Aries: Welcome back to the horoscopes!! We’ve made some changes since last semester: as a result of a certain former Collegian employee astral projecting in an unprofessional context, we’ve replaced him with a safer writer, without real astrological powers. This means that your horoscopes may not come true every time anymore. We apologize for the inconvenience.
Taurus: Imagine, if you will, a pool. A pool not of water, but of… piss. Shocking, no? It may seem disturbing – inconceivable, even. And yet you will see in this episode that this and even worse alternatives are more than possible – they are real. Real, that is, in… The Twilight Zone
Gemini: Are those… shorts??? And you aren’t even just walking to Collins, but choosing to walk about campus with your knees exposed to the rugged tundra (41 degrees and sunny)??? We’re speechless, how are you so tough, so twisted? We besiege you, leave at least one (1) woman for the rest of us, o creature of darkness!
Cancer: Your lucky numbers this week are: 1,391,235,021, 1.029472091*10^(-47), 527.1230989, and 3 bazillion. If any of these numbers comes up in your homework this week, the Collegian astrology department guarantees you will meet Bill Bellamy 24 hours later; if we’re wrong, we’ll give you a real human cupbearer!
Leo: Your sins have accumulated; as of midnight tonight, the universe is completely and irreversibly guaranteeing that you get reincarnated as a Long Islander with celiac’s. The only way you could possibly balance your karma in time would be donating all your money to the Collegian so we can print for a full semester.
Virgo: IT’S COMING FOR YOU IT’S COMING FOR YOU IT’S COMING FOR YOU IT’S COMING FOR YOU IT’S COMING FOR YOU (This is in reference to the incoming semester and nothing else.) IT’S COMING FOR YOU IT’S COMING FOR YOU IT’S COMING FOR YO–
Libra: I fear calamity, visions darken my eyes with portents scattered and indiscernible… I see a cardstock bowl, a 45 minute wait. A breadstick signals the coming damnation, a restroom stands lost beyond the barrier of time, and a flood of oil rushes through a canyon of flesh which no man can prevent.
Scorpio: Another week of being the objectively best star sign ahead, Scorpios. Some may call me biased, but you can ask anyone else with a masters in astrological divination, and they’ll tell you the same thing: Being born from late October to late November simply means one is a morally superior individual.
Sagittarius: Congratulations, Sagittarius! Mercury enters its luteal phase, giving you a 100% chance of winning any and all wagers you make, no matter how impossibly unlikely. But the casinos know – they won’t let you in. Fear not; you can bet against me. Remember, even if it seems like you’re losing at first, it’s just a complex situation unfolding wherein you win, even if I cheat.
Capricorn: As Saturn comes into conflict with Halley’s comet and the moon wanes to a close, you continue to not get your money up because you’re wasting time reading the horoscopes. You weren’t cut out for the grind, cuzzo; you’d best get off these streets before they eat you alive.
Aquarius: Affirm “YES” 7 times in the mirror at 3 AM and leave a peace offering of the answers to Edmonds’ Calc III homework for the next three weeks in the 3rd stall of the 2nd floor bathroom in the John on Wednesday at noon for Gus T’s to be replaced by a Panda Express next semester!!
Pisces: THIS IS A MESSAGE FOR CHASE MULLENS ONLY: ALL OTHER PISCES, PLEASE DEFER TO SAGITTARIUS FOR A REASONABLY ACCURATE HOROSCOPE, THIS TEXT IS FORBIDDEN FOR YOU TO READ. THE FOLLOWING IS FOR ONLY CHASE MULLENS’ EYES ONLY: Hey I think we’re playing basketball at 7 pull up.