Scorpio Oct 23-Nov 21
Rules aren’t, in fact, made to be broken, Scorpio. They are designed explicitly to be followed. When you break the rules (gravity, threes, attraction), the universe lifts its weary face to the sky and prays for rain to hide its tears.

Sagittarius Nov 22-Dec 21
I recently left my journal at the McCarren Park dog run. It was very embarrassing. I came back the next day and all the dogs—Scooter, Harley, Izzy, Mister Mister—looked at me like I was some kind of perverse dog hater. Yes, Sagittarius, they had read my July 10 entry on Boston Terriers.

Capricorn Dec 22-Jan 19
Sometimes when you hear the songs you loved as a 13-year-old you feel your bowels contract into a sharp accusation of humiliated rage; other times, you think, “Wow, I was pretty cool for a dumb kid.” And therein lies the difference, Capricorn, between the Spin Doctors and New Order.

Aquarius Jan 20-Feb 18
What if they actually made knives out of butter? So you wouldn’t need a butter knife anymore? That would be awesome. And imagine guns that shot out peace bullets? Imagine, Aquarius, if I didn’t owe you $300?

Pisces Feb 19-Mar 20
You should never wear sports sandals, ever, under no circumstances. Just wear shoes. Or better yet, cut off your feet, so you’ll never even be tempted. Actually, Pisces, you should just fire yourself into the sun to be safe. NO SPORTS SANDALS.

Aries Mar 21-Apr 19
Life can sometimes be a lot like shitty AM rock from the mid 1970s: hollow, meaningless, and yet somehow full of harmony. Complacency is a poison bullet, Aries, that creeps ever closer to your heart.

Taurus Apr 20-May 20
It’s sad when flowers are lost to the first frost. Because before they’re hit by the morning sun, they’re actually held there in icy stasis, their youthful bloom preserved in white. And then the evil sun melts everything. The sun is evil, Taurus.

Gemini May 21-June 20
It’s never too early in the season to put holiday bells on your dog, Gemini. Particularly if you hate your dog and are worried he or she is trying to kill you in your sleep.

Cancer June 21-July 22
Where I come from you could receive 25 lashes in the town square for not celebrating Halloween—that’s how hardcore we were. I knew a guy who checked into a mental hospital for five months just so his Charles Manson costume would win the village prize. Where’s your commitment, Cancer?

Leo July 23-Aug 22
Have you ever had to go out and buy pillows, Leo? It’s an ignoble undertaking to say the least. Pillows are the kinds of things you should always just borrow from your Great Aunt or find in the road. Also, pillow salesmen. Ugh.

Virgo Aug 23-Sep 22
“This message sent from my iPhone, from a beach, near Malibu.” Wouldn’t it be cool if our gadgets provided us with the moral compasses we so often sorely lack and told the truth? So when our coworkers sent us self-important emails from the beach, WE’D KNOW? That would rule, Virgo.

Libra Sept 23-Oct 22
While ice hockey is officially seen as the dratted sport of the Norse invaders, it is nonetheless a beloved pastime on the frozen fjords of my native Lapland. This is just one more reason I love winter, Libra. Also, drinking in bars with Christmas lights is the best.

Libra Sept 23-Oct 22
If you want people to think you have fathomless depth and an old, old wisdom, just don’t say much, ever. Seriously, Libra, I’m not talking about being a little less chatty—I’m talking about stone-cold silence. Huge stretches of it. People will think you’re a fucking genius.

Scorpio Oct 23-Nov 21
I tried to have a pledge drive on my front lawn last week. I was trying to raise money from readers like you so I could buy a new fridge. I carried my old rotary phone out there, and before I could even plug it in, it rang. It was you, Scorpio, and you pledged $20. So pay up.

Sagittarius Nov 22-Dec 21
I want a nice little house in the foothills somewhere. I’m not sure which foothills, and I don’t think I really care, Sagittarius. I’ve just always loved the word foothills and what it conjures: a sleepy, rolling stretch of transitional topography, majestic (and cold!) mountains on one side, the fecund prairie on the other. Yeah, foothills.

Capricorn Dec 22-Jan 19
Suffering is entirely overrated. It confers no virtue, creates nothing new, and serves mainly to exhaust and degrade us. We are not like Paduan violas, Capricorn, gaining in depth and beauty with each decade of use... Nope, we just get tired and old.

Aquarius Jan 20-Feb 18
It turns out, Aquarius, that there are nearly 20 different Brooklyns across America, and almost all of them are cooler than the one in New York. In Brooklyn, Ohio, for example, you’re allowed to keep up to six chickens at once! SIX! That’s pretty cool.

Pisces Feb 19-Mar 20
Eternity is a long time, Pisces. So when you say you’ll be a New York Islanders fan for eternity, and that you want your remains shot out into space inside a canister with Mike Bossy’s face on it, all I have to say is “awesome.”

Aries Mar 21-Apr 19
I never said nothing! I didn’t! I would never betray you like that, Aries, I swear. I’m really good at keeping secrets. For example, I’ve kept this one secret for 30 years: Liz Lermann has three nipples. Man, that feels good to get off my chest. CHEST! HA!

Taurus Apr 20-May 20
Halloween is not a particularly scary holiday, honestly. Mainly, there’s no family involved and everyone (who’s not a small child) gets drunk and has the kind of hedonistic good time that comes from wearing a mask and being anonymous. So yeah, Taurus, not scary at all, so you can come out now.

Gemini May 21-June 20
The heart is a lonely hunter, Gemini... What does that really mean? That the heart likes to hunt, but can’t find any friends, so is lonely when it hunts? Sad heart, I guess. Do you have a sad heart sometimes? I do.

Cancer June 21-July 22
Fall rain is the coldest rain of all. Once your socks get wet with fall rain, they stay wet the whole day as you sit at your desk, contemplating your life choices, wondering if you could survive the two-story drop out the office window, which would be an awesome way to quit. Fall rain, Cancer.

Leo July 23-Aug 22
My baloney has a first name, Leo, and it’s Justin. Justin has been with me since Sidereal Vocational Training Institute and Caribou Ranch, in Ystad. Except in Sweden we called him Josteen. One day I might have to eat him, but not today.

Virgo Aug 23-Sep 22
Seattle seems pretty cool, I guess. But everyone’s a little bit sadder. And the tricky thing, Virgo, is I can’t tell if the sadness is cooler or just irritating. Like, you try to just order a bagel with soy cream cheese and you’re met with tears. Cool or not cool? I still don’t know.