Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): I've seen real, live angels four times. They were close by when the obstetrician made a brilliant move during a difficult moment in my child's birth, when I took a radical risk that ultimately propelled me out of poverty, and when I unexpectedly got a chance to sleep with a goddess I'd admired from afar. (The fourth time's too embarrassing to mention.) I must say, though, that none of my divine visitors were pure white shiny creatures with majestic wings. One looked like an Australian Aborigine with a badly scarred cheek, another resembled a petite but muscular female from southern India, and then there was a young Chinese stud who cackled incessantly. Keep this in mind, Sagittarius. Your heavenly assistance will likely come in a form you don't expect.

Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): I'm having pangs of guilt about how relentlessly meaningful I've been lately. To atone, I'll brag about two lessons I learned recently while in the company of a couple of 8-year-old girls. 1) It's quite fun to smash your fist down on unopened bags of potato chips lying on a table, thereby creating a loud pop and sending a spray of crumbs out one end. 2) The maximum amount you can let a string of snot droop down out of your nose and then suck it back up is 14 inches. There you have it, Capricorn. If you know what's good for you, you'll follow my silly example. Get out and correct for your own excessive gravity.

Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): I'm reporting this week from the Psychic Olympics in San Rafael, Calif. For three days, I've been pitting my skills against the world's top aura readers, ghostbusters, astral travelers, and spoon-benders. So far I've earned a silver medal in the category of channeling the spirits of dead celebrities. I psychically foresee that by week's end I will also receive a gold in the category of most accurate fortunetelling. Here's the prediction that'll win it for me. "Dear Aquarius: You'll soon be at the peak of your ability to tune in telepathically to those people who have things you want."

Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): My Piscean pal Jeff is on a 10-day trek to Iran's legendary city of Esfahan, which is on the "path of totality" for the solar eclipse. Mystic-minded friends warned him that such a ballsy pilgrimage would be thumbing his nose at fate, what with Nostradamus' most dire prophecy looming and five planets now enacting a "Cosmic Crucifixion" in the heavens. Even down-to-earth cohorts told him he was nuts to show his American face in Iran during its violent political unrest. But Jeff chose to blast through his deep Piscean tendency to equivocate, coming to the same conclusion I did about these last hysterical months at the end of the millennium: None of us is really "safe" except for those who summon unreasonable courage and dare to stretch our limits by doing (in Yeats' words) the hardest work which is not impossible.

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