Crystal Baws: February 2012 Horoscopes
This month you finally find your soul mate. Lucky for you it turns out to be twins.
10 minutes after taking the red pill you’re still enthusiastic about dropping out of The Matrix. But three months later, when the Rebellion still haven’t come to pick you up, you begin to contemplate spending the rest of your life bored to madness sitting in a pod of nutritious pink goo. You’re still a battery, but now you don’t even get the entertainment.
As the old saying goes, if it’s not broke, break it.
Your suspicions are raised that the Illuminati conspiracy website you frequent is actually run by the Illuminati when you check its WHOIS listing to find the domain name was registered in blood by a Templar Knight in 1216.
After consulting your local shamanic clinic, you find you don’t have a cold at all but that your symptoms are instead being brought on by your trans-dimensional soul getting fist-banged in the spirit world by a malevolent demon.
They say it’s what’s inside that really counts. Your insides are lovely. Take some of them out and wrap them around your face.
You’re right, I do see you like an object: a shit object.
As the recession sets in, February sees you checking the folds of the sofa like a mad haemorrhoid specialist.
This month you sneak a dolphin into the Large Hadron Collider, drop it in, send it round the tube at horrendous speeds before colliding it with a face-sized crystal.
The sum of your life is nothing more than a blank sheet of A4 paper blowing about the surface of the moon.
Still furious about homeopathy being on the NHS but not Crowley sex magick, you write numerous angry letters to your MP and eventually your protestations bear fruit. When next you get flu, your prescription will involve getting bummed by your GP for 36 hours while he recants The Lesser Key of Solomon backwards in a shrill, demonic voice.
You spend the first Tuesday of February trying to convince a policeman that you were trying to fuck the dog away from you.