5 REASONS WHY NOO MILLENNIAL ASTROLOGY DIFFERS FROM OWD (MOSTLY WOODEN) HISTORICAL SHIT
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).
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.
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.”
This is nuthin’ related to anythin’ much btw — but I reached the point in my writin’ where I gotta go fill up on noodles.
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.”