Taurus April 20 - May 20
The Sun is shining! The birds are probably singing! The greenery is showing off it's colours! Life is Wonderful!
Can't, unfortunately, see the stars! So I have no idea what kind of week you're going to have!

Leo July 23 - August 22
A great shining light from the North will guide you in your path towards the end of the week.
How you get back home from Greenland is probably the subject of next week's horoscope.

Virgo August 23 - September 22
This horoscope doesn't contain the word 'shining', as the previous two horoscopes do.
This doesn't necessarily mean we don't like you as much as the previous two horoscopes, nor does it necessarily mean your week doesn't do that sort of thing (shine), it just means that your week has bigger things to focus on than 'shining'. Like not containing that word anywhere in the text for this horoscope.
Things will happen this week.

Gemini May 21 - June 20
Jam doughnuts for you this week!
(This is possibly to keep your mind off shining, as, upon close re-read, the Virgo horoscope may be rather unconvincing in it's attempt to divert attention from the fact that it didn't contain the word 'shining'. Jam doughnuts, after extensive research, looked like a good tool of distraction.)
White shirts are not recommended, even if you tell yourself you'll take great care not to spurt jam all over the place... as the best intentions often get paved with... ehm... roads of... err... jam.

Capricorn December 22 - January 19
In the near future the stars say you'll be able to walk on Mars and even grow plants and be able to completely forget about watering them for weeks on end and be utterly shocked when you return to your bubble (as they'll be called on Mars) to see all your plants withered and dead. And you'll blame it on the Martian atmosphere, and not, say, your crap plant-caring skills.

Cancer June 21 - July 22
When your mother told you (often, we might remind you) "never to lick plutonium isotopes" you thought she was just being overprotective.
However, in finally defying her authority (in this case), you find that they taste remarkably like chicken. And leave your tongue glowing green, which makes it difficult to sleep.

Pisces February 19 - March 20
You blame this week on the San Andreas.
(Oh ha ha ha ha ha, HA ha ha, hee hee, snort, heh, ha hahahaHAaaaa, ha, heh heh ha ha)
This all seems quite funny due to humour at the expense of large cracks in the Earth until Canada falls into the ocean.

Aries March 21 - April 19
Don't ask for whom the bell tolls, because, more likely than not, it's just Jimmy, the mad bell ringer, at it again for no good reason. And if you ask, you're going to wind up being the person to pay for his services. Of ringing the bell, so get your mind out of the gutter.
And ringing the bell is not a euphemism, in this case, so again, head out of gutter.

Libra September 23 - October 22
The stars are a bit cautious of predicting your exact future this week, the Ides of March being on, and there being quite a lot of people willing to stab you repeatedly with the slightest provocation.

Scorpio October 23 - November 21
Your lack of horoscope is comforting the way returning home each night there isn't a tiger sitting on your bed, having just devoured your entire stash of Ben 'n' Jerry's, appetite whetted for something else, something substantial...
This is, of course, null and void if you have returned home to a tiger in the position just related.

Sagittarius November 22 - December 21
From beginning the horoscopes until now the Sun has done a runner, the greenery is still hanging about, and I'm still not entirely sure about the birds, I'll guess they've stopped chirping, and I've managed to spill tomato sauce on my shirt. Which is odd, since I've not been eating tomato sauce, or anything that might include tomato sauce either accompanying or within.
A shrub will attack you on the way home this evening. Passersby will proclaim it the most vicious attack of shrubbery on a person since 1989. Either that or you tripped spectacularly.

Aquarius January 20 - February 18
A large dancing hippo pirouetting past your desk will lose their balance and land with a rather destructive *thud* on your desk and part of both of your legs, confirming your lifelong fear of that stupid film with the dancing hippos, dancing brooms and buckets, and all sorts of other dancing things that shouldn't be dancing.
Health and Safety will be rather flummoxed, attempting to find any specific non-hippo (nevermind dancing ones) regulations.

[Horoscopes. Hey, rockets.]

[NB. (and PS.) Mac OS X launches this Saturday. See it live at Micro Anvika... celebrities may appear, as well, completely independent of Apple, and mostly out of hope for the children... children who will grow up in enlightened times, using proper NeXT... err... Apple, technology, so much the more intelligent for it, and happier, happier children beaming with delight at never having to know a world without Openstep... err... Mac OS X, their grubby little fingers and eyes taking to Project Builder and Objective C like something sticky to their fingers (and clothes) and becoming little programming whizzes and never ever letting you back on the computer to read Sane Magazine or anything, which is okay, so long as you teach them the value of Sane Magazine, otherwise don't go out and upgrade. Here's to happy, healthy children who know how to use Terminal.app, who read Sane Magazine, and who grow up wanting to thank us for steering them on the bright and cheerful path, and do so with lots and lots of cash.
This is still not becoming a regular feature, this has been a public service announcement.]