 - Salutations, fatuous fish-faced types! Great dithering dung beetles and dilatory dolphins, but all the joys of the world await you in the coming year and, though I lodged strenuous objection with the Lords of Karma (or KARMA ARE US as they are now known), I was ignored. Thus, with a pained expression and an irritable tone, I shall proceed with prognostications of piscatorial merriment, undeserved, and the odd dose of vile and bitters thrown in for good measure. After all, what's life without a little poison in the chalice, O nasty ichthyic specimens!
Dark Pluto, lord of the underworld, clashes straightway, forthwith and instanter with gloomy Saturn, monarch of misery unrestrained, the ghastly signs of Capricorn (ugh) and Libra (eek) being the ones involved. Thus, you will have all the sex you want and probably with pay, though such a concupiscent extravaganza will largely involve intercourse with elderly financiers or the partners of friends. Remember, the term 'hush money' sometimes applies to the moment of passionate release, so there'll be secret locations or risky encounters amongst the machinations of copulation.
But what's this? Great gods alive and dead, it's dastardly December and manic Mars hits perverse reverse in lackwit Leo, indicating that there'll be argument or accident at work, as you break a nail, have hysterics or collapse in fear as a wilful colleague stages an angry display adjacent to your person. By my sainted aunt, what an indignity! Thus, you earn months of paid stress leave to pursue your sex life, though several eclipses and mischievous Mercury in perverse reverse cause you to lose a partner or two from in amongst the bevy of licentious and deceitful friends.
It's 2010, tiny crotchets, and jittery January brings the tweet and squawk of jolly Jupiter as he splashes his enormous feet into the dampened and dilatory confines of your silly sign. Erk! That's a bit of luck for you, and a lot of indulgence, for it's all drink, drugs, fun and laughter (some of it hysterical) from there, though the sexual demands become a burden, as Jittery January gives way to fractured February. There's a minor disappointment in that very month, as cranky Chiron and narcotic Neptune engage in corrupt copulations. On the moment, inspiration speaks of something creative you'd love to do but then you forget, instanter, and spend your time, vertical and horizontal (and there's a bit of that for a diversity of reasons), wondering what it was, in that pathetic, wistful manner so obnoxiously familiar to us all. In manic March, marauding Mars cranks the starter motor and moves forward once more, sending you back to work or resuming drama classes, where you expand the circle of your liaisons with energetic or dramatic types.
As awful April comes, grim Saturn returns to vile Virgo and an elderly authority figure chastises you for your poor behaviour and lackadaisical attitude to life, so you scream and cry, overreacting as usual. Mischievous Mercury hits the reverse button (eek) in tragic Taurus and you sideswipe fellow commuters, lose your cell phone while driving and jump a red light while you're desperately scrabbling for it on the seat. However, the magistrate in court turns out to be a friend (hmm) and lets you off with a caution (quite a caution in fact). To end awful April, cranky Chiron slithers into your sign, causing you to weep constantly but no one actually notices the difference, not even you. Now comes the merry month of May and all hell breaks loose, both in your life and upon the globe of this wasteland planet.
As Uranus, the arrant god of idiocy sparks and sputters into addlepate Aries, you will chance upon a quantity of money, lying in someone's drawer or bank account or you'll discover, inspirationally, a brilliant scheme for making money, something not generally referred to as work (whew). By the time jolly Jupiter, the crapulent lord of fortune, joins Uranus for rumpy-pumpy in jaded June, you will have made a pile while the world about you is consumed by fire, fury, war and ill luck. You'll gamble excessively, eat too much and wear so many outfits, you'll feel confused about who you are. But, you always did.
You dispense with your old values, take very hot baths and, when throwing money to the poor, ask for change. You soon realize that, now you're rich, you still have all the problems that you did when you were poor, except you can afford them. Thus, we leave you in a steaming bath, dreaming of becoming a billionaire artist. What's to become of you, my little fish-faced loonies? Only time will tell. For the nonce, hail and farewell!
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