Cranky Large Medium reading, 5 September

Go away.

Why are you here, still? Don't you have a train to be under, or something? Run along, now. Go on. Skedaddle. Go. Go. Go. Sigh. Why are you still standing there? Wait – no, let me guess. You came here on purpose, and you want something from me. And what you want is something only I, the escetic with vision, can offer. So, looking around at what little I have, I can reason this out... you want a reading. Oh, look, it can bob its head like a cork in the rapids. I can only assume that is assent. And, if I give you this reading, you will leave? There goes that cork, again. Ah, joy. Here you are:

Holy cow! you are mercurial! You really ought to practice not giving in to your moods every time they shift. You are impetuous, unsteady in your judgment, and... interesting, verrry interesting. You like society, excitement and pleasures, but could be capable of some seriousness, if only you took the time to focus. You are winsome and irksome.

Are you happy, now? Of course not. But you should be able to consider the positive side of things – at least you have the ability to do so. That puts you ahead of these people, all of whom, on this date in history, ceased to be able (non possum): Emperor Nijo, Manuel Blanco Encalada, Tȟašúŋke Witkó, Arthur MacArthur, Jr., Robert Means Thompson, Ignacij Klemenčič, Rudolf Virchow, Ludwig Boltzmann, Marian Smoluchowski, Richard C. Tolman, David Todd Wilkinson, Mother Teresa, D. James Kennedy, John Home, Ferdinand Raimund, Fritz Leiber, Charles Percier, Domenico Allegri, Gisele MacKenzie, Claude Renoir, Leo Penn, Robert Harron, Gert Fröbe, John Thomson, Jochen Rindt, Evan Tanner, Catherine Parr, Auguste Comte, Sarah Edmonds, Karl Harrer, François de Labouchère, Richard Walther Darré, Douglas Bader, Allen Funt, Justin Wilson,

and Georg Solti.

Now, conduct your way home.
Happy birthday, anyway.