I’m no hippie. In fact, I hate hippies. They smell worse than my cat’s litterbox. They’re great motivational speakers if your goal is to do nothing more than sync Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy up to episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba. Hippies are the seeds and stems in the weed bag of life.
“But wait, Cousin Brandon, I thought you were angry with the Zodiac?” Don’t push me, boy! I’m going somewhere with this. See, hippies make me think of laid-back do-nothings, like the residents I used to share space with in Santa Fe and Sedona. And Sedona immediately evokes images of those crystal fucks who spend all day in robes sans underwear, getting in touch with themselves as the thousand-dollar crystals around their necks tell them about their spirit animal. Ummm, you could have bought yourself a mood ring and saved a cool $999, dipshit.
Seriously, this douchebag is the hell-spawn of Fabio and Tonto.
So, once I’ve got hippies and the spiritually retarded on the brain, I am immediately led to the subject of astrology. You know, because if the third moon aligns with Venus and I happen to be drinking a Diet Cherry Coke at that exact moment, either I win the Powerball jackpot or start shitting locusts. You never can tell one way or the other.
Look, I’m sure there’s a real science to Astrology. In fact, I know there is. But you know what? Subscribing to it on a surface level like most assholes is about as useful as throwing pennies into the fountain at the mall. Because where do most people go to for their daily dose of astrological information? Their horoscope. Sweet fucking Jesus, people! According to the California Astrology Asssociation’s website, here’s today’s horoscope if, like me, you’re a Taurus:
All aspects of your life are serious business to you at the moment. You have choices to make concerning the direction of your future, so you have become introspective, analytical, and possibly a little critical of yourself and those around you. Be careful of any changes you make in your life. Don’t burn any bridges before weighing the consequences of your actions.
Thank you, Grasshopper, for those thoughtful, insightful words, words which could have been applied to practically anyone on any given day in any given place. In other words, Horoscope, I should make thoughtful decisions? Wow! Where would I be without you?!
And for the record, I’m this kind of Taurus…
Though, I can’t see the harm in being this kind…
Today you will weigh your options in life and drive a shitty car to the job you hate.
Maybe I’m just a cynical, bitter asshole, but not once has my life improved because my horoscope told me it would. Never, Zodiac sign, have I dug into my pocket and had a $20 windfall; never have I “won at love” because the newspaper predicted I would; and never, Taurus, have you been anything more than a manly image, thus allowing me to escape the teasing of being, say, a fish.
Incidentally, this Zodiac is equally terrible.
Look, Zodiac, all the predictions, chicken bones, Tarot cards, ghost whisperers, crystal balls and John Edwards in the world don’t mean a goddamn thing to me. Until I see some kind of return on your soothsaying mumbo jumbo, you can kiss my bull-born ass. I don’t play the lottery on the days you tell me my luck’s gonna change for the better; no, I play every day like any normal asshole.
Well, that’ll do it for “Letter Z” of The Angry Alphabet. In fact, that’ll do it for the (first run through) The Angry Alphabet altogether. I’ll get back to “A” soon enough, though I might have something else up my evil sleeve beforehand. Stay tuned, and thanks for reading.
Until my next pass at the most horrible shit on the planet, have at it, you vultures!