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Horoscope for the week of March 19, 1997

Your newfound ability to pick up Canadian radio stations will be the only positive side effect of the brand-new steel plate in your head.


After hearing a new Keith Sweat version of “Your Song,” your spouse will stab you to death and eat your corpse.

A crafty door-to-door salesman will weave his silver-tongued magic about you, leaving you with the world’s largest collection of sea monkeys.

Your legendary love of mashed potatoes leads to romance when you discover a way to unlock the erotic potential of hot cream gravy and clarified butter.

Your death and ascension into heaven will take a disappointing turn when, in a break with tradition, the souls of those you slew in battle refuse to serve you cold beer.

Your comforting weekly routine is broken up when your mother’s profanity-laden phone call never comes.

You will spend the week in a walking coma after a slick big-city lawyer fills your head with a bunch of nonsense.

Dismay and hopelessness will enter your dreary little life this week in the form of twin sons.

You will achieve a kind of immortality this week when you become the first person in history to be bludgeoned to death with a lace doily.

You return from a much-needed vacation to find your wine cellar depleted and the muddy bootprints of two dozen construction workers in your wife’s bedroom.

A film festival featuring all your early screen appearances will soon be showing in your hometown, but Sam’s Super Sleazy XXX Sin-ema will refuse to give your family free tickets.

A surprise visit from your mother leads to a wacky mix-up when she finds the 700 used syringes you were saving for an art project.