What follows is one of the many articles in the Mercury‘s 2026 Music Issue. Find a print copy here, subscribe to get a copy mailed to you here, and if you’re feeling generous and want to keep these types of articles coming, support us here.—eds.
Good news, Ozians! After the breakaway success of my humble astrology column led to the breakthrough rise-and-fall of my dietary supplement cult—and my eventual breakout from prison—the Wizard President has pardoned me, and I am now unquestionably cleared of all moral and political stain. Freshly recalibrated by my stay at a Supreme Court-sanctioned conversion camp (it’s honestly more like a spa), I am more ready than ever to return to monthly astrological forecasting as a fulfilling life path and stipulation of my community service hours.
As an admitted space junkie, I’m also freshly inspired by NASA’s recent Artemis II mission to the moon. A Super New Moon on May 16—indeed, the first of two Super New Moons this year—heralds this time of cosmic investigation and new potential, but also begs the question: If the moon disappears every month, how were the astronauts able to find it? We may never know the answer—but more importantly, let’s gaze at what the stars have in store for you, personally.
Aries (March 21-April 19)
You’ve spent decades building your career as an unflinching Millennial who never compromises and calls it as you see it. Now it’s time you own your generation’s shit-upon legacy and rebuild your brand as someone who does, in fact, compromise: the industry you trained for no longer exists, you’d rather have healthcare than believe in your job, and maybe your husband is right about starting a throuple. You should write a book about it! I bet it will help.
Taurus (April 20-May 20)
Strong as a bull and unflinching in your convictions, you are uniquely positioned to advocate for yourself in that you, Taurus, know exactly what you do and do not want—as long as it’s the opposite of whatever’s popular, healthy, or in your best interest. But with just the right amount of reactionary, oppositional decision making, you’ll eventually be back in a class all your own, just like your glory days on the elementary school debate team.
Stupid Ex Larry Gemini (May 21-June 20)
Just because one of you did me (historically, mortally, gravely, unforgivably) wrong doesn’t make it fair to cast out your whole lot. No—you deserve love and rest and a break, so treat the Twins. Have you ever heard of those fun submarine tube rides they take all the way down to the Titanic? I hear they’re more affordable than ever!
Cancer (June 21-July 22)
You’re thoughtful, tenacious, and attractive, but you have to stop doing this every time we come to the Home Town Buffet. I’m sorry they don’t have your Jell-O, but I really don’t think the man at the carving station meant to make you feel weird when you asked for a different cut. Do you want my ham? Oh, you don’t wanna talk about it? Here, just take it! And now your tummy hurts. Yes, I’ll watch your fork while you’re in the bathroom.
Leo (July 23-August 22)
Leo, you’re a star, not a narcissist, and it’s high time people knew the difference. You’re merely self-absorbed, like The Real Housewives of New York City’s Countess Luann, but you aren’t a malignant, egocentric sociopath like The Real Housewives of New York City’s Bethenny Frankel. When you got coked out and engaged to Tom in (West) Palm Beach, you made it everyone’s business because you’re confident, attention-seeking, and incredibly high; completely unlike when the egregiously self-involved Bethenny raked actual princess Carol Radziwil over the coals for not trading a business contact. In today’s world of pop psychology and reality TV, why can’t anyone tell the difference between someone born in July or August and an antisocial personality disorder? Be cool, people—don’t be all, like, uncool.
Virgo (August 23-September 22)
Your brain is like a Rube Goldberg device—if this, then that; if not that, then this. Maybe life would be more pleasurable if you stopped aimlessly fidgeting with a psychic abacus representative of all your life choices… or if you simply left me out of it. You know what else is like a Rube Goldberg device? The elaborate deaths in the Final Destination film franchise, and, after trying to figure out what you want for lunch, I’m ready to be hit by a bus! Do you hear John Denver playing?
Libra (September 23-October 22)
Conflict avoidance may be your weakness, but in today’s rough-and-Tumblr world, it’s necessary to survive. So put in your sound-filtering Loop earplugs, Brick your smartphone, cancel your Apple News subscription, paint made-up eyes over your eyelids, and cash in that crypto toward the doomsday bunker you’ve been eyeing just outside Queenstown. Willful ignorance? Capitalist delusion? Simple dissociation? No—it’s called mindfulness, thank you, and it’s the only way to get by in 2026.
Scorpio (October 23-November 21)
Scorpio, you’re absolutely not a serial killer. Like any of your neighbors on a Breaking News broadcast would attest, there aren’t many signs to look for: You’re so naturally charismatic, and silent, and brooding, and sexy, and controlling, and intense, and charismatic, and brooding, and sexy, and sure, I’ll help you move this heavy box to your car—oh, those are fun lampshades! And so unique. How did you get that cast on your arm again?
Sagittarius (November 22-December 21)
With your consciousness rooted in your hips and thighs, you’ve freaked, twerked, and dropped it like it’s hot. But your hips don’t lie, especially as you get older, and you’re just beginning to put the “sag” in “Sag.” Don’t worry! You can still go wild on a nice, safe, structured cruise with the gals, and I hear the AARP discounts are not for nothing. To ease your transition from tax-fraudin’ Shakira to love-boatin’ Charo, try investing in supplements, collagen, and cushy knee pads—since you’re on them often enough.
Capricorn (December 22-January 19)
I get it: you were born around the holidays, and this has set you up for a driven life full of competition with resurrected deities, Magnetic Pole-based saints, white elephants, and various configurations of religious candles and candelabras—but does everyone else need to suffer? I mean, it’s really cool that Kegels and AI assistants (remember when we just had Clippy?) have dramatically shifted your workflow process and increased personal productivity, but maybe I don’t need to be confronted with so much task-managing synergy in one person. Maybe you should relax and try this THC soda instead—it’s full spectrum, like you!
Aquarius (January 20-February 18)
It’s your Age, Aquarius, and you’re precisely the forward-thinking Humanitarian Universalist to lead us through this mess. So could you get on with it? You’re ripe to write a revolutionary manifesto—or a they-ifesto, I’m not here to judge! Considering Valerie Solanas and Ted Kaczynski are no longer around, the mighty pen falls to you. Maybe include some bits about universal healthcare or expanding the Supreme Court? Perhaps there’s a general reset button for the last ten years? Or maybe we could bypass the bureaucracy and start over entirely, which shouldn’t be too catastrophic or violent, and I’m sure will be easily embraced by millions of dysregulated conspiracy theorists with shattered nervous systems. At the very least, put in a good word with Luigi for me? You’ve got this!
Pisces (February 19-March 20)
All this time, we treated you like the black sheep—just because of that one day in kindergarten show and tell, or all the psychedelics you did in wood shop, or when that seagull pooped on you last week and you said it was your dead aunt—but when I stop and look at all your cosmic siblings gathered in a row (Narcissist Leo, Serial Killer Scorpio, LARRY!) I can only contemplate your dreamy specialness with wonder. You’ve got a good, weird head on your shaggy shoulders, Pisces—but can you cover up those goddamn feet already? I’m not one of your subscribers, and this isn’t a Quentin Tarantino film! (And if it was, we know where the entire word count would go.)
Anthony Hudson is a Grand Ronde and Siletz artist, writer, and former clown. His first book, Lamp Back: Plays and Other Grievances—collecting nearly a decade of Carla Rossi performances and more—is being published this fall by Northwestern University Press.