Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Horoscope
Posted by Läps Trinity on Wed, Sep 10, 2008 at 12:00 AM
ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
My Great Uncle Louie was a hell of a safecracker in his youth. They say he had fingertips so sensitive he could make out the conversation just by rubbing the phone cord — prodigious physical gifts. The early recognition of natural ability (and/or limitation) is the key to success, and though I realize you’re not 12, Aries, you need to figure out what you’re good at, and just do it.
TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
Sure, yeah, I like a good, bracing game of racquetball now and then, but that doesn’t make me ELITIST! It makes me a little sweaty, and my cheeks get all red… Why, Taurus, do we have to impugn the sporting recreation of others and assign it varying levels of class status? Are we so terrified of individuality that we have to depersonalize others by category? Good god yes. Windsurfer.
GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
Next time it rains, I want you to fold up a tiny little paper boat with a message of love and kindness on it and send it down the flowing gutter water. It may be destroyed, it may burst into flames, or it may end up in the hands of a sad child — you never know. There is nothing wrong, Gemini, with sending indiscriminate messages of happiness into the world. Just don’t tire yourself out.
CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Purchasing a nutcracker is a sure sign you are absolutely and irrevocably an adult. Have you ever even thought about it, Cancer? It’s ok if you have, you just need to resist a bit longer, sow your wild oats one last time, you know? You’re on the precipice of respectability and convention, so now’s not the time to relax. Try one thing this week that you never have before.
LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
Dear god, is there no limit to which people will carry on doing something they are so manifestly bad at? Sure, you might have a good time at karaoke, and, hey! all the people are applauding you, wow, you’re a really good singer, or at least that’s what your mom says! But, Leo, please, this does not mean you should write seven crappy songs and record them. That’s just pollution.
VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
They say those who say “I’m bored” are in fact the ones who are boring. But I say those who say that “the ones who say ‘I’m bored’ are in fact the ones who are boring” are in fact the ones who are deeply irritating, homily-spewing life-hacks who are too terrified to think below the surface lest they see the truth and hang themselves. Some days are better than others, eh, Virgo?
LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
Did you have a treehouse growing up, Libra? A place you could run away to when life got big or mean? Was it high up in a walnut tree down at the end of Vollmer Street? Did you paint it yellow in the summer of 1987? Was there a copy of the Sports Illustrated with Larry Bird and Magic Johnson on the cover nailed to the lowest branch? If so, can I have my Millenium Falcon back?
SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
Oh how we are angry! Oh how we clench our fists into devastating balls of fury! Oh how we feed our rage with the very things we hate the most! Oh how we are tired of it all! Will we ever punch through? Or will we petrify in the molten lava of our own perpetual huffiness? Crikey, Scorpio, why must we (I) address you in the first-person plural? It is making us (me) very angry.
SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
For a brief moment in the summer of 1958, the Canadian parliament considered a clandestine invasion of the Upper Peninsula region of what we now think of as “Michigan.” The incursion onto American soil lasted an hour, at which point three linemen from the local high school team “menaced” the elite “Maple Guard” all the way back to Moosejaw. Never stop fighting, Sagittarius.
CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
You know, some people are sick all the time. So that’s why they might be really irritable and easily confused. What I’m saying, Capricorn, is that chronic pain is a deeply invidious thing that sneaks into a person’s life, often without them even realizing it. And they get grumpier and more distant, fragile and reactionary. So, just keep that in mind. (I think my shoes are too tight.)
AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Crap. More dark than light. Cold, squinty wind. Election Day. Oh what horrors the Autumn brings. Have you invested in the sun lamp yet, Aquarius? Hey, when things seem bleak at the prospect of crummy weather, just remember that you’ll now be able to wear all kinds of cool sweaters. With patterns! And elbow patches! And images of neo-natal animals! That will be fun.
PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
I once dreamed of becoming a “noted illusionist” but all I ever achieved was occasionally being referred to as “crap, this guy will try to juggle if you pay attention to him for too long.” What happened to the wonder in the world, Pisces? The childlike love of magical-fantasy-fun? Did it leave when we turned 13 and tried hash for the first time? I’m beginning to think, yes, that’s when.
My Great Uncle Louie was a hell of a safecracker in his youth. They say he had fingertips so sensitive he could make out the conversation just by rubbing the phone cord — prodigious physical gifts. The early recognition of natural ability (and/or limitation) is the key to success, and though I realize you’re not 12, Aries, you need to figure out what you’re good at, and just do it.
TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
Sure, yeah, I like a good, bracing game of racquetball now and then, but that doesn’t make me ELITIST! It makes me a little sweaty, and my cheeks get all red… Why, Taurus, do we have to impugn the sporting recreation of others and assign it varying levels of class status? Are we so terrified of individuality that we have to depersonalize others by category? Good god yes. Windsurfer.
GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
Next time it rains, I want you to fold up a tiny little paper boat with a message of love and kindness on it and send it down the flowing gutter water. It may be destroyed, it may burst into flames, or it may end up in the hands of a sad child — you never know. There is nothing wrong, Gemini, with sending indiscriminate messages of happiness into the world. Just don’t tire yourself out.
CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Purchasing a nutcracker is a sure sign you are absolutely and irrevocably an adult. Have you ever even thought about it, Cancer? It’s ok if you have, you just need to resist a bit longer, sow your wild oats one last time, you know? You’re on the precipice of respectability and convention, so now’s not the time to relax. Try one thing this week that you never have before.
LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
Dear god, is there no limit to which people will carry on doing something they are so manifestly bad at? Sure, you might have a good time at karaoke, and, hey! all the people are applauding you, wow, you’re a really good singer, or at least that’s what your mom says! But, Leo, please, this does not mean you should write seven crappy songs and record them. That’s just pollution.
VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
They say those who say “I’m bored” are in fact the ones who are boring. But I say those who say that “the ones who say ‘I’m bored’ are in fact the ones who are boring” are in fact the ones who are deeply irritating, homily-spewing life-hacks who are too terrified to think below the surface lest they see the truth and hang themselves. Some days are better than others, eh, Virgo?
LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
Did you have a treehouse growing up, Libra? A place you could run away to when life got big or mean? Was it high up in a walnut tree down at the end of Vollmer Street? Did you paint it yellow in the summer of 1987? Was there a copy of the Sports Illustrated with Larry Bird and Magic Johnson on the cover nailed to the lowest branch? If so, can I have my Millenium Falcon back?
SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
Oh how we are angry! Oh how we clench our fists into devastating balls of fury! Oh how we feed our rage with the very things we hate the most! Oh how we are tired of it all! Will we ever punch through? Or will we petrify in the molten lava of our own perpetual huffiness? Crikey, Scorpio, why must we (I) address you in the first-person plural? It is making us (me) very angry.
SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
For a brief moment in the summer of 1958, the Canadian parliament considered a clandestine invasion of the Upper Peninsula region of what we now think of as “Michigan.” The incursion onto American soil lasted an hour, at which point three linemen from the local high school team “menaced” the elite “Maple Guard” all the way back to Moosejaw. Never stop fighting, Sagittarius.
CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
You know, some people are sick all the time. So that’s why they might be really irritable and easily confused. What I’m saying, Capricorn, is that chronic pain is a deeply invidious thing that sneaks into a person’s life, often without them even realizing it. And they get grumpier and more distant, fragile and reactionary. So, just keep that in mind. (I think my shoes are too tight.)
AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Crap. More dark than light. Cold, squinty wind. Election Day. Oh what horrors the Autumn brings. Have you invested in the sun lamp yet, Aquarius? Hey, when things seem bleak at the prospect of crummy weather, just remember that you’ll now be able to wear all kinds of cool sweaters. With patterns! And elbow patches! And images of neo-natal animals! That will be fun.
PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
I once dreamed of becoming a “noted illusionist” but all I ever achieved was occasionally being referred to as “crap, this guy will try to juggle if you pay attention to him for too long.” What happened to the wonder in the world, Pisces? The childlike love of magical-fantasy-fun? Did it leave when we turned 13 and tried hash for the first time? I’m beginning to think, yes, that’s when.
