Taurus (April 20-May 20): 'Tis the season for protests, rebellions, and dissidence of all flavors. This is one time when you don't just have to sit there politely with a grimacing smile as someone tries to swallow your soul. Complain. Talk back. Raise a stink. Nicely if possible, but hey -- whatever works. By the way, I suggest that in addition to your personal uprising, you bitch righteously about a political cause you're passionate about. If you're in the market for one, try this: the obscene series of nuclear blasts France is detonating in the South Pacific. Boycott French products!
Gemini (May 21-June 20): Knowing how much passion the gods are churning up in your vicinity these days, I tried to get North America's sexiest psychic, the Weekly World News' Serena Sabak, to be guest author for your horoscope. But she was too busy ministering to her fabulously rich and famous clientele, so I had to fall back on the runner-up to North America's sexiest psychic -- yours truly. I'm sorry you have to settle for second best. I assure you that in all other matters involving romance and eros, you will have your first pick.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): A Cancerian man from Utah recently discovered that his wife, to whom he'd been married for over three years, was actually a man. In a similar vein, a Cancerian rock star I know suddenly realized he was not the most original musician in the history of the world. To top it off, a Cancerian astrologer who prides himself on not lusting for fame -- yours truly -- embarrassed himself by indulging in a lengthy daydream about yakking with Letterman on national TV. From this data, I have to conclude that we crabs are losing our illusions -- especially about ourselves -- at a rapid, almost shocking rate.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): Though I haven't officiated at a wedding for five years, I still have my own tax-exempt parish within the Universal Life Church. And I'm coming out of retirement this week to offer you my services for a unique ceremony. I'm moved to make this special dispensation because I sense that you're now at the height of your feelings of love and admiration for your own gorgeous self. To mark this hallowed occasion, I propose that you allow me to perform a kamikaze rite that sanctifies your marriage to yourself. Ready? I now pronounce you your own husband and wife.
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Forrest Fickling is an astrologer who specializes in statistical analysis. In a study of 50,000 people, he concluded that of all the signs, Virgos tell the fewest lies; Virgos are the most dependable; and Virgo women work the hardest, with Virgo men not far behind. I'm telling you all this because these three qualities are what the folks around you need most from you now -- and what you need them to need you for. Be their rock, their anchor.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): This past summer a wild, bright new part of you awakened and bloomed. But now, as autumn climaxes, that wild brightness is dimming, its expansive spirit contracting. You have every right to mourn. The ebbing energy of your beautiful change is truly a sad occasion. On the other hand, you should know that this little death is simply your way of embodying the natural rhythms of the Earth, whose flora and fauna are receding into quiescence as the sun retreats. And as sure as the cherry trees will blossom again next spring, so too will that bright part of you -- even bigger and better.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): What were you doing last June 10-14? A Scorpio baseball player named Mike Benjamin was on the hottest hitting streak in the history of the game. Seven other Scorpios I know were making stunning breakthroughs in their work or outstripping all of their previous accomplishments. I'm calling your attention to this not just because it's been exactly six months since then -- but because it's a perfect time to cash in on the quantum leap you made at that time. I'll let you decide whether that means lobbying for a raise, taking your work to a higher authority, or trading the credit you earned back then for a new and richer niche.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Janet V. Limes, a Sagittarius from Seattle, is this week's guest author, offering her rant on "How to Be a Sagittarius": "I walk the high wire without a net across active volcanoes -- blindfolded, spinning stacks of plates, holding a burning torch in my teeth. I want everyone to love and adore me as much as I do myself, so then I can stop hating myself for not being all things to all people. I'm fiercely allergic to fraud and injustice, and I'll rip the mask off even the most pathetic impostor with relish. I give all my best things away and expect this and more from people I love. I know precisely how to hurt anyone, especially myself. Believe in me, and I'll sell my soul for you."
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): The new drug craze in India is snake venom. To get high, junkies induce a snake to bite them on the tongue. The rush is kinda nasty, even if it is a vacation from the humdrum of normal waking consciousness. I bring this up because I have a hunch you've toyed with the fantasy (at least subconsciously) of jolting yourself out of your current funk with some equally noxious thrill. Can I talk you out of it? I respect your need to substitute any feeling for the heavy moods you're nursing, but there are safer and more effective ways to do it than through arguments and accidents and apoplectic reactions.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): The German government funded a lengthy scientific study on dowsing for underground sources of water in dry regions. At the end of 10 years, the head researcher at the University of Munich said, "It definitely works. But we have no idea how or why." His statement would apply equally well to the mojo you're using to tap into previously hidden veins of clout. I don't know why or how you're drumming up better connections and more inside dope, but you are. Could it be dumb luck and supernatural assistance? Or is it simply your just reward for all the dogged bridge-building you've done this year?
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): The time: June of 1944. The scenario: the imminent Allied invasion of German-occupied France. Gen. Eisenhower is about to launch 150,000 troops toward Normandy. As a trick, he also stations a phantom army in England just across the channel from Pas de Calais, France. This fools the Germans into believing the attack will come there. As a result, they decide against sending reserve panzer divisions to Normandy. The absence of this firepower proves an enormous advantage for the Allies, and they win the battle.
Recommendation: All Pisceans study this tactic and incorporate it into their struggle this week.