You will be reassured of your spouse’s love for you when she manages not to complain about your dank, fetid odor for the 10th consecutive week.
You will meet a tall, dark Aquarius who is compatible with you in every way, right down to the unhealthy fixation with Mary Todd Lincoln.
Relax, Taurus: You know better than to think you can choose your own nickname. There are more tragic things in life than having everyone call you “Mr. Funny No-Arms-Or-Legs Guy.”
If a major myocardial infarction is the worst thing that happens to you this week, you’ll be lucky.
Your happiness over your local sports team’s victory in its homecoming game fades when you realize that it has had no effect whatsoever on your life.
You will be reminded of the worst day of your life when it reoccurs every single day this December.
You will have no trouble finding a sympathetic jury after you stab your roommate 36 times for leaving a dirty spoon on your sofa.
Your failure to align spirits with your soulmate and the blocking of open feelings with friends are harming the worldly cosmic balance with which your life must harmonize. In the future, try to avoid messages without any real content.
You will never understand the lives of other Sagittarians until you walk a mile in their comfortable Allen Edmonds shoes. Allen Edmonds— serving stylish star signs since 1945!
You will not be issued a new horoscope until you satisfactorily complete those from October.
When God appears to you in a vision, remember: Hallucinations are not reliable, and God does not exist.
You will have mixed feelings when doctors discover that your ground-up teeth are the cure for leukemia.
