Happy Horoscopes for Unhappy Souls

Welcome to Happy Horoscopes for Unhappy Souls, where the stars do not so much guide you as roast you gently over a cosmic flame. If you came looking for gentle affirmations and pastel moonbeam wisdom, you are in the wrong damn quadrant of the galaxy. These horoscopes are for people who suspect their rising sign might be sarcasm, their moon in regret, and their aura permanently stained by expired glitter glue. Buckle up–your fate is about to be interpreted by a panel of celestial misfits with questionable credentials and even worse attitudes.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): The Fraternal Order of Prognosticators teaches that our fates are often influenced by the people with whom we share a sign. Your sign is shared with Mozart and Paris Hilton. This explains why, even though you love music, you cannot resist changing the words to naughty ones.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): A field trip with the mycophile society is followed by a mushrooming panic attack. You wind up in an emergency room where all the other patients look like Pete Davidson characters, and the doctor on call is a goofy, obnoxious rube with putty for brains and too many tattoos. Someone is trying to tell you that your diet and, by extension, your life, needs simplification. Could that someone be your guardian chef? The unexamined diet is not worth eating.

Aries (3/21 – 4/19): A loud, twangy voice awakens you from a nightmare in which you are trapped in a 22-plex cinema whose only feature is Mother of the Bride (2024); but the sweet waters of relief turn briny when you realize that the twangy voice is coming from Brooks and Dunn on your neighbor’s stereo. Do you crank up Green Day’s American Idiot in retaliation; do you attempt to reason with your neighbor; or do you decide that now is the time to make the move you’ve been considering? Well, do you?

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): Today the things that turn you on turn on you. What is more, you are haunted by a sepulchral voice that moans, “Humpty Dumpty died for your sins.” When you go for a drive to clear your head, you notice the following sticker: Objects seen in the rearview mirror may not necessarily be real. Such is the price that Taurans pay for their artistic leanings. Observe the speed limit for the time being and resist the temptation to think of yourself in the third person.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): Geminis suffer from automonosis–the tendency to become bored with one’s own company. If you need to get away from yourself, here is a tip: you do not have to die in order to be reincarnated. People who do not like themselves often find happiness when they become somebody else. Companies that advertise in the backs of magazines are ready to assist in this transformation. If there are compelling personal reasons for not changing your identity, perhaps a trip to a spa for a simple makeover will do the trick.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/22): Your sun is in arrears and your moon is in contempt. Ordinarily this would mean that you should be incognito, but these are not ordinary times. The presence of the planet Dipthong in your literary house and the emergence of the Ringo star in your musical constellation point to the need for the bold initiative instead. Remember,  the grand gesture is the prelude to grand success. Think large, live large, and, as Lane Bryant is my judge, large will be your shadow on the world’s stage.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): Your fondness for irony mutates into a full-blown paradoxical reaction to life. Dandruff shampoo turns you into a blizzard with feet. Cough medication makes you hack and sputter like a flooded outboard motor. Deodorant produces a rancid, road-kill aroma about your personal zones. I would lay off the Beano, contraceptive devices, and hemorrhoid preparations if I were you. Focus on treating the illness not its symptoms. Begin by understanding the difference between irony and coincidence. If time permits, work on the difference between imply and infer.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Virgos 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. Bring these portions to bear on the current run-on-sentence condition that characterizes your life. Learn to appreciate the nuances of subordinate clauses and the hierarchical relationship that exists 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.

Libra (9/23 – 10/23): Headaches can be caused by an excessive number of insufferably cute magnets on the refrigerator door or by putting the Christmas lights up too soon. Leftover issues will overwhelm the new year before it is even out of diapers unless you take control of your environment. A house is not a home just because it is cluttered. One persons trash is another persons treasure only if one of them is homeless.

Scorpio (10/24 – 11/21): The oracles at Delphi, Microsoft, and Graceland suggest that any major decisions you make in the near term be guided by the following maxim: Half a loaf is better than none only when the sum of the hypotenuse is greater than or equal to the hexadecimal value of burnt orange. If you must color your world, color it something that does not clash with your aura, which runs to earth tones. Anything red–be it wine, underwear, or meat–could be misinterpreted by those closest to you, including yourself.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): You poke fun at a mime, who replaces your shadow with a copy of his. After several embarrassing lunchtime incidents and a near arrest on obscenity charges, you begin going out only at night. This is a dreadful inconvenience, but it does solve that problem you were having with wet birds. Because you cannot call in sick forever, you must regain control of your shadow. Yoga and meditation are the best solutions, but if your schedule is too crowded, wearing a copper bracelet may help.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): The inclination to be status conscious and inhibited are so Capricorn that you rarely stop to ask yourself why you are hyper cautious. Why do you get caught with your pants up while everyone else is skinny dipping in the communal hot tub? Why do you have to march to the beat of a metronome? If your inner Courtney Love wants to slap your outer Norah Jones, do not file a restraining order, scalp tickets to the event instead. Life is a party. Why not crash it?

For additional horoscopes from hell, click here if you dare.