Last week, while my back was turned, my progressed Moon flipped into Capricorn. Guess that explains my sudden insatiable urge to watch Humphrey Bogart movies over the New Year’s weekend: Bogie was a Cap.
And so was my dad, who would have turned 79 years old today. Like Bogie, Dad was a man’s man, a hard-ass, no bullshit, hard-drinkin’, hard-workin’ tough guy who turned to goo when it came to the women in his life. I guess I’m a lot more like him as I get older; the other day, at the end of one of my epic rants about some thing or other – the ones that are more and more frequent and vicious – I paused and observed, “Gee, I’m a lot more intolerant than I thought. I hate everybody!” “Who’d you get that from?” Jonny asked. And I realized that I seem to have inherited a bit of dad’s hard streak, along with his nose.
Guess I’ve got 2.5 pr. Moon in Capricorn years to come to terms with that, maybe find a way to funnel it into strength instead of flintiness.
I think I’ll hang on to some of dad’s cynicism, though. For instance: Nice to see the administration got off its Scroogey collective ass and increased its aid to the Tsunami survivors. How long do you reckon it’ll take until Halliburton gets handed a nice, juicy contract to rebuild Thailand?
