Get ready to hit that reset button, Baby New Year! New Year, New You! Right from the get go, on the evening of the 1st, there’s a Full Moon in Cancer. Resolve an issue concerning women, motherhood, or family issues. The 9th seems like a particularly powerful day, but there is a warning not to get too cocky because pride comes before a fall. Also, around this time, there may be a temptation to take something to the next level to make your point very clear, but getting rowdy really isn’t necessary. Take extra care not to go overboard with food, drink, or anything really. Moderation is key. Remember that Aesop fable about the tortoise and the hare? Have some patience and you WILL get there. There may be a pull to get all emotional, but it would be wise to stick to the facts. If you are too close to something to be rational, you may need some insight from an unbiased source.
A new wave of energy is ushered in on the work front during the New Moon on January 17. With Mars going into Sagittarius towards the end of the month, we may find ourselves getting heated and frustrated prematurely. Wait till you know all the details before blowing your top. And then there is ANOTHER Full Moon, this time in Leo which will highlight your creativity and just how much of it you are willing to share with the rest of the world.
The 7 of Wands is coming in for most signs. I get the feeling that it is indicative of boundary disputes and people trying to roll up on the scene and change what you have grown accustomed to. Just remember that “no” is a complete sentence. Sometimes though, change can be much needed, albeit uncomfortable.
As always, consider your Moon and Rising sign in addition to your Sun. What comes through for each sign is general. If you wish to have a more personalized reading, please hit my name in the sidebar which should take you to my Etsy shop or message me on my FB page Tarot By Tonyana. Now let’s get to the deetz about January!
My friend Jairo and I have a long-running inside joke into which I am about to invite you. We call it The Compilation. Let me give some back story. We are both former employees of a secondhand bookstore that shall remain nameless. Until a few years ago we had to choose “appropriate” music for store play via CDs for sale from our inventory. It was such a pain. Sometimes there was nothing that anybody really wanted to hear, so we would be forced to choose 5 lesser evils.
Sometimes we would be inundated by the Beatles, which in my unpopular opinion is utter torture. A lot of the time we had to listen to Pedo music. In layman’s terms it is called Doo-Wop and Motown. There are so many songs about teenage girls being pursued by adult men. How the hell is this acceptable? That’s fodder for another article. Eventually we got a satellite radio station we could listen to. It really wasn’t much better. It was just ok. One minute we would be hearing the wonderful bagpipes of “Under the Milkyway” by The Church, but then suddenly it would be some yodeling fool. I wish I were kidding.
Being sick is the pits, but it doesn’t have to be the total pits! While you are lying in bed, sweating through your sheets while simultaneously experiencing a coldness that will never subside, you can still accrue life points. If you are gaining life points then time is not a-wastin’ and you will be able to rest more completely whenever you finally let yourself rest. And you need to rest!
Whether you have a cold or a flu, a persistent infection of the sinus or the respiratory system, strep throat, earache, hayfever, measles, mumps, rubella — well, the list is as long and as varied as any medical dictionary — but no matter what you have, it is probably the worst you’ve ever felt. God knows the flu I just rapidly cycled through gave me lasting memories and a new inner strength that resulted from just surviving.
Our posts are late because since she arrived back from Australia, Dollissa has been in a crumpled heap somewhere on the East Coast. She has not made it back to HQ, but we found this journal in her drafts.
Hour 1: The plane is full. Planes usually are. The first flight is scheduled to be 15 hours. I take a deep breath, buckle my seat belt as shown in the probably unnecessary demonstration of how to buckle your seat belt, and settle in. I mean not really, there’s no room to settle.
Hour 2: We were already given drinks. I’m afraid to drink it because I’ll have to use the bathroom, but I do anyway so that I don’t die of dehydration. It’s water.
Hour 3: I’ve been scolded twice for trying to use my phone on the plane. Apparently it’s a Chinese rule that you can’t use mobile devices on an aircraft, which is contrary to any flight I’ve ever been on. Goodbye, Spotify.
Hour 4: My notebook isn’t writing in itself, so I put it in my lap with the pen. It’s time to try to nod off angrily, but I can’t sleep unless my head is slammed into something and my hands are in little fists. I eat a minuscule airplane meal and try again.
Australia. Land of plenty. A massive island of mostly coastal residents, our language has the unique ability to evoke a feeling in the back of your brain that you’re getting stupider every time you hear it. From the country that delivered you the literary pioneers and cultural contributors Rolf Harris and Rupert Murdoch, we here at Sneer Campaign present you with five Australian terms in order of how alarmingly sexual or coprophilic they are. You can use them, sure. But every time you do, you’ll lose a little piece of yourself.
Our friend, NickW, returns to us on this day. I didn’t mention in the last comic featuring him that he is an Australian. That is a very important thing to remember as you read this. Although, I guess it is pretty obvious because I keep mentioning it throughout our chat. Anyway, one of my favorite things (on certain days — other days I am tired and I get aggravated) is to explore the differences in our English language. There are a lot of dumb, needless differences! It is amazing that we can communicate at all.
I am not even sure what the Australian stereotype is from the American viewpoint, exactly. They are farther away from us than outer space is, but they’re still here, somewhere on Earth. They have cavalier attitudes. Kinda leathery. I guess they are all rugged and outdoorsy? Especially our Australian writer, Saxon. So outdoorsy. And of course, everything in their land is trying to kill them, always, from every angle. They all survive, though, and some of them even become big name stars!
As I grapple with all seven stages of grief at the same time, rapidly cycling, alone and in bizarre combinations, over the death of AOL Instant Messenger today, December 15th, 2017 — a very dark day, I figured that I should try to get a taste of “Reconstruction and Working Through” (stage six) by celebrating that I have had good times there. I am doing this by putting up a comic, by acknowledging International Tea Day, and by crafting unwieldy, ugly sentences. Please pardon me. I am GRIEVING.
Christians are all around us in many forms. Some of them are very self-righteous and will not rest until we heathens are converted. Others are peaceful and kind and sort of like really clean hippies who make brownies and baked goods which are found to be “special” only in the way that they have been baked with Good Christian Love. No, that still is not an herbal kind of love, but believe me, there are those kinds of Christians, too. Christians who won’t let their women dance or wear trousers, Christians who love everyone equally, Christians who hate the gays and the immigrants and those minorities, Christians in politics, Branson, Missouri, bad Christian films. In fact, there are as many kinds of Christians as there are different kinds of personality on earth! Well, all except one. You see, there are just not any creative Christians, apparently. At all.
In their zeal to forward the good message of Jesus Christ, it seems that Christians completely give up their potential for imaginative thoughts. The more cynical of us would say that that is the primary function of religion, to erase creativity because creative thinking would possibly lead to the kind of thinking that makes the thinker think that what they are dedicating their lives to, this blind faith, might be a little stupid. And thinking like that WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.
Somewhat recently, fellow resident of the Sneer House, Lisa, and I took a trip to the Midwestern United States’ Largest Flea Market, which is conveniently located just north of Cincinnati. For those of you unfamiliar with the large scale flea market, let me just describe it as an expansive building filled with booths that are full of an array of garbage that is for sale. Some of the booths actually sell quality items, and you wonder what they are doing there, but mostly it seems to be junk that fell off of the back of a truck and these people scavenged it and put low, low price tags on it — or absurdly high price tags. For those of you who ARE familiar with flea markets, you know that the “bottom” in my title means a butt.