Scorpio Oct 23-Nov 21
I’m going to Disneyland. Not to go on rides, Scorpio, or to eat cotton candy, or to flirt with furries... Nope, I’m going to Disneyland to settle the matter once and for all: Does Žižek work part time as Steamboat Willie? And if so, is that even a costume?
Sagittarius Nov 22-Dec 21
I just finished weatherproofing my house, Sagittarius. I took three or four vintage leather jackets and nailed them over the windows, and slathered almond butter all over the ceiling, and stacked old issues of Saveur under the bed until there was no more room in the bedroom. It’s going to be a long, warm winter...
Capricorn Dec 22-Jan 19
I started a private club last year devoted exclusively to the reenactment of noteworthy reenactments of noteworthy battles. Of course, the most famous reenactment of all time is the May 11th, 1998 Battle of Little Bighorn, during which Clem Blank spontaneously combusted. It’s been tough, Capricorn, to recapture that magic.
Aquarius Jan 20-Feb 18
I knew a girl in high school who had over 10,000 stuffed animals. Her dad built her a whole new outbuilding to house them all. It was creepy and sad, but I also found it weirdly erotic. We had sex amid all those plushy creatures, and I almost suffocated. That girl, Aquarius? Lisa Bonet.
Pisces Feb 19-Mar 20
Do you know if Paul Rudd is still alive, Pisces? I read on Twitter that he was killed at a Clueless fan-appreciation event at the Hollywood Bowl. I really hope Paul Rudd isn’t dead. I love that guy.
Aries Mar 21-Apr 19
In order to hunt human toddlers successfully, first you have to get into the mindset of the toddler: violent, narcissistic amorality, Aries. Are you prepared for that? Of course you are. (You guys hunt toddlers, right? Right?)
Taurus Apr 20-May 20
It’s going to take a much better curling broom to get that stone into the house, Taurus! You’ll never have any luck with that tiny, wee tool. Because when people tell you it’s not the size that counts, they’re just being nice.
Gemini May 21-June 20
I found a toy elephant at the dump yesterday. He wouldn’t stop talking to me. He kept saying I should put shag carpet across both floors of my crab shack. I said that would smell by St. Swithin’s Day. At which point, Gemini, that sumbitch charged me.
Cancer June 21-July 22
“Little miss little miss little miss can’t be wrong.” Possibly the worst lyric ever committed to tape, Cancer. I was jet-skiing along the Grand Canal last week when that song came on over my special aquafunk stereo. I threw up all over the Doge. And this was in Venice, California. Figure that one out.
Leo July 23-Aug 22
The absolute worst job at my childhood commune was mediating the cat disputes. In order to mediate a major cat dispute successfully, you have to spend the night with your head in a litter box. And that’s why I hate Swedish hippies, Leo.
Virgo Aug 23-Sep 22
If you see something shiny, Virgo, you should take it. If you see something dirty, you should clean it. If you see something sad, you should cry. What I’m trying to say is BE MORE OBVIOUS, DUDE.
Libra Sept 23-Oct 22
Why does every parent in Brooklyn name their children such foolish things? Serpentinio and Fluke? Shale and Galen? Charlemagne, for crying out loud? If you ever have a child, Libra, you need to call them either Dave or Donna. The End.
Photo from The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology