Psychoanalysis focuses on causes, therapy focuses on consequences, but your new method of counseling people focuses mostly on drilling holes in them.
People would have disapproved of your long-term career plans even if you hadn’t carved them into the flesh of your enemies.
You’ll welcome a new life into the world next week, when a dimensional portal opens in your den and vomits forth an extraplanar pig-beast of astounding malevolence.
Your prayers will finally be answered, but due to a mistake in routing, the response will come from the assistant postmaster of Fayetteville, AR.
Try to keep a sense of proportion next week, particularly when serving yourself a “decent-sized” slice of pie.
You’ll be the envy of all the sexual-product engineers when your dildo design is admitted to the Vibrary of Congress.
You’ll continue to be tormented by the sight of tiny symbols which, when viewed, cause you to hear words in your head.
You’re starting to think that traveling the country looking for crooks is a little silly, but really, there’s little other place in society for a talking dog.
Scholars have decided that you probably don’t exist at all, and are just a composite character based on several minor figures from the writings of George Sand.
You’ll be of two minds about things next week, primarily because of the renegade saw blade that neatly severs your corpus callosum Monday.
You’ll make archeological history when, while looking for a good place to eat downtown, you instead discover the lost biblical city of Urkesh.
Turns out it takes only four seconds to fall from the top of your building to the parking lot, but it’ll sure seem longer.
