Astrology is a lot like a Ouija board: it’s fun if you don’t take it seriously.
I once used a Ouija and the ghost of Antonin Carême spelled out, “Y-O-U … A-R-E … H-U-N-G-R-Y.” So I had a crepe. Now, let me be clear before a paranormal reader of the stars puts a curse on my celestial fortunes. I don’t want to denigrate a vocation that dates back to the third millennium BC.
But one question: What’s up with the consumer gags and product placements?
A New York Post headline on Wednesday: “What kind of bagel are you based on your zodiac sign?”
I’d love to tell you I ignored this clickbait and proceeded to read a story in Foreign Policy about how Turkey became Africa’s mediator. I’d be lying.
Yes, of course I clicked. And I discovered that, as a Libra, I am a plain bagel.
It was oddly insulting. I always thought of myself as more cinnamon raisin.
Anyway, unfamiliar with this astrological sub-genre, I Googled other random examples that popped into the plain bagel perched atop my shoulders: What kind of car are you based on your zodiac sign? What kind of tree are you based on your zodiac sign? What kind of furniture are you based on your zodiac sign? What kind of cocktail are you based on your zodiac sign?
Incredibly, there were hits for everything I could imagine.
What kind of pizza are you based on your zodiac sign? Here, I can safely say the astrologers in cahoots with Pizza Hut or Domino’s need to clean their chakras and telescopes. There is no way I am Margherita. That’s an unfinished pizza. It has no real toppings. Even an astrological intern could glance at the position of Venus and divine I am Team Pepperoni.
You see what’s going on here? The astrologers know most of us do not take them seriously. They know we roll our eyes and mutter words such as “pseudo-science” behind their backs.
There are about eight billion people on the planet. How can an astrologer write something that accurately predicts the quotidian happenstance for about 666,666,667 people, per sign, per day? It’s like wandering into a packed soccer stadium and trying to guess the colour of everyone’s underwear.
This is why horoscopes are vague and back-loaded with wiggle room. It’s always something like, “This will be a sluggish day. You will feel uninspired until remembering an old friend. Or you won’t remember anyone until you get a call that may change your life. Then you will go to sleep.”
It’s never: “After ordering a spinach salad with balsamic vinaigrette, you will return to the office from lunch and be stopped by undercover cops who will question you about a 2023 bank robbery on Yonge Street. According to Uranus, you will also contract food poisoning that evening and be treated in the ER by a dead ringer for Dr. Sanjay Gupta as CP24 airs in the waiting room.”
But astrologers also know they are very popular. It’s why newspapers run horoscopes that often get more clicks than serious investigations. Sure, I can stay abreast of the machinations down at city hall. Or maybe I should see if today might be a good day to buy a lottery ticket?
Sofia Vergara’s horoscope never said she’d have a flirty lunch with Lewis Hamilton. Mark Carney’s horoscope never predicted a “Daily Show” appearance.
This is a brilliant move by the astrologers. Kudos. Why peddle fuzzy tidbits of ambiguous hokum that could apply to anyone or no one when you can get a cut of the superstitious sneaker market?
Is this Libra partial to New Balance? You got that one right, Astrologers! Oceana Canada? Thank you for letting me know I am a Graceful Angelfish. It makes up for a food-zodiac story in Cosmopolitan this year that said I was a cupcake.
People, this is how AI will get us. It won’t launch nukes or synthesize bioweapons or hypnotize our frontal lobes into believing we are ladybugs lounging on pinnate fronds. AI will join forces with the astrologers to keep us occupied 24/7 with this ingenious time-suck.
Our species will experience a clickbait extinction event.
What kind of gardening tool are you based on your zodiac sign? Holy Mark Cullen, I’m a trowel! What kind of soup are you based on your zodiac sign? French onion! What kind of household cleaning product are you based on your zodiac sign? Toilet brush! What kind of musical instrument are you based on your zodiac sign? Ukulele!
I’m so jealous. I can’t write a column about synthetic oil and get payola from Mr. Lube. Take a bow, astrologers, and direct deposit that cheque into the Pisces constellation.
Here’s my hyphenated horoscope for all future readers of the stars: Cha-ching!
