Some interesting celebrity birthdays will land in Catmando’s litter box this week. On Wednesday the impossibly white Steve Martin will be 67; the often impossible to understand Magic Johnson will be 53; and the impossible to take seriously Tim Tebow will be 26.
The following day Joe Jonas will be 23. When Mr. Jonas was still quite young, he had carnal knowledge of Taylor Swift, whom he ditched by telephone because he feared additional exposure to herpes.
On Friday “actress” Rumer Willis, the spawn of Bruce Willis and Demi Moore, two of the least talented and least likable fools ever to mar the silver screen, will be 23; and Madonna, the spawn of Satan and a rattlesnake, will be 55.
Sagittarius (11/22–12/21): Sagittarians are ever the cynics. Always willing to believe it isn’t butter; that some people’s minds wouldn’t be a terrible thing to waste; and that maybe you don’t deserve a break today. That’s why Sagittarians are vulnerable to people who sell extended warranties on home appliances. Resist all such importuning.
Capricorn (12/22–1/19): The harmonic investiture of the planets Currier and Ives suggests that you have something essential to prove. Could it be the First Law of Thermodynamics? The Pythagorean Theorem? That Tide really does get clothes whiter? In your quest for certitude, don’t overlook the obvious. The proof may be right there in the pudding.
Aquarius (1/20–2/18): Your ability to function without the aid of psychotropic drugs is severely compromised by the onset of acute Umberallis Prophylaxis: fear of going outside without the proper rainwear. Enroll in a Weather Channel support group, fast. The incidence of Weather Channel addiction among Aquarians is eight times higher than in the general population.
Pisces (2/19–3/20): Seek shelter at once. Tax shelter, bomb shelter, shelter for the homeless, Shelter Island, it doesn’t matter. When Catmando plugged the numbers corresponding to your most significant planetary modulations into his Astrology for Idiots software, the screen went blank and up came this “fatal error” message.
Aries (3/21–4/19): There are four fixed signs in the zodiac, killer, but yours isn’t one of them. You are scheduled for repairs, however, around the Fall Cinemax. Meanwhile, as an unfixed sign you’re free to run with the status seekers. That beats holding the fort at the offices of The Status Quo. Use this freedom indiscriminately.
Taurus (4/20–5/20): In the major planetary conjunction of 2013, the three planets closest to Earth will be in Taurus for the first time since the Beatles broke up. The next time this conjunction occurs a woman will be elected president. This has nothing to do with you, but life generally doesn’t.
Gemini (5/21–6/21): Your significant other has begun keeping a dream diary. Sources familiar with the diary tell Catmando that the dreams regularly contain acts of violence against cats and of running away with the next door neighbor. Or did those sources says “acts of violence against the next doog neighbor and running away with cats”? Time will tell, I suppose.
Cancer (6/22–7/22): Your birthstone is the guano. Your color is eggshell brown. Your power phrase is, “Beats me.” Before you go setting your gearshift for the high gear of your soul, make sure the clutch is engaged, your seat belt is in position, your air bags are functioning properly, your insurance is paid, and you’re wearing clean underwear.
Leo (7/23–8/22): Life is your karaoke tape, and there ain’t a note you can’t hit. The sun only has eyes for you. The stars are your spotlights. All the traffic lights are green, and rain falls only when you’re sleeping. This kind of run ought to be framed and put on a wall as a reminder of human potential. Enjoy.
Virgo (8/23–9/22): Your gregarious, talkative nature is both a blessing and a bane. It enables you to con people and to get away with murder, but by the same stars you are four times more susceptible to becoming addicted to computer chat rooms than is any other sign of the zodiac.
Libra (9/23–10/23): When Catmando consulted the salad entrails last night, two distinct faces emerged: Jerry Garcia’s and Martha Stewart’s. Obviously you are a trend setter, but terminal cognitive dissonance could erupt if either of those psyches were stuck in the other person’s body. Catmando recommends inactivity and prayer—and a donation to the Catmando Museum of Psycho-Spiritual Reality.
Scorpio (10/24–11/21): You say you were an unwanted child? You lead a marginalized, meaningless existence? You hate your hair texture? You’re a Persian trapped in an alley cat’s body? You’ve lost your moral compass? A cold, existential dread corrodes your dreams? What makes you say all that, anyway? Haven’t you got anything good to say?
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