Taurus (April 21 – May 21)
Congrats! This week you publish your first novel. Critics largely concur that it is “lifeless,” though some call it merely “vegetative” and still others claim it responds to rudimentary electrical stimuli. Take heart—be not deterred! Keep writing in that “second-person LLC” voice. Also, make love with a Virgo.
Gemini (May 22 – June 21)
Your Craigslist ad, headlined “Bay Area man seeks casual relationship with the truth,” will prompt an intriguing response from a woman claiming to be Truth but who turns out to be Beauty. Smile and do not lament that the eyes are duplicitous organs. Later that day, hook up with a Virgo on your roommate’s couch.
Cancer (June 22 – July 22)
A harmless political joke lands you in deep poppycock at the office. It all begins when Chad (ugh CHAD) goes, “Did you hear what Paul Ryan said the other day?” And—being but mortal—you respond, “Um no dude — what is this, 2013?” Your boss, who tilts to the right on politics (even if he “dresses” on the left), will eye you with great suspicion for two weeks. Shake it off and leave town for a weekend. P.S. Have you been intimate with a Virgo lately?
Leo (July 23 – August 22)
The greatest metaphysicians of our age will swoon over your new variation on Schrödinger’s “Cat paradox,” whereby you put Schrödinger and a cat inside a box for 12 hours and then later neither of them really wants to talk about it. Spend your new intellectual capital wisely, i.e. no more loose theories about werewolves. Related: you should probably bone a Virgo.
Virgo (August 23 – September 23)
Great job with this week’s horoscopes! Go relax with a refreshing book and an improving drink. Also, buy condoms.
Libra (September 24 – October 23)
Steel yourself, Libra—this week, you will play the most dangerous game. Which is, of course, Scrabble with your dyslexic cousin. Which dyslexic cousin? Um, probably the one who usually beats you at Scrabble? Take a deep breath: Eddie Izzard is dyslexic and he is amazing with words. Point is that you shouldn’t self-lacerate. Seek solace in the arms of a new lover. Perhaps a Virgo?
Scorpio (October 24 – November 22)
You will be visited by a ghost this week, who will lurk in various corners of your boudoir offering gnomic pronouncements about “charity” and “kindness” and “stop pulling the wings off flies.” The ghost will leave once you run out of cheese crackers.
Sagittarius (November 23 – December 21)
You write a four-line bit that kills among execs at Adult Swim. Here’s the teleplay:
Whale 1: But what does Ahab represent?
Whale 2: [peers over specs] Why, impotence, of course.
Whale 1: I love this book.
Whale 2: We all do.
Next project should totally be either Old Yeller or Bambi. Time to prove your dramatic chops as well, Sag.
Capricorn (December 22 – January 20)
Crows are just perpetuating the stereotype of the angry black bird.
Aquarius (January 21 – February 19)
This week, a caucasian male of the species will write a “think[sic]piece” that goes, “What use is privilege if we cannot enjoy the fruits while mocking the tree?” The proper response is, “You are not Walter Kirn and we are not doing this again.” Do not click. Open a book. Overcook a chicken. Avoid web-rags at all costs. Stop reading these horoscopes immediately.
Pisces (February 20 – March 20)
Forget about the once-every-80-years quincunx—it’s the Jupiter-Mercury horcrux that really matters this week! Reread the sixth Harry Potter book outside, in a tree, when the moon is gibbous, or at least very gib-like. Please do not fall out of the tree. Hold hands with a Virgo.
Aries (March 21 – April 20)
You know that Clippers jersey—the one that’s been in your closet for years and you still don’t know why? Yeah. Today is a great day to wear it inside-out.*
*Matt Cohen provided this last joke. The editors of Trop apologize to all parties, including the players of the Los Angeles Clippers, their wives, and anyone sitting near Matt while he corresponded with us from terminal one in the San Francisco airport. Send correspondence and cashier’s checks to 65 South Grand Avenue, Pasadena, CA 91105.
Ted Scheinman is a culture reporter based in Chapel Hill. He has written for the Oxford American Quarterly, the Los Angeles Review of Books, Pacific Standard, Slate, and various other screen- or print-based concerns. His first book of nonfiction will appear via Faber in late 2014. He once gave Sam Shepard his autograph, and Tilda Swinton once served him coffee. (We're really not kidding — click here!) Follow him on Twitter: @Ted_Scheinman.