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Horoscope for the week of January 16, 2002

Try as you might, you will not be able to improve your mediocre putting game. Gee, some big fucking problems you got, asshole.

You will discover that, indeed, it is fun to stay at the YMCA, but that’s hardly the whole story.

After 90 healthy, prosperous years, you will die in bed surrounded by loved ones, bringing your life as a masochist to a bitter, tragic end.

The old saying, “It takes all kinds to make a world,” will be amended this week to exclude you.

If you’ve ever wondered how long you could endure without the comforts of human love, you should find the next 57 years very illuminating.

Though you say you don’t believe in God, don’t worry: He doesn’t believe in you, either.

There are some things money can’t buy. There are also some things money

Your innovative new clock-radio design will be the subject of a three-page spread in next month’s issue of

After a nice, private walk on the beach, you are disturbed to find a set of footprints where someone–or something–seems to have been walking beside you.

Your gym teacher will be forced to apologize after wrongly assuming that a little rain wouldn’t hurt you.

Try as you might, you can’t seem to drum up the enthusiasm society seems to expect of you.

Keep telling yourself that it’s just a movie. It’s not, of course, but doing so may make it easier to bear.