The soft souls of California tolerate neither harsh winters nor harsh criticisms and tend to avoid the unpleasant - and those who perpetrate it - with a swift, subtle exit. I thought that fad had passed with the Summer of Love and died with the advent of algorithms, so I was taken aback by the daily inquiry: “What’s your sign?”Īt parties! At work! At the doctor - the doctor! It was the world against me, an intellectual, eager to engage with “Yes, I’m a Capricorn” but hot to point out “No, that isn’t real.” “That’s exactly what a Capricorn would say,” boiled my blood I couldn’t believe these otherwise sensible people could espouse such unprovable hooey - and I would tell them so. When I moved from New York City to San Francisco in 2015, the avalanche of clichés was immediate: crystals and climbing and start-ups, oh my! All harmless and none surprising, there was only one that got my goat: astrology.
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