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Cryptic predictions

Rest easy, 2015 is a cakewalk

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Capricorn (Dec. 22 – Jan. 19)

Like the old saying goes: if the Moon lands in your farmhouse, bring a shovel. Keep that shovel with you wherever 2015 may take you. Draw a small smiley face on the shovel and introduce it to your friends and family. Open that vintage bottle you’ve been saving and toast to your new-found happiness.

Your auspicious organ is: Liver

Aquarius (Jan 20-Feb 18)

Listen, Mom, I told you. I’m not going back in time to stop you from meeting Dad.

Your auspicious instrument is: Pan Flu

Pisces (Feb. 19 – Mar. 20)

Congratulations, Pisces! You’ve been randomly selected by the heavenly alignment for an expense-paid vacation to the cavernous labyrinth deep below the Earth’s surface! Note: This is a mandatory, one-way trip.

Your auspicious beverage is: Lake Water

Aries (Mar. 21 – Apr. 19)

Take a moment to step back and really think about what you gained from 2014. Is anything really that much different? Are you that much better off ? Did you think then that this New Year would be “the one” that magically erases your past? Expect another year of monotony and second-guessing.

Your auspicious Jungian archetype is: The Love

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

Like a sewer rat in a Starbucks, you’re destined for greatness in 2015. Pay only with change when you reach the counter. Cry on the bus. Take the law into your own hands. Ascend to Godhood. Become the spirtual leader that our Galaxy needs, Taurus.

Your auspicious film is: The Spy who Shagged Me

Gemini (May 21-Jun 20)

Oh great Spiral, all-spinning and all-knowing, impart to Gemini your cyclicality. Oh eternal Spiral in the sky, spin on so that one day, Gemini may ascend and take their place within your gentle rings. Oh humble Spiral, guide Gemini with your illusory magic!

Your auspicious language is: Ancient Sumerian

Cancer (Jun 21-Jul 22)

Listen, Cancer. I bet you thought that you’d get off easy just because I happen to be a Cancer myself. Well, the Cosmos don’t work that way. Cancers of the world, you’re going to get the very worst of it, oh yes. I will be accepting bribes to dissuade me from predicting your certain doom.

Your auspicious dairy product is: Yogurt

Leo (Jul. 23 – Aug. 22)

2015 does not exist for you, Leo. Please move on to 2016.

Your auspicious protective equipment is: Hard Hat

Virgo (Aug 23. – Sept. 22)

Hey Dean! It’s been a while, man. How have you been doing? I know we left things on a pretty strange note, but I think we can move past it. I mean, she WAS my girlfriend, man. You can’t go around experimenting on everybody you meet. But I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’m ready to move onto Phase 2.

Your auspicious body modification is: Subdermal Horn Implant

Libra (Sept. 23 – Oct. 22)

The vacuum of space has a mind and has fallen deeply in love with you, Libra. 2015 promises to be a year of surprise visits to relatives and lavish bouquets. Pull out your prom dress and get ready for the tiara.

Your auspicious element is: Ruthenium

Scorpio (Oct 23. – Nov. 21)

You will have a dream early in the year. In your dream-world, you will become the world’s next great R&B superstar and be universally loved. Your songs will unite nations and be sung for generations. You will die at a ripe old age and your family will continue your legacy. When you wake up from the dream you will be unable to differentiate between reality and dream. You will spend every night of 2015 performing at Open Mics.

Your auspicious cartoonist is: Charles M. Schulz

Sagittarius (Nov 22-Dec 21)

To borrow a line from Samuel R. Delany’s opus Dhal- gren: “It is not that I have no past. Rather, it continually fragments on the terrible and vivid ephemera of now. In the long country, cut with rain, somehow there is nowhere to begin.”

Your auspicious Medieval torture device is: Thumbscrew

Mat Wilush
Mat Wilush
Mat Wilush once went to see Agent Orange on the outskirts of Toronto, where the beer was salty and drunken teenagers took turns sitting in a prop electric chair. The music had aged poorly. A mohawk’d middle-ager danced through the first couple songs, but quickly tired out. There just isn’t much room for surf rock in the world anymore. What next? Mat Wilush wants to know. Mat is the Gazette's Arts Editor. Follow him on Twitter at @wilushwho and email him at arts@dalgazette.com.
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