I don’t believe in ghosts. But I’m not one to take chances either. That’s why I always whistle when I walk alone in the dark. (Someone once told me that it keeps ghosts away.) And so far, it seems to be working just fine – I’ve not seen a single ghost, spirit, phantasm, sphincter, or specter, since I started whistling in the dark.
OK. I admit: I’ve seen lots people staring strangely at my whistling, but no spooks.
I don’t believe in *Horoscopes either. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t read them every day. The Horoscope is like the Lotto. Unless you play, you’ll never win – and your numbers will never come up.
So, unless you read your Horoscope, how will you know when your lucky day has arrived? Makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it?
Now here’s the thing: I have developed a system for reading the Signs of the Stars. I read all the Horrific forecasts, and then pick the one which I like the most. Let me give you a for instance. (I’ve taken just three Astronomical daily Starsign prophecies.) Guess which one I picked for the day:
Aquarius: The developments of today require that you make an enormous sacrifice. Since you are already suffering in silence, you have to be mindful not make any fatal mistakes. Your financial ruin is a very real possibility.
Cancer: Love is sweet for you today; and whether you whisper tender words in his/her ear or whether you write a love letter or poem, your lies will be believed. Tonight’s the night. The whole night! **Vasbyt!
Taurus: You may believe that this is just another ordinary day. BIG mistake! Problems will appear when you least expect them. Death and destruction wait around the corner. You’ll be lucky to make it through the week alive.
Yep! You got it. Using my system, I picked Cancer for my starry forecast of the day.
But, as with most things in life, just when you think you’ve got it sorted out, disaster strikes. This morning I got this Horror scope:
Your sexual wish is to make love, while wearing only a pair of spectacles. You are anal retentive to the point where it has become a compulsive disorder.
Bliksem! (Yes, Sakkie. Bliksem!) I was shocked to the core of my sokkies!
For an old fart, my eyes are still in good working order, and now some Astronaut tells me to wear glasses when making love to the missus! I know that she is not as good looking as she once was, but Hell! Neither am I! And I don’t need glasses to see that!
And then there’s the anal thing. I looked it up on Wikipedia (I suggest that readers close their eyes when reading the following piece – it’s not for the faint hearted):
Anal retentive (also anally retentive):
In Freudian psychology, the anal stage is said to follow the oral stage of early childhood development. This is the time when an infant’s attention moves from oral stimulation to anal stimulation. In other words: toilet training. Freud theorized that children who experience conflicts during this period of time may develop “anal” personality traits.
Well! I’ve never been so insulted in my life!!! Anal retentive, indeed! (Hold me down, Sakkie. I feel a murder coming on!)
According to Sigmund Freud, I’ve not only suffered a lot of conflict while I was doing potty training – I’ve also got an anal personality. In other words: I’m an a$$$hole!
Luckily, I’m fairly thick-skinned. Insults roll off me like a hippo rolls off an ***elephant’s back. I’ll never believe in the Zodiac again. It’s just a lot of nonsense, I tell you.
From now on I’ll stick to whistling in the dark…
*Horoscopes – whistling doesn’t scare Horoscopes away
**Vasbyt – if you don’t know what it means, you shouldn’t be reading this
***elephant’s back – you’ve never seen a hippo there, have you? Proves my point
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