence of god could not be determined through reason, a rational person should wager that he does exist, because living life accordingly has everything to gain and nothing to lose. In other words, even men of science want to hedge their bets against an eternity in hell. Fake it till you make it? Even if there is no god, and we're merely the reflection of life seen through a concave mirror-verse, where the real puppet masters-- a race of giant omnipotent and sadistic five dimensional rats, hold dominion over us and mock our every step? Perhaps I've said too much. Place your bets, the rats are watching.
SAGITTARIUS- A syzygy is an alignment, usually of three objects, like planets, or Gummy Bears, or destructive familial dysfunctions. The odds against such trifectas are not so crazy, they happen all the time. If nothing else, this wacky multiverse sure knows how to build stuff. Three is a great number, very solid, makes a great basis for anything, from holy trinities to donuts, both of which I always eat in threes for reasons I won't divulge in this public of a form. Looking at you right now, I see the number two. And three is fast approaching. Grab your socks and whatever rhymes with socks, and be ready for anything.
CAPRICORN- Socrates was Jesus before Jesus was Jesus-- fer reals. Before being convicted of being an intellectual by a jury of 500 of his "peers"-- as if the smartest man alive at that time could have 500 peers--; he took hemlock and became one of our earliest martyrs-- for freedom, dammit; freedom of intelligent expression, that the individual was as important as the ruling class or any fickle opinion of misinformed society at large. Don't take any shit this week, man. I also recommend not taking any hemlock.
AQUARIUS- If you meet the trickster god Loki, do not make any bets with him. Some Norwegian dwarves did back in the time before time, the wager about something trivial, and the consequence being Loki's head if he lost. He did lose, but when the dwarves came to collect the head, Loki said, Ok, just don't take any of my neck. This confounded the dwarves since the exact spot where the neck ends and head begins is historically a bit arbitrary. They argued for days. In the end, Loki kept his head, but the dwarves sewed his lips together instead. The lesson? Don't make bets where beheading might be the outcome. I'm speaking literally and metaphorically, of course.
PISCES- Absolute Zero at -459.67°F, is the point at which matter, even at the subatomic level stops moving. Imagine-- electrons stop spinning, all "solid" matter coming to a screeching halt. Seems to me, you've been hovering at such depths for too long. To avoid the bends on the way back up to normal spacetime, just relax and imagine your atoms, slowly getting back up to speed, until you reach the perfect pitch and vibration that you once were, when all the earth was green and soda cost a nickel. And then, call me, cause we haven't talked in forever.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
6 !
Dr. Pants' Eerily True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire does not require profanity, but it can't hurt.
this week: Appreciation of absurdism is a key ingredient of an enlightened path and a healthy sex life.
Aries- One could argue that there is no such thing as business ethics. There are only the dual imperatives of making a profit, and not getting caught feloniously in the process. Like cockroaches, nefarious and inconvenient truths hate the kitchen light. Bring out all of your dirty lies, foul calumnies, and lascivious proclivities under the 70 watt bulb of scrutiny and make sure that your behavior stands up to proper scrupling.
Taurus- When the Pledge of Allegiance was written in 1892, the words 'under god' were not part of the speech. Apparently in the 19th century, separation of church and state meant something. Or maybe in the long term, humans will always lean toward stuffing god into any sandwich or onto any pizza regardless of the logical benefits of secularism, especially regarding food/deity metaphors. Based on the evidence at hand, I reckon that god probably tastes super yummy. If you find your god this week, eat of it wholly, holistically, and holily.
Gemini- It doesn't matter if you're a tone deaf bar of chocolate covered cow patties. Or a philandering philatelist. However, if you are a narcoleptic beaver whacker, I will have to report you to the authorities. I'm not exactly sure what branch of law enforcement deals with that particular felony, hopefully not the bomb squad. Is it morally ethical to whack any beaver? Then again, I personally know many beavers that deserve a good whacking, but then again, who am I to judge any dam building mammal? And are humans and beavers the only dam building animals? To avoid any further confusion, find your moral center, put on your favorite leisure suit and paint the town weird.
Cancer- The application of the 5 second rule is dependent upon on 3 factors: 1) the overall quality of the floor, a bathroom at the beach being the penultimate in vomitous floor quality; 2) the importance of the food dropped, if it's a rum ball-- I'm probably gonna wash it off and eat it, even if it dropped in cat litter; and 3) just how hungry you really are, considering the last time you cleaned that particular floor was sometime in early 2008. All life on earth originated with single celled organisms like germs, bacteria and viruses; and how ironic that our immune system evolved to combat such creative and life provoking entities. Eat some germs. They are simultaneously your past and your future.
Leo- 'Sic semper tyrranis' is what John Wilkes Booth screamed after shooting Lincoln. It means 'thus always to tyrants'. Pretty harsh. It's also the state motto of Virginia. Almost as direct is 'Live Free or Die', the state motto of the New Hampshire. Personally, I like Michigan's motto: 'Si quaeris peninsulam amoenam circumspice', meaning if you seek a pleasant peninsula, look around you. No person would ever scream that in either anger or vengeance; only I would imagine, in pleasure. I mean, who doesn't love a good peninsula?! Find yourself a pleasant peninsula this week and have a nice cold beer.
Virgo- You can go suck an egg. You can also get bent, take a hike, go soak your head, go fly a kite, eat dinner with the lemmings, stuff cheese into your crumpet, or if you're feeling particularly saturnalic and kinky, you can purloin your grandmother's knickers and have yourself a hootenanny. Perverted deviance is probably your most attractive quality, next to your hygiene. Just try to let the rest of us 'norms' catch up before you go galavanting into the weird, the wild, and the wooly that is your fetishistic existence.
Libra- Despite its Victorian Age connotation, prudence denotatively speaking, is the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason. Prudential abuse, however is a serious affliction. It takes away from the fun and often naked excitement of knowingly making questionable choices for prurient or tabooistic™ reasons, which I totally support-- when done in a prudent manner. To attain prudential enlightenment, you should be wisely reckless, compassionately orgiastic, and inordinately wacky for at least 7 minutes of each waking hour for the next 723 days.
Scorpio- Kimodo dragons are not known for having good hearing. They do have ear holes though, which leads me to surmise that they can hear just fine, it's that they just don't give a crap about your dull yet ribald life. Someday, when you get to be the largest living lizard of your species, then you too can pretend not to hear stuff. For now, you're stuck listening with the rest of us saps. Deal with it. Learning only happens when ears are open.
Sagittarius- If you put three people in a room together who all think that they're Jesus, wouldn't you think that they could work it out and either pick one Jesus among them, or maybe even come to the realization that believing you're Jesus is just plain nutty, which would cause all the Jesus' to take up macrame or pole dancing in order to take their minds off their savior fetish, and move on with their lives? I know you think about these things too, but somebody is already ahead of us on that experiment-- (just Google Milton Rokeach). Turns out, each Jesus just became more entrenched in their assumed saintliness. My point here is buried in obtusity™. Just come down off the cross, please, and we'll get you some ice cream and bourbon.
Capricorn- The 23 Enigma is the belief that the number 23 is somehow related to all incidents and events. It does seem to pop up way too often to be coincidence, or maybe because I'm looking for it, I find it everywhere, making me a paranoid apophenic. But think about it-- all human cells have 23 pairs of chromosomes; 23 is the sacred number of Eris, goddess of discord; Julius Ceasar was stabbed 23 times; Luke and Han rescue Leia from cellblock AA23; and most importantly, whenever I glance at a clock, more often than not, it's 23 after. I think my point is clear: keep an eye out for your favorite enigmatic number. Your guardian angel might be trying to tell you something.
Aquarius- Darwin, Lincoln, Verne, Carroll, Brecht, Galileo, MacArthur, Dickens, Roosevelt, Lemmon, Newman, Joyce, and Groening, to name a few-- all Aquarians. Seemingly, we are all attractive ingenious rebels, with a penchant for the brilliantly unexpected. There is no down side to being an Aquari---oh shit, Dick Cheney, really? And Sarah Palin?? And Glenn Beck??? Oh, dire, dire crap. Every bag is bound to have a few questionable apples though. Don't let the occasional dog turd in a field of poppies in full bloom on a perfectly sunny day lessen your own perfect perspicacity.
Pisces- LSD was discovered accidentally by a chemist, who got some of the substance on his fingers, and got super high. I call it an incidental trip™. "Kaleidoscopic, fantastic images surged in on me, alternating, variegated, opening and then closing themselves in circles and spirals, exploding in colored fountains, rearranging and hybridizing themselves in constant flux ...", mused Albert Hofmann, incidental tripper™. Sounds great, doesn't it? Unless you have a bunch of stuff to get done at work, and you're too busy tripping and you get fired for staring at your fingers all day because you're waiting for them to 'fing'. My advice: watch out for incidental trips, unexpected ruffies, and friends who say,
'Here, try this',... and everything will coalesce into coolness.
!!!Special Birthday Horoscope!!!
If you're turning 6 this week, this is for your eyes only:
6 is a magical number.
In mathematics, 6 is the first perfect number, which means all of its divisors
(1,2 and 3) add up to 6 (1+2+3=6)!
You are now the perfect number 6 too!!
And it also looks like an upside down 9---weird, right?!
In physics, there are 6 types of quarks; they come in flavors: Up, Down, Strange, Charm, Bottom, and Top. They're subatomic, super cool and do weird trippy things; like sometimes, they're both there and not there at the same time----really weird, right?! 6 is also the atomic number of Carbon (my favorite element!). All the really cool life forms are carbon based.
(Silicon and arsenic are so 1960's...)
Also, there's 6 six sides to every cube, 6 degrees of separation between all of us, 6 strings on every guitar, and soda comes in, guess what--- a 6-pack!!!
6 geese-a-laying, like in the Christmas song---actually refers to the 6 days that it took 'god' to create the earth.
And it just so happens that Virgo is the 6th sign of the zodiac!
As you can clearly see, 6 is a very important number, and I hereby officially predict that this year, your special number 6, is going to be the coolest year ever.....(until you're 7, then it gets even cooler!!!)
!!!!HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!
disclaimer: Satire does not require profanity, but it can't hurt.
this week: Appreciation of absurdism is a key ingredient of an enlightened path and a healthy sex life.
Aries- One could argue that there is no such thing as business ethics. There are only the dual imperatives of making a profit, and not getting caught feloniously in the process. Like cockroaches, nefarious and inconvenient truths hate the kitchen light. Bring out all of your dirty lies, foul calumnies, and lascivious proclivities under the 70 watt bulb of scrutiny and make sure that your behavior stands up to proper scrupling.
Taurus- When the Pledge of Allegiance was written in 1892, the words 'under god' were not part of the speech. Apparently in the 19th century, separation of church and state meant something. Or maybe in the long term, humans will always lean toward stuffing god into any sandwich or onto any pizza regardless of the logical benefits of secularism, especially regarding food/deity metaphors. Based on the evidence at hand, I reckon that god probably tastes super yummy. If you find your god this week, eat of it wholly, holistically, and holily.
Gemini- It doesn't matter if you're a tone deaf bar of chocolate covered cow patties. Or a philandering philatelist. However, if you are a narcoleptic beaver whacker, I will have to report you to the authorities. I'm not exactly sure what branch of law enforcement deals with that particular felony, hopefully not the bomb squad. Is it morally ethical to whack any beaver? Then again, I personally know many beavers that deserve a good whacking, but then again, who am I to judge any dam building mammal? And are humans and beavers the only dam building animals? To avoid any further confusion, find your moral center, put on your favorite leisure suit and paint the town weird.
Cancer- The application of the 5 second rule is dependent upon on 3 factors: 1) the overall quality of the floor, a bathroom at the beach being the penultimate in vomitous floor quality; 2) the importance of the food dropped, if it's a rum ball-- I'm probably gonna wash it off and eat it, even if it dropped in cat litter; and 3) just how hungry you really are, considering the last time you cleaned that particular floor was sometime in early 2008. All life on earth originated with single celled organisms like germs, bacteria and viruses; and how ironic that our immune system evolved to combat such creative and life provoking entities. Eat some germs. They are simultaneously your past and your future.
Leo- 'Sic semper tyrranis' is what John Wilkes Booth screamed after shooting Lincoln. It means 'thus always to tyrants'. Pretty harsh. It's also the state motto of Virginia. Almost as direct is 'Live Free or Die', the state motto of the New Hampshire. Personally, I like Michigan's motto: 'Si quaeris peninsulam amoenam circumspice', meaning if you seek a pleasant peninsula, look around you. No person would ever scream that in either anger or vengeance; only I would imagine, in pleasure. I mean, who doesn't love a good peninsula?! Find yourself a pleasant peninsula this week and have a nice cold beer.
Virgo- You can go suck an egg. You can also get bent, take a hike, go soak your head, go fly a kite, eat dinner with the lemmings, stuff cheese into your crumpet, or if you're feeling particularly saturnalic and kinky, you can purloin your grandmother's knickers and have yourself a hootenanny. Perverted deviance is probably your most attractive quality, next to your hygiene. Just try to let the rest of us 'norms' catch up before you go galavanting into the weird, the wild, and the wooly that is your fetishistic existence.
Libra- Despite its Victorian Age connotation, prudence denotatively speaking, is the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason. Prudential abuse, however is a serious affliction. It takes away from the fun and often naked excitement of knowingly making questionable choices for prurient or tabooistic™ reasons, which I totally support-- when done in a prudent manner. To attain prudential enlightenment, you should be wisely reckless, compassionately orgiastic, and inordinately wacky for at least 7 minutes of each waking hour for the next 723 days.
Scorpio- Kimodo dragons are not known for having good hearing. They do have ear holes though, which leads me to surmise that they can hear just fine, it's that they just don't give a crap about your dull yet ribald life. Someday, when you get to be the largest living lizard of your species, then you too can pretend not to hear stuff. For now, you're stuck listening with the rest of us saps. Deal with it. Learning only happens when ears are open.
Sagittarius- If you put three people in a room together who all think that they're Jesus, wouldn't you think that they could work it out and either pick one Jesus among them, or maybe even come to the realization that believing you're Jesus is just plain nutty, which would cause all the Jesus' to take up macrame or pole dancing in order to take their minds off their savior fetish, and move on with their lives? I know you think about these things too, but somebody is already ahead of us on that experiment-- (just Google Milton Rokeach). Turns out, each Jesus just became more entrenched in their assumed saintliness. My point here is buried in obtusity™. Just come down off the cross, please, and we'll get you some ice cream and bourbon.
Capricorn- The 23 Enigma is the belief that the number 23 is somehow related to all incidents and events. It does seem to pop up way too often to be coincidence, or maybe because I'm looking for it, I find it everywhere, making me a paranoid apophenic. But think about it-- all human cells have 23 pairs of chromosomes; 23 is the sacred number of Eris, goddess of discord; Julius Ceasar was stabbed 23 times; Luke and Han rescue Leia from cellblock AA23; and most importantly, whenever I glance at a clock, more often than not, it's 23 after. I think my point is clear: keep an eye out for your favorite enigmatic number. Your guardian angel might be trying to tell you something.
Aquarius- Darwin, Lincoln, Verne, Carroll, Brecht, Galileo, MacArthur, Dickens, Roosevelt, Lemmon, Newman, Joyce, and Groening, to name a few-- all Aquarians. Seemingly, we are all attractive ingenious rebels, with a penchant for the brilliantly unexpected. There is no down side to being an Aquari---oh shit, Dick Cheney, really? And Sarah Palin?? And Glenn Beck??? Oh, dire, dire crap. Every bag is bound to have a few questionable apples though. Don't let the occasional dog turd in a field of poppies in full bloom on a perfectly sunny day lessen your own perfect perspicacity.
Pisces- LSD was discovered accidentally by a chemist, who got some of the substance on his fingers, and got super high. I call it an incidental trip™. "Kaleidoscopic, fantastic images surged in on me, alternating, variegated, opening and then closing themselves in circles and spirals, exploding in colored fountains, rearranging and hybridizing themselves in constant flux ...", mused Albert Hofmann, incidental tripper™. Sounds great, doesn't it? Unless you have a bunch of stuff to get done at work, and you're too busy tripping and you get fired for staring at your fingers all day because you're waiting for them to 'fing'. My advice: watch out for incidental trips, unexpected ruffies, and friends who say,
'Here, try this',... and everything will coalesce into coolness.
!!!Special Birthday Horoscope!!!
If you're turning 6 this week, this is for your eyes only:
6 is a magical number.
In mathematics, 6 is the first perfect number, which means all of its divisors
(1,2 and 3) add up to 6 (1+2+3=6)!
You are now the perfect number 6 too!!
And it also looks like an upside down 9---weird, right?!
In physics, there are 6 types of quarks; they come in flavors: Up, Down, Strange, Charm, Bottom, and Top. They're subatomic, super cool and do weird trippy things; like sometimes, they're both there and not there at the same time----really weird, right?! 6 is also the atomic number of Carbon (my favorite element!). All the really cool life forms are carbon based.
(Silicon and arsenic are so 1960's...)
Also, there's 6 six sides to every cube, 6 degrees of separation between all of us, 6 strings on every guitar, and soda comes in, guess what--- a 6-pack!!!
6 geese-a-laying, like in the Christmas song---actually refers to the 6 days that it took 'god' to create the earth.
And it just so happens that Virgo is the 6th sign of the zodiac!
As you can clearly see, 6 is a very important number, and I hereby officially predict that this year, your special number 6, is going to be the coolest year ever.....(until you're 7, then it gets even cooler!!!)
!!!!HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Dr. Pants' Eerily True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: satire is the divine right not of kings, but of all free men and women.
this week!: your pants and what's in them will be impressing people all day long.
Aries- Grab yourself a strainer and dust off your mercy. I'm referring to the quality of your mercy and the fact that you haven't been dishing it out liberally of late, either to your loved ones, strangers on the street, or even to yourself. Why so stingy? Unclog your atria and unfurl your compassion even on those who seem not to deserve it, especially thyself. Your burdens will become weightless blessings.
Taurus- What's in a name? The moniker America caught on thanks to that 15th century cult-of-personality Amerigo Vespucci, a Florentine financier, map maker and avant-garde break dancer. A close second name was Columbia. We made the right choice. I think it's a bad start for a country to name it after a guy who killed way too many indigenous people in the name of gold, god and ego. When creating a name for yourself, choose wisely and humbly.
Gemini- Sammy Hagar says, 'There's only one way to rock'. Bullcrap. There's 17 different ways to rock according to the National Institute of Rocking Out, not to be confused with the International Association of Rockers, which pays tribute to the benefits of old-timey rocking horses on insolent childhood behavior. Sammy also says, "Only time will tell if we stand the test of time". Based on the facts, I deduce from this that, a) Sammy doesn't know shit, b) his tequila isn't bad and c) you should find at least 4 new ways to rock asap. It is a moral imperative.
Cancer- I propose that the word 'gyp', meaning to get ripped off, is a racist word, (our language seems to be abundantly replete with them), and that we would all benefit from discontinuing its usage. Regardless of how you feel about gypsies, odds are that they live up to a chiseling reputation in the same proportion as all non-Romani do. This week, do your best to sweep out all the prejudiced cobwebs hiding in the corners of your psyche. An educated mind is a terrible thing to avoid.
Leo- The myth surrounding Leo makes for a complex iconography. Your are the Nemean Lion, offspring of the Chimera, a multi-animaled beast that was strangled by Hercules, or Heracles depending on your point of reference, and simply because you were terrifying a local village, (under the orders of a higher deity, I might add...). He strangled you and wore your impenetrable fur as a shield. Hera, displeased at your death, placed you eternally in the heavens, the sun focussing your radiance at the pinnacle of the Nile's greatest yearly height. Good luck with all that.
Virgo- While ataraxia and apoplexia seem like they should be directly related, their hidden lives couldn't be more different. The latter is like having a stroke, while the former is a feeling of utter peace and calm. Do I have the free will to choose either one, or am I chemically fated towards one end of the spectrum; or will I bounce hilly-nilly betwixt the two until my feeble brain bursts from an en-lightening stroke that endows me with both crippling brain impairment and orgiastic euphorias of understanding? Forgetaboutit-- it ain't nuthin'. Happy Birthday.
Libra- The Tanganyika laughter epidemic of 1962 (a real deal--Google it) was no laughing matter, except in a literal sense. Many pants were peed, much milk was spat from unsuspecting noses, and Bhudda's belly was tickled pink with all the laughter floating joyously up toward his heavenly post. A laugh riot is the only riot not punishable by up to 5 years in the funny farm. This week, buy someone a glass of milk, and start a riot.
Scorpio- Unfortunately a booby hatch is not what it sounds like. Neither is poop deck. A crap-fest, on the other hand, couldn't be more spot-on. Cocksure reminds me of Caligula's birthday parties; and titmouse causes my inner child to sprout wings and take flight to absurdly high and erotic aeries that only my id can find. This week, find your rhetoric, check it for defects, and open up a can of spiritual poop-ass.
Sagittarius- If you eat too many carrots, you will turn orange. Likewise if you eat too many bananas, you will become radioactive. If you eat too many of both, you might become the weirdest superhero ever. However, orange, radioactive, and constipated is no way to flaunt yourself about town. I know you relish being quirky, but whatever you're planning these days, it may be too much even for you. Try not being outlandish for five minutes and see what happens.
Capricorn- You and every single atom on this earth were created inside a star. Stars are the mother of us all. They were the first material thing our multiverse created. We are literally the evolution of a star's nuclear material. Our path through this multiverse is obsequious and impossible to predict. Just imagine what you'll evolve into tomorrow. Shine on you crazy diamond.
Aquarius- My personal Muse, not surprisingly, is a monotreme known as the platypus named Aldous. If you see him, don't call him a marsupial, it's incorrect and it really ticks him off. Platypuses are notoriously indolent and hard to get a straight answer out of. Why would I choose a Muse so difficult to utilize? Maybe I'm trying to hard to be original. Maybe because an egg laying mammal is just plain nutty. This week, keep in mind, there are everyday Muses that are just as inspiring, and conveniently ubiquitous.
Pisces- According to Dr. Pants' Razor™, when you do something right, people might not know you've done anything at all. If you can put your need for gratification aside, and applaud your ego in a more subtle fashion, you might just save the world. Or at least someone you love. Save the masturbatory plaudits for your tombstone.
disclaimer: satire is the divine right not of kings, but of all free men and women.
this week!: your pants and what's in them will be impressing people all day long.
Aries- Grab yourself a strainer and dust off your mercy. I'm referring to the quality of your mercy and the fact that you haven't been dishing it out liberally of late, either to your loved ones, strangers on the street, or even to yourself. Why so stingy? Unclog your atria and unfurl your compassion even on those who seem not to deserve it, especially thyself. Your burdens will become weightless blessings.
Taurus- What's in a name? The moniker America caught on thanks to that 15th century cult-of-personality Amerigo Vespucci, a Florentine financier, map maker and avant-garde break dancer. A close second name was Columbia. We made the right choice. I think it's a bad start for a country to name it after a guy who killed way too many indigenous people in the name of gold, god and ego. When creating a name for yourself, choose wisely and humbly.
Gemini- Sammy Hagar says, 'There's only one way to rock'. Bullcrap. There's 17 different ways to rock according to the National Institute of Rocking Out, not to be confused with the International Association of Rockers, which pays tribute to the benefits of old-timey rocking horses on insolent childhood behavior. Sammy also says, "Only time will tell if we stand the test of time". Based on the facts, I deduce from this that, a) Sammy doesn't know shit, b) his tequila isn't bad and c) you should find at least 4 new ways to rock asap. It is a moral imperative.
Cancer- I propose that the word 'gyp', meaning to get ripped off, is a racist word, (our language seems to be abundantly replete with them), and that we would all benefit from discontinuing its usage. Regardless of how you feel about gypsies, odds are that they live up to a chiseling reputation in the same proportion as all non-Romani do. This week, do your best to sweep out all the prejudiced cobwebs hiding in the corners of your psyche. An educated mind is a terrible thing to avoid.
Leo- The myth surrounding Leo makes for a complex iconography. Your are the Nemean Lion, offspring of the Chimera, a multi-animaled beast that was strangled by Hercules, or Heracles depending on your point of reference, and simply because you were terrifying a local village, (under the orders of a higher deity, I might add...). He strangled you and wore your impenetrable fur as a shield. Hera, displeased at your death, placed you eternally in the heavens, the sun focussing your radiance at the pinnacle of the Nile's greatest yearly height. Good luck with all that.
Virgo- While ataraxia and apoplexia seem like they should be directly related, their hidden lives couldn't be more different. The latter is like having a stroke, while the former is a feeling of utter peace and calm. Do I have the free will to choose either one, or am I chemically fated towards one end of the spectrum; or will I bounce hilly-nilly betwixt the two until my feeble brain bursts from an en-lightening stroke that endows me with both crippling brain impairment and orgiastic euphorias of understanding? Forgetaboutit-- it ain't nuthin'. Happy Birthday.
Libra- The Tanganyika laughter epidemic of 1962 (a real deal--Google it) was no laughing matter, except in a literal sense. Many pants were peed, much milk was spat from unsuspecting noses, and Bhudda's belly was tickled pink with all the laughter floating joyously up toward his heavenly post. A laugh riot is the only riot not punishable by up to 5 years in the funny farm. This week, buy someone a glass of milk, and start a riot.
Scorpio- Unfortunately a booby hatch is not what it sounds like. Neither is poop deck. A crap-fest, on the other hand, couldn't be more spot-on. Cocksure reminds me of Caligula's birthday parties; and titmouse causes my inner child to sprout wings and take flight to absurdly high and erotic aeries that only my id can find. This week, find your rhetoric, check it for defects, and open up a can of spiritual poop-ass.
Sagittarius- If you eat too many carrots, you will turn orange. Likewise if you eat too many bananas, you will become radioactive. If you eat too many of both, you might become the weirdest superhero ever. However, orange, radioactive, and constipated is no way to flaunt yourself about town. I know you relish being quirky, but whatever you're planning these days, it may be too much even for you. Try not being outlandish for five minutes and see what happens.
Capricorn- You and every single atom on this earth were created inside a star. Stars are the mother of us all. They were the first material thing our multiverse created. We are literally the evolution of a star's nuclear material. Our path through this multiverse is obsequious and impossible to predict. Just imagine what you'll evolve into tomorrow. Shine on you crazy diamond.
Aquarius- My personal Muse, not surprisingly, is a monotreme known as the platypus named Aldous. If you see him, don't call him a marsupial, it's incorrect and it really ticks him off. Platypuses are notoriously indolent and hard to get a straight answer out of. Why would I choose a Muse so difficult to utilize? Maybe I'm trying to hard to be original. Maybe because an egg laying mammal is just plain nutty. This week, keep in mind, there are everyday Muses that are just as inspiring, and conveniently ubiquitous.
Pisces- According to Dr. Pants' Razor™, when you do something right, people might not know you've done anything at all. If you can put your need for gratification aside, and applaud your ego in a more subtle fashion, you might just save the world. Or at least someone you love. Save the masturbatory plaudits for your tombstone.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Dr. Pants' Eerily True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire is inseparable from liberty.
this week: trust me, take the blue pill.
Aries- Never tie a string around a frog and expect it to teach you to salsa dance. While they are the most adept multi-taskers of the amphibian class, they are fickle. Frog bondage is unnecessary and it will only piss off the frog and your dancing will suffer. Tips for a happy {inner} frog: buy it some maggots, nice ones---I recommend Maggie's Maggots™, they add great flavor to any meal at a reasonable price!... Soon, your dancing skills will be Calaveras County good.
Taurus- If your life were a martini, shake it, chump,-- shake it till it brings home the bacon. Stirring is for narcoleptics without a library card. Let the snow repopulate that little globe in your mind with a surprise storm. This week only, being politely abrupt and sexily direct will produce indirect coolness and good times. If your cocktail is still boring, try garnishing it with an onion and it, voila!--it becomes a Gibson! This week, you could learn a lot from shaking your metaphors instead of mixing them.
Gemini- One of my personal heroes, Lenny Bruce, once said, "If I can't say fuck, then how can I say fuck the government?". Righteous, right? Unfetter your psyche and brilliant ideas that have never been thought before will flow from your brain and out of your mouth like Preparation H from a tube that's been too close to the heater. Tis the season for insurrection (and hurricanes); may all yours be peaceful ones.
Cancer- Eagles make love while plummeting toward the earth, their talons locked together, their passion lasting only as long as their physics. They separate only before they are about to hit the ground. Wow, I'm exhausted just writing about that. And sweaty. I'm not sure what my point is, kind of distracted for a-- oh, wait yes, very important. NEVER---ah crap--- Always, yes ALWAYS keep the door open for the angel of serendipity; there's plenty of time to spread your wings and save yourself.
Leo- All dreams are either about sex or death. I suggest that you have a dream about a group of intrepid baby ducks dressed in little sheriff uniforms, that patrol the west on a quest to right wrongs and serve justice. There's no way that could be about sex or death. They're sooooo cute! This week, stop thinking about how complicated life is, and go the way of the duck! Best part?- Ducks never wear pants!
Virgo- Newly discovered by scientists deep in the ocean, a creature called a 'pigbutt worm' resembles most closely a floating, disembodied buttocks. Don't believe me?--Google it. It feeds on 'marine snow', organic material sinking from the photic to the aphotic zones, recycling its energy and eventual rebirth in the ocean's oxygenless depths, most closely resembling our eternal journey through the Tao. I find it ironic that such a beautiful analogy is a poop eating worm that looks like a pig's butt. Meditate on that and get back to me. And happy birthday...
Libra- Śūnyatā is a Bhuddist concept that says that 'nothing' possesses an essential and enduring identity by virtue of independent origination. In physics, even a vacuum in 'empty' space contains fields of various energy signatures. Robert Oppenheimer said, "the soul is as empty as a bucket of negatively charged radioactive particle flow, inducted through a uranium nitrate thermal coil", or something close to that anyway. What's my point? OM. The creator breathes deep, a breath that takes eons. You would benefit to do likewise.
Scorpio- To save your wretched soul this week, you may require a potent, but kind nepenthe. My buddy Aldous, recommends soma. Personally, it makes me gassy and recalcitrant, but it will fill your head with pleasant thoughts and scare away the demons. But beware-- It may also make you yearn for naked dystopic freedom. Keep track of your pants.
Sagittarius- Try the bacon flavored vodka that you've thinking about, and then eat some pancakes while hanging naked up-side down, while a Bhuddist monk pours syrup on your feet. (Always good for a weird laugh btw...) Then, turn the sound on the tv down and play Tom Waits while you watch "A Touch of Evil" with Orson Welles, where Charlton Heston plays a Mexican for some reason. I'm not sure if any of these suggestions/mandates/fiats will help you in any way, but it couldn't hurt. Go out of your way to change your unnecessary and unhealthy habits.
Capricorn- My favorite part about a sunburn is the slow peel of burnt dead skin. I really dig molting, I'm "into" it. I think reptile skin has really come a long way since the early Mesozoic, am I right? Now, I'm not saying you should purposely stake yourself out naked on an ant hill on the hottest Santa Ana day in September, but I think you should go for it,-- molt away! Peel off that dead skin and do something cool with it. Tomorrow, you'll be brand new-- again.
Aquarius- Words are a vigorous and hearty transporter of yet undiscovered concepts. They are the rivers on which mercy flows, always reassuringly and eternally downstream. (Wow. Deep shite.) My point is that words only need so much twisting, deliberating and dicking around. They are the diplomacy of the heart, earnestly striving toward liberty and equality for all, no matter how agonizingly slow they drive in the fast lane, or how much you yearn for them to just kiss you and get it over with.
Pisces- If you slip a laxative into your doppelganger's drink in order to stop this 'omen of evil' from lacing your next drink with a ruffie, does that make you the evil twin all along? What does that say about living by a mutually accepted code of ethics, about the efficacy of the subatomic fabric of our existence! Or our the number of snozzberries in a----wait, why do I feel kinda woozy? Oh, crap-- ruffie...I was right all along, he was the evil twi-----zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
disclaimer: Satire is inseparable from liberty.
this week: trust me, take the blue pill.
Aries- Never tie a string around a frog and expect it to teach you to salsa dance. While they are the most adept multi-taskers of the amphibian class, they are fickle. Frog bondage is unnecessary and it will only piss off the frog and your dancing will suffer. Tips for a happy {inner} frog: buy it some maggots, nice ones---I recommend Maggie's Maggots™, they add great flavor to any meal at a reasonable price!... Soon, your dancing skills will be Calaveras County good.
Taurus- If your life were a martini, shake it, chump,-- shake it till it brings home the bacon. Stirring is for narcoleptics without a library card. Let the snow repopulate that little globe in your mind with a surprise storm. This week only, being politely abrupt and sexily direct will produce indirect coolness and good times. If your cocktail is still boring, try garnishing it with an onion and it, voila!--it becomes a Gibson! This week, you could learn a lot from shaking your metaphors instead of mixing them.
Gemini- One of my personal heroes, Lenny Bruce, once said, "If I can't say fuck, then how can I say fuck the government?". Righteous, right? Unfetter your psyche and brilliant ideas that have never been thought before will flow from your brain and out of your mouth like Preparation H from a tube that's been too close to the heater. Tis the season for insurrection (and hurricanes); may all yours be peaceful ones.
Cancer- Eagles make love while plummeting toward the earth, their talons locked together, their passion lasting only as long as their physics. They separate only before they are about to hit the ground. Wow, I'm exhausted just writing about that. And sweaty. I'm not sure what my point is, kind of distracted for a-- oh, wait yes, very important. NEVER---ah crap--- Always, yes ALWAYS keep the door open for the angel of serendipity; there's plenty of time to spread your wings and save yourself.
Leo- All dreams are either about sex or death. I suggest that you have a dream about a group of intrepid baby ducks dressed in little sheriff uniforms, that patrol the west on a quest to right wrongs and serve justice. There's no way that could be about sex or death. They're sooooo cute! This week, stop thinking about how complicated life is, and go the way of the duck! Best part?- Ducks never wear pants!
Virgo- Newly discovered by scientists deep in the ocean, a creature called a 'pigbutt worm' resembles most closely a floating, disembodied buttocks. Don't believe me?--Google it. It feeds on 'marine snow', organic material sinking from the photic to the aphotic zones, recycling its energy and eventual rebirth in the ocean's oxygenless depths, most closely resembling our eternal journey through the Tao. I find it ironic that such a beautiful analogy is a poop eating worm that looks like a pig's butt. Meditate on that and get back to me. And happy birthday...
Libra- Śūnyatā is a Bhuddist concept that says that 'nothing' possesses an essential and enduring identity by virtue of independent origination. In physics, even a vacuum in 'empty' space contains fields of various energy signatures. Robert Oppenheimer said, "the soul is as empty as a bucket of negatively charged radioactive particle flow, inducted through a uranium nitrate thermal coil", or something close to that anyway. What's my point? OM. The creator breathes deep, a breath that takes eons. You would benefit to do likewise.
Scorpio- To save your wretched soul this week, you may require a potent, but kind nepenthe. My buddy Aldous, recommends soma. Personally, it makes me gassy and recalcitrant, but it will fill your head with pleasant thoughts and scare away the demons. But beware-- It may also make you yearn for naked dystopic freedom. Keep track of your pants.
Sagittarius- Try the bacon flavored vodka that you've thinking about, and then eat some pancakes while hanging naked up-side down, while a Bhuddist monk pours syrup on your feet. (Always good for a weird laugh btw...) Then, turn the sound on the tv down and play Tom Waits while you watch "A Touch of Evil" with Orson Welles, where Charlton Heston plays a Mexican for some reason. I'm not sure if any of these suggestions/mandates/fiats will help you in any way, but it couldn't hurt. Go out of your way to change your unnecessary and unhealthy habits.
Capricorn- My favorite part about a sunburn is the slow peel of burnt dead skin. I really dig molting, I'm "into" it. I think reptile skin has really come a long way since the early Mesozoic, am I right? Now, I'm not saying you should purposely stake yourself out naked on an ant hill on the hottest Santa Ana day in September, but I think you should go for it,-- molt away! Peel off that dead skin and do something cool with it. Tomorrow, you'll be brand new-- again.
Aquarius- Words are a vigorous and hearty transporter of yet undiscovered concepts. They are the rivers on which mercy flows, always reassuringly and eternally downstream. (Wow. Deep shite.) My point is that words only need so much twisting, deliberating and dicking around. They are the diplomacy of the heart, earnestly striving toward liberty and equality for all, no matter how agonizingly slow they drive in the fast lane, or how much you yearn for them to just kiss you and get it over with.
Pisces- If you slip a laxative into your doppelganger's drink in order to stop this 'omen of evil' from lacing your next drink with a ruffie, does that make you the evil twin all along? What does that say about living by a mutually accepted code of ethics, about the efficacy of the subatomic fabric of our existence! Or our the number of snozzberries in a----wait, why do I feel kinda woozy? Oh, crap-- ruffie...I was right all along, he was the evil twi-----zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Dr. Pants' Eerily True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Good satire should piss off at least two people.
this week: Underwear is for people with no self control.
Aries- You have a lot of balls. In the air, that is, being clumsily juggled. Just an idea, but what if you tried finishing one thing before you leap to the next three. A person can only handle so many balls at one time, even an adept ball handler like yourself. What is the sound of one ball juggling? I don't know, but the only way out is through.
Taurus- Statistically, you are more likely to be killed by a champagne cork than by a poisonous spider. I'm the last person to tell you to sober up, but I will tell you to stop hanging around entomologists. Anyone who studies bugs on purpose can't be trusted.
Gemini- The strangest word that has only one and a half syllables is fjord. When you put f and j together, the fabric of the multiverse is warped and distorted in a way that can allow an open mind to see glimpses of the future. Use fjord as your mantra, and you will be sailing the seas of cheese that have been haunting your dreams.
Cancer- I have seen the future; and yours involves bourbon balls, tickets to a really cool Monster Truck Rally, and the sweet smell of success. It should be a brilliant week for you, if you can manage to stay out of your own way. Have fun at the truck rally and buy a t-shirt for me.
Leo- Stop farting around and get down to business. The world is your oyster, but you have to go out, get in the ocean and pry it out of the rocks. Any oyster that walks right up to your door is a mussel in disguise. And he's probably selling something you don't want, like mussel relaxants. This week hunt oysters or at least go to a sushi place and eat something bizarre.
Virgo- If you have an infinite number of monkeys and an infinite number of typewriters, one of them will eventually write Hamlet. The problem is that typewriters are so 20th century; not to mention that with that many monkeys, poop will inevitably be flung. My advice: let just one monkey use your laptop at a time; and quit trying to write Hamlet, it's been done. Find your own voice.
Libra- A stitch in time saves nine. Nine of what, I have no idea. No one knows. It's also true that many a little makes a mickle. Mickle is Scottish for a lot of something. Bear in mind however, that the sagacity of Scottish wisdom is quite suspect considering that they are the inventors of golf. My advice this week: keep an eye out for the obscure.
Scorpio- You can't kill yourself by holding your breath. So stop trying. It is also impossible to lick your own ear. If you can lick your own ear, you should be in porn. This week, use your powerful tongue and Bhudda-like breath for healing words rather than fatuous feats of weirdness. Save that for next week when it will be much more appreciated.
Sagittarius- In Alabama it is illegal to wear a fake mustache that causes laughter in church. Ironically, the only reason I would go to church is to inspire such laughter. Go out and buy a really cool fake mustache and wear it till everyone pees their pants. Or better yet, get a tattoo of a mustache on your finger so you amuse people anywhere, anytime. Your foolishness will be rewarded with praise from on high.
Capricorn- Contrary to popular lore, Thomas Crapper did not invent the flush toilet. He did, however, invent the ballcock. If you don't what a ballcock is, it's probably time you gave yours a thorough scrubbing. At the very least, rub it three times and whisper sweet nothings to it. The ballcock is your personal genie for the whole week.
Aquarius- From the sublime to the ridiculous is only one step. But there is no authority that says you have to take that step. The sublime, though rife with illogic, is a great place to hang out. And it's the only place to meet your desitiny. Let your mind go, and your body will follow.
Pisces- You should be kissed, often and preferably by someone who knows what they're doing. Stop avoiding that perfect person and just get on with it. Being sexually obtuse went out of fashion with the Lindy Hop and the Whig party. It's time to kiss or get off the pot.
disclaimer: Good satire should piss off at least two people.
this week: Underwear is for people with no self control.
Aries- You have a lot of balls. In the air, that is, being clumsily juggled. Just an idea, but what if you tried finishing one thing before you leap to the next three. A person can only handle so many balls at one time, even an adept ball handler like yourself. What is the sound of one ball juggling? I don't know, but the only way out is through.
Taurus- Statistically, you are more likely to be killed by a champagne cork than by a poisonous spider. I'm the last person to tell you to sober up, but I will tell you to stop hanging around entomologists. Anyone who studies bugs on purpose can't be trusted.
Gemini- The strangest word that has only one and a half syllables is fjord. When you put f and j together, the fabric of the multiverse is warped and distorted in a way that can allow an open mind to see glimpses of the future. Use fjord as your mantra, and you will be sailing the seas of cheese that have been haunting your dreams.
Cancer- I have seen the future; and yours involves bourbon balls, tickets to a really cool Monster Truck Rally, and the sweet smell of success. It should be a brilliant week for you, if you can manage to stay out of your own way. Have fun at the truck rally and buy a t-shirt for me.
Leo- Stop farting around and get down to business. The world is your oyster, but you have to go out, get in the ocean and pry it out of the rocks. Any oyster that walks right up to your door is a mussel in disguise. And he's probably selling something you don't want, like mussel relaxants. This week hunt oysters or at least go to a sushi place and eat something bizarre.
Virgo- If you have an infinite number of monkeys and an infinite number of typewriters, one of them will eventually write Hamlet. The problem is that typewriters are so 20th century; not to mention that with that many monkeys, poop will inevitably be flung. My advice: let just one monkey use your laptop at a time; and quit trying to write Hamlet, it's been done. Find your own voice.
Libra- A stitch in time saves nine. Nine of what, I have no idea. No one knows. It's also true that many a little makes a mickle. Mickle is Scottish for a lot of something. Bear in mind however, that the sagacity of Scottish wisdom is quite suspect considering that they are the inventors of golf. My advice this week: keep an eye out for the obscure.
Scorpio- You can't kill yourself by holding your breath. So stop trying. It is also impossible to lick your own ear. If you can lick your own ear, you should be in porn. This week, use your powerful tongue and Bhudda-like breath for healing words rather than fatuous feats of weirdness. Save that for next week when it will be much more appreciated.
Sagittarius- In Alabama it is illegal to wear a fake mustache that causes laughter in church. Ironically, the only reason I would go to church is to inspire such laughter. Go out and buy a really cool fake mustache and wear it till everyone pees their pants. Or better yet, get a tattoo of a mustache on your finger so you amuse people anywhere, anytime. Your foolishness will be rewarded with praise from on high.
Capricorn- Contrary to popular lore, Thomas Crapper did not invent the flush toilet. He did, however, invent the ballcock. If you don't what a ballcock is, it's probably time you gave yours a thorough scrubbing. At the very least, rub it three times and whisper sweet nothings to it. The ballcock is your personal genie for the whole week.
Aquarius- From the sublime to the ridiculous is only one step. But there is no authority that says you have to take that step. The sublime, though rife with illogic, is a great place to hang out. And it's the only place to meet your desitiny. Let your mind go, and your body will follow.
Pisces- You should be kissed, often and preferably by someone who knows what they're doing. Stop avoiding that perfect person and just get on with it. Being sexually obtuse went out of fashion with the Lindy Hop and the Whig party. It's time to kiss or get off the pot.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Dr. Pants' Eerily True Horror-scopes
disclaimer: Satire is only painful if you fear needlessly.
this week: if your pants are on fire, stop lying.
Aries- Necessary evils are stupid. Stop indulging them. Opt instead for necessary good deeds, loving thoughts, and help some old ladies across the street. Whatever created this multiverse loves it when we help each other.
Taurus- If you were a penguin juggler, I would offer you the following (free!) advice: Repetition is the most sincere form of flatulence. It's a real truism. What I'm saying is, that you only have to keep juggling those penguins until they fall asleep. Use this time wisely and formulate your next move.
Gemini- You are a superhero. I don't know what your power is, but it's probably something to do with being able to communicate with salmon, or maybe eat chicken really fast. Maybe you poop kittens, or maybe you drive a Prius. Whatever it is--- it's time to whip it out and save the day. Or least the afternoon in time for happy hour.
Cancer- Faith, were it unshakable, would be... well actually pretty good, I guess. Ignorance is bliss? Knowledge is power? But then again, time is money. And hey, pretty mamma, make with my bacon. The point is that, things may get weird over the next week. But sit tight. The alien invaders with the pincers and the space weapons only want to be friends, I think.
Leo- I want to tell you that everything is great, and that it only gets better from here. I want to tell you that the level of awesome, punctual, and dead sexy that you are right now, can only be eclipsed by the next moment in time where you will double it. I want to tell you that the future does not resemble, in even the slightest bit, a zombie apocalypse. So,... I will.
Virgo- They did the math. There are more people alive right now, as you're reading this, than have ever lived. Ever. I'm not sure if that says more about us, or about math, or how cruel evolution can be, when all I wanted was one more thumb, dammit!! Either way, get out of your head,
what-- you think you're Einstein?
Libra- Did you know that a theodolite is a surveying instrument, consisting of a small "mounted" telescope, used to measure various angles? See, there's all kinds of shit you didn't know. Luckily, none of that shit matters. Like that 70's sitcom with the single lady and the creepily likable mustache guy, it's one day at a time. So relax and have a mint julep.
Scorpio- Orson Welles is credited with the following, which I propose you use as your business model: "I don't say we all ought to misbehave, but we ought to look as if we could.". As if you have a problem indulging yourself. Don't drink all the Kool-aid and don't start the saturnalia till I get there. Sans hyperbole, this will be the greatest weekend of your entire life.
Sagittarius- Arachibutyrophobia is the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. But I don't think it's peanut butter that's preventing you from speaking your peace. And it's not like you to hold things in. Whatever is lodged in between your brain and your mouth, stop jamming it in there and open the floodgates.
Capricorn- According to "sources" on the "internet", zemmiphobia is the fear of the great mole rat. Yep, fer reals. He may be the leader of a powerful underground race of big ugly albino rodents who have the ability to control our thoughts and an unquenchable thirst for domination of the planet, but if you stop being afraid and buy him a mojito, everything will be jake.
Aquarius- Floccinaucinihilipilification is a real deal. It means the act or habit of describing or regarding something as unimportant. Or at least it does to some overly clever jerks from Eton who created it. This week I advise you not to be a floccinaucinihilipilificationer. What you gloss over may be important.
Pisces- Sesquipedaliphobia is the fear of everything. And i assume the fear of the word sesquipedaliphobia is sesquipedaliphobiaphobia. My point is that sometimes you just can't judge a book by its cover, or a word by its connotative effect. This week, try not mixing your metaphors. Be direct and craft your word usements in a wily fashion.
disclaimer: Satire is only painful if you fear needlessly.
this week: if your pants are on fire, stop lying.
Aries- Necessary evils are stupid. Stop indulging them. Opt instead for necessary good deeds, loving thoughts, and help some old ladies across the street. Whatever created this multiverse loves it when we help each other.
Taurus- If you were a penguin juggler, I would offer you the following (free!) advice: Repetition is the most sincere form of flatulence. It's a real truism. What I'm saying is, that you only have to keep juggling those penguins until they fall asleep. Use this time wisely and formulate your next move.
Gemini- You are a superhero. I don't know what your power is, but it's probably something to do with being able to communicate with salmon, or maybe eat chicken really fast. Maybe you poop kittens, or maybe you drive a Prius. Whatever it is--- it's time to whip it out and save the day. Or least the afternoon in time for happy hour.
Cancer- Faith, were it unshakable, would be... well actually pretty good, I guess. Ignorance is bliss? Knowledge is power? But then again, time is money. And hey, pretty mamma, make with my bacon. The point is that, things may get weird over the next week. But sit tight. The alien invaders with the pincers and the space weapons only want to be friends, I think.
Leo- I want to tell you that everything is great, and that it only gets better from here. I want to tell you that the level of awesome, punctual, and dead sexy that you are right now, can only be eclipsed by the next moment in time where you will double it. I want to tell you that the future does not resemble, in even the slightest bit, a zombie apocalypse. So,... I will.
Virgo- They did the math. There are more people alive right now, as you're reading this, than have ever lived. Ever. I'm not sure if that says more about us, or about math, or how cruel evolution can be, when all I wanted was one more thumb, dammit!! Either way, get out of your head,
what-- you think you're Einstein?
Libra- Did you know that a theodolite is a surveying instrument, consisting of a small "mounted" telescope, used to measure various angles? See, there's all kinds of shit you didn't know. Luckily, none of that shit matters. Like that 70's sitcom with the single lady and the creepily likable mustache guy, it's one day at a time. So relax and have a mint julep.
Scorpio- Orson Welles is credited with the following, which I propose you use as your business model: "I don't say we all ought to misbehave, but we ought to look as if we could.". As if you have a problem indulging yourself. Don't drink all the Kool-aid and don't start the saturnalia till I get there. Sans hyperbole, this will be the greatest weekend of your entire life.
Sagittarius- Arachibutyrophobia is the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. But I don't think it's peanut butter that's preventing you from speaking your peace. And it's not like you to hold things in. Whatever is lodged in between your brain and your mouth, stop jamming it in there and open the floodgates.
Capricorn- According to "sources" on the "internet", zemmiphobia is the fear of the great mole rat. Yep, fer reals. He may be the leader of a powerful underground race of big ugly albino rodents who have the ability to control our thoughts and an unquenchable thirst for domination of the planet, but if you stop being afraid and buy him a mojito, everything will be jake.
Aquarius- Floccinaucinihilipilification is a real deal. It means the act or habit of describing or regarding something as unimportant. Or at least it does to some overly clever jerks from Eton who created it. This week I advise you not to be a floccinaucinihilipilificationer. What you gloss over may be important.
Pisces- Sesquipedaliphobia is the fear of everything. And i assume the fear of the word sesquipedaliphobia is sesquipedaliphobiaphobia. My point is that sometimes you just can't judge a book by its cover, or a word by its connotative effect. This week, try not mixing your metaphors. Be direct and craft your word usements in a wily fashion.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)