Astrology is Fake But Aries Can’t Stop
There is a whole bit in the new “Planet Earth II” about jaguars. The emphasis at first is on the hunting behavior of the lady jaguars. Their approach relies on stealth, slinking around in the trees and moving soundlessly through the water with just their wizard eyes showing. The capybaras do not see them coming.
The male jaguars are different. They cannot rely on stealth, because they are too big and, I suspect, too impatient. No hustling around in the shadows, thank you. The male jaguars just fucking go for it. They do not bother with capybaras because capybaras are too alert and also, I suspect, too gross. They have hooves¸ and yet they are rodents. Intolerable. The male jaguars pay them no mind at all. Guess what they hunt instead? Alligators. The hubris. The audacity. There is this seriously good bit with this huge male jaguar. You see him kind of loping along the riverbank and then pow he is in the water and he comes out again with a damn alligator in his jaws. Just hello guys, I am the most intense and pure predator imaginable, to the extent that I only hunt other predators. As my main man David Attenborough says, I am a killer of killers.
You see where I am headed with this, I hope. What is an Aries if not that male jaguar? Just a happy little hunter crashing around, no regard for stealth or tedious waiting. Just HERE I AM AND YOU ARE ALL GOING TO SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES. Just bewildered as to why anyone would try and stand in their way.
I used to pick up these kids from school every day. The little girl, Grace, was an Aries. One afternoon, she pulled this card out of her bag. It had a heart on it and it said NEVER CHAGE GRACE in big jaggedy handwriting. I told her it was a nice card and she said yes, a very nice card. I asked her who gave it to her and she looked at me in total scorn and said Me. I wrote it to MYSELF. Is this not the most Aries thing you have ever, ever heard? Yes. Admit.
An Aries is one of those wind-up teeth toys, except the teeth never wind down. An Aries is every single time a cartoon character barges into a room and flattens another, lesser, character behind a door. An Aries is a dog that needs to sleep on the bed. An Aries is if a Sagittarius and the God of War had a baby, and that baby was given too much positive affirmation. That baby was somehow given permission to go to school dressed up as a crocodile every day for a year. That baby is terrible at drawing but believes that it is very good indeed. It is always drawing you a picture of a boat or a monkey and giving it to you in an envelope full of glitter. The glitter gets all over everything. In your hair, even. An Aries does not believe that impostor syndrome is even a thing. An Aries is never sorry, but you cannot be mad. Tigger from Winnie the Pooh is an Aries. Secretariat was an Aries. Bunny Wailer is, of course, an Aries. I knew that before I even looked it up.
What’s interesting is that we do not shy away from them as we should. They have wronged us on several occasions and yet we forgive them. We have built ourselves fortresses and moats to protect ourselves from Scorpios and Geminis. We are foolish in many ways, but we are not that cavalier as regards our personal safety. Why, then, do we not take measures to guard against an Aries? Do we not love ourselves enough? Even as the mechanical teeth are biting away at our ankles, we are laughing and pretending that it’s fine. Even as Frank O’Hara, the number one all-time Aries, is breaking our hearts for the 50th time we are smiling our heads off because look at what a good day he is having! He is just being himself and who are we to ask him to stop cheating on us just like all, all, all the time? It would be unfair. NEVER CHAGE FRANK.
An Aries is when someone goes to the shops to buy you a birthday present and instead they come back with a plastic crown that they bought for themselves. An Aries once bought himself a bugle even though he cannot play it or indeed any instrument. An Aries likes to stand behind the door and then when you come in he blows the bugle right in your face and just absolutely falls to pieces with merriment. An Aries cannot keep it down, even as you are trying to sleep. You come out into the living room and say O Jesus PLEASE and an Aries is sitting there in his crown and he holds out his arms and says Forgive me and you just IMMEDIATELY do. What is the matter with you?
James Franco is an Aries and I am sorry but I rest my case. You think you hate James Franco, right? You think he thinks he is too much of a legend. All that shit with old Marina Abramovic. That time he interviewed himself. Etc. You feel like you really hate him but then you remember how amazing he was in Pineapple Express, so groovy and hilarious in his stupid pants, and you are forced to reconsider. You actually don’t hate James Franco at all. Your heart tells you that you should, but you just don’t. You secretly think he is the best. This is the great power of the Aries, and I have no idea why we don’t take strenuous measures to protect ourselves. We don’t, though, and we never will. NEVER CHAGE.