Consultant: (www.)AndreeaTalmazan(.ro)
Edit: seringa

For all conglomerates of matter there are anti-conglomerates-of-matter in nature. There are forces and reactions to them, sounds that can be silenced with other sounds, presidents and tramps, light and… well, you get’it. Whilst you, masses, decided to be lame enough to let the Universe decide some 12 base sets of characteristics 4 you, life hasn’t been so kind to all specimens on the planet. Read the entire New York Times Zodiac on a Tuesday and you will find that everybody on the Planet is doing moderately well, is yet to have a slight temporary trouble or win some money. How about the miss-fortunate? The Pisces that guided Murphy to make his pessimistic laws? The Aquarius that lives true to his astral sign, but in the worst possible sequence of universal events?  While you might be the king Lion in your neighborhood, sau un adevarat Taur comunal, perhaps a well-pondered Libra, mind you how fate twists and turns given the same astral direction and take a look at the seemingly unforeseeable effects the stars can have upon you. Well, not you, my allegedly worthy reader, but a Scorpio with whom the stars had a laugh.

Zodiac: Scorpio / (le) scorpion

Human specimen: Ion Hundeschlampigesohn

After trying out different races of men, Ion’s french nymphomaniac mother heard a romanian shepherd could allegedly have enough stamina to fully please her desires. This vague yet annoyingly precise type of man suggested by a madame in a brothel where Qui Hundeschlampigesohn [mot-a-mot translation That SonOfTheBitch'sDog] used to work for free got her interested. Mademoiselle Qui got her last name after La Resistance eventually won and disgraced the Nazi’s french bitches [the really beautiful ones, whom preferred to ride in Mercedes rather than '45 Peugeot ], in envy [thus reducing the future female potential of the french race to genetic copies of Resistance women, all hairy, stinky and battle ready]. Upon meeting Qui in his stable / bedroom, Ion’s father told her to throw her clothes away. For good? she asked. They will be out of fashion by the time we’re done here, mademoiselle. This is the story of Ion Hundeschlampigesohn’s procreation. 7 years later he wasn’t school ready yet, to let him enjoy his childhood a bit more. And enjoyed he did, playing doctor with unsuspecting 3 year olds and fantasizing about making any girl purr. Of course, the early training helps a young sexual oriented mind. Ion’s sweet 16 meant that he discovered rule 27: the internet contains porn about/with/involving anything you can think of.  At age 23 he reached sexual maturity, which for Ion was intercourse with 35 Thai women. At age 30 he had a wild passion for horses <try the 3rd combination of “passion&horses” that pops in your mind, if you’re neither sick or a Scorpio> which ended with the amputation of his right leg. At age 35 he devised a fucking machine. The prototype malfunctioned and split his anus, colon and a section of the small intestine, but he perfected the machine, patented and got rich. Ion’s mid-life crisis involved a red Porsche, ca la noi in Germania, but also found him striving for building a legacy. Thus, he set about building a carousel fucking-machines attached to chains, all spinning. In testing mode, he loaded the carousel with 3 whores, then he got himself in, to counter-balance the contraption. There was nobody else in the workshop to stop the machine from spinning, so they were discovered by the maid the next morning. Ion has found hies early demise, along with 2 bitches. The blonde one was still alive and enjoyed the ride.

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