Horoscopes and Blood Pressure Monitor for June 24, 2025
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 Elio; but the sweet waters of relief turn briny when you realize where the twangy voice is coming from the soundtrack of Post Malone in the Life of Pavarotti on your neighbor’s stereo.
Taurus (4/20 ‑ 5/20): Today your pet peeve turns on you. What’s more, you are haunted by a sepulchral voice that moans, “Humpty Dumpty died for your sins.” You decide to go for a drive to clear your head. That’s when you notice the following sticker: “Objects seen in the rearview mirror may not necessarily be real.”
Gemini (5/21 ‑ 6/21): You make the evening news when agents from the Bureau of Taste, Standards, and Environmental Hazards swoop down on your house to seize your refrigerator door for exceeding the maximum gross weight allowance for insufferably cute magnets. Later in the day the judiciary committee of the neighborhood Christmas lights removal campaign rejects your Guinness Book of Records excuse.
Cancer (6/22 ‑ 7/22): Talent scouts from the planet Galoot approach you in the rear of a Chick-fil-A parking lot. They offer to rig Alien magazine’s Sexiest Pod Alive contest in your favor if you return with them to Galoot and impregnate King Axilla’s 15th daughter, Rodentia. Before you reply, check out her website at www.nasalpassages.yuk.
Leo (7/23 ‑ 8/22): Your penchant for irony mutates into a full-blown paradoxical reaction to life. Dandruff shampoo turns you into a walking blizzard. Cough medication makes you hack, gag, and wheeze. Deodorant produces a rancid, road-kill aroma. I’d lay off the contraceptive devices, Beano and hemorrhoid preparations if I were you.
Virgo (8/23 ‑ 9/22): You enter a topiary contest and your eyebrows win first prize. Flushed with this success, you braid your armpits and head for the Poconos, where an Amish motorcycle gang mistakes you for the reincarnation of Amos Zook Stoltzfus, their supreme buggy master. The gang’s leader, Amos Zook Stoltzfus, MCMXXVI, offers to get you a six-finger discount on funnel cakes.
Libra (9/23 ‑ 10/23): Do the initials SOL mean anything to you? They belong to the agent from the Internal Revenue Service who visits you after you claim a medical deduction of $1,492.37 for dental floss. Next time your brother-in-law insists on doing your taxes, tell him you’re going to call his parole officer if he doesn’t leave you alone.
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 formula: Half a loaf is better than none only when the sum of the hypotenuse is greater than or equal to the inverse radial cosine of the hexadecimal value of burnt orange.
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 seems like a dreadful inconvenience at first, but it does solve that problem you were having with wet birds.
Capricorn (12/22 ‑ 1/19): The world is running out of patience with you, Prudence. Why must you be so cautious? Why must you always get caught with your pants up while everyone else is skinny dipping in the communal hot tub? Why must you march to the beat of a metronome? Life is a party. You should consider crashing it.
Aquarius (1/20 ‑ 2/18): Your future has run afoul. When you spin the cosmic wishbone of insight and inspiration, the short end stops on the two-headed weasel, and the long end stops on the boardwalk icon. The weasel is a portent of self-conflict and despair. The boardwalk icon foretells the acquisition of great wealth. Your next move may be critical. If I find out what it’s going to be, I’ll email you privately.
Pisces (2/19 ‑ 3/20): An afternoon field trip with the mycophile society is followed by a mushrooming terror that leads to an emergency room where all the other patients look like Robin Williams characters, and the doctor on call is a goofy, obnoxious rube with putty for brains and a nose that would give Rudolph the Reindeer venous envy.
For additional horoscopes from hell, explore the full archive and see just how deep the cosmic rabbit hole goes.