Alright, all you cosmic clods, listen up. It’s your favorite celestial shit-stirrer, Ragey McSwearington, back at it again. This Sunday, May 14th, 2023, the stars are about as pissed off as a porcupine in a balloon factory, so prepare for a celestial circus of calamity and chaos.
First off, that show-off Sun is getting all cozy with Uranus like a pair of drunken frat boys, throwing stability out the window. Expect an unexpected punch in the gut, like finding out your favorite bar’s run out of your go-to poison or your ex decides to text out of the blue. Typical Sunday nonsense, right?
On the other side of town, Mercury is retrograde, acting like that annoying cousin who can’t shut up about his conspiracy theories. You’ll need to double-check your texts, your emails, hell, even your drunken karaoke song choices – this sneaky bastard’s out to embarrass you.
Venus is hanging out in Cancer, being all emotional and shit. But it’s harmonizing with Saturn, so you might find yourself feeling uncharacteristically sentimental. Don’t be surprised if you feel the need to call your mom or post a sappy #ThrowbackThursday. Remember, even tough guys like us can have feelings.
And speaking of feelings, Mars is in Cancer as well, but it’s squaring off against Jupiter. Now, this is like a bar brawl between a heavy-weight boxer and a ballet dancer. Guess who’s who? You’ll feel the urge to go big or go home, but be careful not to dance yourself off a cliff.
Finally, Pluto, that misunderstood rock at the edge of the solar system, is in retrograde. This means it’s time to revisit some old wounds, like a scarred bouncer nursing his whiskey. Maybe it’s that thing you said to your buddy when you were both tanked, or maybe it’s deeper. You’ll have to dig that up yourself.
So, there you have it. A celestial clusterfuck of epic proportions. But remember, you’ve weathered worse storms than this. Keep your wits about you, your fists ready, and your insults sharper than a double-edged sword. This is Ragey McSwearington, signing off. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
NB:
Alright, you celestial screw-ups, it’s Ragey McSwearington again. I’ve got a bone to pick and a story to spin, so strap in.
So, there I was, minding my own goddamn business, nursing a glass of the good stuff at the bottom of a dive bar. In walks this giddy guy, looking like he just fell out of a Hallmark card. He starts blabbering to anyone who’d listen about his “perfect day”. Now, I’m not one to rain on anyone’s parade, but this guy was asking for it.
He goes on about how he found a fiver on the street, got a free coffee because the barista screwed up the order, and even ran into his high school crush who gave him her number. Mr. Perfect Day was living in a damn fairy tale.
Now, you know me. I’m not one for sunshine and rainbows. So I down my drink, turn to Mr. Perfect Day, and say, “Kid, you’ve got it all wrong. Life isn’t about these little moments of dumb luck. It’s about the shitstorms you weather, the punches you take, and the fuck-ups you bounce back from.”
And that’s what I want to tell you lot. Forget these horoscopes, forget the alignments and the retrogrades. Sure, they might give you a heads up about the chaos that’s coming, but they don’t define you. You’re not the product of some cosmic lottery. You’re the sum of your scars, your victories, your losses. The universe doesn’t give a rat’s ass about your happiness or your misery. It’s all up to you.
So next time you’re having a “perfect day,” remember this: perfect is boring. Perfect doesn’t make a damn story worth telling. It’s the bruises, the stumbles, the fuck-ups that make us who we are. So, chin up, fists ready. Embrace the chaos. Make it your bitch.
Ragey McSwearington, signing off for real.