Home » Month: September 2019

Deep Musings

Pissed Off Deep One. aka They Dynamited Y’ha-Nthlei, They Did, The Bastards… Nothing to add to his little harangue, really. I couldn’t have put it better myself. And thank Bumba for the comforting Sneak. Our savage breasts would all be lost without her soothing sympathy.
‘ere, ‘ave a little music to go with the pic. (Really, I’ve been waiting for ages  for an excuse to sneak in this link)

More Zodiac Shenanigans

Cancer. The Crab. Water. Cardinal. Ruled by the Moon, patron saint of poets and lunatics. Moody. Droll and charming if and when they feel like it. Stroppy and obstreperous if the spirit takes them the wrong way. Also caring to the point of soppiness and capable of a persistence verging on perversity. Exceptionally sensitive and often insecure they need a teddy bear more than many other a sign in the celestial map. This one in the pic is deeply shocked at the chaotic state of this nation and intensely offended by the fact that it has become a bad joke. And a caricature of itself, as never tire of pointing out.

Celestial Twins

Gemini. The twins. Air. Mutable. Under the aegis of Hermes/Mercury, patron god of travel, communication, boundaries, commerce, luck, trickery and thieves. (And by extension, mediatic hermeticism and political flimflam.)
Here we can see them bearing news, both good and bad. Good: John Bolton’s toast. Bad: Boris is still in 10, Downing St. Well, there’s always the fragile hope that Bojo will rupture something in one of those hysterical paroxysms of self-importance of his and he’ll die of a punctured ego. Have a simply beautiful weekend.

Celestial Maps

Zodiac 1&2. Aries & Taurus. I have been dilly-dallying for nearly two years about this but it seems that the stasis finally is breaking up. The impulse of doing a Zodiac springs from and boils down to the fact that most of the characters in it are animals. So here goes the first two beasties, in an experimental, tentative approach. Aries has a little lamb, the future black sheep of the family, and Taurus has his Anti-Taurus for company, to balance any excess of fluffiness. If there are anti-neutrinos and other anti-particles I can’t see why the celestial bull shouldn’t have his antithesis, don’t you agree?

Mystic Mag

The Watcher. This is a reproduction of the stained glass rosette that graced the front of the old decrepit church at the top of Federal Hill, Providence, RI, where the cult of the Starry Wisdom took temporary residence until its outlandish shenanigans became too much and the local authorities closed it down and disbanded the faithful. Officially, at least. Years down the timelines, some idiot called Blake stirred things up and there were more numinous carry-ons and subsequent mystical trouble. To cut the story short, the church kind of blew itself up, or the Dweller in Darkness, or Haunter of the Dark, or whatever preternatural thingummybob inhabiting the steeple, blew it up whilst effecting its escape. Or some such shit. The Rosette, naturally, shattered into microscopic smithereens and became a dust so fine that was able to infiltrate the eyes, and then the brains and finally the DNA of many local politicians. The rest, alas, is history. It does kind of explain Trump, Henry Kissinger and Dominic Cummings, innit?
On a totally unrelated note (but I include it here because it cheers me up): it’s been SO nice to see Bojo bite the dust spectacularly. Mustn’t get complacent, though. This kind of Terminators have a knack of picking themselves up, dusting the opposition down and starting all over again…and again…and again. Just like the many dwellers in darkness of old. Eyes peeled, people!