<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

Spread the love, slip in the bookmark, mix up the linky.

<span class="sdata" title="11"></span> <span class="sdata" title="09, 2017"></span>

What’s Your Best Star Sign Quality?

By |<span class="sdata2" title="2018-03-15T20:00:49+00:00"></span>|Cosmic Roolz, Relationships, Star Sign Shit|0 Comments


What’s your best star sign quality?

I mean really?

Think for a sec ‘bout your most redeemin’ astro attribute — yanno, the one word sumsya up to perfection.

I’m talkin’ here about that one killer quality leaps outta evry horoscope or Zodiac summary an’ makesya scream That Is So Me! That Is So Me! That Is So Me!

Evryone got one such star sign quality, Aries to Pisces.

Evryone loves their bestest plus point, evryone revels in its glow, evryone proudly proclaims their #1 personal attribute as THE REASON for their success an’ total dinkiness in all areasa life — from love to luck to money.

But you wanna know what is weird?

(Cos you been around the block enough times to know astrology is totally fuckin’ lame sumtimes?)

Round back on the other sidea the astro equation you are packin’another star sign quality that is mebbe not so good.

Actschlly, this personality feature is more like a no-holds-barred bummer — sumthin’ real bad, sumthin’ real negative, sumthin’ you would never willingly choose to be onya personal team if’n appeared on a lista options handed out by an angel.

An’ you wanna know what is even weirder?

Your best killer star sign quality an’ your most negative star sign quality are THE SAME FUCKIN’ THING.

Yeah, yeah — I know.

It is crazy. It is lame. It is nuts.

But, hey, listen — I am merely a talented astrologer extraordinaire playin’ conduit for this depressin’ nooz, so plz do not blame Moi for the horrifically cruel naturea the Cosmos.

It’s jus’ how it is, K?

My role here is strictly spillsybeansy.

So lemme talkya through this bizarre astro bummer, star sign by star sign, see if I can make sum sensea celestial energies gone batshit.

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Aries

Gotta figure Aries is ambitious.

You got sumthin’ outta reach — always — that is so frickin’ cool an’ smart you gotta have it.

You got big ideas, big desires, big yearnin’ needs — an’ alla the firepower gonna make sureya get it.

Who would not admire ambition — the burnin’ passion for improvement an’ advance an’ progress?

In all things?

From better ways to protect the environment to lacier underwear to adornya tinglydanglies?

I’ll tellya who don’t admire ambition — alla the people picked up on howya are so aggressive.

Cos ambition is not like lyin’ around in the Sun, right?

Kinda … sun appears, you throw on a bikini, you lie down, typea thing.

Nah — for ambition to work, you gotta overcome obstacles.

An’ summa those obstacles are people — or the fruitsa their labors.

These people only admire ambition when it is their own!

You try ambition with those suckers, they gonna say you are pushy.

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Taurus

I know how it goes with you guys.

Thereya are, bumblin’ along all moosy cowsy in a touchy feely kinda vibe, daisy pokin’ fromya lips an’ a buncha pies inya knapsack, when suddenly your eyes alight on the word TENACIOUS.

Yeah, cos that is so YOU, right?

Stickin’ it out where fainter hearts give up, stayin’ on task long beyond the calla duty, seein’ shit through to the last.

Tellya, you are such a stubborn cunt.

What is it with you anyhow?

Why’dya haveta dig in alla the time an’ be so goddamn awkward?

Sound familiar?

Gotta love a red rag to a bull, I guess.

People say, “we keep reminding plodsy ol’ Taurus how stubborn they are, for sure they will get sick of our nagging and give up.”

Ha! Like that is ever gonna happen.

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Gemini

I would wanna focus on flirty.

Kinda tricky, I know, cos flirty don’t stay still long enough to get fixed by a single eyeball, let alone a co-ordinated pair.

It is like pickin’ out a lone gnat in a cloud an’ stayin’ with it as it buzzes around at random.

Tellya, the Gemini flirty deal is so appealin’cos it merges the twinned cerebral fancya investigation an’ curiosity with performance allure.

But unlike Virgo’s measured experimentin’ an’ Leo’s rehearsed showpersonship, Gemini’s flightiness extends superdeep inside.

In essence, Gemini’s flirty freedoms blossom from uncertainty.

It is a positive uncertainty, for sure — but it is also fickle.

How excitin’ and desirable can all these flightsa fancy be if they are not keepers?

Perhaps Gemini is the true custodiana the moment — Time’s eternal improviser an’ lovera all things.

Or mebbe Gemini is jus’ what evryone says — a jumpy, fickle ditz.

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Cancer

C is for Cancer, C is for carin’.

Tellya, that person inya life always collectin’ for whales or blind people … organisin’ charity stuff for bankrupt celebs an’ finless dolphins … hikin’ across the Tundra for giraffes in need an’ malnourished goats — so gotta be Cancer.

Fam an’ friends an’ evry creature they feel belongs in their loop — alla these guys get cared for, protected an’ loved, like they are extra limbs or internal organs.

I so love that suprapersonal wellbein’ ethic Cancer got — a selflessness that is kinda almost benevolently vampiric.

But FFS, quit worryin’ willya?

So Amber’s hamster jus’ died an’ she is real upset, but it ain’t no reason for YOU to bawl 24/7 for a week an’ ring Amber evry five minutes to check she ain’t gonna kill herself or nuthin’.

Point is, carin’ comes natural to Cancer — but that don’t make it easy.

Havin’ deep concern for alla these people … an’ their pets … an’ misflappin’ doves in faraway nightmare regimes … is so drainin’.

Concern’ an’ care must jus’ look funny to those upon whom it is bestowed, I guess.

People say, “you don’t need to worry so much about me, sweetie.”

Oh, but Cancer does.

An’ if she stopped carin’ … an’ worryin’, evryone would feel the loss instantly.

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Leo

Thing about Leo is how they are proud.

An’ rightly fuckin’ so.

They say — “here’s what I bring to the situation, along with plenty of positive attitude, and here are some things I done a while back that worked out real good.

What is so wrong in taking pride in being a positive person who deploys their skills with supreme generosity to bring about positive results for all?”

(An’ ifya want more on this Leo vibe, roll on over to HERE.)

I will tellya what is so wrong, Cap’n Pussypants.

You are so darn arrogant, you make me wanna puke.

Sun shines outta your ass, an’ nowan else is good enough — tellya, you’re jus’ flashy, showy, ME ME ME.

Dontchya know how offensive it is to the resta us you strut round the place believin’ you can jus’ show up an’ walk shit?

Tellya, that is real insensitive — an’ the only person you trooly are doin’ positive favors for is YOURSELF.

So, yeah — wherein lyeth the boundary between pride an’ arrogance?

Who decides?

Not you, you selfish fucker!

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Virgo

Gotta figure Virgo is real analytical.

Reason they are so smart, so independent, so practically sorted, is cos they realise life boils down to makin’ the best choices.

An’ by best, I am talkin’ a perpetually movin’ target no other sign nails quite so good.

Virgo sees practical pathways in all things, like evry decision boils down to DO I PRESS THE RED BUTTON OR THE BLUE BUTTON?

One is gonna save the day, one is gonna blowya up — an’ there is no waya knowin’ which is which … unlessya are superanalytical Virgo.

Virgo sees this problem most evryplace, an’ she is quick to choose the best button to press … an’ move on.

What a pernickety asshole!

What a fussy, do-gooder bitch queen!

Prolly people would not get so pissed off if Virgo were to limit her discriminatory acumen to yanno things.

But in Virgo’s grand & incisive scheme, things an’ people are not necessarily independenta one another.


Star Sign Quality Bummer — Libra

Why do we so love havin’ Libra around?

Gotta be that massively pumped-up diplomacy they got.

Tellya, you got a psychopath needs talkin’ down from doin’ sumthin’ real bad, pull in a Libran, tool ‘em up with a harmonica, an’ a potentially dangerous situation becomes a date at the movies & maybe pizza & afterwards mebbe I show you my chainsaw collection.

Librans smooth all rough edges, grow friendship outta animosity, build bridges where before there existed only the frosty aira antipathy.

Problem is, Libra is so fuckin’ indecisive.

They are that person holdin’ you up in the store can’t quite decide … should I go for the milk chocolate bunnies or the dark chocolate bunnies? … an’ they have been standin’ there for like TEN FRICKIN’ MINUTES gowin’ … milk chocolate bunnies? dark chocolate bunnies? milk chocolate bunnies? dark chocolate bunnies? milk chocolate bunnies? dark chocolate bunnies? … over an’ over an’ over.

Worst part?

They gotta check with the zillion an’ one fuckin’ psychopaths followin’ ‘em around cos they been too diplomatic to tell ‘em all to PISS OFF.

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Scorpio

See, I figured it would be a kinda astro trope to pin down Scorpio as passionate, an’ I was gonna roll with intooitive instead — but scorpions are so frickin’ intense I figured they would lash my ass till all eternity if I made lighta their clear an’ present #1 star sign quality.

So, yeah — Scorpio is withya till the bitter end, be you person, project or belief.

An’ not jus’ in a slavish kinda way — Scorpio passion leads from the front.

It is troo, unequivocal, relentless … so intense, it gonna burn on throughya body an’ spirit, an’ scorch on — undiminished — outtaya asshole.

Thing about Scorpio is … ifya get the deal, an’ you are fully onside, an’ you wanna commit 100% to the ride, you got serious motivational sledgehammer firepower stuffs unmatched mostplace else in the Zodiac.

Any slight misunderstandings, momentary doubts, requests for 0.00001% slack downtime evry third November — an’ you got nuthin’ but srs pain comin’ atchya from outta Scorpio’s GUILT BAZOOKA.

When passion is evrythin’, or it is nuthin’— whooooosh! — this is hella too intense for a lotta people.

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Sagittarius

Thing about Sagittarius is how they got such broad horizons.

They been plenty places, met up with all kindsa people, an’ reflected real deep on the chill.

That makes ‘em super filosophical — packin’ a broad rangea inputs an’ figurin’ beyond surface interest to wider perspectives mebbe shared by all mankind.

Beholdin’ this bigger picture, an’ seekin’ always to add depth to its panorama (the better to pull on revelations gonna benefit hoomanity), Sagittarius is forever hungry for knowledge an’ wisdom.

Sadly … also fulla shit.

You ever been crushed into the corner in sum bar by a Sagittarian proclaimin’ what is best forya, then you’ll know close up what a pain in the ass practical philosophy for evryone can be.

Jus’ gotta apologize if said Sagittarian was Moi.

tbh, I have given up dispensin’ wisdom in bars cos although what I got really CAN transform lives for anyone wantsta sit down an’ reflect on my stunningly erudite proclamations, most people jus’ wanna talk ‘bout politics, fashion & football … or ogle my titties.

So these days, I jus’ run out in the street, stripped to the waist, yellin’ shit at random…

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Capricorn

Want anythin’ fixed, go find a Capricorn.

Gonna costya, an’ you gotta persuade ‘em your project is worth their time, but if they say YES, whatchya wanna happen is as good as done.

Why so?

Cos Capricorn is super methodical.

For shit to work out, evrythin’ gotta be done right, an’ in the right order, preferably usin’ the best tools an’ resources to hand.

Think it through, plan it out, tool up an’ make it happen, typea thing.

For Capricorn, alla that motivation, dreamin’, wishin’ an’ resolootion don’t matter for shit less’n you can pull on the lever delivers precisely the resultya seek.

This methodical gift Capricorn got is a virtue fulla value beyond measure.

Also … the main reason why they are such a pain in the ass.

They turn even the most humdrum evryday activity into a military operation.

Hang out with a Capricorn an’ you cannot even randomly poop without bein’ given a fuckin’ lecture.

“The key thing to remember about peristalsis, particularly when it comes to trapped wind, is that the rectal sphincter receives a different kind of physioneural stimulus to when you are about to pass a regular bowel movement, so it’s important to think ahead and watch what you eat, particularly carbohydrate intake — of which there are many kinds, all with their own unique considerations to be borne in mind regarding diet and digestion…”

Tellya, when Cappy is on a Bark Instructions roll, I am more than happy to interpret anythin’ they command as an emergency diktat says I gotta poop in their fuckin’ face.

Star Sign Quality Bummer — Aquarius

Alla the keenest quotation meme apps tellya No Man Is An Island.

Forget for a sec how irritatin’ it is to discover mosta the quotations from before mebbe 1995 were so lame in the gender-generous department an’ consider how sooooooo untrue this observation is for most Aquarians.

Tellya, those guys’re so 100% island, they even got frickin’ moats.

Independent an’ totally self-sufficient across the whole hooman endeavor panorama — physical, mental, emotional, spirutyool, sekshoal etc — they are self-contained souls packin’ a higher kinda connection power.

Trooly, they are real people people, fulla genuine concern an’ heart for hoomanity at large.

Jus’ don’t ask ‘em to hang out too personal with like … people.

That would mean they gotta come down offa that invisible levitatin’ cloud they got, an’ quit bein’ so aloof.

It is troo Aquarians got real high minds, an’ mebbe even higher ideals, an’ they gonna go bust out on alla that shit even if evryone else on the planet makes with the spontaneous vaporization deal.

This is independence with an unnervingly alienatin’ feel, an aloofness says how they are considerably specialer beings than evryone else.


Star Sign Quality Bummer — Pisces

Evry Pisces is innately artistic.

Gotta remember here that don’t mean they are all painters cos FFS you ever seen summa their shitto paintings?

I am talkin’ ‘bout how they reside in the world on a metaphorical level, where illusions an’ dreams got voice an’ power gonna transform shit.

Wanna visionary onya team?

Hook up with a Pisces, an’ creativity’s exoticest ever embroidery shall adorn thy workaday panties, tellya

Pisces got a transcendent warmth spills out as compassion, a sixth sense links up all kindsa stuff nowan else can see.

Problem is, fishy types spend mosta their time either asleep on the couch or cunted on cocktails.

An’ when they ain’t spinnin’ visions gonna transform the planet, they are unrealistic an’ totally fuckin’ delooded.

Tellya, you are plannin’ anythin’ gonna actschwlly happen, leave Pisces outta the equation.

They are like that dealya got whenever you wanna buy noo heels.

Try the heels on in the store. Go order for half the price online.

So, yeah, go be inspired by Pisces … let her carry your dreams to a higher plane — then fix up a reality check an’ pull outta doin’ sumthin’ real stoopid.

Star Sign Quality Bummer — The Last Word

Jus’ wanna say, this is no comprehensive analysis I got here.

Neither is it entirely accurate … or even fair.

But I wantchya to figure on the most important message here an’ go draw practical wisdom from my expert cogitationals.

See cos alla the best star sign qualities I mentioned are kinda person-centered — virtues bustin’ outta alla the zodiac signs’ individual asses.

Mosta the negatives I mentioned are what happens when people don’t necessarily likeya show up on the scene an’ mess shit up by havin’ a pointa view boutchya mojo.

You get astrological mismatches squarin’ up to differentiate positive star sign quality from negative, an’ the whole value judgement schwango flies offa the scale.

Taurus meets up with Aquarius an’ for sure the bullish gal is real stubborn an’ the Aquarius guy real aloof.

Same goes for fickle Gemini an’ unrealistic Pisces.

(An’ I got more on this Astro Mismatch Deal as it relates to smoochie an’ romance HERE, btw.)

Point always to remember is how YOU are in full controlla your life, an’ you gotta aim always to fix up the best outta your positive traits, talents an’ abilities.

Only problem you got is how hoomankind is supergenerously multifaceted, an’ any grand statement you wanna make invites an inevitable nemesis or mass dissers.

That is whenya gotta decide what to do beyond natural effusin’.

Prolly that is where mosta the coolest life skills reside — howya temper whatchya got in the facea opposition or criticism.

Whatever … this weird Jekyll & Hyde effect is there for alla us, Aries to Pisces.

Same star sign quality, positive an’ negative, dependin’ on POV.

But don’t jus’ take my word for it — I am, after all, merely a filosophically fulla shit Sagittarian loudmouth don’t give a fuck whatchya think.

Go try it out … thought experiment … see if I am right.

Meantime — why not go checkya monthly horoscope?

It is an endeavor both funky an’ fun!

Title Image c/o Alexas-Fotos @ 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="2018-06-12T11:51:56+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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<span class="sdata" title="3"></span> <span class="sdata" title="04, 2017"></span>

Why Is My Horoscope All Weird?

By |<span class="sdata2" title="2018-06-10T04:24:28+00:00"></span>|Choice, Cosmic Roolz, Scopes|0 Comments


More to the point — why is my horoscope all weird right now?

I mean, c’mon — sumthin’ crazysnakes is clearly gowin’ down in the celestial vapors, palpable as a bug-eyed fly makin’ with a waterboardin’-style plip plip plip as it dips its mandibular feelo-suckers in runny cheese.

Don’t haveta read a word; you can feel this vibe so close up an’ personal it is likeya are gonna birth Cthuloid triplets.

But before I don my Astro-apparela Consummate Stargazy Expertise an’ answer the more specific question, lemme fix on sum general basics gonna beef upya Horoscope Awareness Talents.

Why Is My Horoscope All Weird? Prolly Cos I Am All Weird.

Libra excepted, this is almost always never true.

You may act on your horoscope, but inflooencin’ it is a harder trickta pull — unlessya are an astrologist or astrologer or astrolodjinni person, in which case you got sum control cos Mother Cosmosis grantsya special permission to write out the magic words.

Thinka what would happen if mebbe Leo got inflooential Weirdo Power over her daily ‘scopes.

An’ I am thinkin’ ‘bout Shaney Skelangro here — yanno, the gal from Maine with the goofy teeth an’ zero control over her Crush Squee Siren?

Yeah, that Shaney.

So she is sittin’ in her room with her (frankly stoopid lookin’) dog, an’ she reads romance is in the air for you, Leo, so go breathe it in with pranayama verve and expect love to come knocking!

Forget for a sec that Shaney is a geeky kinda gal an’ would never practise Yoga less’n she got abducted by mindful aliens checkin’ hoomanity for physical bendiness.

Point is, prolly her dog gonna flee downstairs at this point as decidedly non-yogic (an’ essentially weirsdily habityool) squee breaths fire offa her lungs with such ballistic venom she is gonna need a frickin’ ribcage replacement by the agea 24 if’n she don’t sort herself out on the love thang.

(An’ for more on the love thang, check out how astro compatibility got isshoos here an’ replay Valentine’s Day here to figure how eacha the signs figures in the Romance & Eromance departiemente.)

Gotta figure that readin’ your horoscope indicates you got sum kinda desire for self-improvement, most likely based on evidence your life currently sucks, so that last parta the ‘scope is really gonna set Shaney’s pulse racin’ — hence the hyperventilational gymnastics.

Love knocks, an’ physiological wappocraft kicks off — in that order — an’ when Shaney re-reads the breathin’ to blendyjuicy narrative suggested by the ‘scope, her immediate experience (dog has now slashed its throat outta pure terror btw) kinda says this horoscope is all weird because I am all weird.


By the enda the week, when Quentinola de Prescioquincunschwangoglossen drops career recieves a boost today as flirty Mercury hooks up with charming Venus, Shaney’s funeral is greeted by fam and friends alike as ‘the outcome of desperate plea to find true love in a harsh and cruel world that mysteriously coincided with the frenzied decapitation of her beloved Schnauzer Legolas at the hands of the family breadknife’.

So is your horoscope all weird because you are all weird?

Trust me — you do not wanna go there.

Why Is my Horoscope All Weird? Prolly Cos Evrythin Is All Weird.

Stoopid thing is, that sounds pretty accurate to Moi.

Assoomin’ evrythin’ includes alla the planets whose intertwinklin’ is responsible for alla the celestialvapor-swishin’ zodiacal action allows gifted astrologer persons to formulate horoscopes in the first place, then if an astrological entity like The Moon forms a significant aspect with, say, Mars, while elsewhere in the orbital dance routine Joopiter hits real subtle on Pluto with a once-in-a-generation aspect got more syllables to its name than Scorpio can down cocktails in an hour an’ still stay standin’, then this specific (nay, weird) celestial combo is precisely the raw material gonna fuel horoscopes for eacha the signs.

Or from where else is alla the astrological schwango derived?

Catch here is how EVRYTHIN’ (weird or no) can inflooenceya HOROSCOPE (weird or no) — an’ yet YOU (sum small parta evrythin’) (an’ most certainly weird as batshit in my book if you are hangin’ out with Moi) CANNOT.

Do not ask me to resolve this thorny issue right now.

I am not a frickin’ botanist.

Why Is My Horoscope All Weird? Prolly Cos Life Itself Is All Weird.

I like this very much.

It is organic an’ fluid — indicativea heart, passion an’ mutual adventurepops.

Gotta figure most people look upon their horoscope as a kinda touchstone momentarily reconnectin’ ‘em with values, feelings an’ aspirations they hold dear.

Sajjo jus’ loves readin’Sajjo stuff, I guess — same as resta the Zodiac drills down on their superpersonal 8.3%a the astro action.

Sure, we got other stuff also, like favo shoes, places we like to go, structurally bizarre lizards we keep under the bed an’ get out at night when we cannot sleep (Shaney Skelangro’s bestie does this, btw), but where shit goes wrong is when people confuse considered prediction with certainty an’ view their horoscope as a script or instruction manual steada the producta sum drunken harridan a kinda landscape or blenda zeitgeists/potentialities — or jus’ a plain ol’ selectiona stuffya might wanna consider today.

Truth is, astrology got no more claim on the fyooture than money guys gamblin’ on their assets, politicians advocatin’ values, an’ anyone bettin’ thousandsa dollars on the boxer with the biggest dick.

Eacha these predictive disciplines got past form gonna inform — but it is only partial.

Jus’ cos astrology takes in’ evrythin’ don’t mean it is the final word on anythin’.

I do not like any kinda situation where EVRYTHIN’ may inflooence or control US, but we don’t get to reciprocate.

Enter into such an arrangement wilfully, then I figure you are fuckin’ stoopid.

So I would want horoscopes always to be touchstones.

Small an’ illoominatingly regular skips through time an’ space upon which you might wanna reflect so you can better effect changesya wanna see.

You are cast in all kindsa ways — butya are also FREE.

Think I said sumthin’ about this starta 2017 when I considered what it might mean to be resolved whenya desire for change comes up rough against … ulp … evrythin’.

Why Is My Horoscope All Weird Right Now?

Becauseya are not alone.

History shows how the world evolves through successionsa definable epochs.

Problem is, whenya are dumped right in the middlea one as it is playin’ out, day-to-day speculation wins out over proclamatory epochulation.

Truth is, we trooly DO NOT KNOW what is emergin’right now, an’ until science fits us all up with time-warpin’ cyberboobies, gotta figure our lives’re so brief we cannot revisit earlier times an’ look for clues gonna help us (beyond mebbe bonin’ up on shit don’t come offa the internets).

Drillin’ down smaller, you mebbe got sumthin’ to work with — an’ that is why I run regular monthly horoscopes.

Once evry 30 days, you can drop on by an’ touch base with sum small fragmenta the Cosmos’s divine wonder as manifested in 300 wordsa incandescently profound garbage.

(I am quotin’ my beta reader here.  Do not blame me for any praise currently orbitin’ Moi.)

Thing is, you seen April before, you got feelings for her, an’ despite only 11 months passin’ sinceya las’ met up an’ hung out, she cannot be relied upon to be exactly the same.

There is noo stuff, there is always noo stuff — besta all there is noo stuffya made for yourself.

As a free agent inflooenced by EVRYTHIN’, no less!

Natcho, you want this freedom to continue, an’ your horoscope figures alongside alla the other stuffya got gowin’ down inya life narrative armory, but April 2017 got a planetary showdown gowin’ on kinda makes consultin’ your horoscope touchstone almost DANGEROUS.

The heavens blaze with ardent an’ impassioned FIRE — not the warmin’ Leo kind nor the inspirational Sajjo variety, no no no we are talkin’ the weaponized, carbonizin’ Aries kind — while the people-friendly sweetheart planets  — Venus an’ Joopiter — play dirty c/o retrograde energy sickness alongside THE REAL FUCKIN’ MONSTERS — Mercury, Saturn an’ Plooto — havin’ a MUTUAL BAD HAIR DAY GROUCH FEST an’ seekin’ only to DESTROY! DESTROY! DESTROY!

Easily irritated Arian violence meets a quintuple cuntfesta SMOTHER, SWAT, STIFLE, STING an’ STUFF HARD UP THE POOPER.

Sadly, that is not weird — it is the truth.

So, yeah — “Horoscope All Weird” prolly sums up where shit is at right now for most evryone.

But what else d’ya want?

Horoscope All Same Old Same Old — Exactly As It Was When My Dear Grandaddy’s Gandaddy’s Grandaddy Consulted HIS Horoscope Touchstone And Smiled With Duped Contentment That The Cosmos Existed In Such Near-Permanent Stasis He Went Round And Round And Round And Round And Round And Round And Round And Round In The Same Old Circles Till His Teeth Fell Out And He FUCKIN’ DIED?

C’mon — I am tryin’ to saveya here.

Title Image c/o Steve Buissinne @ Pixabay

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<span class="sdata" title="13"></span> <span class="sdata" title="03, 2017"></span>

Astrologist Or Astrologer?

By |<span class="sdata2" title="2018-06-07T13:42:38+00:00"></span>|Astrolodjinni, Choice, Cosmic Roolz, Mother Cosmosis|0 Comments


So — is it astrologist or astrologer?

Forget “to be, or not to be?” — this is the question.

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings an’ arrowsa outrageous fortune tellin’ (an’ stick with the standard ‘astrologer’), or take arms against a seea syllables an’ by supposin’ bend ‘em.

Way I see it, switch out -er for -ist an’ whaddya got?

When astrologer becomes astrologist, mebbe you are lookin’ at sumthin’ kinda escapologist — which is waaaaay more romantic an’ in keepin’ with the speculative naturea astrology.


I figure prolly the reason you don’t see too many astrologists is cos they all fucked off an’ escaped sumplace else.

Thing is, alla this got me thinkin’ what in hell else we could be called — we talented seers who scry forth into the etherest Void in searcha the Pre-tangible with no more claim on what trooly lies beyond than mebbe a fiction writer, marketer or politician.

Gotta figure the super delisho English language affords loadsa possibilities for reinventin’ astrology.

Enough, mebbe for eacha the Zodiac signsta lay claimta its own cornera the astrological lexicon.

So what say we re-suffix the astrology profession between us?

Starsign by starsign?

Ooh ooh — gonna be such fun!


Aw, c’mon — trailblazin’ solotiste Aries gotta be an astrologeur, as in entreprenoor.

An’ while astrologarian prolly suits the more intellectyool Virgo types, Aries gotta bag the -arian option straight out or nonea this speculation makes any frickin’ sense.

For sure, I would want any adventurizin’ astrolojeepster to make like a disruptifyin’ astrolojacker with alla the bravadoa sum trooly heroic an’ inspirin’ astrologiant.

Freshly squeezed an’ oozin’ zest, Aries gotta be the ultimate astrolojuicer.

Not for them any kinda idle intellectual debate along the linesa astrologist or astrologer?


Ha! I am tempted to suggest astrologor here, like matador, but I figure that is the wrong bull-centric image.

I would wanna speculate that Taurean astrology gonna deliverya sum real tangible results. That would demand a genuinely bully an’ tenacious astrologard.

Or mebbe an astrologeer, if there were super elaborate natal charts to fix up an’ shit.

Whatever, Taurus would be forever loyal an’ faithful an’ devoted to the cause — a real astrologite.

Lay on cakes in the Taurean Horoscopery, an’ you mebbe got an astrologuzzler gonna eat fortune tellin’ alive.


Gotta figure Gemini gonna glitz out on the sorcery an’ pizzazz inherent in gazin’ up at the stars in wonder. Evry predictive flasha sparkly dust demands prestidigio fingers an’ a nimble braino. So let’s hear it for … the astrologencer.

Or mebbe the astrolojazzler.

For sure, there gonna be sum real inventive monkeyin’ around — but what else gonna happen when the precocious an’ playful Twinnies got their hands on alla the synastry cos they donned the apparela the ultimate astrolojinxer?

An’ that duality ticket could mebbe mean questionsa astrologist or astrologer? prompt the answer actchsly, I am both at the same frickin’ time.

Jus’ gotta watch those predictions don’t come reelin’ offa the tongue so smart an’ fast the resta us get left behind in the sliippertystreama no astrologibberishspieler!


We all know how devoted Cancerians can be — to fam, to friends, to sum just cause — so I figure alla the crab people gotta have the optiona bein’ an astrologee.

Or mebbe they would jus’ selflessly embody the spirita astrology steada layin’ claim to alla the fancy personalized paraphernalia like pointy hats, capes an’ matchin’ gauntlets (which acourse, I got) — kinda like an astrologen or astrologern.

Any true Cancerian gonna take their home right out to the stars — sum’ flyin’ galleon gonna sail out between the planets packin’ a store room fulla homemade goodies. Gotta loveya astrolojammer I guess.

I also got astrologiatricist in my original scribbles for this post — only I clean I forgot what I was thinkin’ an’ where I intended to put it. Gotta hope Cancer will take that one under her wing till sumone figures shit out…


Ok, so we gotta pay homage to the Leo phenomenon, as rendered in flesh ‘pon this mortal plane as an astrologity.

With majesty an’ pomp shall thy astrology be delivered — an’ for that you gonna need an astrologent.

For sure, Leo would be a real up-front astrologophile, an’ on particularly theatrical days, risin’ to the occasion gonna bring out their inner astrologlamerer.

Jus’ gotta watch for bein’ too far up their own assholes, I guess. Nowan needs an astrolojactater.


I figure gal Virgos gonna have no problem distinguishin’ themselves from their male astrologer counterparts, hence astrologess.

An’ bein’ such braino clever experts, they gonna conduct ‘emselves witht the informed geniusa sum true astrologian — perfectly able to distinguish between all shadesa celestial knowhow (includin’ astrologist or astrologer?)

Evry horoscope gonna be crisp an’ clear, right downta detailin’ aspects between minor planetary moons like Umbriel an’ Mimas. Gotta love an astrologeneticist.

An’ would Virgo be an archetypal weirdsy ol’ spinster type — or even worse, sum bent old crazy guy packin’ the drool? Gotta figure on a youthful body in real fine condition workin’ out regular beneath the virgin’s astonishin’ braino. Kinda astrologymnast.


For Libra, kissin’ on the florally exotic perimetera life’s grandest expectations gotta trooly suit an astrologette or astrologante.

An’ who elseya gonna trust for a balanced readin’ but an astrolojuggler?

Plus also, even the most calamitous an’ strife-generatin’ aspects inya natal chart gonna be rendered beautiful, harmonious, peaceful — mebbe even fun — by an astrologonymph, astrolojollifier or astrolojester.

But watch out! As evry astrolojourno knows, Libra got Cardinal supremacy ridin’ out alongside alla the flowery loon pants.

When it comesta settlin’ any deal — even astrologist or astrologer? — final word goes to the astrolojudge an’ astrolojusticiar, K?


Scorp got a reputation for fixin’ up the down deep an’ dirty biz, so what about astrologizer?

Plus also, Scorps are real scary an’ obsessed with death. Voila astrologhast.

Thing is, I figure when it comesta fixin’ up alla the aspects, midheavens an’ favo gemstones, Scorpio gonna dish the deal real straight, no punches pulled nor illusions dispensed. You got any sense, you wanna make a beeline for the astrolojugularax.

Main deal is, Scorp gonna go the whole distance withya, even whenya life is squared an’ retrograded out. For the long haul, you gotta have a reliable astrolojogger by your side, tellya.


I figure Sajjo would make a fine travelin’ astrologer — kinda like them pooch or kitty parlors turn up atchya home an’ pamper onya fluffy. So: astrolojaunter.

From a philosophical perspective, astrology differs from astronomy an’ gastronomy in so many profound ways, an’ to navigate the difference, you gonna need an astrologosophicist.

Whatever the deal, Sajjo is natchrly enthoosiastic an’ optimistic, so any predictions concernin’ the celestial vapors gonna be c/o a real energized astrologophyte or astrolojovian.

Jus’ gotta watch for the loose tongue an’ alla the unabashed coarseness an’ filth. So getchya ear muffs an’ blindfolds on ifya go see the astrolojyna or astrolojizmsquirter or astrolojaculater.

Real fulla shit Sajjo seers’re jus’ astrolojunkers.


Gotta figure Capricorn gonna run a whole hierarchya astro persons, bottoma the tree bein’ mebbe an astrologant.

Hop upta astrologer (cos Cappy gotta nail the super regular, super conservative option), an’ evryone else belowya becomes an astrologoling.

Rise high enough in the ranks, an’ you get to be the one true top dog astrologocrat — an astrolojuggernaut among astrolojokers.

UNLESS, in true grouchy skeptic fashion, Capricorn says “fuck alla that star-gazin’ schwango — I am a confirmed astrologophobiac.”

Astrologist or astrologer?



Aquarius, detached an’ pseudo-alien as ever, gonna hitchya with the astrologoid.

Or mebbe the astrologon.

For sure, all fully Uranoid manifestrationsa the water bearer gonna swing out all astrologopian.

At their most monstrously provocative, evry Aquarian is an outrageous astrolojabberwocky.

At their most egalitarian, humane an’ reflective, they spin a real neat astrolojain.


Uh oh, here comes Pisces! Head in the clouds, nose in the bottle, nuthin’ else in anyplace tangible — wobblin’ around all dizzy from twinklea the pretty stars like sum astrologoholic.

Or are alla those seemingly drunken dreams the stuffa inspired wisdom? The worka sum astrolodjinni?

Thing is, there is sumthin’ disturbingly Einsteinian about the way Pisces’ mixes up inspiration an’ nonsense — a real sense that you got sum genius prescience drillin’ down on all things pan-cosmological that is so blindingly obvious asta be totally opaque — but how in hellya gonna describe that? It is all so … so … astrologish.

Ultimately, Pisces winds up the whole astrological show, fulla dreamsy passion so pure it almost lacks direction.

Gotta say, all things considered, right now I would want my horoscope prediction stuffs outta the handsa sum astrologist or astrologer.

Gimme an astrolojunkie any day.

So, Hey — Gotta Hope This Dinky Astrosummary Nails The Astrologist or Astrologer? Conundrum Real Good

It won’t, acourse.

Tellya, there has gotta be frickin’ hundreds more real neat options out there.

You seen any I missed?

Drop ‘em in the trail an’ let’s have sum FUN!

Title Image c/o Felix Plakolb @Unsplash

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<span class="sdata" title="6"></span> <span class="sdata" title="03, 2017"></span>

The Astrology Compatibility Mindfuckola

By |<span class="sdata2" title="2018-07-02T18:27:48+00:00"></span>|Blendyjuicy, Choice, Cosmic Roolz, Fate, Relationships, Washing Machine|0 Comments


In the wild an’ wacky worlda astrology, compatibility is the darnedest hot potater, tellya.

Alla that schwango about surefire an’ pre-ordained waysta bag the PERFECT soulmate for the PERFECT life with PERFECT you — is it really true?

Is it really gonna work?

More specifically, are alla those astrological mismatches doomedta fail?

Aw Gosh, I Hope Not! I Am In Such A Mismatch Relationship — And It Is Bliss! Please Don’t Tell Me I’m Being Delusional!

Tellya, textbook astrology compatibility scenarios orbit the internets, their dream solutions lit up by the twinklea the prediction-packin’ STARS.

Aries, you got Leo an’ Sagittarius — for fully flamed on love an’ adventure gonna rock out on verve an’ action.

An’ Taurus, you got Virgo an’ Capricorn — for a long term power duet fulla stability an’ trust gonna lastya.

Gemini, Libra an’ Aquarius can mix an’ match in infinitely intellect-tinglin’ ways, with plentya options for spicin’ up blendyjuicy’s boudoir.

An’ for full-on romance, spirityool bondin’ an’ tenderness, Cancer, Scorpio an’ Pisces make out in mebbe true love’s most expansive aquarium/desert area.

Leastaways, that is the kinda stuff I wrote out in my forthcomin’ Handy Astro Guides — an’ I got no desireta diss my own predictive fortune-dishin’ prowessitude aheada their release.

Hey! Quit Trying To Sell Shit Don’t Exist Yet, Princess! What Do You Think You Are — A Fucking Astrologer?

Hey — I dance an’ do yoga also, so go pick on sumone elseta rideya trope-assed one-trick pony round the Limited Talents theme park.

Point is, while these cosy, ‘single element’ matchups inviteyata tie up their fated certainties all sweet with a big ole booby doo ribbon — an’ even srsly mutant relationships like Taurus-Pisces an’ Gemini-Aries got cool link-up potential — the implication seemsta be that certain other combinations are kinda fuckoed from the outset, an’ ifya are stoopid beyond stoopid enoughta step out in such a maligned direction seekin’ eternal happiness an’ romance, the evil spirits patrollin’ the negative enda Fate’s spectrum gonna pee in a bucket bigger’n Saturn an’ sloosh it all over the bothaya in a surprise tsunami cataclysm whenya least expect it (most notably evry Monday, evry Tuesday, evry Wednesday…).

Cosmic Roolz’re clear.

Ifya are in anya these relationships…

Fixed Fixed — any comboa Taurus, Leo, Scorpio & Aquarius*

Cardinal Cardinal — any blenda Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn

Mutable Mutable — mix an’ match Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces

* though not all four together, cos that would be filth.

…then eternal misery be thine — on a platter, inya face, prolly even swampin’ ya armpits as an irritatin’ rash.

(Yeah, yeah — I know there are special weirdsy rules for polar opposites attractin’, but I am tryin’ to be super scientific here by glossin’ over that to make a pointa fact. It is the way right now in 2017, dontchya know.)

Thing is, life is fulla relationships break the rules alla the time.

See on Facebook where they got mice snugglin’ upta cats?

An’ on YouToob, where they got bear cub meets fawn for first time an’ baby monkey gowin’ backwards on a pig?

Sure, in life’s menagerie, you don’t get the kinda oppositesya see bustin’ outta the zodiac — what in hell would the oppositea a giraffe look like anyway? — but with the right beest whisperer an’ camera crew, most any *impossible!* combo is … possible.

(‘cept for mebbe a python an’ a shark — or an eagle an’ onea them creepy underground salamanders with no eyes an’ skin smoother than a dick pulsin’ out all woody.)

An’ you gotta admit — impossible or curious or plain weird combinations make the world spin sweeter.

FFS! First You Scare Me Into Thinking That My Perfectly Happy Relationship Is Compromised In Some Way — And Now You’re Insinuating That I’m Impossible Or Curious Or Plain Weird. Aaaand You Said I Was Stoopid Beyond Stoopid. Why Should I Read Any Further?

Read? Hey — you’re practically writin’ this thing!

But I guess that is my point.

Cosmic Roolz though there may be, it don’t meanya can’t break ‘em from timeta time — an’ neither does it mean nuthin’ gonna work ifya go break ‘em big time, nor even that no bountiful an’ happiness-packed good can ever come buzzin’ like kissed-out hunny bees from a union hitched up on the edgea OBLIVION.

Gotta figure there’re plentya godawful mismatches out there among people with no clue ‘bout astrology don’t even know how fuckoed they truly are.

“Let’s make out in the woods, where I can stick my tongue in your throat till you howl like a wolf,” says she, havin’ never consulted a horoscope, never checked in on astrology compatibility — an’ never found out she is Sagittarius.

“Fine,” says he, consultin’ a list longer than the Bayeux Frickin’ Tapestry, “but there’s the cleaning to do first — not to mention the administration, the ironing, and planning for our vacation in 2029. So why don’t you go walk the dog for a couple hours, and when everything here is spotless, I’ll wash and iron the bedsheets so they’re spankingly pristine and clean, and we can spend the rest of the day fucking one another’s brains out so hard and so good that this little ol’ place we call home will make the national news as an earthquake zone registering 9 on the Richter scale.”

(Most Virgos are smart enoughta know they are Virgos, but this guy is clearly a relative halfwit in that department.)

Thenya got other relationships pullin’ in some real power whoopee from a union fated to collapse don’t even realise their beautylicious existence depends entirely on rules they got no idea their amour flaunts — kinda like Donald Rumsfeld’s unknown unknowns, only with more provocative undergarments an’ mouth-wateringly curvaceouser insertables.

“Take me from behind! In a costume! Mouthing stream of consciousness gibberish in Ancient Greek!”

“Handcuffed to the ceiling and free swinging like a pendulum — or with the both of us sealed in the leather cocoon I hand-crafted from prime buffalo hide in my secret mountain hideaway?”

(Any fully functional Libra-Capricorn pairings out there recognize this scenario? I figureya gotta have not the faintest frickin’ clue what is gowin’ on astrologically, spiritually — an’ prolly even financially — to enjoy that baby.)

Gotta figure also that Moons an’ risin’ signs, Venus an’ Mars — an’ even frickin’ Plooto — all got plentya inflooence down deep in the astrological mix.

Coupla mismatched Sun signs up top could work out real sweet if evrythin’ links up compatible an’ perfect down deep inya planetary undercarriage.

Want my opinion?

This whole system is a frickin’ mess, tellya.

What Do You Propose As A Solution To This Astrology Compatibility Conundrum, O Princess? (And I Must Tell You Here That I Am Only Sticking Around Because That Last Part About Ironing The Bedsheets Really Turned Me On And I’m Hoping For More Of The Same, Preferably Involving A Washing Machine, Please.)


We kneelin’ on top together — or layin’ our fanjos out flat on the metalwork for max vibe power?

I guess the thing is, this whole astrology compatibility deal is all about how adventurous you wanna be.

How comfortable, how risky, how rhythmically functional, how fraught with peril.

‘Steada Cosmic Roolz — unbreakable — gotta figure on a hierarchya possiblilities — all makeable (but mebbe with consequences).

Playin’ for the home team is prolly easier than mixin’ it up with the away side — allaya Mojo Suite (emotional, sexyool, spiritual, financial, practical, aspirational etc) fully catered for an’ powerin’ out inta the blue on a tightly defined directive ticket — but the green grass on the other sidea the hill got advantages also, as in how that very same Mojo Suite gonna mebbe bust out on a more uncertain an’ potentially rewardin’ growth ticket, pullin’ in challenges, setbacks an’ unexpected discoveries as furniture an’ dinner plates are thrown about at random.

An’ I would wantchya to think about that.

Earth, Air, Fire an’ Water all got their own ways they wanna be.

A Fire partnership mebbe gonna be intrinsically more volatile than its Earth counterpart, but it still has a tightly defined directive ticket.

Not so the Sagittarius-Virgo relationship I mentioned earlier, before I sat up top on the washin’ machine withya to drill down, max spin, on my concludin’ vibe.

In this relationship, Sagittarius gonna open Virgo up sum, an’ I wantchyata know how powerful a force this kinda Earth Revved up by Fire combo can be.

Gotta thinka Star Wars here — only insteada the Jedi pluckin’ Luke Skywalker from his day-to-day tedium, they chose Cinderella.

On the flipside, what does Sagittarius really need?

Another fire sign stokin’ ‘em up, aggravatin’ their violent tendencies, an’ urgin’ ‘em to yell CUNT! alla the time?

Not always.

Jus’ as the Cinderella story got its own transformational punch, there are plentya cool narratives out there in books an’ movies feature the upstart whupped inta shape an’ saved from herself by sum kinda ‘informed master’ figure— or himself ifya are thinkin’ Dr Strange … an’ I wanna thinka Dr Strange, trooly I do, O Benedict, Benedict, Benedict…


As anyone watches Joopiter an’ Saturn knows, journeys can be equally about expansion an’ compromise, abandon an’ rigor, exploration an’ diligence — an’ sumtimes these qualities flip over.

For Sajjo, is not the Virgoan rulebook a kinda ultimate wilderness survival escapade, diligence turned exploration?

“I am Sagittarius — romping o’er hill and dale in search of freedom, tail swishing freely about my gorgeously toned equine ass.”

“Fine. But I am Virgo — and I’m gonna sit you on a rock in the middle of the ocean till you quit fucking around and squandering your life. Want freedom? Okay, so go wanderlust yourself the heck outta that panorama, you self-destructive bohemian buffoon!”

An’ on the flippo…

“I am Virgo — passionately bound to routines and strategies for teasing precisely what I want from life with my forensically-honed cerebellular colossus.”

“Fine. But I am Sagittarius — and I want you to know you are wasted in that stupid lab working for that asshole takes advantage of your generosity. So I say we move to Japan, throw out all our old clothes, and get you the intermittent urinary catheter design technician’s salary your nitpicky fucking brain deserves.”

For Virgo, is not Sajjo’s boundless optimism an’ lust for travel kinda compromise transformed into expansion? Diligence turned into exploration?

Same intrinsic Virgo deal, only bigger an’ better?

I am only speculatin’ here, an’ I am only usin’ a few limited examples, but I hopeya get the picture.

First The Washing Machine…And Now The Intermittent Urinary Catheter! Are You Trying To Bring Me Off Here Or What?

Hey, I jus’ wanna bring evryone onboard here.

With the deal.

See, astrology is not set in stone.

FFS alla the planets’re spinnin’ in thinnest vapor, an’ mosta ‘em are either ice, gas or crap.

Only permanence is the math underlyin’ their synchronized flingo (an’ I will say more about that another time).

Rest is kinda open season — energies an’ archetypes playin’ out as pan-MMORPG narrative.

Truth is, fate is options, choices, decisions.

Hard an’ easy. Sweet an’ bloody. Washin’ machine an’ intermittent urinary catheter.

An’ much as we wanna hitch evrythin’ up all perfect astrology compatibility fixed done sunset credits roll, sumtimes…

…oh, jus’ a few sweet sumtimes…

… the rightest wrong person ever swoops inta our life from outta frickin’ nowhere — an’ we gotta be real smart ‘bout what we choose gonna happen next…

Title Image c/o Alexas-Fotos @ Pixabay

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