The dominant birthday this week belongs to Paul McCarthy, who was born on August 4, 1945. Formally trained as a painter, Mr. McCarthy’s main interest lies in exploring the messes created by everyday activities. During the summer of 2008, his inflatable sculpture “Complex Shit” was installed on the grounds of the Paul Klee Centre in Bern, Switzerland.
After the fan (or the wind) had hit the shit, it went airborne, bringing down a power line, breaking a greenhouse window, and taking out a window at a children’s home, scaring the shit out of its occupants. (Editor’s note: we are not making any of this shit up. You could Google it.)
Among the people with insignificant birthdays this week are Barack Obama (August 4), our first bi-racial president; Jon Benet Ramsey (August 6), whose suicide shocked a nation; and some doofus who is unknown by his real name David Evans (August 8).
Leo (7/23–8/22): Your sun and liver spots point to self-improvement. Now’s the time to develop a sense of humor, strong wrists, poise, and self-confidence. Most important, develop the roll of film from the spring equinox celebration you threw. It contains some interesting shots of you and the Three Stooges of the Zodiac—Drippy, Weepy, and Spacey.
Virgo (8/23–9/22): Your patron saint is John’s Wort. Your aura is a black light. Your lucky number is not a positive integer. Your cosmic river is the No Return. You will embark on a spiritual journey on which you meet a man named Hobson. He gives you a choice: the horse you rode in on or no horse at all.
Libra (9/23–10/23): You will have a strange dream in which you see a giant field of sunflowers in the distance. As you race toward the field in slow motion, you begin to hear a sound coming from the sunflowers. When you reach the field, you discover that the sunflowers have the faces of the cast of Glee. You don’t want to know what they’re singing.
Scorpio (10/2–11/21): Your sun is in Leo. Your moon is in traction, which could portend trouble because it’s likely that your ass will be in a sling soon. Get used to being somewhere between a shit and a sweat for the near future. Two-ply is definitely the way to go.
Sagittarius (11/22–12/21): Mars has hot-wired your new car and taken it for a joy ride he laughingly calls The Cuckold’s Express. If he discovers the black-market Viagra in the glove box, you’ll never see your wheels again. Why didn’t you buy The Club when Catmando suggested it?
Capricorn (12/22–1/19): You will visit a garage sale shortly. There you will find a great bargain on a black box used to steal cable television signals. This is not such a bargain unless you still have an analog television and a working acquaintance with electrical wiring diagrams.
Aquarius (1/20–2/18): While looking for Civil War artifacts in the battlefield at Gettysburg, you discover a document in the woods that proves Lincoln plagiarized the Gettysburg Address from a Bull Run Life, Casualty, and Cow Theft brochure. Instead of making you rich, your discovery brings you nothing but calumny and venom, and you will find it impossible to get insurance.
Pisces (2/19–3/20): Pisceans love fun and freedom. That’s why they run away a lot. Nine out of every ten runaways living in a cardboard box are Pisceans. Not keen on eating out of dumpsters, you decide to draw a bold line in the sand, but the cat next door obliterates the line during a pit stop.
Aries (3/21–4/19): Has reality been falling short of predictions here lately? Remember that the zodiac year begins in March. Have you been adjusting your predictions accordingly? We also hope you remembered to factor in the Catmando year, which begins whenever Catmando needs it to. But what’s a year? It’s just a disheartening way to grow older in bigger increments.
Taurus (4/20–5/20): A pair of Earth shoes dominates your future. Are they a window of opportunity or a hole in the ozone layer? A gift from the white dove of peace or an omen from an albino crow with murderous intent? Anything’s possible when two of the strangest-looking buggers in history, singers James Brown and Willie Nelson, share your birth sign.
Gemini (5/21–6/21): When Catmando threw the Sacred Turkey Leg of Eternal Wisdom, it landed between a rock and a hard place, where it remains stuck. Pilgrims from many lands will try to remove the Sacred Leg. If anyone does, you must change identities with that person; but as long as no one extracts the Sacred Leg, you will enjoy wealth untold.
Cancer (6/22–7/22): Your infatuation with the The Slits leads you to attempt to grow dreadlocks that you plan to tie in a bow. Remember two things: (1) These are (were) not really women; they’re guys in drag who wanted to be jockeys but weren’t thin enough; (2) the first word in fanatic is fan, but the last word in coconut is nut.
© 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.