Born today you share a birthday with Robby Takac, but, hey, you can do better than that. You also share a birthday with Gibby Hanes. OK. So technically that’s two-for-two in the who-the-fuck-is-he category, but why quit while you’re behind?
You say it’s your birthday? It’s Marc Bolan’s, Crystal Bernard’s, T-Pain’s, and Kieran Culkin’s birthday, too, but why stop just because you’ve finally found a birthday mate with name recognition—T-Pain among thugs, Kieran Culkin among honkies.
Why not play your trump-in-the-hole card? You share a birthday with Trey Anastasio, who has burned through as many musical lifestyles as a cat has lives. Trey’s latest project, which is scheduled for a Christmas release, is a series of cat horoscopes set to Gregorian chants. Below are Trey’s notes for the project.
Leo (7/23–8/22): There’s no better time than now to develop your sixth sense—the sense of disdain. Glare scornfully at your dinner then walk away. Swish your tail impatiently if anyone tries to pet you. Hiss at the dog whenever she wants to play. Later in the month you can begin working the complementary sense of ennui.
Virgo (8/23–9/22): The key to wealth, riches, and the pantry door is contained in the answer to the following riddle: if an infinite number of cats scratch for an infinite length of time on an infinitely huge redwood tree, will they produce a bust of Shakespeare or an immense pile of organic kitty litter?
Libra (9/23–10/23): You are certain your fifteen minutes of fame are guaranteed after you crap out a penis-shaped object composed of clumping litter and dried cat food that you threw up in the litter pan. Your dreams of the Letterman show are dashed, however, when the dog eats the car and makes the local newspaper after he deposits a “sculpture” in the backyard that looks like that midget from Game of Thrones.
Scorpio (10/24–11/21): Unfortunate is the cat whose sign is ruled by a planet named after a dog (Pluto). More unfortunate is the cat whose sign rules the sex organs, which most cats do not possess in full measure. Most unfortunate is the seer trying to make sense of a sign in which Danny DeVito and Rock Hudson share a birthday.
Sagittarius (11/22–12/21): Ill-considered investments in llama futures leave your owners unable to afford their Neiman Marcus lifestyle. Desperate to prime their cash flow, they accept a frightful amount of cash from a cinema verite website that subsequently installs cameras in every room of the house. You make this discovery when your friends begin mocking your toilet habits.
Capricorn (12/22–1/19): If you and the other house cats proceed with your scheme to auction off the new puppy on eBay, don’t forget to say he’s housebroken, and don’t set the buy-back price too high. Remember, one human dollar equals seven cat dollars. I’d also recommend that you accept certified checks and postal money orders only.
Aquarius (1/20–2/18): Your owners become incalculably rich when they invent Morning-After Mix, a dry cat chow that prevents unwanted pregnancies in cats that didn’t come home the night before. Cat owners especially like the layer of Thorazine in every chunk of Morning-After Mix because it keeps cats close to home until they’re out of season.
Pisces (2/19–3/20): Despite the pronouncements of the food taster at Oprah’s Book & Bagel Club, we cannot cannot recommend the following titles for your early fall edification: Cooking with Hairballs, I Married a TeleTubby, The Making of Zamfir’s Greatest Hits, Ho, Ho, Ho: Santa’s Favorite Rap Songs, The Illustrated Poetry of Larry King.
Aries (3/21–4/19): When your owners discover a bruised orange that resembles Garfield, they become addicted to catfacing: the effect of a malformation that makes a fruit resemble a cat’s face. Soon they join CFA, the Catfacers’ Federation of America. They begin breeding extreme fruit, and before long they’re leaving you at home on weekends while they go off to catfacing shows.
Taurus (4/20–5/20): The niggling suspicion that you ought to be making more of your life haunts your waking hours. Fortunately, cats sleep a lot, so you won’t have to waste too much time feeling bad because you chose loafing rather than a career in foreign service or fast-food management. Relax, stay home, you can’t beat the commute.
Gemini (5/21–6/21): The Chihuahua next door becomes convinced that cats are vampires because they sleep all day and kill things at night. For maximum effect, groom the hair on your forehead into a widow’s peak, curl your lips over your canines whenever you look his way, and leave mouse heads in Taco Bell wrappers on his doorstep.
Cancer (6/22–7/22): Resist the desire to locate your birth mother. The law of large numbers, not to mention the law of diminishing returns, virtually assures you that she is not going to be any richer, better looking, or thinner than the nice people with whom you currently reside. Besides, what if the visiting hours where she lives are inconvenient?
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