Aries (March 21-April 19): If you haven't made your party reservations yet for Dec. 31, 1999, it's probably too late. Most of the hottest spots have already been booked to overflowing. However, you've still got time to put some killer plans in place for what's shaping up as maybe the second-best occasion for revelry this decade: the next 10 days. I should add, though, that while it'll be prime time to splurge and carouse for you rams, the outlook for the other signs is decidedly less spectacular. How about throwing a bash for Aries and Aries imitators only?

Taurus (April 20-May 20): Survival of the fittest: yuck. Natural selection: ugh. As a fuzzy-warm compassion-addict with a sweet disdain for macho competitiveness, I can barely bring myself to say this, but it's my duty as your astrologer to report the ugly truth: Darwinian principles will be in full swing for the next two weeks. If you're not somewhat of a predator, you will be prey. If you don't at least nibble and chomp, you will be devoured. Can you figure out a way to power-trip nicely unto others before they power-trip cruelly unto you?

Gemini (May 21-June 20): Both Hugh Grant's and Elizabeth Hurley's careers have blossomed since lover boy's run-in with the pleasure police in Los Angeles last summer. Just goes to show you that sometimes the most embarrassing and demoralizing events can lead to unforeseen power and glory. Doesn't their little morality play tempt you -- even slightly -- to commit a big boo-boo right now? From an astrological perspective, this is the most likely time an experiment-gone-wrong would have a happy -- or even ecstatic -- ending.

Cancer (June 21-July 22): John Wayne Bobbitt has been quoted as saying, "I've had a lot of intuition since I got my penis cut off." It's a shame he required such drastic measures to tune into his deeper wisdom. As you seek to access greater reserves of your sixth sense in the coming months, I guarantee you won't have to resort to anything remotely comparable to his technique. In fact, I predict astrological forces will arouse a kind of -- how shall I say this? -- erection in your gut reactions. So much so that you may even have the sense that you're growing a new ... uh ... inner penis.

Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): Are you in that groove again where the streetlights seem to flicker and burst as you pass by? Have you noticed that people's body language is more protective than usual around you, as if they can sense kundalini thunderbolts erupting from your aura? Do you fear you're in danger of repelling the very magic you long to attract? Shhhh. Don't answer those questions, my electrifying friend. Just see if you can disseminate your animal magnetism with more relaxation.

Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): In the first part of this horoscope, I'll recommend that you obtain a book by Joy Sikorski called How to Draw a Radish and Other Fun Things to Do at Work. It's a wacky manual that stimulates your imagination about all the ways you can kill time on the job. (Skate down carpeted hallways using a sheet of paper under each foot; answer your phone by clucking like a chicken.)

In the second part of this horoscope, I'll suggest that if you find Sikorski's book useful and all too poignant, then start exploring what you can do to make sure it won't still be useful and all too poignant a year from now. And no, I'm not necessarily advising you to quit your job tomorrow.

Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): One of my favorite mystics, Rudolf Steiner, believed that each season of the year offers us a chance to build a particular quality. Autumn pumps up our willpower; spring encourages us to cultivate our thinking skills; winter strengthens our hearts. From my own observations, I can confirm that that last point holds true for you Librans. During the 10 days on either side of the pagan feast day of Candlemas (Feb. 2), you always seem to have a shocking abundance of cosmic help in boosting your talents for love, intimacy, creativity, and doing the nasty. In that spirit, I present you with your mantra for the week: fragrant succulent juicy lush. Repeat this quickly 22 times every hour on the hour.

Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): My brother Tom, who's in the real estate business, occasionally turns to tarot cards to help his clients reach their decisions. Since February happens to be prime time for you Scorpios to upgrade your domestic vibes, I asked him to do a divination for you. My question was, "Should Scorpios work harder to create their dream home, or should they be content to live with crabby roommates in a funky, cramped place near heavy traffic, where they find it difficult to sleep and where the feng shui resembles that of a Burger King?" In response, Tom shuffled the deck 13 times and drew the Fool. He said it means you should forget everything you thought you knew about what you want in a sanctuary. Launch a fresh fantasy about your future household.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): You won't have good luck this week. You won't have bad luck, either, or dumb luck or even strange luck. No, Sagittarius, the quality of the serendipitous synchronicities that'll slip and slide your way this week deserves a brand-new word: sluck. Sluck is a sleek and plucky kind of luck that gives you lots of slack. Sluck single-handedly cures you of the notion that there is any such thing as random chance or blind fate. Sluck slings your way a slap-happy string of awe-striking coincidences that proves invisible hands are always working to give you exactly what you've earned.

Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): The most famous Capricorn in history once declared, "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven." Of course, like most great storytellers, Jesus was given to exaggeration. I think what he really meant, and would have affirmed had he been pressed by, say, Ted Koppel, was, "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich non-Capricornian person to enter the kingdom of heaven." You goats, in other words, aren't as likely to have your spiritual principles distorted by material abundance. Which I'm sure you'll be proving in spades in the weeks and months ahead.

Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): In the film Groundhog Day, Bill Murray plays a guy who suddenly and inexplicably finds himself trapped in a maddening predicament: He keeps living the exact same 24 hours -- Groundhog Day -- over and over again. Kind of remind you of your own daily routine?

In the movie of your life -- if I were the scriptwriter -- I would tell the story of how your experiences on Feb. 2, 1996, had an eerie similarity to Murray's fate. It was and is and will be the day you finally break the trance -- and stop living the same dream over and over again.

Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): In old Japan, Feb. 3 was a holiday called Setsbun. Celebrants hung fish heads from the doorways on the theory that the foul odor chased away demons. As you Pisceans enter the thick of your astrological season of exorcism, I highly recommend a funny yet serious ritual similar to that. Instead of fish heads, though, you could use dirty socks or moldy pizza from under the couch. If there's anything demons hate worse than bad smells, it's humor -- especially the self-mocking kind.

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