Aries (3/21 – 4/19):
Do you ever have that thing where you sit down, home alone, mix yourself a good Manhattan, and then get that benevolent feeling like you should send Jimmy Carter a love letter and knit a scarf for AOC and make hats for all your friends? And then, you look up and think oh my god, this situation is way beyond hats and scarves. I know. It's okay, Aries. We'll all just keep doing the best we can.Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): We've learned this week that the new secretary of defense is the current weekend host of a right wing tv show. He's being lifted from the important work of defending fox viewers from actual news to being in charge the most powerful military in the world. I guess that's what they mean by draining the swamp? (Btw, as a wetland biologist who has spent my life trying to STOP SWAMP DRAINING, I'm not a fan of that phrase.) I'm curious about how many people a talk show host supervises. Me, I work alone in the woods but I oversee my dog (HA HA HA! She's lying on the couch laughing at me just like Putin is laughing at us right now). But here's my question, Taurus: Is it difficult to scale up from however many people a talk show hosts oversees to supervising over 2 million people (with weapons)? I don't know the first thing about talk shows, but I'm thinking they supervise the makeup guy ("can you make me look less oily, and more like, a guy who could host on a weekday?"). And maybe the haircut guy (Jeez, fire that dude.). Are they also the boss of the guy who lines up the guests, or are the weekend guests just leftovers who didn't call back the weekday guy fast enough? Anyway, Taurus, scale up this week! Take on a little bit more work for justice and integrity. You can do it!Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):
The new head of Health and Human Services, aka Brain Worm Guy, shown here with his buddies consuming a big mac and pepsi, I think they're on Jeffery Epstein's airplane. Anyway, the new guy recommends that we take an eight year break from trying to cure infectious disease. Okay, Gemini, bear with me for a little side story: When I was a young college grad, I lived for a few months on an island helping a graduate student with her research on harbor seals. She did a necropsy on a dead pup and ended up with a weird infection on her hand that we called "seal finger". With all the money we'll save on studying the regular diseases that normal people who don't decapitate dead whales and drag bears around get, we'll finally be able to focus on seal finger and brain worms. But that's not your horoscope, Gemini! Here it is: oh shoot, I got nothing. The stars, the planets, blah blah blah, carry on. We love you, Gemini!
Cancer (6/22 – 7/21): Do you know the word, "petrichor"? It describes the smell when it rains after a long dry spell. That earthy, calming aroma that happens at no other time -- there's no cologne, air freshener, dryer sheets (sparing you the side rant about dryer sheets, but WTAF?). No petrichor scented candle. It's a unicorn of smells -- you have to be there at just the right time to experience it. Cancer, be there at the right time! For all things. And if at first it seems like its not the right time, could it be an attitude? Do your magic to make it so. But also, help me answer this question: why would there be a special smell just for that one thing? Create something special for just one thing or person this week. You can do it!
Leo (7/23 – 8/22): Well, Trump has picked two more (known) sex crimers for his cabinet (besides himself). We now have Matt Gaetz, who grinds up ED medication in redbull so that he can sustain the energy and erection needed to rape underage girls. And we have Pete Hegseth, three times married guy who paid off a woman who accused him of sexual assault. This is the family values crowd, I said to my dog. She said, hey, let's go out for another walk! But I stray from the point. Jumping Elon isn't in the cabinet (yet), but he's another accused sex offender. What seems weird to me is that these guys profess to be anti-abortion. You'd think, well.. Anyway. Leo, be flat on your back for the winter, if that's the best you can do. (We call that "thinking" here.) But see if you can get up, stand up, stand up for your rights. This week, and all winter long.
Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Here's a true story, Virgo. Once upon a time in the little town where I live, on one magical day a few years ago, little plastic toy collies appeared everywhere. They were on benches and windowsills and in planters; pretty much every nook and cranny, a collie. A very tiny plastic dog snowstorm had occurred during the night. Since then, every day I wish for another dog storm. Will it be terriers? Beagles? But so far, nothing. Virgo, create a miniature storm of goodness, the way you always do.
Libra (9/23 – 10/22): Our new health and human services lady will likely be the dog murder lady, who killed a puppy due to misbehavior. Oh, and a goat. She murdered a goat for being mean. Hard to get behind this I guess this qualifies one for being in charge of the well-being of Americans? Looks like Mercury is in retrograde and we are going back. We're going back to a time when it was okay to murder a puppy for eating chicken. Do any of you eat chicken? BEWARE. Libra, keep your wits about you.
Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): The rapey red-bull/viagra guy says he's gonna go over to the justice department and "start cutting fucking heads". It might just be me, but I think RFK is the guy for cutting heads, at least whale heads. We don't know what this is going to look like for sure, but the path ahead looks dark. The ancestors have endured worse. I mean, 55 million years ago, we and the whales were one. Carry on, Scorp.
Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): We also have a new nomination for Secretary of Transportation, Sean Duffy. His Wiki article says he started log-rolling at age 5; I suppose that's a good background for a transportation guy. Bring on the logs, Duffy. We'll all be rolling, one way or another, soon enough. Capricorn, this week, use your stubborness for good. Step away from the abyss. Look at it with binoculars or a telescope, and maybe pull out those eclipse glasses. There's no need to get all cozy with it just yet.
Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): We're all suiting up for the days ahead, trying to capture the last bits of sun I mean Biden/Harris to store in our sparkle suits for the long dark time ahead. Music, Aquarius. Gather music, make playlists. Lot's of them. Don't be afraid to put cheesy pop songs on them, like this. Whatever works. There's no shame. Also, Aquarius? We need some new, catchy protest songs. No particular reason. See what you can do.
Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):
The good news, Pisces, is that the salmon are returning in big numbers this year. They don't know what they're up against, with a new EPA director who doesn't even do log rolling, if wikipedia can be trusted. But still. They swim upstream, over and over. Well, only once, as it turns out. But we can do that! Learn the back float for the really rugged times, but keep swimming.
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