My daily horoscope in the Providence Journal for the morning of June 13, 2011 read as follows:
“CANCER (June 22 – July 22): In the manner of rock stars, boxers, and firewood choppers, you will sublimate your anger into something extremely entertaining or useful to everyone around.”
This gem was written by someone named Holiday Mathis. My hat is off to him/her. This sentence is beautiful like a haiku, or a Sarah Coventry necklace.
I am a great fan of astrology; I used to cast and interpret charts myself (and still do it from time to time). But this daily-horoscope stuff is a bunch of malarkey. As I used to tell my astrology clients: do you really think you can divvy up the human race into twelve neat groups and tell each group what's going to happen today? I mean, really. Did every Cancerian in the entire world have some kind of hissy fit on June 13, and sublimate it into high art?
(Speaking as an elderly Cancerian, I did not. I was fairly calm that day. I do take medication that heads off most of my hissy fits, however.)
In an old episode of “The Simpsons,” Homer was hired to write fortune-cookie fortunes, and wrote two that will live forever in my memory.
One: “The price of postage stamps will rise ever higher.”
Two: “You will find love by Flag Day.”
The first is inevitable. The second is a lovely possibility.
And that, Charlie Brown, is what fortune-telling is all about.
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