Spirit magicks are strong in Scorpio this week. The stars ask that you not take this as an excuse to go around acting like some spaced-out New Age freak.
After accidentally stumbling upon the long-lost plans of diabolical mad scientist Dr. Henley, you will become obsessed with the idea of building the perfect beast.
You have failed in your life’s goal, but don’t feel too bad: Of all the people who dream of working at a fast-food restaurant, only 98 percent actually make it.
You will be faced with many important decisions this week. Before making any of them, ask yourself: “Is this the kind of thinking that got me thrown in solitary?”
A misinterpretation of the message printed on your sweatshirt will result in your becoming the property of the Hooters Athletic Department.
The kind of pressure you’ll deal with this week would kill a lesser man, which, unfortunately, is exactly what you are.
Your pathetic superhero career is born when a knock on the head from a radioactive evergreen tree gives you the proportional strength and speed of a Douglas fir.
You’ll come close to true happiness this week when you figure out a way to hitch yourself to a snack-laden mini-trailer.
You’ll soon be in a situation in which you ask yourself, “What would Jesus do?” For the record, the people at Sagittarius want you to know that Jesus would try to take as many guards with him as possible.
Next Wednesday at noon, the world will ring with the glorious sound of all the Capricorns in America shattering their pelvises at once.
Your natural resourcefulness allows you to enjoy father-daughter day at the zoo, though you are neither a father nor a daughter, and you can’t stand animals.
You will discontinue your insurance coverage when they refuse to give you something called “Double Goddamnety.”
