But I'll press ahead anyway. Even if I'm wrong, it'll be good for you to have to prove I'm wrong. So let me just ask you to consider Hoar's Law of Large Problems, which states that inside every large problem is a small problem struggling to get out.
Taurus (April 20-May 20): Taurus diary entry, June 15: Feeling too organized, too settled. Staleness setting in. Have overwhelming urge to get messy and riled up. What to do? June 16: Am letting the dishes sit in the sink; wearing same shirt I wore yesterday. To hell with law 'n' order. June 17: Pigged out on junk food. Rented a stupid movie and filled my brain with images of violence and degradation. Yuck! June 18: Fantasized doing dirty deeds. Imagined running away from home. Big deal. Still feel stale. June 19: This is more like it. Found the strangest freshness today -- in a place I never expected. Didn't know chaos could be so cute and friendly!
Gemini (May 21-June 20): We've selected Joy Bettina, a housewife from Kansas City, as the Gemini Role Model of the Month. While the kids were in school, she sailed the Mississippi River scouting out small, uninhabited islands. After dinner, while hubby baby-sat, she went to the library to research old property records. Finally she discovered an island no one had ever claimed before, and notified the government that she wanted it. Result: She's now a proud new landowner.
Moral of the story: Even a part-time pioneer can stake out her own empire.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): Considering the way the earth seems to be moving for you even when you're not doing the wild thing, you may be wondering if you should get your head examined. Well, maybe -- but not by a "shrink." You need the opposite of a shrink, like someone who'll help you inflate your ego so it'll have room for more confidence and courage; someone who'll assist in fattening up your soul so it can hold a vaster sense of wonder and more grandiose expectations.
Get yourself pumped up, baby.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): It would be an excellent time, astrologically speaking, to gather together a thousand or so of your closest friends and associates for the orgy ... er, schmoozefest ... of the year. Likewise, it'd be a propitious moment to throw a dinner party for the 12 disciples ... er, allies ... who'll be most crucial for your master plan in the next 13 months. Finally, it'll be the perfect week to leap off ... er, slip away from ... a rickety old bandwagon, and jump-start a sleek new one.
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): The latest trend in the recording industry is to make CDs sound less than squeaky clean. Weary of the sterile quality of digital technology, musicians like P J Harvey, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Sheryl Crow are sneaking tape hiss, noise from guitar amps, and other extraneous sounds into their tracks. Please take a hint from these artists, Virgo. As you get the hang of your new success, explore how fun and educational it can be to mess with your perfectionism. Loosen up enough to let some lucky accidents guide you. Become a little fuzzier around your oh-so-neat edges, and make it harder for people to have you oh-so-pegged. Most of all, get more low-down and funky.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): Even as we speak, evil advertising geniuses and entertainment experts are in their laboratories conjuring up irresistible new forms of technovoodoo to artificially inflame your consumer lusts. To complicate matters, your closest relations and associates are, even more than usual, conspiring to convince you that what makes them happy is what makes you happy. Sounds like the odds are stacked against you in your eternal struggle to know what really, truly excites you.
Is there any hope? Fortunately, yes -- IF you're willing to launch a mad-scientist-style research project into the hidden secrets of your pleasure; and IF you're not afraid to find out what you're like when you're turned on all the way.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): It'll be a serendipitous, miscellaneous, kaleidoscopic week. Your lucky number is one-third. Your sacred password is "bagel with cream cheese." Your object of power is now lying in a drawer full of junk. The celebrity with whom you have the most in common is Tim Allen. The location where you're most likely to meet your blind date with fate is in a convenience store or the parking lot outside. Your color of destiny is khaki. And the therapeutic exercise which is most likely to dissolve your mental block is to fantasize driving an ice cream truck into the poorest neighborhood you know and giving away all the sweet stuff for free.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Lately you remind me of a vacuum cleaner or a hungry infant or a Venus' flytrap or a black hole. Whenever I meditate on you, I hear a giant sucking sound. I keep getting this feeling that you're more voracious and insatiable than you've been in many moons -- as if you might be inclined to engorge just about any old thing you happen to find in front of you. Is this true? If so, let's hope the things you find in front of you are good for your system.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Last week's metaphors were no fun: eating soup with a fork; trying to enter through an exit; and having to pay for vases your imaginary friend knocked over. The mischievous vibes that were on the loose then are still in effect. But with just a few adjustments, you could turn those vibes to your advantage.
Try these metaphors on for size: eating ice cream with a fork; walking backward as you enter through an exit; and taking your clumsy imaginary friend into places where there are things you wouldn't mind seeing "accidentally" broken.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): A meeting of hell's board of directors was taking place. The devil was upset because recruitment of Aquarians had dropped to a new low. "It's intolerable," he raged. "These damned Aquarians are so mentally healthy lately it makes me want to puke. Suggestions?"
Hell's executive vice president blurted out, "I'll go down to Earth and convince Aquarians their friends are jealous and are talking trash behind their backs." The marketing chief was next: "I'll go down to Earth and make them feel guilty and superstitious for feeling so good." Then the head of intelligence spoke: "And I'll go down to Earth and offer Aquarians irrelevant rewards that seduce them away from their true goals."
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): Your reptilian brain sure has been busy lately. It's demanded more tribute in the last month than it had in the past six months combined. As a result, you're as territorial as a mother stegosaurus guarding her eggs. Your survival instinct is turned up as high as a triceratops trying to outrun a flood. Your need to express dominance has a resemblance to tyrannosaurus rex.
I figure you'll be running these primitive programs another seven to 10 days. No way you can repress them, but how about expressing them as humanistically as possible? Meditate on your dream home, improve your health regimen, and plot the overthrow of a "necessary" evil.