By Mason Johnson
Warning: If you love astrology, are offended easily, or/and have no sense of humor, this might make you gassy (and angry). Not your sign? Find more Horrible Horoscopes here.
Love! The petroleum oil that makes human beings chug chug chug forward, polluting the world with foolish abandon.
It’s great, Cancer, but where do you find this “love”? Where do you hunt it down, tackle it, and strangle it into submission?
(Metaphorically. Please do not tackle and/or choke anyone. Unless there’s a pre-discussed safe word.)
The stars know where you can find love, Cancer. Somewhere large and indoors. A place of perpetual sales and bright fluorescent lights. They employ your grandfather–a man who put in 40 years at the plant and deserves a break, dammit–as a door greeter making minimum wage. The amount of misery their employees go through is only rivaled by the amount of money you can SAVE SAVE SAVE by shopping there.
What are you waiting for, Cancer? Go fall in love!
Mason Johnson knows absolutely nothing about astrology. Follow his extremely inappropriate and unintelligent twitter here.