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Horrorscopes by Mr. Mark Elf

Sun opposed by Saturn this Monday

An opposition occurs when our sweet Earth is directly lined up between another planet and the Sun. Early this week, gas giant Saturn will feature in just such a situation and all sorts of Horoscopical and Mantological problems will undoubtedly arise. Check in with the detailed and finely tuned maunderings of Mr. Mark Elf, hmpod’s own Prognosticator of Destiny. And if you don’t like what Mr. Elf has to say about your coming week, there is no reason you shouldn’t go to your local corner market and buy one of those little scrolly bits of paper that claim to be your personalized Horoscope. Ha! No reason except they don’t even pretend to really care about you. At least Mr. Elf really pretends to care. And he pretends hard, too.

Click this link to become the loyal Opposition

Horrorscopes by Mr. Mark Elf

I will only repeat this once!

Well, that’s not really true. I’ll repeat it all day, everyday, for the rest of my term as mayor of this stinkin’ burg. And why not? It’s an important message and one that must be heard. No, it has nothing to do with Global Warming or the fact Mitt Romney has been known to spit-roast Mexican babies — even when he’s not hungry. Nor is it a call to take up arms and overthrow the Chilean dictatorship. No, this is a really important message! Really, really important!

Please, click me & then… kiss me!

Horrorscopes by Mr. Mark Elf

It’s all about filling the belly

Unlike various ocean-based lifeforms, it is difficult for human beings to live on microscopic zoöplankton and phytoplankton. The sorts of things that humans eat are many and varied, some of them coming in a nice licorice flavour.

All this is neither here nor there. The fact is that you are about to be in a world of hurt, thanks to the federal revenue department. Time to pack up and flee the country! Quick! NOW!!!

Or it may be that I’m just making this stuff up. Heck, it’s not the first time I’ve lied to you people.

See, the fact is, I don’t think anybody is reading this. I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open and I’m writing it. What possible worth does this bit of nonsense have in the Grand Scheme of Things? Well, it turns out that it has a lot of worth. This brief bit of gibberish could be worth more money than the richest man in the world keeps in his secret underground vault. Not the one where he keeps his gold; I mean the other one. The one with the gold is pretty cool though. The guy’s even got a chaise longue set up so he can just sip a tall, cool beverage as he gazes languorously at his enormous golden pile….

I’m sorry. Where was I? I think the subject is food. And I just heard the microwave oven bell indicating my Extra Fatman’s Supper is ready. Let’s eat!

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The Walking Dead season 2 finale

Running on fumes

Howdy-hey folks, Jerry here. Just watched the season finale of The Walking Dead and I liked it. Be warned before you read further: this post contains spoilers and claptrap.

I won’t bother to recap the episode, other than to report Hershel Greene (Scott Wilson) and his daughters lost the farm to the biggest herd of walkers this entire season. Our ever-diminishing group of survivors is once more on the move. Of course, now the group is in just three vehicles, including the chopper ridden by Daryl (the excellent Norman Reedus).

The bag of weapons and ammo is also gone, picked up at the last moment by Andrea (Laurie Holden). Poor Andrea, believed to be a casualty of the farm catastrophe, fights her way alone through the woods, out of ammo and energy, rescued at the last moment by a machete-wielding person in a black, hooded Death costume, chained to two other dubious individuals.

Rick Grimes (Andrew Lincoln) led the rest of the survivors away from the overrun farm, only to stop by the side of the road because his vehicle was just about out of fuel. During a tense evening around the campfire, Rick reveals two things. First, they are out of marshmallows. No, just joking. He had to kill his best friend Shane (Jon Bernthal) because Shane wanted to murder him. Second, the reason Shane came back as a walker so quickly — and without a bite from anyone infected — is that all the survivors are already infected. (I think I suggested this in our most recent podcast.) This second tidbit fills us in on what Dr. Jenner (Noah Emmerich) whispered in Rick’s ear in the season one finale.

The episode ends with Rick telling the group that they are no longer a democracy; Rick will make the decisions, the others will follow — or they are free to vamoose. Considering how hard Rick has worked on behalf of this ragtag bunch, I’m surprised at the sudden anger they feel toward their fearless leader. Even wife Lori (Sarah Wayne Callies) and son Carl (Chandler Riggs) are upset with Rick. It’s at this point Rick breaks into a heartfelt rendition of the Allman Bros.Whipping Post. (Of course I’m kidding.)

Finally, the camera flies up and we see that just across the river is Rick’s dream — or pipe-dream — of finding a safe haven. I think the fortified building shown is an old prison. Obviously built to keep dangerous people inside, it could have been turned into a fortress to keep walkers out. Any guesses as to where Andrea’s saviors come from? Any guesses as to what sort of mad society exists inside those cold stone walls?

As I’ve said before, the quality of each series produced by AMC is startling. While I don’t watch Mad Men or The Killing, I am devoted to The Walking Dead, Hell on Wheels and my fave-rave, Breaking Bad. For commercial-ridden TVland, AMC is creating surprisingly fresh, well-written, well-acted, well-produced programs. Keep it up, AMC!

Season three of The Walking Dead will rise from the damp, mouldy leaf-litter sometime this autumn. In the meantime, expect the season two DVD set to lurch onto shop shelves soon. Cheers all.

Horrorscopes by Mr. Mark Elf

A week of terrible disasters

Of course Mr. Mark Elf — Horoscopocological & Mantological Utterer to the Stars, Larger Asteroids & Some Planets — does not reveal the future so that he can afterwards sit back with an alcoholic beverage, rubbing his hands together in morbid glee, enjoying the mayhem he revealed. That wouldn’t be nice.

Mr. Elf is far more likely to feel quite bad when his lamentable Prognostications come true. Once he felt so bad he refused thirds on dessert. (It was blueberry pie, so that just shows how upset he must have been.)

Asked about his coping mechanism, Mr. Elf wiped his filthy face with a filthy towel and gave us a crooked smile. “I remember favourite lines from the old Monty Python’s Flying Circus television show,” said The Great Man as he went to properly wash his face. “I never even liked that program, but it gets me through the really difficult times.”

“Please fondle my buttocks,” said Mr. John Cleese

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