The Real Folk Horoscope

Musings of a mad astrologist

By Cody Lyman
Reader Columnist


Life sucks, but you’re good. Or you suck, but life’s good. Or maybe some other vice versa-able combination where it’s extremely difficult to tell the difference between the two. 


People live like they drive. And cars were meant to go until they brake.


When you get depressed this month, unbeknownst to you, everyone around you will hear this almost imperceptible hiss, like the air letting out of a punctured tire.


Backwards behaviors in the backcountry are rather straightforward. Thus I propose, the city is your backcountry. Survival tip: Moss grows on the backside of satellite dishes.


About a third of your friends on social media are only half two-faced. That’s the best I got for trying to make you feel less lonely.


You can’t change the weather. But you could close that damn window.


You’ll be in the zone to (contrary to earlier readings) fix Stupid this month, and perhaps even have the kindness in your heart to fix Mean. But if you come across Mean and Stupid together in one person, don’t bother. It is irreparable and an invitation to Sad.


Somebody will tell you their sign this month and, when they do, you’ll tell them yours.


There’s no right way, just a lot of wrong ways.


Someday they will find you caught beneath a landslide, in a champagne supernova in the sky… whatever the hell that means.


Some people construe it as “pickiness.” You call it, “having standards.” Well, I guess you would know.


Tired of digging that particular hole? Imagine: One day you’ll pop out the other end. Then you’ll have a cool tunnel — and not a pit, dismal and painful at all — to look back on.

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