28 November 2005



[NOTE: I posted this just a little while ago as a Bulletin on MySpace. It got such a great reaction tht RyRy suggested I post it on my blog as well. So I'm doing that. I'll be back later in the week with a pretty serious entry - something I haven't really been able to write about yet but that I'm going to buck up and tackle. Until then, I hope anyone who thinks Astrology is a "science" or a "valid field of study" gets The Herpes (TM).]

OK, we've all seen that crap Astrology Bulletin that's going around trying to convince us all that we're wonderful people and that just because we were born on...apparently ANY...day of the year there's something great about us. We're all intelligent. We're all great in bed. Sometimes we're a leader, and sometimes we're shy. Yee haa.

Astrology is the world's oldest form of bullsh*t, around even before male cows began to deficate. It's trash, it's supersitition, and yet some people still follow it religiously because they can't figure out how to control their own lives - they have to figure that someone else is doing it for them. It's for these people that I present Goose's Real Astrology System (TM), and if you pass this on I expect full credit.

Learn your past, present and future below:

You're a dimwit. People try to talk to you and then seconds later realize they might as well converse with a pig that's rotating on a spit. You've been good at two things your entire life: standing and sitting, and you've even failed at that occasionally. Your future consists of being cloned to farm out organs to those who will make more of an impact on society. You really dig cheese. Jesus might love you, but everyone else thinks you're a c*nt.

You're smart, but only in a way that will never apply to anything legitimate, like being good at Cranium but only on Thursday mornings. You like to cook but you burn sh*t constantly because you can't pay attention to a g*ddamned thing. Your dog hates you (the only sign of the Zodiac to suffer this fate) and you write appalingly bad detective novels in your spare time. Occasionally you break out the Hugo Boss when you don't feel like taking a shower.

You're oblivious to the fact that your sign was also the inspiration for one of the worst automobiles of all time (T. Rock, no angry emails); for years you've unknowlingly looked upon this as a compliment. You'd be one hell of a soccer player if you weren't fat and lazy. You're constantly making other people smile, but only because you resemble Corky from LIFE GOES ON. Don't bother calling your parents tomorrow - for weeks they've been telling their friends about the time they tried to leave you at the Four Corners on what was supposed to be a "Family Vacation".

Like all the horrific Aries specimens out there, car companies cannot resist naming a piece of plastic on wheels after your personal piece of the Zodiac (this particular model, of which, was far inferior to its cousin - the Mercury Cougar). Face the facts: if you're a male Taurus you've got a small c*ck and if you're a female you either have lopsided breasts or your vagina smells like Hydrocholoric Acid. If you've been laid it's been by mistake at a very dark, very drunk college party or for money in a third world country. Don't bother playing the lottery, even though you're sure that "your day" is about to come. It's not; more likely, you'll be hit by a bus.

Somehow the most inept of all Zodiac signs. On the Intelligence Scale of Life, the bottom being terra firma and the top being the Moon, you are the Marianas F*cking Trench. Scientists study you thinking Neanderthals have repopulated the planet in select herds. No one knows why you have excessive body hair, but it's the main goal of modern science to do something about it. Please stop approaching your neighbors; they just think you want to eat their children. Forming a Hitler Fan Club was not a good idea, and shame on you.

You think you're pretty great, and if you weren't such as assh*le you could be. If it's cool to drive a Porsche like a pretentious d*uchebag (and it isn't), you somehow make it less cool than driving a Miata with sparkly butterfly sitckers on the windshield. Destined to be Deputy Mayor of a small town who gets indicted for racketeering. You're not a virgin, but that's only because you've visited "exotic locales", which is fancy speak for "land with no sexual assault laws". It's not totally your fault - your drunk father DID piss all over your stuffed animals while you slept, so you get a permanent Hall Pass.

Jesus Christ, how do you even live with yourself? Your mother was a wh*re and your father let her beat him - how does that even happen anymore? Sure, you're pretty and you can do fun things with your tongue, but did that ever stop anyone from throwing you under the truck? You ask too many questions, you don't listen to the answers, and even though you're physically appealing people are pretty damned sure you're borderline mentally retarded. You work at Fashion Bug if you're a girl and if you're a guy you masturbate on the side of the highway for thrills. No one is amused. Please get help.

Oooooooooh, your sign is the twin! Big f*cking deal - you can stop telling people this at any time, as if you'll convince them that you somehow got two signs for the price of one. It's not our fault that your nipples are inverted and that your third grade teacher touched you inappropriately. In fact, come to think of it, you touch yourself inappropriately. Stop the cycle. Sadly, the rest of the world thinks you're worthwhile because you're in a band or because you wrote a book about Asians in Crisis, and now you're some pop culture guru. But the stars know the truth: you have chlamydia. And that burning sensation when you pee doesn't mean you're "hot".

Your sign sounds like an new Sexually Transmitted Disease, but unlike your Gemini Brothers and sisters you don't have one yet (2008, Detroit, in the back of a conversion van - write it down). You seem to genuinely care about other people, and that's why you've been corrupted by some horrific rightist/leftist organization. No, no one in their right mind thinks that animals should be able to drive/black people should be put back into slavery. Everyone nods their head when you speak, pretending that they're moved by your fantatical claims, but really they're just wondering how to dial 9-1-1 on their cell phone without you dousing them with fake blood. You think Stove Top Stuffing is a food group and you drool when you talk too fast. You're a mouth-breather.

Though you probably haven't realized it yet, your sign is an omen because it's actually TWO diseases in one: cancer (sorry chief), the icon of which is a crab (that's gotta hurt). You were either the star QB on your high school football team or the head cheerleader; now you're just a lonely b*stard lamenting your fate and unable to tell anyone you're actually a hermaphrodite (similarly, you've convinced yourself that "Hermaphrodite" is actually the Greek God of F*ckin' Chicks). You run stop signs without thinking twice and collect Care Bears in your spare time. That screenplay you're writing about the impending war between cafeteria workers and the Thundercats ain't comin' off too well, and your job at the Christmas Tree Lot is, well...seasonal. Good luck with your enflamed testicle/labia.

You're a f*cking sea dweller - what else is there? Concurrently you have bad eyesight and resemble the Gorton's Fisherman, which is OK if you're a male but slightly awkward in the social arena if you're a female...and God knows there are plenty of you. You have a kind nature but all vestiges of that are lost in the fact that you seem to be unable to stop molesting your niece. Everyone wishes you would get a car because you leave a stain in the backseat of other's vehicles when you bum a ride. You're going to die alone, painfully, while watching the TBS marathon of A CHRISTMAS STORY on some December 24th. You know the year, you just won't admit it to yourself. Your greatest strength is your ability to ascertain and divulge someone's true nature; it's also your biggest weakness and the reason everyone refers to you as "F*cking Scary (Insert Your Name Here)".

Unlike everyone else, you're a winner. You constantly win. You're attractive and you smell good all the time, even after you've bathed in vinegar and dead babies. If you're a guy you've got a huge penis and if you're a female your t*ts sit up at full attention. Everyone envies you. You're going to be successful beyond reproach, causing everyone that hates you (which are only a very few) to spread rumors about you having genital warts, but you'll crush their spirits when you have them killed by the Yakuza. Don't ever worry about money - you're going to be so g*ddamn well-liked that people will literally throw themselves in front of a raging bull just to buy you a shot. Chicks? You f*ck 'em and don't even bother to take names (replace "chicks" with "ladies" if you're a female). Britney Spears blew you when she was hot but you wouldn't let her tell anyone because you didn't think she was cool enough.

***I hope you learned something valuable about yourselves. Now stop sending me bullsh*t Horoscopes because I'm too smart to believe that they have any basis in reality.