For more than five years I've been reading the same weekly horroscope in my city's so-called "alternative" newspaper (since it got bought out by stern publishing and became a typical stern vehicle for hawking booze joints, cigarettes, pornography and grey-market prostitution, I can't really credit it with being an alternative to anything except moral responsibility). And for all these years I tried to figure out how my weekly reading could promise such astounding portents of fantastical spiritual events in my life while my life continued to be exceptionally obtuse and dull.
I was promised Deus Ex Machina experiences, the transcendent and transparent operation of the Divine Entity in my life, dramatic spiritual renewal culminating in the resolution of decade-long personal dilemmas, dramatic improvements in physical health, powerful surges of spiritual renewal, why just this week I was informed that my personal wishing would set cosmic scale balls a-rollin' to fulfill me. But I've discovered the secret: I have the same astrological sign as the guy who writes the column! For five years I'd been led astray by reading little inspirational life-blurbs that masqueraded as being meant for me but were in fact astrological pep-talks my crummy guru was giving himself in print!
Now I mainly read it for the entertainment value and exquisite irony quotient.
klik if you demand tedious explanations of every little thing.
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