CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE: HOROSCOPES DON'T ALWAYS DESERVE THE STARRING ROLE

One Saturday not too long ago, I arrived bright and early in the newsroom for my regular weekend shift and immediately turned to the horoscope page of that morning's Southeast Missourian.

Our staff astrologer advised me, and every other Taurus in our circulation area, to "count to 10 before dealing with any irritating individuals."

That was a useful horoscope. I should probably have it laminated for future reference.

Horoscopes that tell me Jupiter's influence is strong in the 10th house don't tell me anything I need to know. The 10th house on which side of the street? And who invited Jupiter anyway?

My friend Jana sends me a "super-duper annual astrology and personality guidebook" every year, which promises to reveal the secrets to happiness and financial success.

Knowing my sense of direction, she probably figures I need a roadmap for the cosmos.

The super-duper guidebooks annually advise me that Taurus the bull is the stubbornest of the 12 signs (Am not! Am not! Am not!) and not fond of surprises.

I won't take issue with the latter. If I liked surprises, I wouldn't keep checking my horoscope to find out what's supposed to happen.

Many years ago, I was advised to "concentrate on editing, publishing and the dissemination of information."

That's a classic. But it's a vague classic. To paraphrase the Bard, the fault lies not in our stars, dear Brutus, but in our horoscopes.

When I read the day's prediction for Taurus, I keep hearing a former editor's battle cry: "Specifics~! Give me specifics!"

This is one of the few times I've publicly agreed with a newspaper editor.

An ideal horoscope (mindful that Taureans are not the most graceful individuals on the planet) would say, "Taurus, you klutz, look out for jutting file cabinet drawers, and bring an extra pair of pantyhose and an ice pack to work."

That's a prediction.

Or, "You know he's not going to call. Go to the gym."

I really like it when there's a disclaimer warning me that horoscopes are not based in scientific fact and should be used only for entertainment purposes.

Kind of like the GOP's Contract With America.

I don't, as a rule, take horoscopes (or politicians) literally. But I do drive a little slower when they tell me to get my brakes checked.

It's hard to know how seriously to take your horoscope, disclaimered or not.

Poor Robert Citron, the former treasurer of Orange County, Calif. His psychic told him December, 1994 would be a bad month for him, and it was.

Orange County declared bankruptcy on Dec. 6 of that year because it lost $1.7 billion to bad investments.

Well, the psychic warned him. Too bad he -- or she -- didn't predict Citron's indictment, or warn him about the mail-order astrologer whose predictions on interest rates he followed.

Just because I read the horoscopes first, from at least two sources daily, that doesn't mean I'm compulsive (or stubborn).

Lots of people look to astrologers and psychics for guidance. Nancy Reagan. LaToya Jackson (she has her own network, and lots of psychic friends.) Kings. Queens. Emperors.

And everyone who's ever read, or been featured in, a supermarket tabloid.

At least I'm in stellar company.

~Peggy O'Farrell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.