Taurus (April 20-May 20): Here's scientist Danny Hills, quoted in Wired, extolling the beauty of long-term planning: "I think of the oak beams in the ceiling of College Hall at Oxford. Last century, when the beams needed replacing, carpenters used oak trees that had been planted in 1386 when the dining hall was first built. The 14th-century builder had planted trees in anticipation of the time, hundreds of years in the future, when the beams would need replacing." I exhort you, Taurus, to apply the same kind of thinking to your own life. Believe it or not, decisions you make in the next few weeks could not only have an impact on your life 10 years from today, but also on your next incarnation in the 23rd century.
Gemini (May 21-June 20): Thomas Edison wasn't a Gemini, but this week will bring you Geminis as close as you can get to being Thomas Edisons. "Inventiveness" may not be your middle name, but it'll be your stage name for a while. In fact, this may be the first time since you and I launched our relationship that I've been able to juxtapose the words "practical" and "genius" in one of your horoscopes. Your imagination will be churning out not just any old whimsical departures from the tried and true, but rather highly useful ones.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): After a long and semibrilliant reign as your kick-ass guide, one of your major influences is about to lose more than a little of its hold on you. This is a stealthy turning point that's best faced on an empty mind, so please wash your brain thoroughly. The fertile new imprints that are on their way will be much more effective in inspiring brainstorms if you're not being a nice, polite Crab trying to stay loyal to the memory of your old teacher.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): Ever heard of a found poem? It's a juicy text scavenged from an unlikely source, say a video game manual, and turned into an official poem. Now, for the first time in history, I have created a found horoscope -- which just happens to present a perfect metaphor for your imminent future. "In a seedy metropolis, aliens disguised as humans threaten sabotage. You are at ground zero for the action, controlling the plot. Interact one-on-one with the crusty mystic Ghost-Weasel and the half-evil, half-good Sucker-Pucker, as you navigate through subterranean sewer tunnels infested with nasty radioactive Ratigators. Yuck! Sounds like a blast. May the best mutant win."
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): "Dear Dr. Brezsny: Lately I've been having many odd epiphanies, or epoopanies as I call them, inspired by a series of scatological yet spiritually uplifting dreams in which I receive great insights while diligently roto-rootering my clogged toilet. Should I be embarrassed about the source of my revelations? -- Dirty Virgo from Bellingham" Dear Dirty: Be proud, not ashamed! Most people don't even clean up their own messy karma, let alone do it with the verve and skill you and your fellow Virgos have been doing lately. God is obviously rewarding you.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): "One should not think slightingly of the paradoxical," said Danish philosopher S¿ren Kierkegaard, "for the paradox is the source of the thinker's passion, and the thinker without a paradox is like a lover without a feeling." Keep this in mind, Libra, during the sweet-and-sour bafflements of the next few weeks. Luckily for you, your analytical powers are kicking into high gear at the same time that the cosmos is swamping you with gnarly yet noble puzzles.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): National Geographic notes that the male Australian redback spider, which is just one-fiftieth the size of the female, "seems almost exuberantly reconciled to his fate: He somersaults headlong into the female's jaws while still copulating." As deliriously liberating as eros is likely to be for you in the coming weeks, Scorpio, I hope you show a touch more restraint than this creature. There's no need to be eaten alive in order to have more boundary-dissolving fun than you've had in many moons.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): This is strange. While meditating on your horoscope in my home office, where no one ever visits, I've been called to the door twice in 15 minutes. First I was victimized by Jehovah's Witnesses, next by Scientology drones. Is this evidence of millennial recruiting fever, or is the universe sending me an omen about you? Wow. As I typed that last sentence, a call came into my answering machine. It was a Sagittarius reader from Toronto saying, "Help! I'm being pestered to listen to and endorse ideas I don't have any interest in. What should I do?" Now it's unequivocal what the signs mean, Saj: Slam the door on distractions and interruptions. Hunker down with the treasure that thrills your heart most.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Your strength threatens people, and that's not right. It would be a sin for you to pretend you're not as good as you are. But it's also my duty to say that the problem may be due to other factors besides the fact that some folks are wimpy scaredy-cats. The resistance you encounter when you unveil your full glory could be partly inspired by a glitch in your attitude, not by your skills themselves. So please see what you can do to wield all your beautifully ferocious power without the hint of a desire to make anyone else feel inferior.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Was that you yakking on the car phone and eating a bagel while weaving in and out of traffic at 80 mph in the filthy Volvo with the gray, bug-eyed alien doll suctioned on the window and the "Visualize Whirled Peas" bumper sticker? If it was, I hope you know how lucky you were it was me you cut off. Anyone less in control of his emotions than I, anyone less sympathetic to your eccentricities, would have plunged into an episode of road rage. May I suggest that you tone it down just a little? Like for instance, either gobble the bagel or gab on the cell phone while hurtling down the highway, but not both at the same time.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): You may be hiding or downplaying your gooey, chewy style of intimacy simply because you fear it won't carry much weight amidst the one-upmanship rituals raging all around you. But this is one of those rare junctures in the history of the phallocracy when warmth and tenderness can earn you lots of macho skill points. And that ain't the half of it. A few testosterone-poisoned characters are about to do some fool thing like throw a virgin in a volcano to propitiate their wacky ideas of progress. And only you, with your aggressive sensitivity, can dissuade them.