I don’t even know who I am anymore
Forget saying, “Goodnight, moon.” How about, “Go fuck yourself, moon”?
Thanks to our dumbass moon’s gravitational pull on Earth, your zodiac sign and daily horoscope are filthy lies. And asking, “What’s your sign?” is more likely to trigger an identity crisis than get you laid (or at least, get you a fake phone number).
In an assertion that has rocked the astrological world to its hokey core, the Minnesota Planetarium Society (read that: astronomers) announced that the moon’s gravitational pull on Earth’s wobbly axis has actually bumped the stars’ alignment to the Earth by around a month. And it’s been that way for quite some time.
Since astrological signs—and by extension, our celestially determined character traits—are dictated by the sun’s position in the constellations on the day we were born, you can see where problems might arise.
Astrologers haven’t been in a pickle of this magnitude since 1816’s Year Without a Summer, when Earth faced a volcanic winter that blotted out the sky and made stargazing an exercise in futility.
In a desperate attempt at damage control, astrologers have diverted attention from this astronomical blunder by adding a shiny new 13th zodiac sign (well, not really new at all, but rather one that astrologers have kept locked in the basement for centuries, and which the Babylonians consciously omitted because they thought 12 sounded sexier than 13; very scientific, indeed) called Ophiuchus, the serpent wrestler. And no, “serpent wrestler” is NOT an astrological euphemism for masturbation; although I must admit, in most depictions Ophiuchus does appear to be wrangling some kind of trouser snake betwixt his legs. See?
So what does all this mean to you? I have no idea. I don’t even know you. But if you’re like me, it means you’ve been an allegedly clever, spontaneous and stubborn Aquarius for your whole life (or whatever your respective sign may be), and now you have an identity problem. As for me, suddenly I’m this unimaginative, patient, materialistic Capricorn with a killer attention span. I don’t even know how to begin to live like that.
According to Parke Kunkle, astronomy professor and chief agitator of this rabble-rousing Minnesota Planetarium Society, here are the revised dates of the new Zodiac. So pay attention, lest you continue living a fiction:
Capricorn: Jan. 20-Feb. 16
Aquarius: Feb. 16-March 11
Pisces: March 11-April 18
Aries: April 18-May 13
Taurus: May 13-June 21
Gemini: June 21-July 20
Cancer: July 20-Aug. 10
Leo: Aug. 10-Sept. 16
Virgo: Sept. 16-Oct. 30
Libra: Oct. 30-Nov. 23
Scorpio: Nov. 23-29
ALL NEW! Ophiuchus: Nov. 29-Dec. 17
Sagittarius: Dec. 17-Jan. 20
Not sure of the broader impact—by which I mean of course, secondary, tertiary and even (gasp!) quaternary ramifications—of this news on the metaphysical world just yet. But what I do know is, I’m definitely gonna have to change my personality to fit my hitherto dormant Capricornian nature. Maybe I should hire one of those cult deprogrammers.
And be on the lookout for a pay-per-view astronomers vs. astrologers Thunderdome death match in the near future, right when the sun passes through Pisces—I mean, Aries.