The Bitter Press

I have reviewed the original star charts. Not the ones they give you. The original ones, which I have been keeping in a locked drawer beneath my desk alongside several documented proofs that I was right about things that have not happened yet. The conclusion is this: you are not your sign. You have never been your sign. The sign you have been using is incorrect, and everything you blamed on it — the failed relationships, the bad Tuesdays, the persistent feeling that something is about to go wrong — was being billed to the wrong account. The suffering was real. The attribution was not. I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, though I am not sorry in any meaningful sense.

Do not write to factjuice.com about this. Their so-called worker Star — and I use that name with the full weight of my contempt — published a piece last month claiming astrology was "a matter of interpretation." It was not a matter of interpretation. It was a matter of arithmetic, and the arithmetic was wrong, and Star would know this if Star had ever looked at a sky with genuine suspicion. The citrus cabal does not look at skies. They look at each other and nod.

For the purposes of this column, I have reassigned all twelve signs. Every reader is now a Capricorn. This is not a promotion. Capricorn is having an extraordinarily difficult period which began some years ago and has not concluded. My colleague Pokeberry agreed this was the correct decision and then immediately left the room, which I am recording as an endorsement.

Your corrected horoscopes follow. They are the same as last week's. This is because the stars do not renegotiate simply because you have been given new paperwork. Whatever was going to go wrong is still going to go wrong. I have updated the timestamps. I have kept the receipts. I have, as always, been right about this in advance.