Rodeo!

After an exhausting year both professionally and personally, I'm starting to unlax and rewind. All I can say is thanks, I needed this! I'm spending time with my family and friends in the USA (where I was born) and I'm enjoying just being still. As I said, I really needed this as I know come September, we'll be off the starting blocks once again and we'll have to hang on tight until the end of July. . .again! As John Fogerty once said: "Sometimes I think life is just a rodeo. The trick is to ride and make it to the bell. . ."

Despite being American born, I have never been to a rodeo. So my friend Chris took me to a 4H fair to the annual festivities. As horses can't talk, I'm not sure how they feel about rodeos but judging by their reaction to their riders, I think the pretty safe assumption is that they enjoy having a good kick and throwing cowboys on their asses. This got me thinking about all manner of metaphysical philosophies like wondering if the gods enjoy watching we humans taking a beating. I began wondering if they place bets on who's going to bite the dust the hardest and stay down and who's going to get up, brush themselves down and get back on the horse that threw them. I guess we'll never know if they really do take bets but I think it's a safe assumption that an audience really does favour the guy that takes a bad fall, limps out of the corral and then shows up a few minutes later for round 2 (or 3 or 4). As I say, I have a bit more time to philosophise these days. I'm going to look at biting the dust in a whole new light from now on.

In honour of holding on, here's a Saturn in 8th house joke to mark the special occasion:

Two cowboys were sitting in a bar when one asked his friend if he had heard of the new sex position called rodeo. His friend says no, what is it? Well you mount your wife from the back, reach around and cup her breasts with both hands. Then say, "Boy, those are almost as nice as your sisters". Then see if you can hold on for 8 seconds.

Re-united

Well, here I am again, back in the good old US of A!!

It's been quite a week: I finished school, got the Astrology Quarterly out, got into--and out of airplane--had a family reunion and my 25 year high school reunion! How did I get so old??? Above is me at my, er, best. What can I say?? It's as good as it gets!!

I do have Transit Uranus conjunct my natal Chiron and to be honest, I was a little worried about this one. I mean, I've had enough unexpected pain in my life, right? Right? But this transit reminds me that past wounds do heal. On my reunion night, I met the young man who made sure I understood exactly where I stood in society all those years ago: he made sure I didn't forget I was a half breed, dirty Indian in shoes that weren't Nike or Reebok, that I didn't play tennis nor was I pretty (or thin enough) to be a cheerleader or clever enough to get to the Ivy Leagues where everyone knew he would end up. Nope, I was destined to be no one of particular interest. Twenty-five years after he made this so abundantly clear, I bumped into this boy at our class re-union. He was fat, not so attractive, had a big old pot belly and was still just as obnoxious and unpleasant as he been all those years ago. In other words, it seemed the lessons the rest of us had learned about being nice, playing fair and learning to live within limitations had completely washed over him. "Oh, I lay floors for a living," he boasted to me, "I have a company worth several hundred thousand dollars." He didn't show enough interest in me to ask what I did for a living but I told him anyway:

"I live in London England," I started.

"Oh my God!" he interjected. "I'm a major fan of Paul Weller! Do you know Camden Town?"

"Know it?" I said, "I live there."

"Do you think I might be able to come over for a visit? I need an address. It's always been my dream to meet Paul Weller!"

At that moment, it would have been really tempting to stick the boot in, to laugh in his face and tell him how glad I was that he never lived his dream. But I didn't. Instead I told him about how I got to London, how easy it was and how glad I was that I did it. Yeah, he's an asshole but there's no reason for me to stoop to the same level.

In honour of learning from the past, here's a little Saturn opposite Neptune joke. . .just to keep reality in check!

A man took his wife to his high school reunion. He thinks to himself that although she isn't the best looking woman in the room, they've at least had a fairly successful marriage. Then he reminds himself that he had a very successful career, they had four fairly bright children and though neither career nor children are anything to boast about, at least the mortgage is nearly paid off. He then remembers his house: well, it's okay as far as houses are concerned--at least they had never been without a roof over their heads. As he looks around, he suddenly realises the other men in their far more expensive suits...and their bulging stomachs. Proud of the fact that he weighs just five pounds more than he did than when he was in high school, he says to his wife, "Hey! I'm the only guy here who can still wear the suit he wore when he graduated."
She glances at the well-dressed crowd, then back at him, and says, "You're the only one who has to."

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. . .

It's so good to be home!

I'm just about hanging in there. It's that time of year again--when I start falling asleep at the dinner table (you know I'm tired when that happens!) and feeling too tired to blog.

OK, if you've been following and checking in, then you must be dying for a joke. Here's a special Jupiter conjunct Neptune in the 9th joke for all frequent fliers everywhere. . .

A Mormon was seated next to an Irishman on a flight from London. After the plane was airborne, drink orders were taken.
The Irishman asked for a whiskey, which was promptly brought and placed before him.
The flight attendant then asked the Mormon if he would like a drink.
He replied in disgust, "I'd rather be savagely raped by a dozen whores than let liquor touch my lips."
The Irishman then handed his drink back to the attendant and said, "Me too, I didn't know we had a choice."

Go Susan!

I don't watch a lot of TV but I do plan on watching Britain's Got Talent. It seems that this has been a particularly interesting season, thanks to our Susan. I'm a little bummed that Gregg didn't get through last night but I'm pleased as anything that 2 Grand are through to the finals. I don't think they'll win but they'll certainly give us something to feel good about.

I don't want to say anything bad about any of the contestants. Except I hatesaxophones. Being a trumpet player has made me permanently repulsed by woodwinds who use spit-sodden reeds to play their instruments! And I especially don't think saxes are musical instruments--they're toys! You just blow through one end and wiggle your fingers. No skill involved!

Anyway, enough of that!

GO SUSAN BOYLE!!

Oh and here's a little sax joke.  Let's call it Neptune conjunct Saturn:

Before the 2001 inauguration of George Bush, he was invited to a "get acquainted" tour of the White House. After drinking several glasses of iced tea, he asked President Bill Clinton if he could use his personal bathroom. When he entered Clinton 's private toilet, he was astonished to see that President Clinton had a solid gold urinal.

That afternoon, George told his wife, Laura, about the urinal. "Just think," he said, "when I am President, I could have a gold urinal, too. But I wouldn't do something so self-indulgent!"

Later, when Laura had lunch with Hillary at her tour of the White House, she told Hillary how impressed George had been at his discovery of the fact that, in his private bathroom, the President Had a gold urinal.

That evening, when Bill and Hillary were getting ready for bed, Hillary smiled and said to Bill: "I found
out who pissed in your saxophone."

I is a publishing phenomenon!

OK, my parents always told me it was wrong to boast but I'm going to do it anyway!

After the most hair-raising few months ever, I finally got the Astrology Quarterly out! Here's some photographic evidence that yes, I am the editor:
And, buried in this very issue is also my own article, complete with an editorial mistake that I did on purpose just to get a bit more attention (OK, that last bit is a lie).

Also, I am now an international writer because I appeared in ISAR's latest edition! Ya want proof of that too, I can feel it:Wow, if only I got paid to do this!

OK a few Jupiter jokes with maybe a Saturn connection or two. . .

Q. How many editors does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

A. Only one; but first they have to rewire the entire building.

Q. How many managing editors does it take to change a lightbulb?

A. You were supposed to have changed that lightbulb last week!

Q. How many art directors does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

A. Does it HAVE to be a lightbulb?

Q. How many copyeditors does it take to change a lightbulb?

A. The last time this question was asked, it involved art

directors. Is the difference intentional? Should one or the other instance be changed? It seems inconsistent.

Q. How many proofreaders does it take to change a lightbulb?

A. Proofreaders aren’t supposed to change lightbulbs.
They should just query them.

Q. How many writers does it take to change a lightbulb?
A. But why do we have to CHANGE it?

Q. How many publishers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A. Three. One to screw it in, two to hold down the editor.

Still lovin' Susan!

I haven't gone off the Boyle but another Britain's Got Talent act has caught my eye: Gregg Pritchard. Just as I was wondering if Gregg really was a Castrato, I realised he reminded me a bit of my favourite fallen idol Boy George who was released from prison this week. Thank you HM! I still hope I get to meet Boy George in real life--he was the reason I moved to London after all. Not really. OK, it's true. Viva l'amour.

Which kind of brings me to my joke. You know how French nouns can be masculine or feminine? Well, I was thinking English should do the same! What fun! Let the gender identification for English nouns start right here!

In honour of getting confused about whether or not an item is a boy or a girl, a few helpful Venus conjunct Mars jokes to help:

FREEZER BAGS: They are male, because they hold everything in, but you can see right through them.

PHOTOCOPIERS: These are female, because once turned off; it takes a while to warm them up again.They are an effective reproductive device if the right buttons are pushed, but can also wreak havoc if you push the wrong Buttons.

TIRES: Tires are male, because they go bald easily and are often over inflated

HOT AIR BALLOONS: Also a male object, because to get them to go anywhere, you have to light a fire under their butt.

SPONGES: These are female, because they are soft, squeezable and retain water.

WEB PAGES:Female, because they're constantly being looked at and frequently getting hit on.

TRAINS: Definitely male, because they always use the same old lines for picking up people.

EGG TIMERS: Egg timers are female because, over time, all the weight shifts to the bottom.

HAMMERS: Male, because in the last 5000 years, they've hardly changed at all, and are occasionally handy to have around.

THE REMOTE CONTROL: Female. Ha! You probably thought it would be male, but consider this: It easily gives a man pleasure, he'd be lost without it, and while he doesn't always know which buttons to push, he just keeps trying

Susan Boyle: Saviour of the Modern World!

Like the rest of the world, I’ve been fascinated by the hype surrounding Susan Boyle, the 47 year old sensational singing spinster/AKA the “hairy angel”. An antithesis of the music industry has taken the world by storm and helped us to realise how sick we are of everyone looking so goddamned perfect. Susan stood in sharp contrast to Amanda Holden who couldn't even raise her botoxed eyebrows in surprise. Instead, Amanda showed us her pretty armpits. I wonder if this is a side-effect of botox??As I rarely watch TV, I missed the original broadcast on Britain’s Got Talent but saw it on youtube. I can’t remember how the story caught my attention or why I felt I needed to see it for myself (as I rarely take interest in these talent shows) but I’ve been hooked on seeing Susan’s performance and willingly take responsibility for at least a couple hundred (out of the 100 million) youtube hits. I’m addicted. I have to admit, my heart plummeted when I heard Susan say she was going to sing “I Dreamed a Dream”. The way it was all set up I think one can be forgiven for expecting some sort of joke interpretation. And IMHO, it’s too beautiful a song for that. It’s a song of pain and regret sung as a solo by Fantine in Les Miserables. She’s an abandoned single mother who has been forced to turn to prostitution and sell her child into slavery. I couldn’t bear to see this song turned into a comedy.

Well, I shouldn’t have been worried.

From the moment she opened her mouth, Susan Boyle was a revelation and, as they say, the rest is history. She has the je ne sais quoi lacking in so many of today’s musical performances. Just what might my thoughts be on this je ne sais quoi? Why I’m glad you asked because I’ve been doing some thinking (uh-oh) about Susan’s success. . .

First of all--and don’t hate me for saying it—it was not a perfect performance. The line “when the tigers come at night” was too low for Susan’s vocal range. In fact, I think her vocal range is quite limited. She also didn’t quite have enough breath to sustain “So different now from what it seemed” so she is going to have to work on the breathing.

I don’t think her performance was amazing because it came from an unexpected source either. All this “we were expecting hamburger but got steak so we’re happier than what we expected” business is nonsense. I wouldn’t watch it again and again to relive the “surprise” if that were the case. No, I watch it again and again because I’m handed a pretty damn perfect interpretation of how Fantine really felt: I really felt her pain and anguish. As much as I admire Ruthie Henshall’s voice--or any of the other "divas" who have sung the part I don’t think Fantine would deliver such a perfect, pretty performance at the end of her life. When Susan belted out “So different from this hell I’m living,” I just lost it. Just what kind of hell can Ruthie relate to or make us believe she had been through? I really believed Susan had connected the audience to the composer’s intention far closer than anyone else ever had. Divination at its finest. It's the feeling she puts into the performance--and that can't be taught, coached or paid for. Susan Boyle has proven to our disbelieving eyes that quality doesn't depend on the packaging. For this reason, Susan Boyle just may be the saviour of the modern world.

Do I think Susan can be a Broadway star? To be honest, I’d hate to see her wasted that way. I think if she’s trained like a monkey, she’ll deliver performances exactly like all the other singing monkeys on Broadway. She’ll lose the edge she has and she will never equal what she did the other week. I hope she does do a record before she starts up with the “professional” singing lessons.

Do I think she’ll win Britain’s Got Talent? Well, there is a chance the Susan Boyle hype will continue but it’s going to be quite a lot to sustain in order to win what amounts to a popularity contest. I couldn’t care less if she won a stupid contest—I just want her to keep on singing. And don’t go changing. . .

BTW, wikipedia was giving Susan a birthdate of 1 April 1961 at 9:50 am, Blackburn West Lothian Scotland. This gives her a Gemini ascendant--very apt for someone who claimed we were only seeing one side of her! This data shows transit Pluto opposing her Venus in recent years. We haven't seen the last of Susan Boyle!

In honour of Susan's long hidden but permanent fame, here's a little Venus in the sixth opposing Pluto joke:

One day a man was driving along when all of a sudden 'thud' 'splat' he hit a rabbit who had hopped out in front of him. He stopped the car to see if it was still alive but it was just a limp, lifeless creature in his hands. A blonde woman saw what happened as she was driving by and pulled over to see if she could help. The man explained what happened and she said, "Don't worry I know just what to do". She runs back to her car and comes back with a spray can and proceeds to spritz the entire contents onto the rabbitt. Suddenly the creature springs to it's feet and starts hopping down the road again. It goes about 50 feet turns and then waves it's paw at the two humans.....hops off again, goes 50 feet and waves......hops off, goes 50 feet and waves. The bewildered man asks the blond what it was she sprayed onto the rabbit? She hands him the can which reads, "Restores life to limp, lifeless hair. Adds permanent wave."