Your birthday will be your best ever in terms of presents. In terms of contracting explosive leprosy, it’ll be just so-so.
The stars would give you a horoscope, but you dropped the ball last week when you failed to meet a dark, handsome stranger. This is a two-way street, buddy.
Mars in your sun sign indicates that you will go to work, watch televised sports, and enjoy several meals this week.
You will lose an argument with a truck next Tuesday. This is not, however, a cute way of denoting a traffic accident; you’re just not very persuasive.
You will fall victim to the rules of both social and regular Darwinism.
Christ will appear before you and firmly state that He has never been on a crutch, on a bike, or in a sidecar. Please stop implying that He has.
Libra is flattered that you asked, but it is not in fact Don DeLillo’s Libra.
The residents of Walla Walla and Kalamazoo will contact you and demand that you stop using the names of their cities as some kind of weak joke.
The authorities realize that you are responsible for his broken legs and the cigarette burns on his arms, but they are powerless to take protective custody of Couchy, your favorite old couch.
Everyone will be full of praise and admiration for you, but don’t let it go to your head. This is only normal at funerals.
The Legion Of Super Heroes would like to thank you for your application, but regretfully informs you that it is actually just a comic book.
Although you dislike your career, you know there are only so many options for a hot, horny housewife who’s waiting breathlessly by her phone.
