Born this week you might be a Cancer, you might be a Leo, or you might experience a disconcerting growth spurt in one of your vestigial organs.
Whatever, your chances for a normal life are better than Rory Culkin’s. Twenty-four today. Mr. Culkin will eventually take his own life after he can no longer stand being mistaken for his brothers Kieran, Macauley, and Nostrodomus.
I also like your chances better than those of Conor Kennedy, who will be 18 on Thursday. The tragic Mr. Kennedy, aside from being saddled with an unfortunately trendy first name, must also fight the ravages of the industrial-strength STD he caught from Taylor Swift.
Finally, your fate surely outshines that of Delonte West, 29 on Friday. Never the sharpest tool in anyone’s shed, Mr. West will someday be garroted by Lebron James, whose mother had an affair with Mr. West three years ago. That sort of shit is not forgiven in the hood.
Cancer (June 21–July 22) Your financial prospects are so wretched you could only afford the new Vin Disel Fast & Furious grill on a time-sharing arrangement with a family that’s overly fond of road-kill. Later in the month a three-hundred-pound canary named Junior will raise the specter of duality, adjectives, and the Hegelian dialectic in your mind.
Leo (July 23–August 22) Your sex life is a shareware program about to expire. One-size-fits-all gloves don’t come in your size. If dreams took human form, yours would be wearing toe tags. The planets, the traffic lights, even the local marching band will line up against you. Have you insulted one of the mothers of the gods recently or what?
Virgo (August 23–September 22) Car A leaves Hollywood at 9:00 a.m. on Monday. Car B leaves Bangor, Maine, at the same moment. Car A, which has a 15-gallon gas tank and averages 19.6 miles per gallon, is driving east. Car B, which has a 17.5-gallon tank and averages 18.9 miles per gallon, is driving west. After three days, what color is car B?
Libra (September 23–October 22) Like most Librans you are a sniveling complainer, unable to get your mind around the fact that we are all responsible for our own karma. Perhaps the mess that is your present life is but your last request from a previous existence. Try to discover why you were executed in that existence and what your first requests were.
Scorpio (October 23–November 21) According to the George Zimmerman Random Actuarial Profiler, where “10” equals “dead-bolt cinch” and “0” equals “dead in the street,” your critical numbers for this week are: communicable disease, 8; grace under fire, 3; meets the criteria, 2; plays well with others, 1; inappropriate response 9; soils bed clothes, 6; cannot recommend for advancement, 8.
Sagittarius (November 22–December 21) Sagittarians are ruled by the buttocks, the seat of all power. Their gemstone is porcelain, their favorite time of day is right after meals, and they prize regularity above all other virtues. Sagittarians’ need to get to the bottom of an issue and their tendency to go it alone make them excellent research scientists.
Capricorn (December 22–January 19) Capricorns suffer from automonosis—the tendency to become bored with one’s own company. If you hanker to get away from yourself, here’s a tip: you don’t have to die in order to be reincarnated. If you don’t like who you are, become somebody else. There are companies that advertise in the backs of magazines that will help you.
Aquarius (January 20–February 18) Your life is a run-on sentence that is out of control and greatly in need of editing. Learn to appreciate the nuances of subordinate clauses and the hierarchical conjunctions that exist among colons, semicolons, commas, and em dashes. Strive to make the principles of good rhetoric your guiding lights. Better yet, learn when to keep your yap shut.
Pisces (February 19–March 20) Ever the cynic you have no trouble believing it isn’t butter; that some minds would not be a terrible thing to waste; and that maybe you don’t deserve a break today. You also have a highly developed sense of irony, which leads you to walk around muttering “I see living people” in a tiny, traumatized voice. Some people close to you might caution that trading on appearances is no substitute for developing the inner you. If they persist, try holding them at arm’s length.
Aries (March 21–April 19) If the enemy of your enemy is your friend, does that mean your friend’s friend is your enemy? Or are you simply being paranoid? Don’t make any decisions unless you begin getting calls from a foreign-sounding man who breathes heavily into the phone and identifies himself as a friend of a friend. Then let your imagination and your feet run wild.
Taurus (April 20–May 20) Your sun is in Leo, which could mean trouble because it’s supposed to be in Albuquerque. Leo’s son, meanwhile, has just confessed his love for his stepmother, who is being blackmailed by a mysterious man named Kurt. He threatens to make public the details of Leo’s son’s stepmother’s affair with Leo’s psychic advisor. Pictures at 11:00.
Gemini (May 21–June 20) After a twelve-course Chinese dinner, you switch fortune cookies with the person next to you when she isn’t looking. When she opens “her” cookie, she grins happily. Several weeks later you learn that she has won several million dollars in the lottery. Meanwhile, the cookie that you opened said, “That wasn’t really pork.”
© The fine fucking print: The editorial content on this page is fictional. It is presented for satirical and/or entertainment purposes only. We cannot be held responsible for the actions of anyone who takes this sort of shit seriously. We also do not wish to be held responsible for any copyrighted material that sneaked onto this page when we weren’t looking. If you can prove that anything on this page belongs rightfully to you, we will happily take it down and return the unused portion. No questions asked.
