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Brown Eyed Girl

Brown Eyed Girl
Location
Bel Air, Maryland, USA
Birthday
August 27
Bio
Writer, Educator, former police officer, never been to Spain. Published my first book in September--"Toepicks, Cadaver Dogs, and Sports With No Balls". I like to believe that you really can't reflect on life until you can find the humor that is hidden away in some little secret pocket or slit in the fabric. This, of course, is different from a hole.

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FEBRUARY 28, 2010 12:52PM

WHAT THE HELL? HOROSCOPE

Rate: 30 Flag

 

I am not really a superstitious person.

 Well, in stating this, I must admit that I used to keep a small sheet of paper, dusted in cinnamon, with the numbers 4 and 8 written on it, folded eight times, inside my bra as this was the closest position to my heart.  This because a white witch (long story) told me it would bring good luck to my daughter who was competing in Europe while I fretted at home.  And I only did this two times.  Okay.  Three times if you consider I added the white candle smoke for Dresden.

 But I am not a “don’t walk under a ladder”-- spook if you see a black cat kind-of-person.  I don’t see any reason to walk under a ladder, but if a logical reason presented itself, I’m pretty sure I would scoot right behind it.  If a feline, black or calico, runs across my path I am more inclined to wonder about its home life, as in ‘does it have one’, then to speculate that I may be at the cusp of a black hole in the asphalt.  

 Men do not like to ever be termed “superstitious”.  They seem to think this may place them on the brink of wearing a Johnny Weir rose crown and sporting a Lycra onesy encrusted with Austrian crystals.   Men usually like to think of it as being a “custom” or ‘’tradition”, as in “I wore my Ohio State sweatshirt for the last Ravens game and they won, so I have to wear it this week” or “we had lemon pepper wings for the last winning Giants game so we can’t have honey wings this week!”

 So on Sunday morning, as I sit to peruse the last on the dinosaur newspapers left in newsprint format, I like to savor each bite.  So I read the horoscope from our city newspaper with as much expectation as when I crack open a fortune cookie.  Some writer is still making a living doing the horoscopes while researching for impending obituaries, or clunking area news for “What’s Happening”. I just want to make this clear-- I read it out of respect, not because I think I will get guidance on a pending stock option--or because I will trust my future occupation decisions to a four-line prediction.

 So this week, on page 6 of the Arts and Entertainment section, under VIRGO August 23-Sept-22 it read:  Today’s full moon may bring relationships into focus.  You might be reminded of a song and think there are jokers to the left of you, clowns to the right and feel stuck in the middle with someone.

 What?

 I read the other astrological predictions (I always do this anyway to see if someone has a better one and they rarely do) and, no, they are normal—During the first half of the week you may learn a new skill that improves your life; later in the week, avoid making arbitrary, impulsive purchases; since others respect your judgment, you might receive a public pat on the back.

 My horoscope is based on a Stealer’s Wheel song from the early 70’s?  Maybe rehashed from Quentin Tarantino’s movie ‘Reservoir Dogs’?  Basically, if I believed this malarkey, I am being told I am “stuck” with someone, surrounded by buffoons and jugglers.  And this becomes clear under the full moon.

 Ah, I think.  This is what happens to the news giants who downsize and lay-off the feature writers.  There is no money for Nostradamus, or Madam Zora in lean times, so the copy editor, under pressure from getting the Engagement column, Ask Amy, and Restaurant Review  print ready, asks her uncle Willy to come up with the Virgo horoscope for the week.  And Uncle Willy, perhaps suffering from some early on-set arthritis, has been using some medical inhalants not currently legal in 48 states, whipped up this little ditty for those waiting for insight on how to conduct their life for the next week.

 I’m not going to lie—I feel a bit cheated.   The lions, the twins, the bulls, and the rams—well, they can read their four lines and go about their business.  I am left asunder. 

 I have this cryptic message that I should be able to shake off.  I should have started on the New York Times by now.  I should be on page three noting the different political tones and bias comparisons in the headlines.

 But I am stuck.  In the middle.

 Did Uncle Willy, or whomever penned the prose, mean to change the demographics?  In the original song, weren’t the clowns to the left and the jokers to the right?   

 Is this more prophetic than it first appears?  Is it not important to know where the clowns in your life really stand?  And the jokers?

 I sigh.  It could be worse.

 Uncle Willy could have been channeling Gordon Lightfoot.

 

Brown Eyed Girl

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You're lucky he wasn't channeling Barry Manilow. Honestly, I think I would enjoy uncle Willy's take on the horoscope rather than what I usually see. They are all written so as to be so vague, the words can more or less fit everybody in one way or another. An old carnival trick.
I say...More Uncle Willy!
As long as Jupiter doesn't align with Mars, you should be okay. By the way, OS is a public forum and I'm giving you a public pat on the back and an R. Omg - it works!
Some days are better than others?
I read the damn things as well. Not sure why, but I do. Check out the ones for those with whom I have to tangle all the time as well.

I like the more insulting ones. I think it would be far easier if they simply went along the lines of,

"Do yourself a favor. Stay in Bed."
This horoscope is clearly about your time and energy here on OS. Not sure whether i am to your left or right, but I'm definitely, happily stuck in the middle with you!
I give way to much credence to Free Will Astrology where the guy writes kooky and beautiful poetry that really just tells you that you need to stay on your spiritual path. Unfortunately, I don't have one but his horoscopes make me feel like I do.
Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket.
I love that song...great post...xox
This made me giggle. Yes, surely Uncle Willy was high! But that doesn't mean he's wrong! He might be enlightened by his drug use. It happens. In theory. I've always wanted to know what the dudes who design paper towel patterns are smoking. I opened one pack that had the word "Mozart" scrawled across each sheet.
A self-fulfilling prophecy if there ever was one. Great post.
The last fortune I got is on my fridge with a tiny Virgin Of Guadalupe magnet mostly obscuring it......it says.."A hen is only a hens way of making another egg." This came at a time when I really and I mean really needed a super cool fortune so that I could have some magical guidance with a huge life decision.....I say fuck fortunes. p.s. I love the cinnamon dusted folded paper...rated
R for the song now playing in my head. Over and Over.
The Wreck of The Edmund Fitzgerald?--Why was that so popular anyway. Funny post.
I stopped reading horoscopes when the predictions started coming true. Scared the bejeebies outta me. I like to think I have free will, don'tcha know.

I will offer this tidbit, tho, to prove that men can be superstitious whether they'll admit it or not. When the Green Bay Packers were playing the Dallas Cowboys in the now famous Ice Bowl in 1967
on the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field, I watched the game in my rooming house in Madison, Wisconsin, with a bunch of guys who always - let me repeat this - ALWAYS - sat in the same chairs, as ordered by our host, a man from India who was the most rabid Packer fan I have ever known.

When the game came down to the very last play, Dallas led Green Bay 17-14. With 16 seconds left to play on the coldest day in NFL game history, our host panicked and had to leave the room while we watched quarterback Bart Starr stagger thru a hole in the Dallas line and fall into the end zone for the winning touchdownl

All the while this was happening, Joshi, our host, was outside his room shouting, "Do not tell me! Do not tell me!" over and over until the entire room of about two dozen guys erupted into a roar that flexed the windows and frightened the mice in the walls. Only then did Joshi slide the door open a crack and peak inside.

Assured that "we" had won, he re-entered triumphantly and then ordered to "Shut up! You shut up!" over and over as we watched the instant replay this miraculous ending over and over again.

We knew then, as I know now, without a filament of doubt, that had we not been sitting on our assigned chairs throughout the entire game, I would not be relating this story to you now. My life undoubtedly would have taken an entirely different course.

Superstitious? Well...absolutely NOT!! (r)
Take what you need from the horoscope and leave the rest. I believe it is just in general and not to us specifically. Just follow your heart in the morning, at least that you can trust.
Smile - Jali
Quite the dilemma. Of course, if you were German (and still skating), the clowns would be sent in. And you have to wonder if the jokers are also midnight tokers.

You could always opt for Ira Gershwin's advice: "Let's call the whole thing off!"
I don't believe in any of it, but the kids and I think it's funny to end each fortune cookie with, "...in bed." It always goes well with any fortune read. Try it.
This part is so, so great:

I am not really a superstitious person.

Well, in stating this, I must admit that I used to keep a small sheet of paper, dusted in cinnamon, with the numbers 4 and 8 written on it, folded eight times, inside my bra as this was the closest position to my heart. This because a white witch (long story) told me it would bring good luck to my daughter who was competing in Europe while I fretted at home. And I only did this two times. Okay. Three times if you consider I added the white candle smoke for Dresden.
Nice peek at the man behind the curtain. Thanks.

I do try to avoid ladders -- they so often have people at the top of them, holding buckets of debris. Call me superstitious.
I lost a marshmallow in my house. Okay, I can really blame it on the cat, but she would not have been batting it around if I had not tossed one to her to see her reaction. I looked away for just a minute..

I check my horoscope hoping it might help me find the lost marshmallow. Why not? It didn't.

Like tarot cards, astrology, or someone's interpretation of current "alignments," can be tools we can use to help us think of different ways of looking at things. Or not.
Ever feel like sometimes some folks don't "get" your humor?

;o)
Massachusetts, being the progressive state that it is, imposes licensing requirements on fortune tellers. It's a two-day exam--your prediction has to come true on the second day.
Love the way you write!
Now that was a cool horoscope. That's what I'd do if writing the horoscopes was my job - I'd stick in an off-the-wall one every once in a while to see who's paying attention.
I've given up on horoscopes and use fortune cookies as guides. This made me laugh! thanks, I needed that!
I'm sorry, I have to say "stuck in the middle" is a superior horoscope. Got a nice little rhythm going, got jokers, got clowns. It could have been a country song. This is a horoscope with a touch of theater, a touch of tarot. This made me laugh. Rated.
Oh, this made me laugh! I especially loved the part about Uncle Willy and his "medical inhalants not currently approved in 48 states."

Your horoscope could be worse. I once got a fortune cookie that said, "Your tooth has a secret." I'm still trying to figure that one out!
February 28th: I, a fellow Virgo, remember that day vividly. It was the most horrifying visit to the circus ever....
Yes it's all under the stars and more.