Aquarius: (January 21 to February 19)
Friendly and humanitarian, original and inventive, you are born to be someone’s friend. Oprah Winfrey is an Aquarian and, baby, this is the dawning of the age of Aquarius, when “harmony and understanding…sympathy and trust abounding” is going to reach out and touch your life and put you on tv so the world can just….LOVE you. So I suggest, death by…hugs. Just run on out there and hug someone. Someone will have the good sense to shoot you in the head.
Pisces: (February 20 to March 20)
You’re Kurt Cobain and Albert Einstein in one; both Pisceans. You are a melancholy introvert and an atomic bomb waiting to go off. I suggest that you take a running jump out of a window clutching fireworks and a ticking bomb while singing “jesus don’t want me for a sunbeam”. Alternatively, just lick your finger and stick it into an electronic outlet.
Aries: (March 21 – April 20)
Your adventurous streak and will to conquer unknown territories with un-bounding enthusiasm makes a death by drowning an ideal option for you. Forget hang-gliding this year and opt for deep sea diving. Once you are deep in the bowels of the jet black ocean, surrounded by exotic glowing fish, you could try a number of exciting options. 1) go diving with laughing gas tanks borrowed from your dentist 2) swim with sharks in a suit made of meat 3) wear a giant squid costume and make horny overtures to another giant squid 4) Locate a man-eating mermaid and grab her boobs.
Taurus: (April 21 to May 21)
Death by psychoanalysis. Patient, Persistent, and at times self-indulgent and inflexible. Freud was a Taurean. So was Karl Marx. Both of them were into social analysis, had a way with words, and saw words as a means to an either social or psychological cure. So how do we cure you of your insipid life? A talking cure? Well, Oedipussy, once we have you on the couch, and convince you, in terms that your puny mind can understand, that you REALLY do want to kill your father and Fuck your mother, you can gouge your eyes out with a burning cigar and start working on false consciousness. Once you realize the true extent of your hatred for your own miserable life, your family, your society, and everything you once held to be good and true, you will be free. Your mind will become a flaming ulcer that will not cool, your nervous system will fizzle and pop along your spine, and realizing that you really shouldn’t have gone down the rabbit hole to begin with, you will curse your own expanding and self-flaggellating knowledge, even as it palpitates with the hideous complexion of a decaying monstrous pile of flesh. Submerged in all thoughts most disgusting and intolerable, you will lose all loyalty to morality, and will begin life anew, as if dead and newly formed, a man or woman reconstituted; a golem, an inchoate desiring-infant, a mass of bio-rhythms, a hideous organ-machine, a thing unhuman and undead; a vampire-zombie-child, an alien to yourself. You, as you once knew yourself will be nothing but a trace and a faltering sentence, and nothing more.
Gemini: (May 22 to June 21)
Well, for an indecisive, two-faced, chut like you, with diarreah of the mouth, I’m going to suggest you kill yourself through sheer stupidity. This should not be too difficult. Locate a large-scale Punjabi wedding. Search for the hottest chicks in the room. Approach them. Dry hump the first. Donkey-punch the second. Within seconds you should have several Punjabi-fisted metal knuckldusters wedged deep into your skull, a gun pointed up your nostril, and a pick-axe hovering over your groin. Give your attackers the finger and introduce yourself as the “the man you should thank for finally putting it in your mother’s correct ass hole.” (insinuating that they are large, badly formed piles of shit caused by anal birthing.) Enjoy.
Cancer: (June 22 to July 22)
Well Kafka was a Cancerian but so is the Dalai Llama…you are imaginative, emotional, shrewd, cautious, moody and clingy…and yes, compassionate. But when you get depressed you are the maharaj of misanthropes. And, if you are killing yourself because of a broken heart…the following solution adds a poetic touch, which can only prove to create such an incredible guilt trip for your object of affection…that it will ruin his or her life, and at the very least, induce a fit of vomiting and terrible nightmares. If you want to go in for a lovelorn, misanthropic, and yet saintly suicide, I suggest live organ donation. One by one you can donate your eyes, your ears, your fingers, hands, feet, limbs, nerves, tendons, hair follicles, skin, kidney, intestines, bones, till you dissolve into the ether, transcending your body as it looks more and more like a giant mutilated cockroach. On your death bed, while you still have a mouth and vocal chords, set up a camera and a live feed to the internet, and film yourself singing “All of me” by Billy Holiday and I will canonize you as a saint.
“All of me…why not take all of me…can’t you see…I’m no good without you…take my lips…I’ll never use them…take my arms…I want to lose them…you took the part that once was my heart…so why not take all of me…”
And don’t forget to leave a note professing your love to Abhishek Bachan and a voodoo doll of Aishwarya with its head ripped off and a fork jammed between her breasts.
Leo: (July 23 to August 23)
You are one of the types most prone to grandious acts of philanthropy. You’re just so open minded and concerned about social welfare and loyal to your ethics and ideals. And you are just there to serve the cause even if it means shoveling your pompous, classist mores down everyone else’s throat. Therefore the perfect suicide for you, involves the following. Locate a starving family in the Northeast. Convince them you are a dog. Bark, roll over and drool if necessary. Let your ethics literally feed the people, sinew by sinew…from your deep fried left wing to your bleeding heart…..
Virgo: (August 22 to September 23)
Like Agatha Christie you are shy and modest; a meticulous perfectionist. In the perfect murder of yourself, however, you will not be too modest to leave, as your final mark of genius, clues that irrefutably prove that you were murdered, with the candlestick, in the billiard room, by Professor Plum. And if a clever sleuth should unravel your inscrutable riddle, he should find in his hands, the final clue; a piece of parchment on which you post-humously explain your wish to die and offer yourself, as the prize for necrophiliac ravishment. For in a good detective story, there is always a broad, and always a body, but seldom a clever private dick.
Libra: (September 24 to October 23)
At a party you’re always the one who can create sublime, enigmatic, urbane conversation whose content, in retrospect, was as substantial as a fart. How do you do it? You are the sultan of suave, the princess of politicking, and though you always seem to buy everyone else drinks, your pocket never seems empty. Your only lament is that the opposite sex just cant seem to leave you alone…well, why should they? Death for you has got to be on par with your penchant for diplomacy and your promiscuous, inconstant flirtations. You’re the one who knows that a good thing is worth waiting for…and if that thing is the most magnificent, awe-inspiring death by Sexually Transmitted Diseases…then baby….you’re going to get it. AIDS, Herpes, Syphilis, Gonorrhea, Chlamydia, Trrichomaniasis, topped off with the cherry and frosting of genital warts and pubic crabs. Tadaaaaa! And not only can you die in a triumphant outbreak of disease but you can casually, diplomatically, and graciously infect most of your social millieau. Throw a party. A fund raiser orgy, perhaps, for AIDS? You can use the condoms for balloons.
Scorpio: (October 24 to November 22)
If I wanted to blow sunshine up your arse I would say that you were going to have a good year. But that would be lying. And me. I never lie. And, in any case, the world is coming to an end in 2012, world war III is around the corner, the ozone layer is dissolving, racial genocide ain’t stopping, and love is a four letter word… so you may as well just stick your head in the oven and turn up the gas, like Slyvia Plath, who was also a Scorpio. Like Sylvia, you are emotional and intuitive, exciting and magnetic, jealous and resentful, and secretive and obstinate. It would not make sense for you to kill yourself without turning your death into a piece of art. First, cover the walls of your kitchen with your original poetry, written in your own blood and shit of course. Write a manifesto if you like. Then, collect several meters of cellophane, strip naked and wrap yourself in it. Then write the words, “The future is a grey seagullTattling in its cat-voice of departure”. from Slyvia Plath’s poem, “Life” all over your body in pink cake icing and French mustard. Put a ripe apple in your mouth and hand-cuff your wrists behind your back.Then climb in the oven and create a pork roast out of yourself. This version works better if you are a feminist. But either way, I’d pay to see the show.
Sagittarius: (November 23 to December 21)
“I am a Sagittarius” said Jim Morrison, tripping during one of his performances, “The most philosophical of all the types.” Keith Richards is also a Saggitarius. It figures. And like Jim you are also a great big mess of scattered thoughts, half-completed tasks, and sardonic, self-reflexive cynicism. You like to wander, and are restless and optimistic; the proverbial hippie. Well, “lizard king” Can you do anything? For you it is to be a death by hallucinogenic drug overdose. Here’s what to do. Locate some heavily trained martial artists, befriend them and drive out to the desert together with a bunch of other hippies and a basket full of poisonous snakes. Create a huge bonfire. Make a broth and dump all the hallucinocgenic contents into it: I’m talking Peyote, Shrooms, Acid, Mescaline, Datura and several bottles of Tequila. You may add some chicken stock for seasoning. Pour the soup into goblets and force each person to drink. Begin by convincing everyone you are the reincarnation of Jesus. Embrace each person while whispering in their ears, “by tomorrow we will be dining on Priety Zinta’s ovaries!” Pull out a Cobra and force each person to kiss it on the head “without fear,” before extracting its venom into a glass of water, and drinking it. Then set up some loud speakers and blast “Everybody was kung-fu Fighting” and exclaim “We must purify the corpses by removing their heads!” Start throwing poisonous snakes at your Bruce Lee friends, and if they don’t break off your arms and neck, then just get it over with and jump in the bonfire. At that point the sparks from your burning flesh will look “trippy” man…
Capricorn: (December 22 to January 20)
You are disciplined, practical and prudent, pessimistic, miserly, and fatalistic. Mao Zedong was a Capricorn. For you a suicide needs to involve uniformity, solidarity, ruthless idealism, and the capacity to kill everyone who doesn’t agree with you. So, organize a meeting, present your thesis as to how you wish to commit suicide. Submit a proposal that you all commit mass suicide and on how you plan to have your bodies mummified, reconstituted by expert taxidermists, and displayed publically, above all city centers with implanted surveillance cameras in your eye sockets, and propaganda blasting from speakers in your mouths. Kill all dissenters. Ultimately arrange for your other comrades to follow the plan while you secretly arrange for a body double to be murdered instead of you. Take a secret passage to your hidden laboratory where all your nations top intellectuals and physicists are chained to the floor. Get into the cryogenic freezing chamber. Press the red button. Blast into space.