Taurus (April 20-May 20): To please his paramour Gala, Salvador Dali shaved his armpits until they bled and doused himself with a cologne composed of cow manure and fish glue. To win the heart of the enchantress Sophia back in 1984, I met her demand that I shoplift doll furniture. The conditions that Dali and I agreed to are somewhat more stringent than the requests love will make of you in the coming week, Taurus -- but not by much.
Gemini (May 21-June 20): I must admit I do not have the most composed relationship with greed. In truth, it riles me up. In all the years I've written this column, I don't believe I've ever counseled anyone to even flirt with piggishness -- until now. With some trepidation, I am hereby advising you to be more zealous in grabbing bigger pieces of every pie. Visualize the shocking picture of what it would mean for you to be thoroughly opportunistic, ravenous, and acquisitive. Then flush away, oh, 60 percent of that picture, and add the remainder to your actual behavior.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): Nostradamus' most famous prophecy will be tested this July. "In the year 1999 and seven months," he wrote in Century 10, Quatrain 72, "the great King of Terror will come from the sky. He will revive the spirit of the Mongols. Before and after war reigns happily." My own visions tell me, however, that the dude was wrong. I predict a Queen of Eros will come from the earth, and she will revive the spirit of sacred pleasure, and in response many people will be cured of their fear of sex and puritanical mistrust of the body. I further predict that you Cancerians will harvest her blessings more than all the other signs.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): Next time you feel the emotional anguish that's been pricking you so much lately, try my special exorcism ritual. First, throw thorns and burrs on the floor and roll all over them. Jump up, get a running start, and fling yourself against the wall 10 or 15 times. Next, give yourself a good whipping with a plastic belt, and for a climax, drip hot wax on your arms and legs. That ought to take your mind off the far less tangible aches and pains you've been entertaining. (P.S. The preceding was a sick joke designed to ignite explosive laughter that will expel all evil and dumb spirits from your beautiful organism. Please do not actually carry out the ridiculous instructions.)
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): For only the second time this decade, the Triple Witching Hour is upon you, Virgo. Think you can handle it? It'll be extravagantly delicious, like a daily quart of chocolate liqueur, or two months of Saturday nights, or a trip 10 years into the future and back. Remember, the Triple Witching Hour brings a climax in not just one long-term life cycle, but three. When you were young did you ever crawl into the washing machine and take a spin? The coming weeks will be like riding in a giant, cushioned wishing machine.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): Writing in the New York Review of Books, Richard Jenkyns remarked on how little "millennial madness" there actually is: "If there is any excitement, it is the kind of excitement that surrounds Titanic or The Lion King -- that is, one manufactured by commercial interests and wholly superficial." I agree. I thought I'd be more worked up about the countdown to 2000 by now, but life goes on with the same jumbled mix of corrosive banality and fleeting redemption. I will say, however, that I expect an epic, perhaps even monumental, shift in the love lives of many Librans by year's end. If you respond to all the cosmic invitations to expand your intimacy skills, you'll have profound reasons to celebrate on Dec. 31, 1999.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): COMMUNIQU FROM THE CLANDESTINE INDIGENOUS REVOLUTIONARY COMMITTEE IN CHARGE OF THE INGENIOUS LIBERATION OF ALL PEOPLE OF EARTH ... ATTENTION ESPECIALLY THOSE BORN UNDER THE SIGN OF SCORPIO ... YOU ARE THE KEY TO DETONATING THE NEXT PHASE OF THE INSURRECTION ... ROUSE YOURSELVES IMMEDIATELY FOR THE GLORIOUS TASK OF SHATTERING ABSURD TABOOS THAT INTERFERE WITH UPROARIOUS FUN ... FILL YOURSELVES WITH JOY, REJECTING ALL BOURGEOIS TEMPTATIONS TO WALLOW IN DECADENT SECURITY ... IN THE NAME OF DELIRIOUS DELIGHT, BE AS UNPREDICTABLE AS YOU DARE!
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Let's see if I've got this straight, Sagittarius. You're trying to tell me that the way out is the way in, right? And that the "wrong" answer just might be the right answer? And that success, if it makes an appearance at all, will most likely happen by accident? I don't know. This tricky, upside-down approach to life is more the specialty of saints and lunatics. Are you sure you're up for messing around with such crazy wisdom? If so, you'd better ask your shrewdest helpers to monitor you closely.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): If you're a hermit living in a cave, this would be a good week to hike down to civilization and bring a battery-operated TV back to your sanctuary. If you're a high-powered CEO who eats your competitors for breakfast, this is a perfect moment to visit a dominatrix and find out what it's like to be on the receiving end. If you're an average, superorganized Capricorn overachiever, the cosmos is inviting you to make a leisurely exploration of the most emotionally rich chaos you can scare up.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Did you really believe that sooner or later you'd get your loved ones "trained," Aquarius? Have you been under the chronic illusion that you could change the qualities in them that you didn't like so much, while keeping the good parts? If so, be grateful for this week's medicine. It may be bitter going down, but it'll feel sweet in your soft underbelly. When the cure kicks in, you'll find yourself acting twice as smart in the intimate clinches.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): I love your pilgrim soul, Pisces, and your ever-deepening eyes. I love the lost treasure languishing undiscovered in the off-limits area of your psyche. I love how the old gods still swim through your blood and call to you in lyrical shrieks that no one else could possibly tune into. I love every last one of your never-ending series of stunning spiritual conversions, and I love how you're like the chrysanthemum, which needs long hours of darkness to bloom. This week, though, what I love most is the fact that your heart is as strong as a fist and as welcoming as a warm bath, and thus will conquer every obstacle with the fiercest tenderness you have ever invoked.