Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Posted By on Wed, Mar 31, 2010 at 1:00 AM

One of my many nicknames back at the Teutenberg School for Astrological Finishing and Home Repair was "Mr. Twister," because of this way I had of dancing to the works of Rod Stewart. I pretended not to like the moniker, but was secretly delighted. I don't know why I pretended, Aries, it seems silly now. You don't need to pretend anymore.

Are you paying attention to your friends these days, Taurus? Are you remembering the little things, the details that enrich any friendship? You know, making sure to note mileposts and remembering that your friend(s) don't like cucumber so that maybe you could make your gaspacho without so much of it? Selfish jerk. Also, yuck, cucumber.

More velvet. When in doubt, that's the answer, more velvet. More velvet in your wardrobe, more velvet in your paintings, more velvet in your cheese, more velvet in your approach to life. I respect your natural inclination toward abrasive candor, Gemini, but you need to ask yourself if it's helping you get everything you want from life.

Cancer, Cancer, Cancer… Did you know you're the only sign of the Zodiac that's also a deadly disease? How does that make you feel? I've often thought it would be good to come up with an alternate sign name… Crabula? Hermex? Canevia? Xeo? Rupertronica? Rebranding yourself isn't easy, but sometimes it's what has to be done.

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
Imagine if people were like cell phone reception or Wi-Fi access. As in they just sort of went in and out, only working some of the time? Oh wait, people are totally like that. Seriously, Leo, why can't you work harder? If you spent as much energy focusing on the stuff you cared about rather than having dumb tantrums all the time, your life would be better.


Do you know how to pick a lock? Hot-wire a car? Jump-start a Vespa? Clean a fish? Prepare a duck? Knit a hoodie? No, you probably don't. So what are you going to do when the shit hits the fan, Virgo? Go running to the corner locavore general store? No, because you don't even KNOW HOW TO RUN. You should learn how to run, Virgo.

Follow your nose, Libra. When in doubt, just let the smell of "good times" and "big fun" be your guides to living. What do those things smell like? The former is like popcorn and fabric softener, while the latter is like a hot dog being cooked over an open fire while stuck in the end of a beer bottle. I really don't think I can get more specific than that.

What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do, Scorpio? I'm sorry I confused the cardboard cutout for a real policeman… I just get so nervous around authority. But please tell me you at least enjoyed that crazy "chase" across the rooftops of Brooklyn (even though, yes, we weren't actually being chased). I've never felt so alive.

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21 Once upon a time I thought I would become a tugboat captain, but then my mother told me that tugboat school would cost too much money… That was a long time ago, and I only recently discovered that back when I was a kid, tugboat school would've been subsidized by the government. My mother is dead now, Sagittarius. This whole thing makes me sad.

There's a reason the Sun is at the center of the Solar System, Capricorn. And no, it's not just because it's the largest gravitational mass around, it's because it makes an effort with its appearance. Think about it: shiny, bright, warm, colorful, vivacious… No wonder the Sun is at the center of things all the time! You could use a bit of sprucing up yourself.

A well-built dinner table is an important part of any home. It becomes the locus for all of our family joy and sadness, it holds up our hopes and gives stage to our dreams, and, most importantly, it is the place we go to for our late-night mac ‘n' cheese. It's important, Aquarius, that you give your table a name, so it feels loved. How about "Gordon"?

There's nothing wrong with learning a trade. These days in America, everyone thinks they have to go college—this is ridiculous. Sure, post-secondary education is a billion-dollar business selling the mythical status of a "college degree," but the amount of debt incurred by each graduating class is fast becoming criminal (oh wait, it is). So, Pisces, can I borrow 30 grand?

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