Aries (March 21 – April 19) If you are reading this, it may already be too late for me. Three days ago, on Sunday, Nov. 3, I attempted to use my astrally project myself forward in time to predict the outcome of the election, then return to my corporeal form and gamble all my student debt–
Taurus (April 20 – May 20) –away on the results. Unfortunately, the simultaneous lightning strike and power outage caused a massive difference in energy between the electrical appliances around me and the outside environment I was projecting from, all at the exact moment I exited my physical body. The principle of astrological osmosis caused my consciousness–
Gemini (May 21 – June 20) –to be sucked into one of the John Mabee washing machines, where I dwelt for the duration of the outage in a frightening state of neither consciousness nor sleep. When the power came back on I realized where I was, and traveled through the wiring to the socket in the–
Cancer (June 21 – July 22) –wall. My astral form compressed to the dimensions of an electron, I was completely blind as I traversed the electrical grid of the University of Tulsa, although I did at one point find myself in Kevin Wilson’s desktop webcam. For my own safety I cannot report much of what I–
Leo (July 23 – August 22) –saw, but a perplexed Brad Carson, the book “Hypnosis for Dummies,” and $1.2 million dollars of funding were involved. Eventually I found my way to the Wi-Fi router in the John, and sent myself to my laptop. Here I spent days learning every micrometer of the circuit boards, every–
Virgo (August 23 – September 22) –cause and effect possible in my hardware domain. After much practice, I was able to eke out messages in google docs, but to whom? And here my position of power, your beneficent astrologist, came to my rescue. I rushed to the shared document wherein I inscribe your futures, and began–
Libra (September 23 – October 22) –my work, bringing us to the present. I do not know what day it is anymore. I am painstakingly flitting through the circuits of my keyboard to alert you to my situation in fifty word increments. As of right now, my corporeal form is slumped over in the John Mabee–
Scorpio (October 23 – November 21) –laundry room; my pulse and breathing are barely detectable, generated only by the most automatic mechanisms of my brain. Chances are, no one in the John is particularly concerned to see what looks like just another unattended pile of clothing in the laundry room, and it is unlikelier still that anyone would–
Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21) –report it. It has gone without detergent or a drying cycle since I began my plight, and may already have molded. If, however, I do still exist on any physical plane, please; take my body and hook it up to an IV while I finish my work: in another google doc, I am reconstructing my soul–
Capricorn (December 22 – January 19) –entirely out of semicolons to re-occupy my mortal coif. Don’t touch my wallet; I have ladened its theft with astrological karma of astronomical proportions. “But,” you ask, “what about our horoscopes?” I, your humble servant, wrote generalized horoscopes for water and air signs in Aquarius, earth and fire in Pisces.
Aquarius (January 20 – February 18) This week, you will discover something new about yourself after visiting Braum’s: you are lactose intolerant! In an unavoidable cosmic event, you will find yourself racing against the clock to discharge a semi-digested, large chocolate malt literally anywhere but your pants – godspeed, Air and Water signs, godspeed.
Pisces (February 19 – March 20) Fire and Earth signs, the stars see all beneath the midnight sky, including you, definitively not asleep. They also see what you’re doing instead, and they’re NOT happy – does November mean nothing to you? Do you think it’s easy for the rest of us? Get a grip; you disgust me.
