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PATHETIC PISCES...

Go Back  The Irksome Journeys of October 2003    Go Forward
Greetings, tiny nitwits of the fish-faced variety! Let's not waste time with the usual pleasantries about your tear-stained lives and tragic addictions! Let us instead hie to the vile and bitter prognostications for ominous October!

Last month we left you bound, as usual, to the gruesome wheel whereupon you turn in an endless re-enactment of the past sorrows that become your endless future. And so it is once again. The great Sol Invicti clashes with sober Saturn and cranky Chiron. Thus you become depressed about your life's direction and, when Mercury the messenger moves into Libra, you consult a bisexual occultist to see if someone else can make sense of your life where you cannot. The sound that now floats effortlessly through the gap between your ears is the laughter of the gods, by the way. The occultist predicts you will take a long sea voyage to repair your shattered sensibilities though, as far as I can recall, they've always been that way.

Nonetheless and in nowise deterred you religiously buy a ticket for an ocean cruise as Venus the goddess moves into Scorpio. Come the Full Moon in Aries, you find yourself aboard ship but financially embarrassed by the initial cost of the purchase. Thus you have no money to spend on leisure and luxury. The bold among us refer to these matters as financial planning, but I have as little faith in such things as you have cognizance of their import.

The upshot of this is that you try and find shipboard employment. Fortune favours your enterprise as a recreation officer then falls overboard whilst drunk and breaks her/his leg. You apply to replace her/him and lie in the interview about having the necessary skills to do so. You get the job, of course, largely because you lie convincingly. This comes as a relief, since you spent the last of your money on the alcohol that got her/him inebriated in the first place. Then, of course, the relief wears off as you begin to agonize about how you're going to carry through the lie and prove yourself to be a healthy sporting type with all manner of physical skills.

Great gods alive and dead, fish-faced tragedies! What will you do? Fear not, my tiny imbeciles! It is the universe (a benighted one ruled by insane gods) that comes to your aid. A gaggle of nitwit planets too tedious to name brings it to your attention that a sports person of pre-eminent ability is on board. You immediately begin an affair and thereby coax her/him to teach on your behalf, deferring on court to this Olympian being whilst saving your athletics for the cabin at night to keep the deal sweet. The punters are overjoyed! The management is pleased. And you find yourself possessed of a passionate lover, one endowed with such skills and acrobatic suppleness as redefine all your notions of the 'erogenous zones' and their disposition!

Come a New Moon in odious Scorpio, you discuss marriage and residence on the millionaire's isle that is home to this sporting legend! Ye gods and little fishes, my tiny tragedies! Are your awful lives about to take a turn for the better? Are all of your great romantic dreams about to come true? In less time than it takes to wipe a tear from your eye, you've said a joyful 'yes' and are whisked off by helicopter to a private paradise, one that, predictably, turns out to be the scene of yet another tear-stained disaster.

Yes, little fish-faces! You're still bound on the gruesome wheel. Sober Saturn turns retrograde and Mercury the messenger clashes with nasty Neptune and you arrive to be confronted by a bevy of depressed elderly relatives and backward children, all now under your care, courtesy of the nuptials. As well as this, there are whispers of secret terrorist activity in which you must participate. Dear tiny nitwits, this is a marriage made in Hell, not Heaven! But, after all, it is Halloween! Click here next month and see what further demons come to torment you by sticking burning their pitchforks, literal and metaphorical, into your tragic behind!


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