I’m not trying to upset anyone’s personal belief system, but I’m becoming more and more convinced that astrology is not the exact science it’s cracked up to be.
Before we get to the evidence, I’ll admit up front that I’m no expert on the matter.
Divining the heavens for important truths should be best left to Nobel laureates like, say, Gary Busey and Shirley MacLaine.
Like many of those who grew up in the ’60s, my first exposure to astrology came through a car radio blaring:
“This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius …”
Unfortunately, my old man drove this clunky Rambler station wagon that had a really sketchy radio. So it sounded to me like The 5th Dimension was singing about tropical fish.
Eventually, however, I realized that this highly catchy tune was from the Broadway musical, “Hair,” which I really wanted to see because I’d heard it had a lot of nudity in it.
The song fell off the charts after a while. I didn’t give the subject of astrology much thought until last week, when this disturbing email from astrology.com arrived in my Spokesman-Review inbox.
“Dear Doug,” it read.
“Can’t believe it’s over? Can’t stop thinking about all the good times you shared? Do you find yourself wondering if he’s gone for good, or if he’ll see the light and …”
Wait a second.
Good lord, astrology.com thinks I’m gay.*
(*Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
I continued reading.
“Devastating heartbreak can happen to anyone, but there is someone out there who can give you the answers you need …
“ – So you can win back his heart!”
I’m no stranger to random oddball correspondence.
Take Wednesday morning, for example. I opened my mail to find that some nutcase had sent me a photograph of Herbert Hoover High School in Glendale, Calif.
Included was the message …
“I wonder if the school mascot is an old white guy in a suit?”
On second look, I realized this was no random oddball correspondence. This was from Tom Keefe, one of our own Spokane nuts.
But you get the idea. Because of stuff like this I normally don’t take a lot of my emails too seriously.
In this case, however, I felt that a respected organization like astrology.com would want to hear what was going on. That way they could set their records straight about my being, um, straight.
And so I wrote back:
I’m writing to let you know that some sort of astral mix-up has occurred that has prompted you to make me out to be suffering from a breakup with some dude.
(See attached email.)
Perhaps one of your staff astrologers accidentally misaligned Jupiter with Uranus, when it should have been Neptune or Virgo’s seventh house.
I don’t know how these things work. So far be it from me to start telling you how to do your cosmic business.
But you need to know that this Doug is a happily married heterosexual man with bad knees and a mortgage.
True, my lovely wife, Sherry, points out that I once remarked to her that I thought Brad Pitt was a very handsome man.
But, hey, you don’t have to be gay to think that.
Besides, she only said this after the giggling fit that occurred when I read your email to her.
Anyway, please recheck the stars and make the appropriate changes in your files.
I would hate to think that there is a gay Doug out there who, as you say, is suffering from “devastating heartbreak” and could make use of your generous offer of a three-minute free consultation or “10 minutes for only $1.99.”
Yours for harmony and understanding,
And so all together now:
“This is the drowning of the Age of Aquarium, the Age of Aquarium … ”