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.

State of flabbergastedness

This week the planet Earth will piss off the rest of the solar system like it never has before. And that’s sad.

Virgo (August 23 - Sept. 22)
Yes, you woke up in a straitjacket this morning—but at least you were put in it for a damn good reason.

Libra (Sept. 23 - Oct. 22)
Use the word “flabbergasted” more often. Planetary vibrations make your fridge rattle annoyingly. Tonight you’ll be split open—in a good way.

Scorpio (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21)
You don’t have the balls to have children. Aquarius asserts, “The Astrologer is right, Libra, you spend much more time flabbergasted than you admit to.” Things you missed out on this summer include sun and beaches and fun and awesomeness.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21)
MSG! Scorpio psychologist states, “I’ve never seen anything like it. Libra is flabbergasted 100 per cent of the time. Even when she’s unconscious, scans indicate that her brain remains in a state of flabbergastedness through all stages of the sleep cycle.” Checkers!

Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19)
Your method of picking your nose proves uniquely British. Pisces presenter intones, “Imagine being flabbergasted every moment of every day. That’s exactly how life is for sufferers of hyperflabbergastosis. Please give.” Heads roll at work, ruin the carpet.

Aquarius (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18)
Your sibling’s fist so comfortable—it knocks you right out.

Pisces (Feb. 19 - March 20)
Your total lack of faith in yourself inspires others. Alien anthropologist asserts, “Note how, by taking her dog to a pet psychiatrist, the trophy wife indicates her need to see a people psychiatrist.” Tomorrow you’ll pre-order a watch, end up on a watch list.

Aries (March 21 - April 19)
Dog Walker asserts, “The name’s Dog. Dog Walker.” Alien anthropologist observes, “By the fires of Betelgeuse, the contempt Scorpios have for Virgos on this planet can be awesome to behold.” You’ll grope an underage hockey player, get minor penalty.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)
Believe all disparaging remarks made about you today. Alien anthropologist asserts, “The name’s Zabdar. Zabdar Excelsior.” Alignment of Venus and Saturn has you buying pies like a madman—and we all know how a madman buys pies, don’t we?

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)
Jupiter in your sign makes this a great week to put a gun in your mouth, but not such a great week to pull the trigger.

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
Butane in the membrane, yo. Forced-labor camp bunkmate asserts, “I think we need to re-think our lifestyle. I mean, are we living to work, or working to live?” You’ll go on a craigslist date, meet a BBW (Big Bipolar Woman).

Leo (July 23 - August 22)
Presence of dog precludes doggone-goodness. You’ll say to forced-labor camp bunkmate, “I’m pretty sure we’re working to live.” The big toe on your left foot will really hurt this week, especially after Friday’s epic stubbing.

If Today is Your Birthday:
April 21-28, 2016 will be the shittiest April 21-28 of your life. By far.