Which is how he came to be sitting across from the famed astrologer and mystic oracle in her star-spangled west-coast grotto, cash in hand, for the third time in two weeks.
The first had been to find out what the Sinhalese New Year might portend for The Man’s political ambitions, and the second was to order a reading of the runes vis-a-vis the future electoral mindset, ie, what will play best with voters now the chips are down.
Right, said Madam Moonbeam, at my request a conclave of the Inner Circle of the Ceylon Society of Seers and Soothsayers met to confer and consult their ancient and modern astral almanacks in search of answers.
And what they found, she said, in their own words “dramatically highlights the role of Pluto, the planet of transformation, destruction, and renewal”
For the past 15 years, she said, Pluto has been in Capricorn, “illuminating the nefarious nature of age-old hierarchies and authoritative powers that no longer serve the greater good of the community”.
But in March this year, this subversive little planet moved into Aquarius. And the last time this happened, from 1778 to 1798, “it included the French Revolution, the ratification of the Bill of Rights, and the Reign of Terror”
“All of which was the beginning of a communal and technological revolution that unfolded over the next few decades. In short, Pluto in Aquarius represents the cosmic dawn of a new age!
So there you have it, said Madam Moonbeam. It seems there may be trouble ahead, and an iron grip on the tiller will be needed to steer the ship of state through these stormy waters!
She held out her hand. That will be $1,000, she said, which will help the Society join this new Plutonic technical revolution, to bask in the cosmic light of the dawning New Age, and…
Whoa, said Diogenes, hold your horses! I came here to find out if the voters will want more than just ‘an iron grip on the tiller’, something more like The Man’s iron fist in a velvet glove to beat our economic crisis into submission. Know what I mean?
Madam Moonbeam looked askance. How would I know what they want, she said. How would they know? Nostradamus himself would be hard-pressed to understand how their minds work, and even if he did, they’re in no mood to listen to reason.
She reached across the table and took Diogenes’ hand. You know as well as I do, she said, that we’re bankrupt because the voters didn’t care where the money came from that kept our welfare-state show on the road.
They never wanted to pay the price, even as the country’s unpayable debts were racking up year after year, decade after decade, and they still don’t.
So my advice to The Man is: play it straight, look them in the eye, and tell them the truth. If they want their children to inherit the earth, remind them of Churchill’s words to his new wartime Cabinet in the dark days of 1940: “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat…”