Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Under this July's full moon, I predict there's only a 15 percent chance you'll cover your naked body with Elmer's glue, attach pigeon feathers, and run downtown. I further prophesy that the odds are more than 50-1 that you'll deluge your favorite celebrity with marriage proposals, and 100-1 that you'll buy a mammoth bouquet of helium-filled balloons and attempt to imitate a flying dream while wide awake. However, there is a much-better-than-average possibility that you'll stay up all night scheming how to get more beauty into your life, and a 60 percent chance you'll beat your fears by exactly doing what you fear.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): It won't be enough to read between the lines this week. You'll have to cross your eyes, hold the lines up to a mirror, and then read between them. Same deal with the fine print. In order to study it, you're going to have to find it first. Be ready to call on anyone who might help in this quest: an expert who can translate encrypted jargon, a magician who's skilled at bringing to light messages written in invisible ink, or a Scorpio-type wise guy who's a master at smoking out hidden agendas.
Now meditate on the following words of wisdom: "Don't listen to what people are saying; tune in to what they're not saying." -- The best waiter at my favorite restaurant. "Don't play what's there, play what's not there." -- Miles Davis.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): I see yer lookin' fer a handle, babe. Searchin' fer a way in. Tryin' to locate the barest hint of an invitation, a crack in the facade, a sign that it's finally yer time to slip into the giddy groove. Yer hungry ... antsy ... schemin' and dreamin' that just this once ya won't have to manufacture yer own lucky breaks with sweat and spit. I'd say the omens look good fer ya, wanderer -- 'specially if ya keep a lookout fer the divine crowbar lyin' by the side of the yellow brick road.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): Your assignment, should you choose to accept it: to refuse to be a numb and unappreciated beast of burden. Do not, I say unto you, let yourself even get close to a position where you'll be full of soggy resentment as you lug around abominably heavy baggage for people who don't mind taking advantage of you. On the other hand, I encourage you to eagerly pick up and carry the kinds of loads that make you feel lighter ... and which win you useful recognition from people who'll enjoy helping you in return ... and which sweeten the chances that a good cause will succeed.