Kicked in the spleen

Behold the planets bumping and ricocheting in the sky like balls on a vast and demented billiardsphere. The outcome of this sadistic cosmic game was rigged eons ago—the only question is, in which pocket are you cowering?

Virgo (August 23 - Sept. 22)
Decision to fuck on rather than fuck off results in major fuck-up. Glue glued to glue with two gluey glues unglues. French friar fries French fries on French fry day (Friday).

Libra (Sept. 23 - Oct. 22)
Unexpected pregnancy puts the ‘u’ in ‘uterus’. Moon-hating astronaut sneers up at the night sky, intones “I’m coming for you bitch.” Synergy of artistic and sexual energies fails to spark up lint-covered spliff found beneath your mutual futon.

Scorpio (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21)
Uterus proves odious. Stupid relative you’re obliged to visit exclaims, “Warm up the ice, dear, company’s coming!” Next week you’ll be workin’ in a goal-oriented mine.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21)
A selection of probabilities for tonight’s business dinner: 2 percent chance of getting laid; 60 percent chance of getting kicked in the spleen with a five-inch stiletto; 44 percent chance of an embarrassing incident involving a shellfish platter; 5 percent chance of a fatal embolism.

Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19)
Yourself proves myselfish. Beluga tearfully asserts, “Look at me! I’m a whale.” Annual general meeting of the Preposterous Ladies Society involves crinoline, high-pitched giggles, nasty outdoor bondage.

Aquarius (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18)
Deliberately bruise apples, bananas, shellfish. Capricorn asserts, “I wish I were called Capricornelius.” Your beloved iPhone proves trackable, hackable, cyber-attackable.

Pisces (Feb. 19 - March 20)
There are those who believe you are an insufferably callous and manipulative Turkish gigolo. Then there are those who believe you are an elderly Chinese chambermaid who can’t speak a word of English. The truth, of course, lies somewhere in between.

Aries (March 21 - April 19)
Pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey proves tacky. Epicurean Aries asserts, “Surely there’s a place nearby where a discerning gentleman can smash a few authentic Ming vases.” Lower bowel inflammation proves dynamic, irrepressible.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)
Astrological pun proves Capricorny. Old Testament God asserts, “Yeah, I kill babies. All the time. Whatcha gonna do ’bout it?” Tonight you’ll inadvertently violate your lover’s insanely strict dog-feeding protocol, face the consequences.

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)
When they came for the Capricorns, you said nothing for you are not a Capricorn. Sagittarius astrologer asserts, “I prognosticate on a strictly need-to-foreknow basis.” An unfortunate moment of distraction will prevent you from reading this sentence in its entirety.

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
Your ambition clings to Pisces’ destiny like a tenacious, genetically-modified leechvine. Aries astronomer asserts, “This thing about the stars and planets being our friends is going right out the window the day the sun explodes.” Tonight you’ll moonlight, twilight, flashlight.

Leo (July 23 - August 22)
The planets are united in a rare consensus: next week you are going to jail. What you go to jail for is entirely up to you.

Massachusetts hold ’em

Sweet Christ, it’s 09/09/09—what does this mean? Fuck all, actually. Tyrants and despots take note: The Sun in Virgo with Neptune in the ascendant makes this a great week for facetious executions.

Virgo (August 23 - Sept. 22)
Tomorrow will be your day to be outshone. Capricorn asserts, “That was the most facetious execution I’ve witnessed.” Three Wednesdays after the next full moon, you’ll Botox your scrotum.

Libra (Sept. 23 - Oct. 22)
You know your sex is a bad joke because every time you orgasm your lover groans, “Too soon! Too soon!”

Scorpio (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21)
Your wedding vows will be hilarious in retrospect. Thai in Thailand asserts, “Thai again? We just had Thai for lunch.” Next year you’ll die of AIDS-related flesh-eating disease.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21)
Displeasurably pallid and lumpy abdomen proves to be yours. Italian in Italy asserts, “Italian three nights in a row? Mamma mia!” Trusted newsreader renews vows, re-vows news.

Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19)
Today will feel more like January 17, 2003 than you’d care to admit. Cannibal asserts, “Human again? What, is there something wrong with the freezer?” Failed driver’s test involves street full of fleeing people, 237-inch yellowfin tuna weighing 404 pounds, frankfurter stand.

Aquarius (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18)
During dessert you’ll overhear sullen Scorpio snarl, “I expected a blind date, not a fucking amputee.” Right in front of the amputee in question, who’ll shout, “Hey, do you think I’m fucking deaf?” And then they’ll fight and it’ll be awful.

Pisces (Feb. 19 - March 20)
Super-rich Sagittarius barks, “Have your people blow my people.” Focus on Texas hold ’em, New Mexico hold ’em, Massachusetts hold ’em. Tonight you’ll power-trip, power-fall down power-staircase.

Aries (March 21 - April 19)
Remorseless pummeling of your face represents an opinion, not a fact. Urinating leprechaun is a wee, wee man. Focus on Russian roulette, Russian backgammon, Russian serial adultery.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)
Roughly translated, the ancient Druid slang for your current situation is “mountain goat shitting as a rock is thrown.” Try to skip Thursday. Focus on French ticklers, German fisters, easy cultural stereotypes.

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)
Tonight you’ll be successfully separated from your conjoined Gemini twin, after which God will angrily re-conjoin you and stomp back up to Heaven muttering something about foolish humans meddling with His divine plan.

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
You’ll cruelly psych yourself out before tonight’s admittedly long-shot seduction attempt. Ubetter Upgrade Umbrella(s). Spelling bee final is win-or-loose.

Leo (July 23 - August 22)
Conjunct of Mercury and Uranus can’t be good for you. Umbrage involves Umbrella, Ümläüt(s). Venus in Aries makes this an excellent time to wonder how thick an all-Earth telephone book would be.

If Today is Your Birthday:
Over the years, dozens of domestic animals have made unsolicited sexual overtures toward you. But tonight, for the first time, you’ll accept.

Thought of the Week: Nothing is more corrosive to the human soul than the belief that one must have an erection to masturbate. Nothing.