August ~ 2002
Brought to you in pieces and parts by the Coconut Joe Publishing Co.
Where so many others have failed, Madame Deevine has become an internationally accomplished astrological horoscoptologist while forsaking the riches and fame that usually accompany such a talent. She maintains her meager living, sort of the Mother Teresa of her profession, so that you may come to know your future free of charge at Vale Edge. And don’t forget, she’s in the business of translating dreams, too. So write to her at madamedeevine@aol.com
Here are the Madame’s observations for this month:
Aries (March 21-April
19) Passage
through customs is a necessary part of international travel. Forge a new bond
with an authority figure by saying “Nice shootin’, Tex” at every
encounter. Turnips have very little appeal to you.
Taurus (April 20-May
20) Decide not to wear overalls to an
important meeting. Your fingerprints are unique. It’s time to spread your
wings and fly, or at least flap your arms around until you get really tired.
Daydream offers excellent chance to use your imagination.
Gemini (May 21-June
21) Observe a sharply designed
backdrop at a presidential press conference upon which the same message is
printed repeatedly, as if to emphasize the commander-in-chief’s message for
that day using tools paid for by you, the taxpayer.
Cancer (June 22-July
22) Beg the DJ to play another
somebody-done-somebody-wrong song. Coaches whittle down their rosters through a
series of exhibition matches. Lunch meats will go bad if you do not use them in
a matter of days.
Leo (July 23-Aug.
22) After hearing Lynyrd Skynyrd's
"That Smell," you believe you've found the solution to the titular
riddle buried in the line "Whiskey bottles and brand new cars; oak tree
urine my way."
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept.
22) Lament the fact that you will
never be able to get back the couple hours of your life that you totally wasted
by watching “National Lampoon’s Las Vegas Vacation.” Desire for fresh
prime-time programming will have to wait just a little bit longer.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct.
23) For
some grammar fun, put the pronouns "she" and "it" together
in rapid succession and ask a listener to repeat back to you what they heard you
say. You’ve narrowed down your milk choices to: whole, 2%, 1% or skim.
Scorpio (Oct. 24-Nov.
21) The cowboy in you really begins to
emerge when you decide to go downstairs and rustle up some grub. You don’t
know when to quit, and this keeps you gainfully employed for now.
Sagittarius (Nov.
22-Dec. 21) Confront a delivery person
while butt naked and declare that you are a “saggy, saggy, Sagittarius”
Stand back while Mr. Know-It-All here tries to resolve the plumbing issues.
Capricorn (Dec.
22-Jan. 19) Skip the director’s
running commentary special feature on a DVD. If you are agreeing to arbitration,
you must abide by the arbiter’s final ruling. Tundra is capable of following
its natural cycle without your supervision.
Aquarius (Jan.
20-Feb. 16) You have the gift of
eloquence, still unwrapped in a box deep inside a storage room, with no
intention of getting it out and using it any time soon. Before you accuse Eric
Clapton, take a look at yourself.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March
20) You're
not likely to encounter Yeti, Jabberwocky, Medusa or those nasty little Ewoks in
the course of going about your daily routines – but you just might meet a
leprechaun if you’re a good little lass or laddie. Consider a move to
Minneapolis.
Madame's
Mailbag
Dear
Madame,
I
am floating in a pool of red liquid that is sticky and slimy at the same time.
On the edges of the pool of liquid are chairs where people sit and watch with
looks of horror on their faces, as I stuff what might appear to be mannequin
parts into large plastic bags.
Soon I will sleep, and if by chance I dream, maybe I'll write you. Until then,
stay out of Sedona.
Signed,
Donnie
(The Chainsaw) Brazinni
P.S. Joey sleeps with fishes.
Dear
Bra Man,
A
swimming pool filled with (Madame is just guessing here) blood is an omen of
excellent fortunes ahead of you. The mannequin parts mean somebody is going to
give you a hand. The horrified bystanders are merely jealous of your many
successes. But are you absolutely sure Joey is sleeping with a Pisces? Because
that’s not what Madame heard. Wait, Madame is getting way ahead of herself.
You say this pool thing is happening before
you go to sleep? Now that is
interesting. And what’s this about a chainsaw? Madame is afraid you’ve lost
her.
With
Apologies, Madame Deevine
Dear Madame,
Oh
my god Madame I need your help!
I dreamed I was an amoeba, then, like some kind of fish, which eventually grew
legs and walked out of the water. Then a tail and knuckle-scraping length arms
sprout and I climb a tree in seek of fruit, but instead find a long pointy stick
next to a sharp stone and a fallen vine. I take all of these things and fashion
them into a box, which strangely is filled by images of what appear to be
talking monkeys in suits.
What does this mean?
Chuck Darvin
Dear
Chuckles,
I
want you to do something for me right now. Go and find a crude torch or a bone,
and, with some other very carefully selected primal partners, throw it into the
air just as high as you can (it helps to have some inspirational music playing
in the background). If the torch comes back down as a futuristic space station,
your dream has meant that you are a brilliant yet often misunderstood filmmaker.
If, however, Marky Mark Wahlberg and Helena Bonham Carter and Charlton Heston
arrive on the scene, this means that you are artificial and can’t seem to come
up with anything original. And if a giant, rare sea turtle swims onto the scene,
you just enjoy yourself a nice, heaping bowl of soup.
Love,
Madame Deevine.
***
Dear
Madame,
If I dream that I'm falling, but don't wake up before I hit the ground:
a. Will I die?
b. Will I pee the bed?
c. Will I become a vessel for a lost spirit to inhabit and play practical "meatspace"
jokes on other lost spirits?
d. What about if I hiccup, burp and fart simultaneously?
Signed,
Well … you know …
Dear
Uno,
The
answer is a. You will die. In fact,
we will all die someday. And it will be you who is responsible for the demise of
the rest of us. How dare you seal the rest of our dooms like that. Who do you
think you are? And by the way, if you hiccup, burp and fart simultaneously,
nothing extraordinary will happen. However, if you hiccup, burp, fart and sneeze
simultaneously, your eyes will pop out, you will swallow your own tongue, your
eardrums will collapse, and all of your innards will spill out. Your arm and leg
reflexes, however, will remain intact.
Love,
Madame Deevine.
*
* *
Madame Deevine attained her dream analyst accreditation from the East Central California Center for Nocturnal Lucidity. Please do not attempt to analyze dreams without supervision from a certified counselor.
The Madame's Memoirs
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