Confusion about your mental heritage is over, freeing you up for some forward planning. With Venus joining the party in your sign this weekend, your mood will lift. A bit of initiative in social activities will be rewarded, but don’t feel like you have to cater for everyone; nobody respects a submissive hostess.
It is still your lucky year, even though the obligations of your working life seem to have swallowed it whole. Impulsive decisions are tempting this weekend, especially of the kind that might cut you loose from one or two responsibilities. You will surprise yourself by making the right choices.
The scapegoat is a historic fact. People really did used to think that giving all their problems to a goat and banishing it from the village was enough to free them from sin. Now we have more sophisticated strategies, like scape-imams, but have things really changed? This week, beware of peasants brandishing pitchforks.
Bushfire season has started early this year. Hot winds and dry conditions have ripened the country for its annual, ritual cleanse. It is an excellent time to take out home and contents insurance with a competitive Acts of God clause. Shortly after that, it is an excellent time to take up Acts of God.
Do you remember when I told you that you were going to have a crazy six months? Well, that was almost six months ago. Now, I’m not suggesting you get sensible, but the long-term effects of retrogrades in your sign are beginning to wear off like so much Polyjuice potion. Prepare a convincing case for your defence.
Sometimes, Karma can come along and hit you over the head with its sense of humour, particularly if you’re Steve Irwin. I predict your week will be full of those cheering ironies which give a delightful order and poetry to the universe. I hope you haven’t been taunting any poisonous snakes or armed militias lately.
A man in China recently had an accident which left him with a one-inch stump in his pants. He could have been the next Hedwig, but instead, he got a penis transplant. The surgery was successful, the first of its kind. But the dead person’s organ freaked he and his wife out so much he had to have it taken off again. The moral of the story? You decide.
The TV news said that terrorists were going to start using food as a weapon. I immediately envisioned a world where cream pies flew across borders and enemies crouched behind barricades armed with pea-shooters and potato cannons. If you can’t manage peace, why not make war a bit more foolish and enjoyable?
Before this period of solid work turns into an unprecedented orgy of self-congratulation, spare a thought for all those people who do the boring jobs needed for you to take the glamour. Swap places with the cleaner for a week and then get back on your high horse. If you are a cleaner, pray that your boss is also a Gemini.
This week, it’s official: the war on terror has made terrorism more of a threat. Even the best political scientists in America agree. The war on drugs has made the drug problem much worse as well. I think I see a pattern forming here. This week, start a campaign to get a war declared on peace and happiness.
You are either annoyingly motivated or taking a lot of crystal meth. If it’s the latter, move to the West coast and start practicing muttering to yourself while pacing up and down the street. The crazy bloodshot eyes are the hardest part, but two drops of vinegar in the morning and even the other tweakers will run away.
Do you still hope that you might be a genius at something? If you took up the right musical instrument, say, or branch of science, you could be the best in the world. If you are still looking for your ‘thing’ at this age, you’re probably looking in vain. You’ll be happier if you embrace mediocrity.
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