Some bull

I was flipping through the chinese horoscope of the cow for the Year of the Dog for 2006 when i came across the disposition of the people who are born in the year of the cow.

"The character of the Cow is steady, conservative with strong inner self and has a sense of responsibility. He has a good creditability and honors his word. He is loyal and worships one principle. " Hmm, I like to think that I possess those traits.

"He enjoys being in a serene environment and has the temperament of the Cow. " I dun need a serene environment. I just enjoy idling around.

"Sometimes, it is hard to get along with them.He will be able to listen when he has calm down. "
Cow People like me are rather obstinate. They just refuse to acknowledge that they are wrong even when the facts are presented. Maybe we are even worse than mules.

"He is diligent at work, but will only be able to finish his task only under instructions. He does not have the courage to try out new venture. They do not have the patience and courage to earn too much money. Hence, the Cow works hard and silently. "

Heres my interpretation of the Cow:
A thickheaded, servile and bovine creature which only knows how to slog. He derives masochistic pleasures from the throes of constant flagging and dragging plough across the fields, chained to the cumbersome yoke, which he has gradually grown accustomed to. He knows that he is not like the hens n cocks who just mate and lay eggs. Nor is he like the gregarious parrot who knows how to carry the farmer's balls and talk himself out of situations. Hence, he has to work.

Sometimes, he dreams briefly about lovely pastures and sexy cows with milk-dripping nipples but often dimisses his dreams quickly with guilt for harbouring those lazy and filthy thoughts. He thinks the dreams he have are akin to the pile of manure that he just defecated. Full of bullshit. Hastily, he shakes his head to jolt himself back to reality. He lifts his eyelids desultorily to glimpse at the afternoon sky.

The sun continues to blaze at the field.

Fucking hot weather, he thought to himself. Cant wait for nite to cum.
Sure and steadfast, he continues to thread through the fields, hoping that every step he takes will draw him closer to dusk.
He mumbles and grumbles but never voices his complaints. The woes of the moo goes unheard because he is afraid of incurring the wrath of the farmer and disrupting the harmony.

Suffering in silence, quietly beneath the scorching sun.