Words can’t describe the things that will happen to you this week. Fortunately, the mathematics of nuclear fusion can.
Though you’ve always believed that “everybody loves a good Polack joke,” you will discover an entire nation of people who do not.
You will be shocked to find your wife in bed with your best friend, even though he’s been dead for eight years.
You might think that a memorable handshake is the measure of a man, but it’s easy to think that way when you have a hook for a hand.
You know in your heart that nothing’s really wrong with you. However, your heart is just a muscle. You “know” things with your brain.
Your belief that laughter is the best medicine will be altered forever when you discover penicillin.
Your fatuousness will be revealed to the world when a large sandwich is your downfall on CBS’s
You might have tons of emotional problems, but loving too much isn’t one of them.
Your attempts to lighten the mood by organizing a little sing-along are not appreciated by anyone else in the smoke-filled cockpit.
Despite your belief that you are basically a decent person, you will find yourself saying, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
The Lutheran talking dog whose advice has helped you in the past will crack under pressure this week, taking you on a drunken, 10-day whoring binge.
Pisces wanted to tell your future this week, but he had to get new tires and help Dave move, so there just wasn’t time.
