Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator (ludickid) wrote,
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator

Dumb Dressed in Smart, or, the Flatterer's Escapade

I know a lot of smart people who are adherents of astrology. I don't get it, myself. Why not rhabdomancy? Why not haruspication? Likewise, I know a lot of smart people who are fans of Rob Breszny's "Free Will Astrology", whatever that means. Let's see what Rob predicts for me this week:

You are becoming very relaxed. All tension is flowing out of you. Your worries are dissolving. With each breath, your body feels a growing sense of peace and well-being.

Are...are you coming on to me, "Free Will Astrology"?

Your mind is expanding naturally, allowing you to experience a harmonious attunement with life.

See, this is why I don't get the appeal of this cat. What's different between this and any other New Age hokum other than that he has a slightly more high-toned vocabulary?

In response, deep sources of practical intelligence are welling up into your awareness, filling you with good ideas about your long-term financial future. Soon you will begin writing down a ten-step master plan that will go a long way toward making you into a money magnet in the next 18 months.

Whoops, let's redact: what's different between this and any grindhouse newspaper daily horoscope? I used to write this stuff, folks, and this differs from my hackwork ("Financial security is just around the corner! Focus on long-term goals when Aries is in the house.") only by its wordiness.

Rob closes up with an advert for his new book, Pronoia (It's the opposite of paranoia! Ha ha ha! Although, technically, "intranoia" would be closer to the opposite of paranoia.). I am meant to be tempted to buy this thing based on the following crypto-affirmations:

Plant orchids on a strip-mined hill.
For 24 hours, imagine in great detail that you have a guardian angel.
Sing the first song you ever heard.
See how far you can spit a mouthful of beer.
Make believe you are the ocean king or thunder queen.
Improvise a fresh bedtime story for someone you love.
Put on an inflatable sumo wrestler costume and play a bagpipe as badly as possible.
Watch TV with your third eye.
Sip holy water blessed by a smart teenage girl.
Bear in mind that you are the Chosen One, and so is everyone else.

Again: I just don't get the appeal of this guy. Even if I was less ill-disposed to astrology, he reads like a slightly more highbrow Ashleigh Brilliant.

Fiddle-dee-dee, fiddle-dee-da, see how I give the evil eye to passing dust.
Tags: crankery

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