Tuesday, April 30, 2024
Horoscopes

Catmando’s Spice of Life Astrological Forecast

an image

Otherwise rational people often underestimate the power that herbs and spices exert on their lives, especially the parts that haven’t occurred yet. Therefore Catmando is now going to describe these effects on a variety of human endeavors. This exclusive information will allow you to reap the benefits of the seeds planted by astrologer Cyrus McCormick, who once predicted, “To everything there is a seasoning.”

Capricorn (12/22—1/19): Smoking oregano for medicinal purposes runs you afoul of the DEA, which contends that oregano is a gateway drug whose use invariably leads to an addiction to pizza and raw pasta dough and—worse yet—to a catatonic state known as Rigor Morris, which you can catch from your cat.

Aquarius (1/20—2/18): A mysterious man named Garam Masala hands you a chain letter outside an Indian restaurant. Cross out the name of the person at the top and write Catmando’s name and address there instead. Then send out two million copies of the letter, instructing the persons who receive them to send $1 to Catmando.

 Pisces (2/19—3/20): At a fall equinox dinner all your guests are hospitalized when your turkey gravy turns to plastic in their stomachs because you went bonkers with the arrowroot. Do not attempt to cheer them up by sending them fake cow pies made of turkey gravy.

Aries (3/21—4/19): Your efforts to grow fur over a bald spot by rolling in comfrey leaves make you dyspeptic. Small wonder. When applied directly to the scalp, comfrey becomes carcinogenic. Catmando suggests a tincture of Rogaine or a comb over with a rosemary twig instead.

Taurus (4/20—5/20): The phone rings in the middle of the night. When you answer, a woman begins singing “She’ll be cumin ‘round the mountain” in a heavy cockney accent. That’s your next door neighbor watching BBC America with the volume at eleven on a scale of ten.

Gemini (5/21—6/21): Old Spice is your celestial seasoning. Your devotion to the sixty-plus-year-old fragrance proclaims your determination to maintain your authenticity in the face of fleeting trends. It may also mean there’s a sailor in your future or that a loved one will run off to join the Village People.

Cancer (6/22—7/22): Tarragon, the rising agent in your house, often goeth before a fall. According to the Sacred Book of Anagrams, the letters of tarragon can be rearranged to spell arrogant and gnat roar. Perhaps you should put a sock in your ego for a while.

Leo (7/23—8/22): Though not spices in the strict botanical sense—and no longer popular in any meaningful sense—the Spice Girls exert a lingering influence on your life, bouncing you from soft (Baby Spice) to frenetic (Scary Spice), from informality (Sporty Spice) to haute couture (Posh Spice). Use the Ginger Spice sparingly, however. After it’s gone, there’s no more left.

Virgo (8/23—9/22): After you max out your American Express card on a rash of intemperate purchases, you get a letter that begins, “Your American Express card, don’t leave home with it …” Catmando suggests the “saffron defense,” in which you claim you cannot help overspending because of the influence of this costly spice on your personality.

Libra (9/23—10/23): Marjoram, your ruling substance, was used by the ancient Greeks in funeral wreaths, which were offered as prayers for the happiness of the deceased in a future life. If you want happiness in your present life, replace that stale wreath on your front door with a flotation device.

Scorpio (10/24—11/21): Though others are ruled by substances with complex, nuanced flavors, you are the essence of vanilla—sweet, dependable, non-challenging, and always on the menu. Like fellow vanillarians Pat Sajak and Art Garfunkle, you are easy to take, but unlikely to take anyone by storm.

Sagittarius (11/22—12/21): A disgruntled cook substitutes hallucinogenic nutmeg for the store brand in your sausage pudding. You begin screaming when you “see” Jimmy Hoffa and Mother Theresa rollerblading in thongs on Venice Beach while William Shatner raps Kanye’s new single “I Am a God.”    

© 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.

Verified by MonsterInsights