<span class="sdata" title="13"></span> <span class="sdata" title="11, 2017"></span>

5 Reasons Why Noo Millennial Astrology Differs From Owd (Mostly Wooden) Historical Shit

By | <span class="sdata2" title="2018-03-13T13:11:04+00:00"></span> |Astro Narrative Rompo, Cosmic Roolz, Illusion, Imaginary Friends, Millennial Shitz, Relationships, Savin' The Cosmos|0 Comments


As hoomanity cruises toward 2018, Noo Millennial Astrology stands poised to outstrip its Zeroth to 20th Century sisters in termsa popularity, application & plain ol’ fun.

Tbh, it stands so poised, it is practically layin’ splooshied out on sum polychromatic fuckin’ Yoga mat.

Even the habitually facts-oriented New York Post started runnin’ astrology articles to boost sales.

In their latest offerin’ — “Millennials Are Ditching Religion For Astrology” — they suggest how Western spirityool hipsters’re prolly way more gullible than their Chinese counterparts when it comes to stargazy stuffs cos they got Sil Valley-powered tech delivers ‘em astrology as an app & way more cultural an’ sekshoal diversity makes ‘em intrinsically stoopider than previous generations (though to be fair, the NYP did not offer no tacky starsign keyfobs as free gifts to lure the more practically airheaded Millennials along for the ride).

(2018 Update — The Guardian rolls along also on another fine pre-emptive scoop.)

Question I got as a Millennial astrologer person is what can we all mebbe expect from the unfoldin’ centuries in termsa life-enhancin’ astrology action compared to the thousand years jus’ plunged offa history’s cliff face in a swirlin’ clouda Vikings, Rennayssance art an’ vibratin’ dildos?

Cos it is not like the planets’re gowin’ anyplace beyond the Milky Way anytime soon — less’n hoomanity fucks on the Solar System like it has fucked on most places down here on Terrorized Firma’s ‘sweet virgin ravaged hard in the ass’ environment … an’ pitches the whole planetary dance troupe into Oblivion.

Gotta figure Venus an’ Joopiter gonna spin on an’ kiss up once in a while, jus’ like always — dootifully accompanied by Mars an’ Neptoon an’ Plooto an’ alla their globesy galaxy-stuffs pals.

So … as the Noo Millennium leaves the startin’ block behind an’ stomps headlong into the fyooture, gotta ask … what is gonna happen different?

You Planning On Telling Us Any Time Soon, O Princess? We New Millennium Millennials Lead Astonishingly Busy Lives And We Have No Desire To Inadvertently Court Costly Stress Reduction Therapy Sessions Just Because Your Ramblings Distracted Us From Our Hourly LOLcat Share Fix And We Freaked The Fuck Out.

K, so here is your lame LOLcat.

hairtrigger tigger LOLcat pisses astrology millennials


Point is, you gotta remember how astrology originally got formulated an’ disseminated back before there weren’t no science to say ASTROLOGY AIN’T FUCKIN’ SCIENCE, GODDAMIT!!!

Tbh, those early astrologers had no clue whether they was predictive geniuses or merely deluded imbeciles in a world packin’ even dumber goobers.

See, cos prolly mosta the truthseekers queuing up outside the star-emblazoned tents an’ wagons centera evry backwater hamlet could read an’ write less good than the weevils crawlin’ around in their fuckin’ pants.


Any astrologers smiled sweet enough & mebbe had a cat or toad to pet, they could prolly get away with sayin’ anythin’ an’ pass it off as prediction.

Here is mebbe one such scenario…

ASTROLOGER — I sense fortune ahead, maybe even langoustines.

WEEVIL-INFESTED, CRETINOUS LOWLIFE PACKIN’ BENT GROAT — Gee, that’s so swell! But what exactly is a langoustine?

ASTROLOGER (Aside, To Where Hidden Camera Gonna Be In Like 1100 Years) — Hahaha, stoopid frickin’ ditzbrain! How easily do I rob this buffoon of his moolah in exchange for wanton improvisation on a roll!

WEEVIL-INFESTED, CRETINOUS LOWLIFE PACKIN’ BENT GROAT —Hey, I heard that! Plus I’m a GOIL BUFFOON, you impertinent shitbag!

See, back then in the Owd (Mostly Wooden) Millennium, astrology was real easy.

Tellya, I am super envious ‘bout any stargazy types prior to 1781 cos even WAY SMART SCIENCE got no clue ‘bout Uranus, Neptoon or Plooto up till that point — meanin’ dishin’ out natal charts was way less effort, the fuckin’ slackers.

Time was when all astrologers gotta do was eyeball the Moon for a few secs … an’ they could write out Forthcominge Hooman Historye till 4789.

Today’s astrologers gotta factor alla these noocomer planetary babies into their astro analyses — along with a whole buncha peripheral moons, nodes & miscellaneous schwango.

Do We Detect The Subtlest Hint Of Petulant Rage Bubbling From Deep Within, O Princess?

Tbh, prolly I would not care ‘bout the slacker natal chart deal if’n yesterday’s astrologers didn’t also got zero stylist an’ administration ishoos cozza their total lacka hairdryers an’ need for any kinda organization requires binge-watchin’ sum frickin’ Netflix show.

Aw, but hey — like I promised starta this article, the noo astrological Millennium we all kickstartin’ rn got way more potential than the one began with Jesus an’ a calendar finally kinda gowin’ sumplace positive.

You want my top five reasons for makin’ this proclamation?

K, so here they are…

1) Noo Millennial Astrology Gonna Kiss Way Sweeter On PEOPLE

Coolest deal ‘bout astrology is how it arises from people ‘steada planets.

Remove alla the people from the world in mebbe a Trump vs Kimmee The Nooker Infant-out Scenario, an’ alla the planets’ backstory disappears alongside the predictive potentialities inherent in their sweet, sweet dance.

I dunno, mebbe sum weird noots gonna survive any ‘nook or asteroid or zombies’ Apocalypse moseys along, butchya gotta figure they ain’t gonna be too intrested in Mercury gowin’ retrograde or no kinda waxin’ moons.

An’ what in hell would a Leo noot look like anyways?

Scaly amphibian mother hangs out in a pond got fuck all courageous feline attributes far as I can see — less’n they got a buncha wigs an’ costooms down there so’s they can put on an annual Broadway-style show for alla the other scaly amphibian mothers beached in the mud.

Gotta figure, despite all the croolty an’ brutality an’ discrimination we toleratin’in the world rn, that hooman peoples’re becomin’ more peopler an’ soulful — an’ the artsy, heartsy approach astrology offers by waya delish narrative an’ story stuffs touchin’ sweet on feelo prolly gonna help us all along way better than bein’ chained to the stiflin’, po-faced visiona what contistooted a person for most centuries the Owd (Mostly Wooden) Millennium packed (an’ you can read more ‘bout those lame fuckers in my Sagittarian Firepower post jus’ here).

That is a neato advance, even if nowan don’t actschwlly believe in astrology.

Baseline, a casyool conversation ‘bout what it is to be a TAURUS (for example) could figure as a call to action for sumthin’ more substantial an’ life-changin’.

SAGITTARIUS — So … you’re a Taurus, huh?

TAURUS — Yeah, I guess.

SAGITTARIUS — Prolly that is why you’re stacking the cellulite like a vampire prowls the night hungry for blood.

TAURUS — You suggesting I go see my doctor for a health check?

SAGITTARIUS — I’m suggesting you lose the skin-tight joggers before I wince myself to death.

2) Noo Millennial Astrology Gonna Keep The Sex Hormone Suckin’ Aliens At Bay

Was a time when we figured alla the Aztec an’ Ancient Egyptian architecture was downta mysterious aliens stayed awhile before equally mysteriously fuckin’ off.

Personally, I do not buy that story bcs Wal-Mart.

When discount meets quality with such pro-creatively synthesised finesse, gotta figure any bug-eyed aliens packin’ warp-powered spacecraft an’ pyramid-constructin’ smarts gonna head back down on us for frozen dinners in bulk.

But I been wrong before — a frank admission, I guess, seein’ as how I graduated from Astrology School maxin’ out on predictive credentials bestowed by Mother Cosmosis herself … an’ said skillset is my only passage to a life drenched in Vodka — an’ I would wanna hope that if aliens DID build alla that shit … an’ they ARE comin’ back sumtime soon … they gonna be mighty impressed with how we leveled up their past achievements all nouveau un-crapopla ASTRO.

Keepin’ aliens happy is the same deal as makin’ out real swell in college, job, relationship or fam — if a major leagues Significant Other lovesya, they way less likely to rip offya head, let alone strapya to a weirdsy experimentation table an’ drainya sex hormones out through a hi-tech frickin’ syringe.

Tellya, those aliens gonna look at we Noo Millennial Astrology types an’ say, “how rewarding it is to discover a fundamentally cerebrally challenged race of creatures so creatively dismissive of the truth about their extra-terrestrial origins that they prefer to countenance a romance-stuffed reality based less on bug-eyed ubersavants such as ourselves and more on the exploits of imaginary beings like horse-people packing missile weapons and fish-tailed goats whose permanently dour expressions defy what is anatomically possible from a FACE.”

3) Noodles

This is nuthin’ related to anythin’ much btw — but I reached the point in my writin’ where I gotta go fill up on noodles.

It is a cool strategy works for most stuffs, from caressin’ my regular Monthly Horoscopes into fully erect monolithsa Foretellismo to offerin’ astro insights on “double the drivel” Twitter.

I dunno, there is sumthin’ comfortin ‘bout havin’ a bowla noodles next to my keyboard I can kinda dip in on as I leap from line to paragraph like an enthoosiastic puppy chasin’ astrology’s balls.

An’ mebbe we got an analogy here with how Noo Millennial Astrology gonna work out.

At heart, astrology got structure — a real formal architecture with which it is possible to sublimely fuck.

Prolly back in the day, structure was rolled out more or less straight — I am a prescient harridan in a sparkly cape and you are a spiderweb of uncertainty … so what say I fix up the rest of your life in exchange for moolah and kudos? — but now we can swooshie the architecture around an’ kinda multitask so’s a new blenda prediction delivery can roll all hip an’ swankospanko outta astrology’s juicy vestibule.

I don’t wanna get diverted by no fledglin’ noodlemancy here, but I figure the options we all generated for ourselves as we clambered our way through the Owd (Mostly Wooden) Millennium gotta reflect back to their pointsa historical origin an’ evolve our methodologies sum.

(I jus’ seen a noodle ducky hangin’ offa my chopsticks btw — but in a 1-to-1 consultation, coulda been a metaphorical noose spells big trouble for a payin’ Cancer worrypants.)

More people in the world, more interactions, more stuffs, more waysa bein’ a person got pride — gotta figure alla these evolutions on the themea WHAT WE ALL KINDA ARE & DO gonna feed back into the same ol’ pussycats an’ scorpions an’ balancin’ scales with ever brighter proto-narrative verve.

Ha! Either it gonna be like THAT … or hoomankind chooses to get WAY STUCK bustin’ out on lamestuffs gowin’ noplace.

(That las’ observation was inspired by sum noodle ain’t cooked proper & all globbied together, btw. Jus’ gotta take a pee now before returning to the troo astrological fray for Part 4.)

4) Noo Millennial Astrology Gonna Gush Deeper Into The Wellspringa Life

Prolly back in the day, mysticism manifested merely as a trickle.

It is troo people prolly were more receptive to ideas ‘bout demonic possession an’ shit, but most times all they done was lead tragically miserable lives from which any kinda story but DEATH FAMINE DEATH FAMINE LOUSY UNDERWEAR DEATH FAMINE was real absent.

But today’s stories got more space to flourish on out an’ grow pools an’ oceans fulla supermutable possibility cos they more like a torrent than a trickle.

An’ I guess the deal is … when liquids flow on out an’ re-blend, creative conflux is inevitable.

We prolly only startin’ to see how personal mythology fluxed out on ever-adaptin’ astrology gonna enrich us.

Flipside, gotta wonder what benefits gonna accrue if’n astrology were taken outta the mix.

Tellya, if those Uranus-free Owd-time astrologers turned on the predictive & illustrative faucet way back, the Noo Millennial Astrologers we got springin’ up evryplace from Tumblr to Kickstarter-funded, star-emblazoned tents pitched up in the mall jus’ pulled out the frickin’ hosepipe an’ made with the unrestrained squirtin’.

From brief lives fulla toil came wondrous stories — narrative whirlpools gonna repurpose ‘emselves as waterfalls as life’s wellspring demands sweeter succor.

Plus also … yeah, I peed down my leg ‘fore’n I reached the john.

Prolly next blaaahg post I should leave out the Chai tea an’ strap a bucket to my fuckin’ fanj, I dunno…

5) Noo Millennial Astrology Gonna Inform The Cyborg Revolootion

We all know how the robots’re comin’ — but I would wanna wish always that we ain’t stoopid enough to build faux-persons replace actschwl people.

It is more than jus’ wonderin’ what sum folks gonna do once the expertise firin’ up their livelihoods is taken off ‘em by sum crappy plastic AI-driven slave — an’ I am thinkin’ here ‘bout a loser fyooture where spirityooly alienated persons gotta spend quality bar hangout time with manufactured dinkiness got no IRL brains or heart.

But I figure that kinda Bladerunner 2049 scenario ain’t gonna happen.

That kinda invention an’ convenience may ease us along sumplace cool — like electric toothbrushes are way better than their predecessors, ‘specially ifya need a cheap thrill — butchya gotta figure we are essentially pleasure seekers at heart, an’ without payoff proffers heart up front, seems a barren kinda deal to Moi.

But, listen, we got astrology for cats, right?

An’ dogs an’ hamsters an’ iguanas an’ … the whole damn menagerie.

Gotta figure nouveau body parts is already here — noo hips for old folks got way too athletic in the bendy bumsex sack back in the day, hot noo teeth don’t makeya look like a frickin’ horse, noo heart so’s you can party big time without bein’ labeled a corpse — an’ alla this stuff eventually gonna tech on out all cyborg.

That means … Capricornian synthetic digestive tract for stricto dieters … Cancerian 11th finger for emo guitar players … Taurean 3-speed dick for mebbe Mondays (an’ a 10-speed leather-feel option for the weekend links all supersynapse with same partsa the brain recognise DONUTS as YUMMO).

Tellya, I get noo enhanced body parts when I am 167, I wanna call out their starsign.

Like always, I wanna mix an’ match alla my stuffs for maxo compatibility.

Gotta figure Libran musical boobies gonna perform way different to Scorpio musical boobies — an’ that is beforeya even consider astro-cyborg compatibility match-up potential.

“I so love my Gemini Wit-o-Tonguetm — but it conflicts real uncomfortable with my Poopomatictm Sagittarian asshole flaps.”

“The levitation facility on my Pisces Neptu-tootsietm feet is real cool for buzzin’ around the place, but when I am getting fucked with my legs wrapped behind my head, they throw the circuits in my Virgo UltraDistinguishalyzertm eyeballs an’ my guy shoots off too quick cos he thinks I am cummin’”

“So, yeah, I got me one of those 10-speed Taurean BullyThrustotm cyberdicks, but its inherently beautiful curves simply don’t segue to stylistic perfection with the glass spikes jutting from my PerinealBlitzkriegtm Aquarius ballbag.”

Tellya, if’n the fyooture gonna feature enhanced hoomans bustin’ out on a cyborg ticket, I wanna see astrology-friendly marketin’ strategies — or I ain’t buyin’.

Noo Millennial Astrology — A Minxydizy Astrologer Person’s Expert Summary

Point is, we got sum real important dialogs happnin’ now between generations — more IRL an’ interactive than anyone from any fyooture got touch on what went down centuries past.

Trads, Boomers, Gen X, Millennials, Gen Y, Centennials, Pan-epoch Wankotwazzlers — we all cohabit the current hooman polyblendo, an’ we all breathe stories in & pump ‘em out.

Mebbe our myootyool journey has delivered us to a real flooid point we OK bein’ happy ‘bout — a less fixed perspective than the trad Trad POV, but one pulsin’ out on its own kinda rhythm & roolz.

An’ in this swirla hooman story, gotta figure Leo still gonna be Leo — proudly archetypal kittypops — but her adventures mebbe gonna play out different from way back when her fiercely courageous POV was less ‘bout throwin’ on a pussy hat & more about screamin’ for the right to have a say in the first fuckin’ place.

Prolly sum people figure astrology is loopydoops fantasypants, but it is precisely cozza the imaginary narrative realm over which it holds sway that its intrinsic formality forever discovers excitin’ noo ways to manifest.

Mebbe I will expand on this theme another time (when the planets scowl down upon Moi & say FFS we are so excitingly multimanifestular, we’re quitting the astrology wheelhouse an’ forging ahead as venture capitalists hooked on porn), but for now, be bright & beautiful bunnies to one another asya bibbidy boop your way through the unfoldin’ celestial panorama.

You lose your way, I am always here — closer to your spirityool side than a faithful dog lickin’ on its owner’s face cos it jus’ bit the end offa its own dick — an’ you can come check my Monthly Horoscopes any time … along with Twitter, Tumblr, Medium an’ Buzzfeed (link pendin’).

“Gonna make fertile soil, gotta shit outta more’n one asshole.”

Title Image c/o Coyot @Pixabay

Delishest LOLcat Evah c/o Ian Robinson … also @ Pixabay

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<span class="sdata" title="1"></span> <span class="sdata" title="05, 2017"></span>

How Astrology Gonna SLAY Your Evil Imaginary Friends

By | <span class="sdata2" title="2017-05-08T13:38:40+00:00"></span> |Cosmic Roolz, Imaginary Friends, Practical Astrology, Relationships|0 Comments


No childhood misery is more unbearable than whenya got evil imaginary friends.

Those critters tag along till adulthood, you are in real big frickin’ trouble, tellya.

Thing is — where do these guys come from?

An’ can astrology helpya boot ‘em outta your poor, persecuted braino?

Evil Imaginary Friends — The Historical Background

Blame for the rise in evil imaginary friends worldwide in the 20th Century lies solely with J.M. frickin’ Barrie — yanno, the guy wrote Peter Pan?

Barrie was a Taurus, but insteada eatin’ pies all day an’ preservin’ his finest farts in jars, he did that weird thing down-to-earth-&-real-borin’ Taurus types sumtimes do — an’ came up with shit so loopsy doops crazy he coulda almost been an Aquarian or Piscean replicant.

Point is, Peter Pan is fulla imaginary people.

Sum posh London kids an’ their fuckin’ stoopid dog meet up with the boy who gonna live forever, tyepa thing.

But what most people don’t get about this story is how the key imaginary friend is not Pan himself.

He is the one real person in the story — an’ it is Wendy, Michael, John, Hook, Tinkerbell an’ the crocodile who are the illusions.

An’ when the story ends, Pan is wracked by sadness an’ despair cos alla his pals can’t play no more

(Go read the book, then hold it closeta your ear afterya reach THE END an’ mebbe you can hear him weepin’ in the darkness.)

Reason we got so many evil imaginary friends fuckin’ on our souls right now is cozza Pan.

He wanted revenge for losin’ his own friends so bad, he thought up a whole buncha villains to go plague evryone else.

That is the kinda thing wounded people sumtimes do.

But like alla us, Pan is governed by Mother Cosmosis’ Cosmic Roolz.

Know your starsign, you got a handle on alla your evil imaginary friends.

An’ now you gonna learn how to boot ‘em the fuck outta your life an’ get sum peace!

Aries — Evil Imaginary Friends Gonna Bossya Pants Off

Rebellious rompin’ fulla self-servin’ zest an’ verve!

Those are the energies Aries packs in spades.

But Cancer gonna cry if she don’t get her way, an’ Capricorn jus’ gonna stopya doin’ shit you want.

So ditch the fuckers an’ move on, no weepin’.

Taurus — Evil Imaginary Friends Gonna Stealya Toys

Leos think they own evrythin’ — even stuff that is clearly YOURS.

An’ Aquarius thinks all material possessions belong to evryone, regardlessa actual ownership.

Plus, they bust shit jus’ to see how it works.

So getcha baseball bat back offa Leo — swingin’ it round his head & shriekin’ lookit me lookit me — an’ smack him in the teeth with the fucker.

Any luck, he’ll trample Aquarius to death as he quitsya life.

Gemini — Evil Imaginary Friends DO NOT GET YOU

Howya gonna brush upya witticisms ifya imaginary patsies play real awkward?

“I kinda see where you’re coming from,” says Virgo, “but that last quip you made about male genitalia resembling an elephant’s head fails to differentiate between Indian and African pachyderms.”

“Yeah,” says Pisces. “And my imaginary friend said it funnier than you did, you fraud.”

Jus’ show these losers the door.

They got no livesa their own an’ they will walk.

Cancer — Evil Imaginary Friends Won’t Play Doctors & Nurses

Aw…alla your imaginary friends’re so very ill.

Time to snuggle them up warm an’ safe an’—

“LET’S PLAY AT KILLING!” screams Aries, throwin’ off her blanket. “REAL FIGHTING WITH REAL BLOOD!”

You turn to ask Libra for help — but she’s fucked off sumplace to play on her own.

Thing is, you are the ultimate imaginer, so go do sumthin’ don’t figure too much IRL.

Look Aries dead in the eye an’ scream “I hate you!”

An’ mean it.

Those guys play fiery but their feelings are so very easy to wound.

Leo — Evil Imaginary Friends Ignoreya & Form Their Own Clique

It’s that horrid moment whenya energies finally give out, an’ you quit chargin’ around all flamboyant — an’ your imaginary friends don’t applaud.

Worse still, they are sittin’ in the corner snickerin’ to themselves — Scorpio, cos she clearly started the sneerin’ an’ backbitin’, an’ Taurus, cos he is jus’ so stoopid he gonna be led astray by anyone.

Tellya, they don’t want your generous glories, they can haveya pee.

So go find a bucket an’ fill it up.

Then wash their cynical frickin’ mouths out, see how they like it.

Virgo — Evil  Imaginary Friends Don’t Stick To The Rules

“So, let’s be clear. A nuclear fusion rifle is more powerful than a standard ballistic blaster, and both these weapons are superior to the daggers we’ll all be using. But if you’re wearing antigravity armor, you can’t use your dagger because it will rupture the fabric, and if you die from a ballistic blaster wound, you’re out of the game for 30 seconds until you receive medical assistance, which only I can perform — unless we’re playing the imaginary medi-bot rules, in which case—“

“Let’s just finger our cunnies,” says Sagittarius.

“Yeah,” says Gemini, “and post to Snapchat.”

Easiest wayta deal with these abominable Vulgarity Beests?

Think Zen, think grace — an’ walk away.

Libra — Evil Imaginary Friends Think UR A Soft Touch

Uh oh — Cancer an’ Capricorn’re back again.

Aries got real mad with ‘em an’ slung ‘em out.

But they seen how you are so super soft an’ don’t want for any trouble, an’ now they gonna trample onya patch.

Tellya, these guys really hate zany frivolity — an’ they cannot frickin’ sing to save their own tits!

All they wanna do is trudge around playin’ real borin’ evryday stuff — like shops, or actual games don’t need no imagination, like frickin’ Monopoly.

I understand how conflict is real difficult sumtimes, so your way out here is simply to DIE.

Play dead — an’ stay dead.

Cancer ain’t gonna stick around if’n she can’t healya, an’ Capricorn conceivesa death before he is even born, so your faux pallor gonna remind him to go check the latest pension an’ funeral deals on the internets.

Scorpio — Evil Imaginary Friends Demand Eviller Host Buddies

Leo an’ Aquarius stopped by to play.

It was fun for a while but then you got bored.

Leo lies an’ Aquarius believes her an’ it is two against one an’ that is not fair.

Their corpses lie mutilated in a ditch.

Sagittarius — Evil Imaginary Friends Don’t Wanna Goof

Know that fun game whereya writhe around on the floor withya legs in the air, wailin’ all stoopid like sum deranged mule?

Weird thing is, neither Virgo nor Pisces wanna join in with this one.

Same goes for jump up an’ down tillya boobies hurt (dick if ur a guy).

“Let’s sit down at the table,” says Virgo. “We need to make a list of some proper games to play.”

“And let’s do it quietly,” adds Pisces.

Best strategy here is to join ‘em — an’ keep real quiet.

Pretty soon, they gonna be talkin’ to one another, an’ they will not notice whenya tiptoe out the door an’ go do sumthin’ real excitin’.


Capricorn — Evil Imaginary Friends Got No Option

Why lose the able an’ willin’ helpers?

Life’s too important for foolin’ around so the more stoopid assholes you got on your team lightenin’ the load, the better.

So c’mon, Aries an’ Libra.

Knuckle down an’ mebbe tidy the place up.

Fetch drinks, fetch the occasional muffin, fetch any tools or equipment needed.

Smilin’ is optional, but remember, it uses precious energy, so be sparin’.

Hours are 24/7, all 52 weeksa the year.

Zero pay, an’ ifya bust shit, your imaginary bones gonna be ground to IRL dust.

Snap to it! Lickety spit!

Aquarius — Evil Imaginary Friends Think You’re A Crank

Real people can be so unaccommodatin’ whenya inspiration is on a roll.

“I wonder what it would feel like to slice a cucumber in half and scrape the soft part out with my ears.”

Perfect imaginary friend oughta get a kick outta that.

But not Taurus or Scorpio.

“You’re being so wasteful,” says Scorpio. “I hate how you squander precious resources on a whim.”

“Plus also,” says Taurus, “I wanted to eat that cucumber.”

No way these guys gonna lighten up an’ get experimental withya.

So cut ‘em open an’ scrape out their soft parts with sum other protuberance.

These guys are only imaginary, remember?

Pisces — Evil Imaginary Friends Spill Over From Reality

Gotta figure you got a casta thousands gowin’ down in the imaginary department.

People, animals, animated furniture, ghosts — all hoppin’ an’ buzzin’ around a fluffy landscape gonna morph from Jane Austen novel to outer space mushroom planet to elven forest pulsin’ with naked satyrs.

Thenya rememberya cruel Sajjo boss, the Gemini gal from the store don’t likeya, an’ your imaginary world collapses — invaded an’ despoiled by evil phantasms over which you got no control.

You know they are imaginary — jus’ like the little ducky you had bouncin’ onya head a few short seconds ago — butya are helpless.

Saj an’ Gemmo glare from twisted faces — an’ you are complicit in the ugliness.

The more you try to make ‘em go away, the more they leer from a landscape now shrouded in shadow.

Point is, this scenario is precisely why chocolate got invented.

Recent neuroscience shows how eatin’ chocolate soothesya an’ warmsya — alla those chocolate molecules get delivered direct to the synapses inya braino responsible for generatin’ happy sensations.

For Pisces, eatin’ chocolate prompts a kinda imaginary bunny orgasm.

Fluffy creatures — so fun an’ friendly an’ cuddly — bust outta the shadows an’ smother any phantoms summoned from real life.

So, take that, Sagittarius an’ Gemini!

Death by bunny ears! Death by wickle mousey crush! Death by lonesum elephant whose Mom died young but who got a magic trunk!

Yeah — that kinda works…

What To Do Ifya Have No Imaginary Friends, Evil Or Otherwise

Gotta figure kittens come in real handy here.

They are so cool at fillin’ barren holes insideya where lovin’ imaginary friends should be.

Plus, when they get frisky, they go hunt down rodents ain’t actually there.

All you gotta do is catch one

Shareya Story

Ever been on the receivin’ enda sum foul an’ evil imaginary friend?

Shareya story in the comment trail!

Still plagued by monsters?

Let ’em write out why they hateya so much an’ mebbe their confession gonna make with the cathartic healin’!

Prommo, I will respond with sensitivity, discretion — an’ mebbe more lewd fuckin’ around.

Title Image c/o Deedster @Pixabay

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