All sort of OK things must come to an end.
This space of the Tire Fire would typically house the latest rendition of the monthly “Horror-scopes.” Not this month.
When I hear from readers, the “Horror-scopes” are oftentimes identified as a favorite element of these four satirical pages. That’s what makes them tough to kill off.
For the longest time, I thought that if it wasn’t broke, why fix it? Yet after two years of putting together 12 uniquely terrible horoscopes every month I’m just burned out.
I feel like The Baha Men. Was “Who Let the Dogs Out” fun while it lasted? Sure. But did you know that the one-hit wonder Baha Men are STILL touring in 2017? Don’t think about it for too long, it’s too upsetting to consider.
Someone should have done those loose dogs a favor and sent them the way of Old Yeller years ago. Which is exactly what I’m doing with the “Horror-scopes.”
I’ll kill them off while they’re on top, or more accurately, before they devolve into complete horseshit.
Perhaps you’ll someday see a few zombified astrological predictions rise from the dead should the mood strike the Tire Fire staff, but “Horror-scopes” as a monthly staple are no more.
Lo, who would I be to deny the readers one last look into their future; one last chance to be granted extrasensory information relevant to their individual lives from the very heavens above?
Come closer, dear reader, for it’s becoming hard to speak from the “Horror-scopes” death bed. Allow me to impart wisdom from the stars.
You, like this monthly column and the very constellations that astrologists base their predictions upon, are going to die.
Hopefully not soon, but who knows? And from a grander standpoint, who cares? Your friends and family will, but the universe doesn’t give a shit about your lives or your problems. Hence, the reason horoscopes had to be satirized in the first place. Happy future.