Everything may seem quiet in the sign of the lion, but take heed: The Capricorns have increased the budget for their nuclear-powered sub-orbital anti-Leo lasers.
Stick up for what you believe in this week. Write a strongly worded letter to your local newspaper protesting their slanted and one-sided coverage of murder issues.
No one will stand in your way if you heed Taurus’ words: Walk briskly and swing an axe in front of you.
It seems cruel, but for now it’s best not to accept Buddy Hackett’s tearful apology for last week’s incident.
Six fractured vertebrae, a separated shoulder, a severe concussion and 10 shattered fingers convince you that you aren’t cut out for the typist’s life.
You will be incinerated in a Bangkok blast furnace when a Thai prostitute misinterprets your repeated insistence on “getting your ashes hauled.”
You will receive a late-night phone call from the world’s most beautiful people asking how it feels to not be one of them.
Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, will introduce a fun new game he calls “See How Close I Can Come To The Scorpio Without Actually Hitting Him With The Lightning Bolt.”
You may be entitled to a large refund this week when the gynecologist you’ve been seeing announces that you are not pregnant but male.
Saturn in your sign is cause for concern, as Capricorn has had a restaining order against the planet for years.
God will announce that you may be forgiven for any one sin you’ve committed, except the melon-fucking.
Nothing will be what it seems this week, especially breakfast sausages.
