Horoscopes by Catman, Dude

Otherwise rational people often underestimate the power that certain gemstones, colors, and musical notes exert on their lives, especially the parts that haven’t occurred yet. Catman, Dude has addressed this problem in the past by plugging people into the associations between the signs of the zodiac and small appliances and by steering the reader through the intersections between motor vehicles and astrological forecasts. Now he reveals for the first time the effects of herbs and spices on a variety of human endeavors. This information will allow you to reap the benefits of the seeds planted by astrologer Cyrus McCormick, who once said, “To everything there is a seasoning.”

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): Smoking oregano for medicinal purposes runs you afoul of the DEA, which contends that oregano is a gateway drug whose use invariably leads to an addiction to pizza and raw pasta dough and—worse yet—to a catatonic state known as Rigor Morris, which you can catch from your cat.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): A mysterious man named Garam Masala appears to you in a dream with a chain letter you’ll receive soon. Cross out the name of the person at the top of the list and write Catman, Dude’s name and address there instead. Then send out two million copies of the letter, instructing the persons who receive them to send $1 to Catman, Dude.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): All your dinner guests are hospitalized when your turkey gravy turns to plastic in their stomachs because you went bonkers with the arrowroot. Do not aggravate the situation by sending them fake cow pies made of turkey gravy.

Aries (3/21 – 4/19): Your attempt to grow fur over a bald spot by rolling in comfrey leaves makes you dyspeptic. Small wonder. When used in excess, comfrey becomes carcinogenic. Catman, Dude suggests a tincture of Rogaine or a comb over with a rosemary twig instead.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): The phone rings in the middle of the night. When you answer, a woman begins singing “She’ll be cumin ‘round the mountain” in a heavy cockney accent. That’s your next door neighbor watching BBC America with the volume at eleven on a scale of ten.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): Old Spice is your celestial seasoning. Your devotion to the sixty-plus-year-old fragrance proclaims your determination to maintain your authenticity in the face of fleeting trends. It may also mean there’s a sailor in your future or that a loved one will run off to join the Village People.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/22): Tarragon, the rising agent in your house, often goeth before a fall. According to the Sacred Book of Anagrams, the letters of tarragon can be rearranged to spell arrogant and gnat roar. Perhaps you should put a sock in your ego for a while.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): Though not spices in the strict botanical sense, the Spice Girls exert a splintering influence on your life, bouncing you from soft (Baby Spice) to frenetic (Scary Spice), from informality (Sporty Spice) to haute couture (Posh Spice). Use the Ginger Spice sparingly, however. After it’s gone, there’s no more left.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): American Express sends you a letter regarding your credit card. The letter begins, “Don’t leave home with it …” You achieve some notoriety with your “saffron defense,” in which you claim you cannot help overspending because of the influence of this costly spice on your personality.

Libra (9/23 – 10/23): Marjoram, your ruling substance, was used by the ancient Greeks in funeral wreaths, which were offered as prayers for the happiness of the deceased in a future life. If you want happiness in your present life, replace the holiday wreath on your front door with a flotation device.

Scorpio (10/24 – 11/21): Though others are ruled by substances with complex, nuanced flavors, you are the essence of vanilla—sweet, dependable, nonchallenging, and always on the menu. Like fellow vanillarians Pat Sajak and Art Garfunkle, you are easy to take, but unlikely to take anyone by storm.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): A disgruntled cook substitutes hallucinogenic nutmeg for the store brand in your sausage pudding. You begin screaming when you see Jimmy Hoffa and Mother Theresa rollerblading in thongs on Venice Beach while William Shatner raps Fiddy’s new single “Baby By Me.”

Author: Phil Maggitti

Phil Maggitti is a freelance writer and editor living in a world of virtual reality with his wife, two pug dogs, a Boston terrier, four cats, and a constant supply of gummy worms. His virtual address is www.karmasutranews.com.