I like astronomy. The big boy inside me likes when I look up on a clear night, and I can see millions of stars, planets, comets, meteorites and planes heading west. The sheer scale of the universe is a wonder to behold, but as a certified nerd with a Physics brain, I understand that everything up there is there for a reason. Mainly, Isaac Newton getting bonked on the head and inventing gravity (sic) is all that holds them in place. Things cross each others view lines, and so to us on earth, it looks like a planet has passed through a constellation. This then leads me on to the other great thing about star-gazing.
Astrology. That great skill of looking skyward and deciding that the collaboration of Venus and Mars passing through your star sign means that you'll be making love to a soldier before the week is out. The fact that your star sign is only one in twelve must mean that mathematically one twelfth of the entire population are about to get jiggy with GI Joe or GI Jane. This, in anybody's books, must be high class twoddle. Let me show you my stars for this week...
And yes, I need a new outfit. In fact, my suit's a little tighter then it used to be, and so's my best shirt, so the fact I'm at court a couple of times this month and maybe even more is as good an excuse as any. As I'm sure TDT will attest to, my pulling power's already amazing. How else would I have got such a good looking woman at my beck and call? And that's where it falls over. Off limits? Me? I've never known such a thing. Maybe it means what I should and shouldn't blog.
Donald Trump FACTS!
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