10/05/03 (Visitor Counter=8114): Mooning the Astrologers
Thousands of years ago, ancient astronomical records fell into the hands of some ignorant laymen, who decided to found a religion based on these records. This religion is known today as Astrology, and is full of hysterical extremists, delusional fundamentalists, brainwashed followers, and corrupt, manipulative self-proclaimed prophets. This has worked fine for centuries, but it is becoming more and more apparent that Astrology just isn't working anymore. The equinoxes have shifted. Planets' orbits have changed. Supernovae have appeared and vanished. It's inconsistent and no longer taken seriously. This is why we, at the Too Much Spare Time Astrology Department have taken it upon ourselves to redesign Astrology as we know it, to MAKE IT WORK! Only by completely rehashing Astrology, using the most up-to-date stellar and planetary data, can we hope to restore it to its former glory, allowing us to predict exactly what people will -and should- do. So here it is, ladies and gentlemen. The one true faith. The Astrology for the New Millennium...
(Dec 22 - Jan 19)
So you've always been disgruntled with the fact that your star sign was some kind of mutant bastard offspring of a goat and a fish. You should've been more appreciative. Now you've been demoted to the new, improved star sign of Capricorn-On-The-Capricob: The result of the unholy union between a goat and an ear of corn. Unlike the mer-goat from the crude, ancient days when they did their cross-breeding the old-fashioned way (a practice known today as "Goatse"), Capricorn-On-The-Capricob was made in the lab, and is one of the early failures of modern-day genetic engineering. For this reason, you will from now on be looked upon by people of other star signs with fearful contempt. In the grand cosmic scheme of it all, you represent all things biohazardous, and as such, you will lead a brief existence of illness, poor health, and disease. Lucky ailment for this month: SARS.
(Jan 20 - Feb 20)
Pisceans and Aquarians have so much in common (no personality, ugliness, bad breath) that we've decided to make things easier by combining the two star signs into one amazing, two-for-the-price-of-one double-star sign - a "binary star sign", if you will: The Fish, Imprisoned In A Bowl Of Water. However, combining the two of them doesn't double the probability of your horoscope being accurate. Neither will it double your luck. In fact, you'll find that now you're simply one-person-in-six instead of one-in-twelve. This means that you're even less cosmically significant than you were before. You'll probably die today, and nobody will notice. The other side of this coin is that although you've practically lost your identity as an individual, your people's numbers have just doubled. You now outnumber each of the other star signs by two units to one. As long as they don't band together against you, you Piscequarians should be able to assimilate everybody else, one by one... that is, if you hadn't risen from such lame, wussy star signs to begin with. Golly, even the lame-ass Libras must be sharing a snigger at your expense. Too bad. You lucky number this week is the square root of negative one, which, as you don't know (because you're stupid), doesn't even exist.
(June 22 - July 22)
Aren't you lucky? Your star sign didn't need to be changed much, because cancer is very topical these days. And on the the Topic of Cancer (ho ho), you'll be the astral embodiment of brain cancer, lung cancer, breast cancer, nose cancer, prostate cancer, bowel cancer... it's all yours! All we've done to upgrade your miserable zodiac sign is to get rid of the crab. Golly-gosh knows what that harmless crustacean had to do with feeding parastically off people's organs, but you Cancerians were giving the poor beast a bad name. This month you will find yourself being shunned by all people of the other zodiac signs. This may work in your favour, since even the disease-ridden Capricorn-on-the-Capricobs will look down their ears at you. Welcome to the bottom of the heap. Your lucky colour is "lukewarm, pus-like off-whitish grey-green with red and yellow smears".
(Nov 23 - Dec 17 AND Dec 19 - 21)
What the hell kinda word was "Sagittarius" anyway? We were THIS CLOSE to reassigning you lot to "(Bob) Saget's Hairy Ass", but then we realised that you weren't worthy of such a title. So we gave you the second best alternative, Spaghettiontoast, and as such, your new role in the cosmos is to forever play second fiddle to everyone. Yes, everyone. Even Libra. You're the lame-ass try-hard who has to stand on the "2nd" podium at the Olympics while everyone in the world is laughing at you behind your back, thinking "Oh geez, what a pathetic loser," - even the guy who came in at Third Place. You have no dignity, and no honour. You are an embarrassment to your co-workers, your family, and those whom you believe to be your friends but who are actually just too concerned for your the sake of your emotional stability (or lack thereof) to tell you to go **** yourself. The worst part of all is that you never give up. Well, not NEVER, because that would indicate some kind of honour. You only give up when it is sensible to do so... although there are exceptions. While you repeatedly bash your head against the brick wall, the other star signs are standing on the other side of the wall, watching the Libra-losers bash their Libra-heads against it, because it's easier watch a Libra suffer than a Spaghettiontoast, without feeling any pity. Your lucky number was given to the star sign formerly known as Libra. They'll be able to use it more effectively than you could ever hope to.
(Oct 24 - Nov 22)
After plaguing the cosmos with your lethal scorpion pincers and stingers for millennia, it's time you got put in your place, you spiteful little brats. Your sign shall henceforth be known as Corpsio, associated with all things dead, deceased, and pushing up daisies. And that's just metaphorical dasies, because flowers wilt in your presence. Eggs turn bad. Milk goes sour. Little children develop progeria. Even grave-robbing Goths are afraid of you, because you're so much more morbidly deathlike that they would ever aspire to be, even when they're dead. Hell, you're beyond the standards of even the sickest of necrophiliacs (and most Capricorn-On-The-Capricobs), you're just so far gone. And you're starting to smell. Even the maggots inside of the dead maggots inside of you are dead. Hint for this month: Don't go to any funerals, because you'll end up getting cremated. Hint for next month: Don't put your name down as "donor" on your driver's licence, or you'll find yourself being harvested for organs the moment you step out of a vehicle. Hint for the month after that: Do NOT, under ANY circumstances, utter the word "Brains", or somebody will probably set you on fire or shoot you with silver bullets or send you back in time or something. Your lucky body part: Anything that's leprous, because leprosy means that some part of you is still alive.
(Apr 20 - May 20)
Did you enjoy being the bull? Well now you're a load of bull. You've never believed in horoscopes, have you? They've never worked for you at all. Well that's what this astrological rehash is all about, so you'll never have to worry about zodi-INac-curacies ever again. We've done some tweaking, and now whatever we write about you is true. Why? Because we Astrologers have decided to let you Taurus-types in on our secret, since you've been so skeptical over the centuries: YOU WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG. Astrology isn't real. It's basically a live roleplaying game, just as you suspected. We invent the crap, and people play up to it, trying to make it become real. Well, everyone except you. There. Now you know. HOWEVER, this knowledge comes at a price: You have to do exactly what we write about you, or else we will sneak into your homes and kill you. It's as simple as that. It just wouldn't do to have Librans, Scorpios and Aquariuseseses running amok because you've destroyed their happy little delusional fantasy-world that is astrology. So when you see "Taurus-Excretus: Today you will paint yourself fluorescent green instead of wearing clothes, and you will walk all the way across town wearing nothing but skiboots with skis, singing 'Frère Jacques' the whole time" in your horoscope, YOU WILL DO EXACTLY THAT or you will die. Natural selection. That's how it's going to work. You should feel honoured that we have chosen you instead of those Libra-morons for this task. Lucky Good Deed: Donating all your worldly possessions to the TmsT Astrology Department.
(Sept 23 - Oct 23)
For Millennia, Virgos suffered embarrassing persecution and torment at the hands (paws, pincers, hoofs, fins, arrows, etc) of the rest of the zodiac simply for "not getting any." But now, it is time for revenge. No, you're still not going to get laid, but you're going to do the next best thing: Kill everybody else. It's relative reproduction! That's how viruses work. Viruses aren't strictly living organisms, so they just make copies of themselves by vandalising the living cells of real organisms. Your job is to take down the rest of the zodiac from the inside. You have been given the powers of Anthrax, AIDS, SARS, and my personal fave, the common cold. Unfortunately, this will alienate you from all the other star signs forever, but hey - they never liked you anyway. Come to think of it, other Virgos never liked you, either! Lucky number: N/A - Just because you're no longer a Virgo doesn't mean you got lucky!
(May 21 - June 21)
Twins. The living embodiment of inefficiency. Either one is just as pointless as the other. So we've altered this a little, and made the Gemini Twins into two things that are visually very similar but each are are useless as individuals: A pair of Geminike Sneakers. Stinky, old, rancid, stale sweatsoaked sneakers. A side effect of this increase in efficiency is that you are doomed to be walked all over until you are useless, whereupon you will be thrown away to rot. People will use you for all their dirty work - squashing bugs, stepping in unavoidable lumps of "Taurus-Excretus", and kicking Libra ass. At the end of your unappreciated life you will be quickly disposed of and forgotten, thank goodness. Lucky Motto: "Just Get A Geminike To Do It".
(Mar 21 - Apr 19)
Okay, Arieans, this is what you've been waiting for! No longer must you be looked at as some idiotic, pompous ram with ludicrous, curly horns. Now, you are merely a sheep. A mindless, follow-the-leader, uncreative mob-creature used primarily as a food-source-cum-pleasure-unit by all the other star signs, especially those in the Southern Hemisphere, if you get my drift. No, you don't get my drift at all, because you're just a mindless bundle of fluff whose day typically begins with "Oh my gosh, there is light coming out of the sky!" and continues with non-stop eating of vegetation as you stuggle to replace all those joules that you spent chewing the very food from which you are supposedly gaining your energy in the first place. Like a robot, frantically pedalling its bicycle in order to supply itself with power from the bicycle's dynamo, to which the robot is directly plugged, your life is a pointless stuggle against the inevitable end, from which somebody else will gain a meal. This month, you have a VERY lucky number but there's just no point in telling you what it is because you'll never have time to benefit from it. Just keep eatin' your veggies... Eat like there's no tomorrow. Because there probably isn't; you can't grasp the concept of "two seconds in the future" let alone a whole day. Just keep eatin' your veggies.
(Jul 23 - Aug 22)
King of Beasts? Not any more. From now on, you will be the most insecure of the star signs, hanging off every word of your hourly horoscope like a morphine-addict waiting for their next fix. You will coat the walls of your room with daily horoscopes from all manner of glossy magazines, arranging them in chronological order and writing beside each one a justification as to how that particular horoscope "came true". The only way that you can perceive anything is by reading about it in your horoscope. The horoscope is reality; that which you think you see with your eyes and hear with your ears is an illusion. Don't be fooled by what those foolish non-CLEOs think is real. They have spent so long without horoscopes that their weakened minds can no longer accept the horoscope as reality. Only your horoscope can present you with the true, unclouded nature of the universe. Lucky colour: Blonde.
(Sept 23 - Oct 23)
See all of the above. You suck.
(Dec 18 - Dec 18)
This is a brand new star sign invented specially for ME. Sluggyus is the ruling class star sign, the big cheese, the alpha-zodiac-animal, essentially a human who often takes on the form of a large, yellow slug and is feared and honoured by everything in the universe, ever. Sluggyus is the king of everything. All shall love me and despair!
Well, actually, all shall bring me offerings and sacrifices and all that kinda Pagan mystical crap, but that's close enough... for now. Fear my wrath, puny mortals. Don't make me have to go down there and smite you!