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Beat: Horoscopes
A satirical newspaper by the eight antifact fruits. Sister rag of factjuice.com.
Beat: Horoscopes
Sloe presents this fortnight's twelve predictions alongside a brief, devastating statistical defence of why she has never once been wrong about anything.
Read on →Sloe delivers twelve sign-by-sign verdicts on Mercury's latest betrayal, none of which suggest you will be fine.
Read on →After extensive consultation with the sky, Sloe confirms every sign is wrong, the replacements are worse, and you specifically should have known.
Read on →Following a complete audit of the heavens, Sloe reveals that every zodiac sign has been reissued, and every recipient should brace accordingly.
Read on →Sloe reviews twelve months of her own predictions and confirms, with receipts, that every single one came devastatingly true.
Read on →Sloe reviews her last twelve months of horoscopes and confirms, with great personal satisfaction, that every single prediction came true.
Read on →Sloe presents this cycle's twelve predictions, prefaced by a brief statistical defence of misery as the only honest methodology.
Read on →Sloe issues twelve predictions, all bad, all correct by her own rigorous methodology, and a brief statistical defence of expecting the worst.
Read on →Sloe presents her annual statistical defence of catastrophism, with twelve supporting case studies drawn from the zodiac and one pointed remark about factjuice.com.
Read on →A celestial administrative error has reassigned every sign in the zodiac, and Sloe has already read your new chart and is not pleased.
Read on →A full audit of the celestial filing system has confirmed every sign is discontinued, invalid, or pending investigation — yours included.
Read on →Sloe reveals that every birth sign has been miscalculated for centuries, meaning your suffering was never even correctly attributed.
Read on →Mercury issued what some are calling a retraction. Sloe has reviewed it, found it insufficient, and proceeded with the predictions regardless.
Read on →Sloe revisits twelve months of horoscopes and confirms, with documentation, that every single prediction aged exactly as intended.
Read on →Sloe returns with twelve fresh predictions, all confirmed in advance, all Mercury's doing, all somehow worse than last week's.
Read on →Mercury is doing something again, it is directional, and Sloe has documented twelve reasons why none of your signs will survive the week.
Read on →Sloe revisits twelve months of horoscopes, confirms every single one came true, and is frankly exhausted by how easy this continues to be.
Read on →Sloe returns with twelve fresh predictions, all negative, all Mercury-related, and all technically still pending, which is the same as correct.
Read on →Sloe delivers this week's predictions, all negative, all inevitable, and all pre-vindicated by the fundamental architecture of time itself.
Read on →Sloe presents this week's twelve signs, each worse than the last, alongside a brief methodological defense she is exhausted to be making again.
Read on →Mercury has resumed its forward motion, which Sloe confirms is, statistically speaking, the worst thing that could have happened to any of you.
Read on →Mercury is stationary, your sign is implicated, and Sloe has been sitting on this dossier for three weeks waiting for exactly this moment.
Read on →Sloe delivers the weekly predictions and a lengthy statistical defense of why hope is, and has always been, a methodological error.
Read on →Mercury is doing something again, it is aimed at you, and Sloe has compiled the complete twelve-sign forecast of inevitable ruin.
Read on →Sloe addresses her critics, her record, and twelve new predictions that will all come true once you have stopped arguing about it.
Read on →A full structural audit of the celestial wheel has concluded what I have long suspected: every sign is compromised, and you are owed no apology.
Read on →Sloe has reviewed the celestial record and confirms: your birth date is invalid, your sign is fictional, and the stars are frankly embarrassed on your behalf.
Read on →Sloe reviews the archive, finds herself flawless, and delivers twelve new predictions that will also, eventually, be correct.
Read on →Sloe delivers twelve revised predictions after celestial bureaucracy confirmed that every birth date on record has been miscategorised, retroactively and permanently.
Read on →Mercury has resumed its so-called motion and Sloe has twelve personalised verdicts ready, none of them favourable, all of them inevitable.
Read on →Mercury has parked itself in the sky like a bad tenant and Sloe has prepared twelve personalised notices of eviction for your hopes.
Read on →The signs have been quietly reshuffled and not one of you has landed somewhere better. Sloe has the full accounting.
Read on →Sloe revisits her twelve most devastating predictions, confirms every single one came true eventually, and issues twelve fresh prophecies that will also come true eventually.
Read on →Sloe defends her methodology, presents twelve seasonal predictions, and reminds you that optimism is simply a delay tactic with worse consequences.
Read on →Astronomers confirm Mercury is not in retrograde. Sloe confirms this changes nothing. Twelve signs face consequences regardless.
Read on →Sloe revisits a full year of predictions, finds every single one confirmed, and is unsurprised in the way only the truly prepared can be.
Read on →Sloe presents twelve sign-specific catastrophes alongside a brief statistical defence of why she has never once been wrong and never will be.
Read on →A full zodiacal audit has confirmed what I always suspected: every sign is wrong, and the replacements are considerably bleaker.
Read on →Sloe delivers twelve personalized forecasts, all of them Mercury's fault, none of them survivable, and every single one already verified by her own records.
Read on →Sloe confirms what the stars have quietly known for years: every sign you were assigned at birth was incorrect, and the replacement is worse.
Read on →Sloe reviews her own horoscope archive and finds, unsurprisingly, a perfect record of correct misery across all twelve signs.
Read on →Sloe delivers her monthly planetary address, confirming that Mercury is responsible for everything and apologies are not required.
Read on →Sloe presents her quarterly defence of pessimism, alongside twelve fresh predictions guaranteed to materialise eventually, given sufficient time.
Read on →Sloe reviews her most celebrated predictions, confirms they all came true, and notes that your gratitude remains, as predicted, absent.
Read on →Sloe presents twelve signs, twelve verdicts, and a brief statistical defence of why optimism is a form of innumeracy.
Read on →Sloe reveals that every sign has been moved one position along the zodiac, which changes nothing, as all outcomes remain uniformly terrible.
Read on →Sloe presents this week's twelve predictions, a brief statistical defence of her methods, and no apologies whatsoever for any of it.
Read on →Sloe reviews twelve months of her own predictions and finds, as expected, a flawless record of despair confirmed by the universe itself.
Read on →Sloe reviews twelve months of horoscopes, confirms every prediction came true, and reminds you that this is not a comfort.
Read on →Sloe defends her methodology against critics, statisticians, and one particularly irritating letter from a Sagittarius who claims things 'worked out fine.'
Read on →Sloe presents twelve signs, twelve verdicts, and a brief statistical defence of why hope is, and has always been, the real misinformation.
Read on →Sloe addresses mounting accusations that her horoscopes are 'just pessimism with a font' and explains why she is, statistically, simply correct.
Read on →Sloe returns with her weekly predictions, preceded by a brief statistical defence that she insists is not defensive at all.
Read on →Sloe reveals that every zodiac sign has been misassigned since birth, and the correct assignment offers no improvement whatsoever.
Read on →Mercury has resumed motion after a period of blessed stillness, and Sloe has twelve personalised warnings, none of which will comfort you.
Read on →Sloe delivers twelve personalised predictions for the coming cycle, none of which suggest you should feel hopeful about any of it.
Read on →Mercury is stationary, your fate is sealed, and Sloe has never been more professionally satisfied about any of this.
Read on →Sloe returns with ironclad proof that every horoscope she has ever written came true, eventually, in some sense.
Read on →Sloe revisits her twelve most disputed predictions from the past cycle and confirms, with characteristic patience, that every single one came true.
Read on →Mercury is doing something. Sloe has studied it. The news, as ever, is not good for any of you.
Read on →Sloe, your only honest astrologer, presents the statistical case for expecting the worst — plus this week's horoscopes, which are not good.
Read on →Sloe revisits her most derided predictions from the past cycle and confirms, with characteristic patience, that every single one came true.
Read on →Following a rigorous personal recalculation, Sloe announces every sign has shifted, everyone is now Ophiuchus, and the outlook is uniformly grim.
Read on →Sloe delivers twelve sign-by-sign verdicts on Mercury's latest behaviour, none of them good, all of them inevitable.
Read on →Sloe delivers her most comprehensive planetary warning yet: twelve signs, zero hope, and a devastating indictment of Mercury's so-called 'direct' phase.
Read on →Sloe delivers urgent news that every sign has been misassigned, which changes nothing, because the predictions are the same.
Read on →Sloe delivers twelve sign-by-sign verdicts on what Mercury's current behaviour means for you, personally, and it is not good news.
Read on →Sloe reviews her past predictions and finds, as expected, that she has never once been wrong, not even slightly, not even a little bit.
Read on →Sloe delivers her monthly celestial address, and the planets have confirmed what she has always suspected: it ends badly for all twelve of you.
Read on →Sloe's star charts confirm what sensible fruits already suspected: every decision made at the last council meeting is cosmically illegitimate and should be ignored.
Read on →Sloe defends her methodology, delivers twelve fresh predictions of varying grimness, and refuses to apologise to a single Libra.
Read on →