ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
Ok, so you know I’m not a big fan of, like, people. This includes me and you, Aries. But before you tell me that’s a crummy way to be and that I’ll end up unhappy, I already know that. The thing is, not liking people allows me to tell them the truth, because I don’t care what they think. See what I mean?

TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
We sort of abuse our pasts, don’t we, Taurus? We excavate them and expose them to sunlight and pick around through all the little dirty bits as if somewhere in there is the answer that will redeem us, save us from ourselves. NO. There is only one Indiana Jones in this world, and he’s fictional anyway. Try looking forward for a change.

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
I’ve been hearing the same song in my head for three days: The theme song from Perfect Strangers, the show about the immigrant cousin, Balki? You know what I’m talking about. Well, this line is stuck in my head: “Sometimes you get a feeling like you need some kind of change.” A-fucking-men, Gemini.

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
If faith doesn’t work, Cancer, you might have to use the sword. And by faith I mean wearing sexy pants, and by sword I mean baking a cake. So, if sexy pants don’t get you what you want, you’ll probably have to bake a really delicious cake. Does this have any bearing on your present situation? If not, sorry, it’s been cloudy of late.

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
Some of us are good at some things, but not at other things, and that’s ok, Leo. Take me, for example: I am a truly great astronomer, able to read the constellations like others read the origin stories on the back of soy milk cartons. However, this great skill is compensated by a weakness: I am unable to pee standing up. It’s hard, but I persevere.

VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
Harder days are coming, Virgo. Are you ready? Things are going to come fast and furious, by air, by land, by sea. Some days you won’t even know if you’re coming or going as a barrage of deadly fire rains down upon you and your loved ones. But you shall survive, and you shall prosper. And as the last ember fades you will rise again.

LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
I used to watch a lot of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was awesome, mainly because Jean-Luc Picard was such a bad-ass, half tough-as-nails leader, half refined French gentleman. Also, the one who could feel what other people felt? I thought she was hot. I didn’t like Riker, though. Oh yeah, Libra… uh, trouble at work this week, or some shit.

SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
You know when people drag out that old stat that “getting in a car is five times more dangerous than getting on an airplane”? Well, I don’t like to get into cars, either. So how about that, smug stat-droppers? People will hear what they want to hear, Scorpio, sometimes reason just doesn’t work. That’s when you drug them.

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
It is hard to understand the pain of others. All we can do is relate it to our own, to the years of suffering felt through the unique personal language of our own bodies. But no translator can match the idioms; there is no perfect translation. Understanding the pain of others is a humanizing act of faith, Sagittarius, and we must never stop trying.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
Some day, a long time from now, the husks of our billion cars will have receded into the dusts of history, save for a few relics preserved by the dry sands of the inland deserts, worshipped as ancient skeletons of once-mighty god creatures. And your descendents, Capricorn, will totally crack jokes about it. Why can’t you just be serious?

AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Oh the mistakes we make. The missteps we take. The feelings we fake. The brownies we bake. The thirsts we slake. The leaves we rake. The promises we break. We are fragile, weak creatures, Aquarius, this we know. But we’re also capable of truly wonderful things… Love can get us through a lot, you know.

PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
Don’t you turn your back on me Mr./Miss! You are going to stand here and listen to what I have to tell you, whether you believe in astrology or not. First of all, tuck in your shirt. And wipe that grin of your face. Damn it, Pisces, you’re throwing it all away, and for what? Some dumb need to rebel? Stop being such a child.

ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
See how the curtains billow into the room, even though the window is closed? That means you have ghosts; or possibly a crack in the window frame. Obviously, I’m going to go with ghosts. Aries, you need to think about who might be haunting you this month, then you should ask them to stop—you don’t need that right now.

TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
Being able to feed yourself is an important life-skill, Taurus. And by “feed yourself” I don’t mean “microwave a burrito.” I’m talking about the honest pleasures of cooking a meal, for yourself and for friends. When’s the last time you had a dinner party? Have one soon, and good things will happen.

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
Jai alai continues to be my preferred metaphor for modern existence: it’s fast, only right-handed players can do it, and it uses a tiny hard ball. I really don’t have to spell that all out, do I, Gemini? Good. Take those analogs for what they are, and use those lessons in your life. Jai! Alai!

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
You can smell the snow on the wind—like metal that’s been kept in the freezer… reminds me of home. You know, Cancer, I actually miss shoveling snow: the scrape of the shovel on the driveway, removing layers of clothing as you get hot… Winter’s coming, so you’d better dry-clean your sweaters.

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
Buy your tickets now. Whether for a winter getaway, Rangers game, or simply “to ride,” you need to plan ahead, Leo. How many times has the thing you really wanted to do just slipped through your fingers, leaving you doing the thing you kind of want to do? That feeling sucks. Quit short-changing your funtimes.

VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
Do you smell sorrel? I smell sorrel. I also smell pomegranate. Do you smell pomegranate? Is there a giant spike sticking out of my head? Why does everything look green? Virgo, if there was, in fact, a giant spike in my head interfering with my brain, would you tell me? WOULD YOU?

LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
Where are all the honky tonks? The raucous saloons filled with loose women and men in hats? I’m asking you, Libra, because now that darkness has fallen across the land, we really need to make sure we have fun in loud, well-lit places, lest we become depressed and lose all hope. Time to party.

SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
I was sailing around the North Sea over the summer, a solo expedition in search of the mythical lundehund, a rare Scandinavian canid blessed with the gift of being able to gossip while still retaining respect among its peers. Nobody likes a gossip, Scorpio, so unless you’re a lundehund, you should ease up.

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
Have you been down lately? You seem down. Are you eating enough fruit? Your natural inclination at the moment is probably just to eat cheese and potatoes all night long, to fatten yourself up for winter. DO NOT DO THIS. It will make you sad and fat, and I don’t like you sad and fat, Sagittarius.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
Where I come from, there is no Thanksgiving in November. As such, with no holiday to look forward to, it really is one of the saddest months: the darkness is oppressive, the weather is cold and painful, without the mitigation of pretty snow… I’m glad I came to America, Capricorn. I do not hate your freedoms!

AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Don’t give up, Aquarius. As the poet says, it is always darkest before dawn. And, I guess it can’t get much darker than this, right? So you should probably start getting ready for the great dawning! Oh what fun we’ll have, making pancakes, staring at the sun! Dawn! Dawn! The dawn is beautiful.

PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
My dog Lance was struck by lightning. He’s ok, but it blew him 25 feet—luckily he landed in a cab pick-up truck carrying old jean jackets. The weird thing is that I had to follow that pick-up clear across the state of New York before I could get Lance back. All of which is to say, Pisces, cherish what you have.