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Cryptic Predictions

Aries (Mar 21- Apr 19)

The gas giant Jupiter is notable for its “great red spot” – a superhurricane the diameter of the Earth. You too, have been seen to be harboring a “great red spot.” An unrelenting storm; a whirling red mess.. Don’t be weirded out or anything, but you’re kind of a living legend among the folks at NASA. Can I have your autograph?


Taurus (Apr 20 – May 20)

Like, whatever, Cynthia, he’s not even, like, whatever, “into me.” He like, totally likes you more, totally. I bet its because, like, you’re a succubus. Men are so typical, you know? Like, I’m a total catch but no, he has to go for the sex demon from, like, the lowest strata of hell. No offence.


Gemini (May 21 – Jun 20)

Haven’t you always wondered where that door leads? You know the one I’m talking about. Just what could lie on the other side? Perhaps it leads into a dark corridor, perhaps to a sunny pasture. There is literally a world of possibility between you and whatever lies on the other end of that door. If only there were a doorknob….


Cancer (Jun 21 – Jul 22)

Doesn’t it always confuse you when a product lists “Flavor” as an ingredient? Is there some sort of essential “flavor” out there that gets sprinkled into everything? Its like when “colouring” is listed – what does that even refer to? You want to know all the little details, Cancer; want to shake the hand of every little red beetle that is crushed into the sugar of your Smartie.


Leo (Jul 23 – Aug 22)


If you recall, Leo, I predicted in January that 2015 would not exist for you. That continues to be the case. I don’t want you to be left out though, so here is your summer 2016 horoscope:

Nothing Found


Virgo (Aug 23-Sept 22)

Wake up. Brush teeth. Eat toast. Drive to school. Sit at desk. Walk to library. Drink coffee. Finish paper. Meet friend. Discuss hurriedly. Walk to class. Sit at desk. Go to washroom. Return to class. Get up. Walk to car. Drive home. Prepare dinner. Browse Facebook. Eat dinner. Go to bed.


Libra (Sept 23 – Oct 22)


I would prepare yourself for this summer, Libra, as I see an alien abduction in your near future. Cool! Sometimes you just need to get away, you know? You need to see the world from another perspective to see how small your problems really are. Unfortunately this revelation will cost you an extraplanar kidnapping.


Scorpio (Oct 23 – Nov 21)


On the seventh cycle, the morning sky will crack and let down the silver rain. The Men of Old will come in through holes in the air and descend upon our cities. The sun will spew bright green light and we shall have the most bitchin’ rave of all time.


Sagittarius (Nov 22 – Dec 21)


Just to remind you: love is an emotional construct developed by your computer to make you spend more time on it. I see those offshot glances when you embrace your “lover” – your heart is elsewhere, where it belongs: on the Internet.


Capricorn (Dec 22 – Jan 19)


I wonder what we look like to insects as they crawl on our legs. We must seem like an endless expanse. All flabby and warm, ground that shifts from underneath their insect legs. Land that bears no fruit, has impenetrable soil. Heavenly fingers that pluck out the innocent and the guilty indiscriminately and takes them God-knows-where. Don’t you just love being a giant, Capricorn?


Aquarius (Jan 20 – Feb 18)


“I am the child of Fortune, the giver of good, and I shall not be shamed. She is my mother; my sisters are the Seasons; my rising and my falling match with theirs. Born thus, I ask to be no other man than that I am” – Sophocles


Pisces (Feb 19 – Mar 20)


Hey, I don’t remember you having that tattoo…did you sell a part of your soul to the warlock on Summer Street again? Look, I know you need pizza money, but you can surely get more than 20 bucks for your eternal soul?

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

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