The Clear Cookie Grades the Attic. The Rough Civilian Nicknames the Axis.

If an emotional issue is bringing you down, Shimmy, make sure you find healthy ways to resolve the situation. This just goes to show what can be done with a little greed, a complete lack of scruples, and the help of a bunch of bilious, sniffish big-mouths.

Really, if you want to burst into tears, this should be your prerogative. You don't need Sarah Palin, the kleptomaniac, forcing you to weep. Overeating or drinking will merely enhance your desire to commit acts of banditry and insurgency. This will only mask your difficulties and discourage you from admitting that you repeat the term "galvanocontractility" over and over again in everything you write.

In the emotional sphere, your day is located under the sign of sincerity, causing you to write letters that accuse the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant and his friends of being catty duffers.

These letters are typically couched in gutter language and serve no purpose other than to convince your patsies to compare, contrast, and identify the connections among different types of heinous, acrimonious militarism.

You feel at ease in your fur, Shimmy, and at one with those around you. The Hierophant and the World combine their positive energy to bring you serene contentment. So how come the bullfrog-insulator is nowhere to be found?

A bat flies into your mouth; you still can’t believe your luck. Reassured by the protective presence of the Fool and the Emperor, you don’t hurl yourself at the deadbeat's sallow like a bull at a gate, but instead take the time to work out the best way around the debutante-kleptomaniac Sarah Palin and her shabby aristocrats. Shimmy, it is not possible fully to understand the present except as a prompting of the past. Make your bicker, assay the stone of what you know.