Presenting The Ganjascope℠, Your Horoscope on Pot

Written by P.J. Maggitti

Saturday, 26 October 2019

image for Presenting The Ganjascope℠, Your Horoscope on Pot
Taking the 'logical' out of 'astrological'

You hold in your hands (you're not still using a desk top, are you?) the astrological world's first Ganjascope℠, the horoscope that takes the logical out of astrological, that boldly goes where no other horoscope dares to tread (yes, the Ganjascope℠ can be used rectally). Herewith, a timeless foretelling that reveals your past, present, and future in the all-encompassing reality of the Eternal Now.

Virgo (8/23-9/22): You design a new indoor rodeo event that involves a left-handed oven mitt with the tips of the fingers cut off, a giant-economy-size tube of K-Y Jelly, a roach clip in the shape of Donald Trump's head, and the cooperation of a clown named Sidesaddle. Your bold introduction of this event at the Optimist Club’s annual "Christmas Cheers for the Children" party is a brilliant stroke of counter-programming, but charges filed against Sidesaddle following that appearance may ultimately prove embarrassing.

Libra (9/23-10/23): Paper is the ruling element in your celestial scrapbook, but this emergence leads to several questions. Will you become a famous paperback writer? Will you suffer the outrageous slings and arrows of a thousand paper cuts? Will you run out of rolling papers again? Good questions, but why are you asking me? I’m not an astrologer; I only play one on the internet.

Scorpio (10/24-11/21): Life deals you a joint that won't stay lit. You receive an invitation to the nuptials of someone close to you who is getting remarried—your current spouse. Toward the end of a lonesome, execrable week, your prayers are finally answered. Unfortunately, the answer is a flat out <em>No!</em>, and it arrives with the notation "dictated but not read" beneath what obviously is a hand-stamped facsimile of God’s signature.

Sagittarius (11/22-12/21): The dual-action hair-growth-facilitator-and-mood-enhancer currently on sale at wegotyourcbd.com provides a whimsical subtext to your ongoing cosmic narrative. The cheerful simplicity of this dot.com's motto—"No doctors, no questions, no waiting"—appeals to your propensity for self-medication. We suggest, however, that you read the instructions carefully, or you might wind up bearing a devastating resemblance to Bill Cosby.

Capricorn (12/22-1/19): Like most Capricorns, you exhibit all the elan of a penguin. You prefer solitaire to bridge, pigeons to peacocks, Lawrence Welk to the Village People, vape pens to hookahs. You're so boring, you have to hire a designated drinker to enliven your parties. We suggest you have a lot of kids. They'll give you something to talk about.

Aquarius (1/20-2/18): Your children and your significant other begin a board-game version of <em>Survivor</em> that turns grim when they try to barbecue the hamster and fillet the goldfish. After a month of increasingly hostile competition, your family votes to expel you from "their" house. When you tell them "it's only a game," they burn all your clothes, steal your stash, and cut the telephone wires.

Pisces (2/19-3/20): Distressed by your growing inability to remember appointments, colleagues' names, all the words to "Alice's Restaurant," and where you put the car keys, you purchase the Larry King OG concentrate from a local dispensary or some guy on the Dark Web. Your friends, who had begun calling you "sieve for brains," are impressed with your new-found ability to recall the tiniest details of Mr. King's life.

Aries (3/21-4/19): Your ability to speak in the past tense is lost following a severe panic attack caused by eating brownies laced with Hell's OG. Your affliction seems charming and benign until a man in a pizzeria hears you say, "I get the stromboli when I’m here last week." This causes him to mistake you for Vinnie Stugotz, a mob informant in the witness protection program. We leave town fast if we are you.

Taurus (4/20-5/20): Troubled by your lack of formal education, you enroll in Degrees for Dollars, a virtual university that awards degrees based on a student's life experiences. After reviewing your application and waiting for your check to clear, the dean's council votes to grant you a Bachelor of Arts in Compromising Positions, providing you allow them to keep the pictures.

Gemini (5/21-6/21): Your suit against the Fowl Weather Friend Corporation over a malfunctioning pop-up thermometer on an oven-roaster chicken finally comes to trial. The proceedings are compromised, however, when a copy of "Jury Selection for Dummies" falls from your lawyer's briefcase as he's making his way into the courtroom. Later in the trial, Snoop Dogg appears as a witness for the defense.

Cancer (6/22-7/22): Because nothing succeeds like finesse, you needn't let your inability to relate to other human beings or your flippant disregard for their feelings stand in the way of professional advancement. Indeed, these traits are virtually prerequisites for success in any quarter of the service economy and in many divisions of the healing arts and the legal profession as well.

Leo (7/23-8/22): A natty-looking stranger stops you on the street and asks you if you want to buy a vowel. Have him pronounce the vowel first to make sure it isn't a knockoff, which will make any word it's used in unintelligible. Beware, too, the "sometimes" vowels, whose limited applications don’t justify their price.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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