On the Darkside, this makes you a stubborn, sybaritic, rut-bound bully, fueled by dull resentment and an insatiable love of money.
ANNOYING HABITS
Punctuality
You are never late; you have never been late; you will never be late. People in Switzerland set their clocks by you, train companies call you for advice. Strangely, everyone else is always late meeting with you.
Toothpaste
The Taurus toothpaste tube always lives in a toothpaste-tube cozy on the third shelf down and is always rolled up from the bottom. If anyone moves it--let alone squeezes it in the middle--you kill them.
Temper gauge
0 to boiling point in about six months, but on a regular five-year cycle. Much earth-shaking; small buildings fall down; you gore everyone within reach. Ten days later people armed with chocolate can approach you.
personalityobdurate, opinionated, overpowering
Brightsiders have enough trouble trying to gloss over your Darkside, so I don't know what you expect me to do. They call you things like slow but sure, steady and reliable, when we known they mean that you are stupendously dull and will move only when poked with a stick; they refer coyly to your love of beautiful things and traditional values, when we know they mean that you are a hidebound, reactionary Ubermaterialist, superglued into a rut several feet deep; but even the most loopily starry-eyed of them fail to dress up the fact that you are a stubborn, obstinate, opinionated authoritarian, and all of them throw in the towel in the face of your overpowering urge for money.
Alright, being soul-sappingly boring isn't the most stygian you can get on the Darkside (although tell that to your desperate family, mouthing "Kill me now" through the windowpane at passersby as you get out the Monopoly board for your bi-weekly game). But being a dull boy is the least of it.
What you really like is stuff: in your mouth, on your plate, in your bank, in your bed, in the bad. You stubbornly refuse to accept the folk wisdom that tells us we can't always get what we want. You can! And when you've got stuff, you hold on to it with a grip that it would be laughable to describe as viselike. Possessive seems too weak a word. It's a brave astrologer who tries to take anything away from you (even if only to clean it). And the evil spawn of paranoid possessiveness is murderous jealousy and resentment.
However much you've got, you resent the fact that: 1) you haven't got any more; 2) other people may have stuff; and 3) other people may have more stuff than you.
Although you are not a people person (of course you'd sell your grandmother--she's depreciating quickly and will soon be worthless, but if you shift her now, you could pick up a nice little investment Hockney print or two), while you have them under your hoof you are possessive, jealous, and resentful of them too. You timetable their every hour, always want to know where they are, and stamp your feet if they are not back on the dot specified by you. Your children try to leave home the minute they can crawl. Videophones are going to be something you buy in bulk.
Your pig-headed obstinacy, obdurate opinions, and refusal even to say the word "adapt," let alone "change," are all a result--Freud may possibly have said--of a lack of imagination. (He was a Taurean; it takes one to know one.) Your little bully brain can't compute more than two variables at once, so when faced with something complex or unusual, you go rigid and do what you have always done. Often that is nothing, so you tend to get buried alive by avalanches you refuse to notice, or dispatched by clever matadors.
What softens your tough hide (and makes it easier for the rest of us to lead you by the nose) is your self-indulgent hedonism. A case or two of Margaux, a 10-course banquet, a team of sunkissed masseurs--and you're anybody's.
b***h rating
C+. Others think this is because you are naturally kind and charitable, but they are wrong; it's not that you don't want to b***h, you're just too slow-witted to really make an impact. When you do try, you make dull, painful remarks about other people's lack of fashion sense or money.
Collective noun
A field tip for non-Taureans. You may find yourself, for some bizarre zodiacal reason, in a meadow full of Taureans. No one is talking, but the rhythmic sound of regular grass-chomping syncopates smoothly with the soft rustle of bank statement being filed. You are corralled in a Stodge of Taureans. Stay awake, or get trampled to death in the rush for the buffet.
FAVE DEADLY SIN
"I'll have all them, now" is naturally your first thought, since the desire for some new stuff fogs your brain. When you finally understand you've got to choose, you go away to ruminate, and come back some days later with the obvious answer: Greed, with a substantial side dish of Gluttony (maybe served in a jus of Lust). You think having and holding until death do you part is sensible behavior, and nothing is ever going to change your mind. As for Gluttony, what's wrong with liking your fodder, especially if it comes at a prix fixe?
blame your planetmighty aphrodite
You have just thrown the widows and orphans out of the 19th-century workhouse you bought for a snip and plan to develop into loft-style apartments; you have shifted all your funds from ethical stocks to the industrial-military sector; you've just eaten all the pies. Even you think you are acting like a tool of Wall Street. So shift the blame onto your planet. In your case, it's Venus.
Surprised? Expecting something a little more--how shall I put it--substantial? Don't be. Venus is named for the Roman goddess of love and harmony, which is a politically correct disguise for Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and just plain having it. She is renowned for going after the many objects of her desire with a singularity of passion and purpose that is admired and emulated by land-grabbing evil emperors, asset strippers, and eight-year-old girls everywhere. Trust me, you couldn't have a more effective mentor.
Venus is the second rock from the Sun, and our nearest neighbor (which is nice for you, because you don't like straying far from your paddock). It likes to be chased, so it orbits the Sun just that little bit faster than we do, but not so fast that we don't get the chance to admire its beautiful, creamy, luminous complexion.
It has the kind of atmosphere you are a home with: solid, reassuring, you could cut it with a knife; and stubbornly, it refuses to spin counterclockwise on its axis like the rest of us. It's your kind of place. If it wasn't so hot on the surface, you might put in an offer.
who's got your number?check out the opposition
Your polar opposite sign is Scorpio: the scary, cool, brooding control freak. What would a blood-minded, bovine breadhead like you want with a moody, manipulative mindgamer like your average Scorpio? How do you have this--shall we say--understanding? Well, like good cop and bad cop, or arch villain and fixer, you need each other to make the Darkside work for you. It's all about elements (undesirable ones, of course). You are Earth; Scorpio is Water; put them together and you get mud, which is ideal for slinging, or for making voodoo dolls of people who look at you in a funny way.
Chomping your way stolidly through your usual catering-size wheel of strawberry cheesecake while you check your bank statements--as you do every second Thursday--don't you sense, deep down, the shadowy inner presence of a fierce-eyed, black-clad guru, urging you to use the force? Ever wonder why it is that the rest of us do not instantly dismiss you as an obstinate, ineffectual stick-in-the-mud who doesn't realize it's the Age of Aquarius? It's because we, too, can feel a flicker of the force.
Respect your inner Scorpion; it slips you that little bit of true menace that gives you cred, makes you a serious person, and forces people to admit you are a contender. Too much, and your eyes turn red, you paw the ground, become a dangerous chunk of psycho muscle, and have to be put down.
sexslow, sensuous, suffocating
Brightside astros are always blathering about how sensuous, languorous, and lollingly delicious a night between the sheets with you is, and how they all appreciate a lover with a slow hoof. Well, yes, it may be an improvement on the wham-bam-thank-you-Aries approach, but you can have too much of a good thing.
The trouble is, once you've learned how to make the earth move, you just keep on singing the same old song. It gives a whole new meaning to the word "rutting." Good men and women have suffocated from boredom in your bed, their hopeless sobs mistaken for whimpers of desire. And you resent any attempt to bring a little novelty or spontaneity into the routine. Show you a Karma Sutra and you'd try to eat it. But you do rather like the one where you smear each other with chocolate body paint and spend all night licking it off (although you can help thinking you'd get more of the actual chocolate if you ate it straight from the jar with a spoon while watching a nice video, like The Sound of Music).
DARKSIDE DATE
You will always get a date because most of you are quite handsome, in a solid, thick-necked sort of way, and you just keep charging at the gate until it gives way. Once you have decided on a date, they don't really stand a chance or get much say in the arrangements. You have always given your dates flowers and candy, and no power on Earth will stop you now, even if your current beloved is diabetic and has hay fever. (You can always eat the candy yourself.) You are the sign that thinks oversized cuddly toys are sweet, romantic gestures. Your ideal date sees you supine on a velvet couch in a private five-star restaurant with a pretty, fluffy airhead who is willing to do all the work, won't demand too much in the way of conversation, and will love peeling post-prandial grapes for you as you sleep.
What kind of love rat are you?
Love ratting is not your sport. When you've got something, you hang on to it. To you the code words "I just need some space" mean let's buy a bigger field. So even if your lover tries all 50 ways to leave, including servicing the entire Durham Bulls team simultaneously, you still follow them around the meadow bellowing piteously. This is called stalking.
IMCOMPATIBILITY RATING
Aries--is that a suit of lights in their wardrobe, or are they just pleased to see you?
Taurus--irresistible meets immovable: cliché of the titans.
Gemini--they dance around you flapping red rags until you snap.
Cancer--they scuttle sideways when you charge at them.
Leo--impoverished royalty trying to ally with bourgeois money.
Virgo--OK they're neat, but they don't do neat in the way you have always done neat.
Libra--all style; you can only deal with substance.
Scorpio--they can outstare you; you can outsit them.
Sagittarius--sudden action and loud noises always spoil your digestion.
Capricorn--they have more bank accounts than you.
Aquarius--think it's an insult to call you a materialist.
Pisces--they sink their fishy little hooks into your wallet.
relationshipsin a field of your own
There is a reason why bulls stand on their own in a field, you know. Partly it is because, although your murderous temper only shows itself once in a blue moon, the more pusillanimous members of the zodiac would rather be safe than sorry, and would prefer to conduct social affairs with a big strong gate between you and them. Mostly it is because, after a few days in your field staring at your collection of numbered buttercups, discussing your varied pension plans and tax-exempt offshore investments, people begin to lose the will to live.
Of course you have friends; they are those whom you meet in the same bar, at the same time, on the same day of every month. If for some trivial reason they don't turn up (their house has burned down, their only child has been kidnapped) or, even worse, suggest you meet half an hour earlier or even in a different place, you begin to snort and bellow and have to be placated with soothing words, food, and gifts.
In any herd activities, everybody always does what you want to do; you think this is because they agree with your choice. In fact they are being pragmatic; they just know that life's too short to go up against your Olympic obduracy (unless they are another Taurean).
When you get married (of course you will), after the initial flowers and babytalk business, you make it very clear that it's going to be your way or nothing. If your partner goes for the "or nothing" option, you just won't let them out of the field.
worknine-to-five nudnick
You would not miss the nobility of work if the Bad Fairy swung it so that you could have all of the money and none of the effort. Some bulls achieve this state by being born rich (you know who I mean, Catherines the Great and de Medici). The rest of you have to work, just like the rest of us, but steer clear of anything marked vocation or social conscience, because the only thing you care about is the paycheck. This means you will do more or less anything, as long as you don't have to respond to emergencies, or get too sweaty, and there's a snack bar. Maybe once you dreamed of a more active job in Pamplona, or a china shop, but that was just youthful high spirits.
Colleagues soon learn not to walk on your patch of carpet, never to rearrange the ornaments on your desk, and never ever to use your special mug. They also learn not to ask you for a decision unless they have a month hidden in the schedule, or to ask you to do anything not specified in your job description.
Of course you join your trade union, because "restrictive practices" sounds so you. Employers are impressed with you at first because you positively embrace mind-numbing routines and follow orders. They promote you; you demand a raise. The laugh; you point out clause 287b (ii) in your contract. They prevaricate; you take them to cumulative industrial tribunals and eventually the Supreme Court, wiping out company profits at a stroke. You win. You cannot be fired. Result! Meal ticket for life.
DREAM JOBS
You don't really have the imaginative powers to dream of a job you're not actually in. And if somebody offered you the plummiest, most chocolate-covered job in the land, you wouldn't take it, because you don't do change. But even you might consider these two:
Property magnate
We see industrial wasteland; you see executive urban homes. We see designated historical sites, you see executive apartments. We see unspoilt fishing villages; you see executive summer rentals.
Asset stripper
Round peg, round hole: your ability to spot a wounded beast, a bargain, and a money-making opportunity, and your genuine insensitivity to job losses, starving families, and senior citizen suicides, make this a bull's eye.
crimes and misdemeanorshow bad could it get?
So what sort of criminal would you be, if sociopathy became the new world order? How would you spend your days (or maybe your nights) if you really lived on the Darkside? Well, show me the money. You're suspicious of invisible, complicated stuff like fraud or electronic crime because you suspect you will be done out of your cut by nimble-brained Geminis (you're right). You like a simple plan and a payoff you can roll around in. Traditional bank robbery; antiques stolen to order; stripping the New England homes of the obscenely rich when they are in Malibu, and vice versa.
Violence is not an issue. You make a very focused bounty hunter. And you are Mr. Big's hitman of choice, since you don't get distracted, are insensitive to victim's pleas, and will sit for days on a stakeout, as long as there are enough donuts. You respect the law. Anything that gives property and money such protection is a good thing; but that doesn't stop you breaking it, if the law comes between you and what you want. Trouble is, you never change your MO, so the cops always get you.
You blow it in court. Lawyers (even your own) goad you into murderous rages and, before you know it, you have kicked in your stall, gored the judge, and copped extra time for contempt of court. When you are locked up, it's not so bad. You could buy your way out, but you may find that prison life suits you: established routine, regular meals, exercise yard with a pleasantly beaten track, people who like to talk about money--what's not to like?
WHEN BULLS GO WRONG
Audacious and imaginative they're not, but Taurus crimes put food on the table; they are money in the back (or, rather, out of it). If a plan works, stick to it: that's your motto. You aim to make every job as routine as possible; the nine-to-five ethic is just as valid on the Darkside.
Bank robber
Assume balaclava (or stocking). Enter bank. Point gun. Give me the money. Collect specified amount of cash in unmarked notes. Stuff in knapsack. Exit bank. Take off balaclava. Home to view self on evening news.
Art rustler
Shoplift art encyclopedia and Swiss army knife. Identify target painting and location. Attend gallery. Bribe security. Slice canvas from frame. Roll up and stuff down pant leg. Limp home. Invoice client.
at homethe comfort trap
You invite someone around to see your home movies. They fight their way past a security system that makes Fort Knox look like a corner-store pushover. The house is warm, full of herds of huge furniture. They feel comfortably dozy. You pour them a vase of sherry and force-feed them a paving slab of madeira cake. They are getting drowsy. There are doilies everywhere, even under the doilies. Their eyelids droop. It's getting warmer. The furniture seems to be getting bigger. Light classical tunes tinkle. They are falling asleep. Then, with quiet determination, knowing they have no way out, you start selling them mutual funds.
DOMESTIC DISHARMONY
Aries--constant barbecues make you obscurely uneasy.
Taurus--you sit silently in opposite armchairs waiting for each other to see reason.
Gemini--they move the furniture around when you're not looking.
Cancer--they spend far too much time in the kitchen, worryingly near your food hoard.
Leo--their retinue and baggage take up too much territory.
Virgo--constantly trying to find something to tut-tut under their breath about.
Libra--they will win any fights over sofa space and the TV remote.
Scorpio--you suspect they are secretly eating all your cakes, but don't care to mention it.
Sagittarius--they use your special mug for swilling mouthwash, then accidently drop it.
Capricorn--they get up early in the morning to open your bank statements before you can.
Aquarius--they have reset all your security codes, just for fun.
Pisces--every day your wine cellar gets a little roomier.
Decor
You have an exclusive network of interior designers able to take all your money and spend it on schemes that are guaranteed free from any imagination or creativity. Your home is every speculative contractor's dream show-house. Any inadvertent interest or individuality comes from an art collection that you were advised to buy for its investment value.
Sharing the Taurus home
You don't want to share with anybody, although you do accept--grudgingly--that you probably have to let your family in. Others who move in on you had better be ready to relinquish all their idiosyncratic little ways in favor of your one intractable little way.
playtimethe darkside of fun
Every year you plod off to the little place you went to last year (and the year before that, and the year before that; you probably discovered it in your reckless, madcap days as a young bullock when you thought nothing of just upping and going into the next field--wild times!!). It's not too hot, not too cold, with a guaranteed food supply, comfortable armchairs, no loud noises or sudden movements, and nothing you haven't done before. Your family always seems strangely glum on these vacations, but you don't really know why. You are addicted to guided tours, which you like because you are used to being led around by the nose.
Your ideal would be an inaction-packed fortnight in Switzerland, where you can visit your money and eat chocolate in a heady atmosphere of affluence. Or in Liechtenstein (to visit your other money), because on a clear day you can see all the country's borders, and you do like to feel fenced in.
Vacations from hell
* Snowboarding with Gemini and Sagittarius: cold, wet, dangerous, unpredictable, and no regular meals.
* Anywhere you have not been to before, unless it has been recommended by your Capricorn bank manager, who understands.
* Anywhere with Virgo tightwads and Pisces incompetents; you will end up paying for everything because you are the only one with a functioning credit card.
Road rage
Crosstown gridlock always seems to happen when you are at the wheel, but then you didn't get where you are today by giving way, and that applies to intersections and right of way. There always seems to be a lot of honking and shouting going on as you proceed along at a steady rate just two miles below the posted speed limit in the middle of the road, but you think that is normal. If anyone scrapes your beautiful car, you turn on a dime and go for them at ramming speed. You don't need a map because you are never going anywhere that you don't already know how to get to.
Gamesmanship
You are capable of holding up any game for days while you go head-to-head with the umpire/ref/line judge. If crossed, you will take home your ball, everybody's equipment, and the goalposts, then set up a development company to buy the ground and turn it into a retail park.
